Work Text:
It took two days to bring herself to ask.
Two days of dull pain, blurred vision, and the mutters of nurses and doctors and rustle of thin hospital sheets. Two days of laying on a table in a field hospital tent, rushed into emergency surgery, then transported to the actual hospital. She was stabilized and patched up, the gaping wound in her stomach sewn up, and left to rest, an IV pumping fluids and pain medication into her body. The heart monitor beeped rhythmically in the corner.
A bandage was wrapped snugly around her torso and the left side of her head. Her eye. She had seen the look on the doctor’s face when he examined her, shining a light into the bleeding hole, her eyeball unresponsive. It didn’t have to be removed completely, but it was perfectly clear—she would never see out of it again. They wrapped it then, the wound deep, a pulp of messy skin and flesh.
But she didn’t care about the eye.
She cared about the two people who came in and out of the room, her only visitors, haunting her like ghosts as she fell in and out of a pain-hazed sleep. She remembered bits and pieces. Hands. So many hands. Pushing and prodding her, rolling her over. The beeps of monitors and machines. The cotton-edge of painkillers. Hushed whispers.
Commander—
Stab wound—
Her eye—
And then a familiar voice, one that nearly sent her bolting from the table as they stitched her up. A desperate voice, shouting her name like a plea. Like a prayer.
Cait. Caitlyn, please.
And later, a warm hand over hers, a large palm brushing over raw knuckles. That voice again. A gentle promise. I’m here, Cait. I’m here.
A kiss pressed to her temple, fingers sliding through sweat-tangled hair.
She opened her eyes in bursts. She often saw Vi, sitting at the end of her bed, head in her hands, foot tapping anxiously on the linoleum floor. Sometimes she sat on the chair in the corner, legs folded to her chest, sleeping upright in a stiff, awkward position, always keeping vigil over Caitlyn’s bedside.
And, sometimes, she saw her father. Him standing over the bed, eyebrows furrowed, face tight with worry. She heard his low voice. She felt his gentle hands, lifting her gown, pushing her into her side. Checking her wounds. She knew he must be busy, the hospital flooded with injured people, Piltovians and Zaunites, civilians and soldiers.
He still managed to come into her room wherever he could to check up on her, slipping in next to Vi. She could feel his presence like an anchor, keeping her tethered to the shore. She often felt like she was drifting, so close to the shore, but the fog was coming in.
On the third day, the fog lifted.
She opened her eyes. She blinked. Across the room, a head snapped up and familiar gray-blue eyes met onto hers. She was across the room in an instant, at Caitlyn’s side.
“Cait,” she breathed, almost reverently, like she was in disbelief.
“Violet,” she rasped, throat dry.
Then Vi was wrapped strong arms around her, drawing her in by the neck, so gentle, so tender, mindful of the wires and bandages attached to her body. Caitlyn buried her nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent.
“Cait,” she said again, voice shaking.
And Caitlyn let Vi hold her.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled in through the singular window into the dull, sterile hospital room, the sunlight like spilled honey. The sun rose over the city like it was just any other day, like they hadn’t just fought a bloody war and there weren't still bodies on the streets. The scattered light caught the dust motes drifting aimlessly in the air.
Caitlyn sat up in bed, propped up against the headboard, a pillow cushioned behind her. She was staring out the window, a headache already forming behind her eyelids. A bowl of broth went cold on the bedside table. She had not had much of an appetite.
Vi sat across from her now, slumped over in the worn armchair. Her arm was in a sling now. Caitlyn had widened her eyes upon seeing it, but Vi had assured her it was alright. All her wounds were superficial. They would heal in time.
A dislocated shoulder. A minor concussion. Various cuts and burns. All fixable. The doctors had insisted on treating her, but Caitlyn had been told she refused treatment until she knew Cait was fine and breathing and out of surgery. The thought of it made her heart both swell and twist. Her sweet, stubborn Violet.
She knew Vi had mostly stayed by her side, but slipped in and out of the room while she slept. She knew she had gone to receive updates on everything else happening, to go see Ekko. She knew Vi knew more than she talked about out loud.
Caitlyn sighed heavily and dropped the spoon into the soup, pushing it away. It fell with a dull clatter and made Vi shift, turning to look at her. She had been zoned out. She fixed her with a confused look. “Do you not like it?” She asked, gaze going to the bowl. “I can go get you another one.”
Caitlyn wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m not hungry,” she replied.
Vi frowned. “Cait, you need to eat—“
“Did you see him?” Caitlyn suddenly asked. The question she had been meaning to ask. It had been weighing on her mind, waiting to erupt from her chest.
Jayce had been one of the first faces she had been hoping to see when she came out of her pain-hazed coma. She had barely seen him in the days leading up to the battle, with all the chaos and stress and planning they had to do in so little time.
Even now, everything weighed so heavily on her. The battle. The betrayal. The near execution. Her wounds. The destruction. The losses on all sides. And then there was the possibility that he was hurt too, holed up in his own hospital room, nursing his own wounds.
She hoped he was alright.
She just wanted to see her brother.
Vi didn’t reply.
“Have you seen him?” She prompted again. “I was going to ask Mel when she stopped by earlier, but she had to leave so quickly, and I was wondering if you heard anything while you were out.”
Vi blinked. She swallowed thickly. Slowly. She knew who was talking about almost instantly. Caitlyn could see it.
A strange look crossed Vi’s face.
Caitlyn’s stomach twisted.
“I talked to Ekko,” she said slowly, not meeting Caitlyn’s questioning gaze. “And he saw them. Viktor and Jayce.. He thinks they stopped it. Saved us.” She bit her lip, finally meeting her eyes. “He said they disappeared, that they’re.. gone.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Gone?”
Vi nodded. She moved, shifting onto the bed. It creaked. She reached out, almost hesitantly. “Cait,” she started. “I’m so sorry.”
Suddenly, it felt like she had been doused in cold water. Like she was underwater. Everything felt blurred, in slow motion. Unconsciously, she grabbed a fistful of the flimsy sheets under her, nails piercing her palms, leaving red, angry little indents.
She shook her head. “No,” she said, not believing it. “No.”
Vi drew in a sharp breath. “Cait.”
He couldn’t be… She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, to even think it. No. Jayce was larger than life. Always grinning, laughing, giving her a playful shove. Teasing her about her height, calling her Sprout, raving on about some new, shiny invention. He was Jayce. The Man of Progress. Her brother. He was filled with so much life. He couldn’t be…
Her breath came in short, trembling gasps. “If there isn’t a body, he could still be—“
“Cait.”
Vi’s voice was hard, edged like a knife. Caitlyn’s head snapped up. She met Vi’s eyes, glazed over with unshed tears. Slowly, surely, she shook her head.
A sob tore itself from Caitlyn’s throat.
Vi shifted closer, a hand on her knee, squeezing it. When Caitlyn began to tremble, quivering with barely-contained whimpers, she pulled her close, tucking her into her arms.
“Oh, Cait,” she whispered against her ear, breath warm. “I’m so sorry.” A beat. “I know.”
Something in Caitlyn’s chest shifted.
Caitlyn sniffled. “And you?” She managed to choke out. “Your sister?”
She felt Vi pause, felt her stiffen. Her breath hitched, a lump in her throat. Oh, no.
Oh, Vi, she thought, feeling her heart break in two.
“She’s gone,” she heard Vi rasp, muffled against her chest, the fabric of her hospital gown. “They’re all gone.”
Not me, she wanted to say. I'm still here.
She wanted to hold her, soothe her, take her away from this place and never let the world hurt her again. But it would be no use. It would not bring Jinx back.
It would not bring Jayce back.
They held each other as they cried. Caitlyn felt what was left of her heart shatter in her chest.
Caitlyn was twelve when her mother called her into the drawing room. She had just finished her weekly piano lesson in the parlor and trailed across the hall, not sure what to expect. Probably more of parent’s boring friends. They always seemed to be interested in her, the Kiramman heir, and her mother always made her regale them with tales of her riflery competitions while they listened and sipped wine.
Whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn’t take long. She had been hungry since this afternoon and couldn’t wait to change out of her stiff clothes. She wanted nothing more than to eat, retire early, and finish reading her latest novel.
But, when she entered the room, she could see this was not the case.
Her mother was already sitting down, her father at her side. Four cups of tea had been left out, steam rising out of them, one left out for her. Tea meant they would be here for a while. She held back her sigh and looked up from the cup of tea. Across from her parents, on the opposite couch, sat a man. A boy, really. He looked like a young adult.
Caitlyn tilted her head. He seemed young to be one of her parent’s friends. Perhaps he was one of their sons, though he still seemed young to have business with a Councilor.
“Caitlyn,” Cassandra said as she walked into the room. “I want you to meet our new protégé.”
Caitlyn froze in the doorway, raising an eyebrow. Protégé? This was the new Kiramman sponsor? He looked hardly older than her. She looked past her mother, looking the stranger up and down, studying him. Tanned skin, dark hair was slicked back, hazel eyes, fine clothes that were a tad bit wrinkled.
Cassandra gestured to the man, who shifted in surprise. He turned towards Caitlyn, nearly spilling his tea. Caitlyn hid her smile.
“This is Jayce,” her mother was saying. “Jayce Talis.”
“House Talis?” Caitlyn echoed. “Like the hammer business?”
“Caitlyn,” her mother warned. “Don’t be rude.”
But Jayce only chuckled, setting down his cup. “No, it’s alright,” he said. “Yes, the hammer business.”
He offered his hand. She didn’t take it.
Caitlyn looked down at it, then back up, furrowing her eyebrows. “So we are investing in.. hammers?”
He pulled away rather awkwardly. “Oh, no, no,” Jayce tried to explain. “I don’t build hammers. I’m an inventor.”
An inventor. Right.
Her mother stepped in, shifting the conversation. “He’s staying for dinner.”
Caitlyn hid her scowl. She had been looking forward to a nice, quiet dinner. “Lovely.”
Her mother frowned and nodded, silently telling her to sit down. She obeyed, starting on the edge of her seat, as far from the strange new man as possible. She glared down at the table in front of them, stomach rumbling as she thought of the meal Talia, their cook, was preparing.
“Jayce,” Tobias spoke up. “Why don't you tell us more about yourself?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, as you know, I’m a student at the the Academy—“
“The Academy?” She interrupted. “You’re a student at the Academy? Aren’t you a little young for that?”
“Caitlyn,” her mother warned again.
“Yes, I study at the Academy,” Jayce replied smoothly, voice light. “Any other questions?”
She looked him up and down again. “How old are you?” She questioned. “Eighteen?”
His eyes narrowed, his polite expression waning. “And how old are you?” He replied. “Ten?”
She bristled, holding back a gasp of indignation. “I’m twelve.”
The corner of his lips quirked up, like he was holding back a smirk. “And I’m twenty.”
Caitlyn frowned, raising one eyebrow. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
Jayce drew in a slow breath.
A maid entered then, dressed in the familiar black and white uniform. She dipped her head. “Dinner is served,” she announced, then she disappeared back down the hall.
“Well then,” her father said, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled, glancing between Caitlyn and Jayce. “Let's eat, shall we?”
Cassandra nodded in agreement with her husband and shot Caitlyn one last warning look before starting for the dining room. Jayce nodded as he began to stand, deliberately turning his back on Caitlyn. Caitlyn tore her gaze away from Jayce and sighed, then followed the others.
Four plates and four sets of utensils were already set out, as well as three wine glasses for the adults. Cassandra took her usual seat at the head of the table, Tobias beside her, and, to Caitlyn’s dismay, Jayce began to slide into the chair across from her father.
She came up behind him, their shoulders brushing. He looked up, raising a thick eyebrow. “Can I help you, Miss Kiramman?”
“Caitlyn,” she deadpanned. “And that’s my seat.”
He looked down, unfolding the napkin from his lap. “I see,” he replied. He stood, stepping to the side, and allowed her to sit down. “My apologies. I didn’t know, Princess.”
Her left eye twitched. Now he had to be trying to get her nerves.
She accepted the chair with a huff and turned her chin up at him. “Caitlyn,” she said again. “My name is Caitlyn, Mr. Talis.”
He walked around the long table and sat in the seat diagonally across from her. “And my name is Jayce,” he told her, then offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Caitlyn looked down at his hand, then back up at him. Gingerly, tentatively, she reached out and took it, shaking it. “Pleasure to meet you too,” she said.
She hadn’t meant it.
Two weeks after the war, they held a memorial service.
There were too many bodies. Too many names. Too many lives ended too soon. Too many nameless faces and family and friends unaccounted for. Too many people to mourn. Too many bodies to bury. Some families arranged burials and funeral services, but many bodies were burned, what was left of them turned to ash and dust.
Caitlyn had sent out a search patrol as soon as she felt strong enough to give out orders. Nothing was found on the top of the Hexgates. No proof he was there or ever was. It was like he was never even there to begin with.
Jayce had no body to burn or bury. She didn’t know if it was a cruelty or a mercy.
Nothing had been found atop the Hexgates. Just what remained of Jayce’s hammer, half-melded to the ground.
Still, she stood on the bridge with the crowd, a new eyepatch made of soft material covering her eye. She stood beside Vi, their hands brushing, listening as people spoke, as people laughed, as people cried. Then they passed out the slips of paper and began to write the names, the names of all who had been lost.
Caitlyn’s hands shook, but she wrote her mother’s name. The grief still felt so fresh in her chest, but she pushed through it. She wrote Jayce’s name, a lump forming in her throat, and then, before she could stop herself, she added Viktor’s.
It was what Jayce would’ve wanted.
He deserves to be here, she thought. To see the lights from this side of the river.
It felt wrong, putting his name on the paper like it was just any other word. Just ink or parchment, like he wasn’t so much more than that. But that’s what they were all doing—Piltovians and Zaunites together, side by side. Writing names. Folding them up like secrets. And then they burned them.
Caitlyn let out a sigh. She held the paper close to her chest just for a moment, over her heart. Vi was beside her. She didn’t cry, not in front of everyone, but her fingers trembled when she folded her paper.
Caitlyn wondered who she put. Her father. Her sister. She wondered if she wrote Jinx or Powder or maybe both.
She didn’t say who she wrote, but she saw her eyes dart toward her when she folded the paper. It was her way of saying, I’m glad it wasn’t you.
Caitlyn took a deep breath. She folded the paper over and crumpled it into her palm. Then, she reached out and dropped it into the bowl as the priestess passed. She took another deep breath. She let go.
She still knew she would carry the grief deep inside, nestled deep in her soul, her very being, like a foreign creature, buried deep in her bones.
But people didn’t survive by avoiding the pain. They survived by carrying it with them, by letting it remind them why they kept going.
They watched the light rise up into the sky, the firelight dancing over the water. The ashes floated up, and for a moment, it looked like stars rising from the river. It was beautiful, hauntingly so.
Caitlyn watched them until her neck ached, trying to guess which one might be hers. Which little flickers of light might be carrying their names up into the sky. Foolish, she knew. But she couldn’t help it.
He would laugh at her for being so sentimental. He would’ve told she should’ve just shouted his name into the night, loud and wild like a war cry. And maybe she should have. But this felt quieter. Quieter than war. Quieter than loss. It felt like peace—something she still was learning how to hold.
Caitlyn watched as the lights rose, fading one by one, burning out. Her attention turned to a woman beside them, the light dancing in her eyes as she looked up, highlighting the unshed tears. She held a young girl in her arms, who had her chin tilted up, gazing eagerly into the sky.
Everyone had lost someone. Some had whole lists. Their hands shook with the weight of them. Names stacked on names. Too many names. Too many ghosts.
She wondered, for a moment, if they’d ever stop counting them.
The little girl’s eyes widened. “Are those people, Mama?”
Her mother nodded, sniffing. “They are.”
“They are?”
She nodded again, a single tear falling down her cheek, catching the light. “Mhm. Their names carrying their way to the stars.”
The girl perked up, leaning out of her mother’s arms. “Then we should say hello.”
And so they did. Both mother and daughter looked up, waving at the sky. “Hello,” the mother said, her voice breaking.
“Hi!” The little girl shouted.
Caitlyn couldn’t help but smile. And, for a moment, up in the sky, she swore she saw one of the lights burn brighter.
She hoped they were waving back.
Caitlyn didn’t get it. Her parents could afford the best tutors in the world and yet they still stuck her with him. He seemed to be everywhere lately. Over for dinner, in her mother’s study, taking over one of their empty apartments. And now her mother wanted him to tutor her.
He has a brilliant mind, Caitlyn, her mother insisted. You could learn a thing or two.
She didn’t get how spending long, boring afternoons stuck with Jayce in his workshop would help teach her anything. He had been their sponsor for a few months now and they seemed to only be spending more and more time together.
When she had complained to her father, he had patted her on the back. He’s a nice young man. Give him a chance. Perhaps you two can be friends.
Caitlyn bit her lip, staring down the scientific jargon on the page in front of her. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and looked across the room, to where Jayce was hunched over his desk, tools in hand, chipping away at some rocklike material.
“You’re supposed to be reading the alchemy textbook,” Jayce said, feeling her gaze on his back.
“I did,” Caitlyn lied.
He looked up, setting down his tool. He turned to her, pushing up his goggles. “Great. What methods exist to amplify the potency of a potion without destabilizing it?”
Caitlyn opened her mouth, then closed it, opting to stay silent instead.
He gave her a knowing smile, pointing at the book. “Back to reading.”
She sighed. “Why did my parents have to pick you?”
He shrugged. “You just got lucky I guess.”
With that, he turned back to his work and pulled his goggles back down. Caitlyn looked back down at the science textbook and groaned, fighting the urge to bang her head against the desk.
It was a month before she visited Ximena. It was one of the rare, quiet days she had no meetings to attend or things to plan. But she wanted to do something, to get out, her feet itching to move. She woke early, leaving behind a sleeping Vi, holding a pillow to her chest, and dressed.
She left a note on the kitchen counter so as not to worry Vi or her father and left the house. Her feet had already carried her halfway there before she knew where she was going. She had been to Jayce’s mother’s before, when he needed to stop and pick up something from his old bedroom or Ximena invited her over for dinner.
She wasn’t that close to Ximena. The woman had always been kind to her, fussing over Jayce whenever she could, bending over and whispering things to Caitlyn that made her giggle. She had once shown her Jayce’s baby photos and Jayce’s face had gone completely red. She teased him for weeks about it.
She remembered Ximena’s eyes, the same shade as Jayce’s. Her tired but kind face. Her soft smile. She had come over the Manor for dinner a few times and attended every convention, every fair where Jayce was showing off his inventions. She remembered looking over while Jayce gave another speech, seeing the way Ximena looked at her son, her eyes wide and full of some much love and pride.
Caitlyn had always looked away, wondering if her mother had ever looked at her in such a way. She wondered if she ever looked up to Jayce like that, like he had hung the moon and the stars.
She guessed she would never know.
When she reached the Talis house, she pressed a soft knock to the door and waited. She stood there on the doorstep awkwardly for a moment and debated leaving, coming back later. But then she heard footsteps and the door was being pushed open.
Ximena let out a gentle gasp at the sight of her, holding a hand to her chest. Her gaze went over Caitlyn, lingering on the eye patch for a moment, the way everyone always did. “Oh, Caitlyn, dear,” she said. She stepped out of the way. “Please come inside.”
Caitlyn smiled and followed her inside. She led her past the sitting room and into a modest kitchen, motioning to the small table with only two chairs. Caitlyn could only imagine a younger Jayce, sitting in the same spot as his mother cooked dinner at the stove. Did he tinker in the same spot, building little inventions? How many times had him and his mother shared meals in his very room, laughter echoing off these four walls?
Her stomach twisted, but she still sat. Ximena was still up, opening a cupboard. “Tea?” She asked, looking over at Caitlyn.
Caitlyn nodded. “Yes, please.”
Ximena hummed in acknowledgment and got out two cups. They sat in comfortable silence as the water boiled and the teabags were stirred in. Ximena came over and set the cup in front of her. Caitlyn inhaled and caught the fragrant mint.
Ximena caught her expression. “Mint,” she said.
The scent was familiar. Jayce had always had a cup of mint tea abandoned somewhere—a bookshelf in his apartment, on the countertop in his lab. It seemed he had picked up the habit from his mother.
Caitlyn didn’t know how to reply, so she just nodded.
Ximena sat then, across from Caitlyn, and she got a chance to study her face. She had dull purple bags under her eyes. Her face looked older than she remembered. She had more wrinkles, more streaks of gray in her hair, but she still had kind eyes, a soft smile.
She had seen photos of Jayce’s father, old pictures, grainy and dog-eared. He had resembled his father, but Caitlyn saw him in his mother too. The glint of her eyes. The curve of her smile.
Slowly, Ximena raised her own cup to her lips and took a small sip. She set the cup back down with a small clink and offered Caitlyn the ghost of a smile. “Jayce always wanted a sibling, you know,” she began, and Caitlyn felt her heart jolt. “After I had him, I was just so focused on him. He was a handful.” She held a hand to her chest, her tone fond. “And then his father passed, and we never had the chance to…” She trailed off, looking down at the tabletop. She took another sip and then looked up at Caitlyn. “And then he got an offer to be sponsored by the Kirammans. I still remember the night he came home from that first dinner. I asked him how it went, and all he could talk about was the annoying Councilor’s daughter.”
Caitlyn laughed, despite herself.
Ximena tilted her head. “But then he got to know you, and then you were following him around everywhere, helping him out in the lab. He complained one day, after I teased him about his little shadow.” She took a slow sip, then set her cup down again. “I remember saying that was what little sisters were for. He looked up then, looking at me in surprise, and I think that’s when he realized it. What you were to him.”
Caitlyn smiled softly, letting Ximena go on.
“When he talked about you, his eyes would light up. He would brag about you to anyone who would listen. He would talk about how brilliant you were, what a good shot you were.” She paused, smiling fondly. She looked at Caitlyn, eyes wet. “He adored you, Caitlyn.”
She swallowed, not sure what to say.
“I’m glad he got to have a sister,” she said softly. “And I’m glad it was you.”
Was.
The word hit harder than it should have. The first tear dripped down Ximena’s cheek and Caitlyn reached out, placing her hand over hers, squeezing tentatively.
“I’m glad I had him too,” she replied.
Ximena looked down at their touching hands, then back up at Caitlyn. Her eyes were still glazed over, but she smiled a soft smile.
And so they talked. They talked for hours, their teacups forgotten on the tabletop. They exchanged stories—good and bad, funny and embarrassing. Ximena told her about the time Jayce had accidentally set off the smoke alarm and Caitlyn told her about the time it had rained and he had dragged mud through the newly cleaned carpets of the Manor.
They laughed. They laughed so hard that they cried. While she sat there, she swore he was there in the kitchen too, seated at the same table, laughing right along with them.
She thought that he was still there. Not in the stars, not in some glowing afterlife. Here. In his childhood home. In his mother’s kitchen. In her laughter. In the honeyed bread she refused to stop making. In the sparrows that darted too fast for anyone to catch. In herself.
Damn you, you're in me too, she thought.
She hated it. She hated how often she caught myself saying the things that he would've said, thinking the thoughts that he would've thought. He had woven himself into her so tightly she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.
She was carrying him with her whether she liked it or not. And sometimes she didn’t like it. Because carrying him was heavy. It was heavier than all her armor combined.
But she would carry him anyway. Because he carried her when she didn't always deserve it.
They said goodbye as the sun rose high in the sky. Ximena gave her a hug and gave her more honeyed bread, the kind Jayce always raved about. She asked Caitlyn to bring someone with her—“someone who'll eat more than a bird,” she said.
Caitlyn thought she just didn’t want to be alone. Maybe she would bring Vi. She ate like a bear before hibernation. She smiled to herself. Jayce would’ve liked that, wouldn't he? Vi, her, and his mother sitting around that little table like it was normal again.
It wouldn’t be normal, of course. But it would be something.
She walked home, a warm paper bag tucked under her arm. The bread was warm and sticky and tasted like all the summers they never got to finish.
When she got home, she found Vi in the study, curled up in the armchair she had claimed as hers. The hearth was hot, the fire crackling, and she was reading. An empty cup sat beside her on the table.
As Caitlyn came into the room, she looked up. Her eyes softened, her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?”
For the first time in a long time, Caitlyn knew that answer. She nodded. “I’m alright.”
Vi smiled. Caitlyn smiled back.
She brought Vi the next time. They had dinner and Vi told what few stories she had of Jayce, their hands warmed by mugs of hot chocolate. Winter was falling quickly over the city.
Ximena told them she wanted them to help plant her garden this spring. They would do it. Not for her and not even for Jayce.
For them. Because something needed to grow again.
Tea with Ximena slowly became a weekly occurrence.
“Caitlyn,” he said as she opened the door to her bedroom one morning. “You have to see this.”
She stood in the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest. She flashed him an incredulous look. His gaze went over her, over her ruffled hair and silky pajamas. “Why aren’t you ready? I thought we had a tutoring session this morning.”
“Jayce,” she deadpanned. “It’s six in the morning.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It is?” He paused, then shook his head. “Well, science has no basis of time. Get ready.”
She yawned. “How’d you ever get in?”
“Your mother gave me a key,” he replied.
She shook her head. “Of course she did.” She felt his expectant stare and sighed. “Give me a moment.”
She closed the door and went to her wardrobe. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair back. When she opened the door, Jayce was still waiting, rather impatiently at that. “Come on,” he said.
He took her hand and before she knew it, he was dragging her through the streets of Piltover. By the time they reached his apartment in the Academy Square, she was rather winded. He quickly unlocked his door and led her inside, already ranting about some groundbreaking discovery.
That was how she found herself standing in front of his desk, blinking down at a case of small circular orbs. “They’re.. rocks,” she observed drily. “And they’re.. blue?”
“They’re not rocks,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “They’re the perfect test subjects. I believe I’ve finally stabilized them enough to begin my experiments.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, then reached out to touch one, suddenly curious. Before her fingertip could brush it, Jayce was pulling her hand away, tugging at her wrist.
“I believe I stabilized it enough,” he repeated. “Best not to touch it. Yet.”
Caitlyn yanked her arm back, giving him a knowing look. “Does my mother know you have such hazardous materials in the workshop she pays for?”
Jayce cleared his throat, looking away. “Ah… no. His cheeks flushed. “But to risk is to live. We can only discover the extraordinary by stepping into the unknown.” He looked at her. “And it won’t hurt her if she didn’t know.”
Caitlyn paused, as if pretending to think, then gave him a small smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He flashed her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sprout.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sprout?”
He reached out to ruffle the top of her hair. “Because you’re getting so tall. Geez. You’ll be taller than me soon.”
She laughed, pushing him away. She turned back to the desk, to the open case stuffed with Jayce’s weird, glowing orbs. “Well,” she said. “What are they?”
He squinted. “I can’t really explain it yet, but you’ll see. I don’t know what to call it just yet.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s going to help people. I know that.”
Caitlyn looked up at him, still smiling, showing off the tiny tooth gap he teased her about. “You won’t forget me when you’re famous?”
“Forget you?” He asked. He shook his head. “Never.”
JAYCE TALIS
MAN OF PROGRESS
That was it. That was all his headstone said.
She stared down at the grave she knew was empty, her heart was heavy as ever. There were flowers at the foot of the gravestone already, perhaps left by admirers, half dry and half-wilted.
She hadn’t brought anything. She had just come to see it for herself, to put a ghost to rest. It didn’t erase the scars, but it allowed the wound to close.
But, as she stared down at the words etched into the stone, there was an emptiness in her chest that she couldn’t explain.
Oh, Jayce, she thought. You were so much more.
Jayce had always been brilliant, shining so damn bright. Even the brightest star knew it would one day burn out.
But it shined anyway.
A knock pressed to her door.
Caitlyn didn’t move, didn’t even roll over or look up. She laid in the middle of her too-large back, laying on her back, staring angrily up at the ceiling.
“Sprout,” a familiar voice said through the door.
She didn’t care enough to reply.
It only came again. “Cait.”
She groaned. She pulled the pillow over her head, wanting to scream into it.
“Caitlyn,” Jayce said, this time more harsh. “Don’t make me break down the door.”
She snorted. “I’d like to see you try. You’re not that strong.”
She heard a chuckle on the other side. “There she is.” Another knock. “Come on, Cait. Open the door.”
Sighing, she flung the pillow to the side and swung her feet to the side of the bed. She crossed the room, her bare feet cold against the hard floor. She opened the door. Jayce stood in the doorway, looking down at her. She wiped her eyes. “I’m not feeling up for a lesson,” she deadpanned. “Come back later.”
She was about to close the door when he spoke up. “I wasn’t here for that,” he said quickly.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, then looked down. She realized he was holding a bouquet of flowers. Yellow and white roses.
He cleared his throat. “These are, uh, for you.” He held out the bundle awkwardly, offering it to her. “I heard that you were having a bad day.” He looked away. “Your mother told me.”
She accepted them, tucking them under one arm. She stared down at the floor, the prickle of tears coming back. She hated this. They had only dated for a few months. Why did she feel like this?”
She looked up and realized Jayce was looking at her, a concerned look on his face. He stepped towards her like he was going to reach it. Caitlyn beat him to it. She closed the distance between them, slamming into his arms. He let out a slight oof, but quickly recovered. He wrapped an arm around her, hugging her back.
Caitlyn had always been comfortable telling him about her personal life, about the crushes and other silly things. He always teased her, but, in a strange way, it made her feel better. He had been the first one she ever told that she liked girls.
It had been a rainy day spent at his workshop. He was bent over his desk, as usual, and Caitlyn was laying on the worn couch, reading, or at least pretending too. She had sighed.
Jayce had raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her. “What’s wrong, Sprout?” He gave her a smug look. “Is it a boy?”
She glared at him, then set her book down on her chest. She sighed again. “A girl, actually.”
He had blinked, but didn’t miss a beat. “Oh.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “What’s her name? And when’s the wedding?”
She had thrown the book at him.
Now, she sniffed. “I thought she liked me.” She paused. “Why doesn’t she like me?”
“Oh, Cait,” he said, holding her close with one arm. “You’re only sixteen. There will be other girls.” He paused, and Caitlyn felt him smile. “And, besides, it’s her loss.”
Caitlyn laughed, muffled by his shirt.
“Come on,” he said gently, rubbing her back. “Stop moping.”
She frowned. “I don’t mope.”
He blinked. “Sorry. Brooding. Get dressed. I’m taking you out.”
She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “What? Where are you going?”
“There’s a new cafe near the City Center,” he replied. He squeezed her shoulder. “You can get all the scones you want.”
And for the first time in two days, she smiled.
In the early spring, Caitlyn and Vi got down on their knees and planted seeds in the soil outside the Talis house.
Yellow and white roses.
By late spring, flowers were sprouting again in the once barren garden. Upon seeing it, Ximena teared up and hugged them.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Caitlyn only held her tighter.
“So,” she said, still sixteen and convinced she was in love. “There’s this girl.”
Jayce turned to grin at her. They were walking through the gardens while her mother entertained company. It was spring and everything was in bloom. Jayce tore his gaze away from the flowers to interrogate Caitlyn on this new mystery girl.
“What’s her name?” He asked, as he always did.
“Eleanor,” Caitlyn answered.
He hid his smirk. “She sounds like an old lady.”
She promptly elbowed him in the gut. “Jayce!”
He winced. “Alright, alright. Go on. Tell me about her.”
And so Caitlyn did. She told him about Eleanor and her dark, curly hair and her freckles and her pale summer green eyes. She told him that she was an artist, a painter. She told him that she was an only child as well and that her parents were both doctors and she was planning to go into medicine as well. She told him about how they met at a shop downtown.
By the time, they reached the end of the garden, Jayce was smiling down at her with that stupid grin of his. She stopped walking.
“What?” She asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. A beat passed. “But, when you get married—“
She widened her eyes. “What? I’m not getting—“
“Cait, calm down, I said when,” he interrupted. “When you do get married, years from now, I so call being your best man.”
Caitlyn opened her mouth, then closed it, thinking. Really there was no reason not to say yes. She had no other male friends, and Jayce was the closest thing she had to a brother.
“Fine,” she sighed.
He smiled. “Does that mean you like me?”
She rolled her eyes and started walking ahead. “Something like that.”
When she was young, she thought her wedding would be an extravagant event, the party of the year. Hundreds of guests, a beautiful venue, loads and loads of decorations. After all, the wedding of the Kiramman heir, the only Kiramman heir, would be a big deal.
In reality, it was not extravagant.
They did it in the gardens. Her dress was gorgeous, yet simple, not the floor length gown she imagined as a little girl. Vi’s suit was excellently tailored, but nothing flashy or fancy. The decorations were simple. The number of guests was rather low too, and Caitlyn found she was okay with it.
Their wedding was a private, intimate affair. Her father sat in the audience, as well as Ximena. Ekko stood at Vi’s side. They had thought of inviting others, but decided against it. Vi had grown closer to a few of the Firelights, and Steb was still one of their closest comrades, but they didn’t know if they were that close. Vi and Sevika talked regularly, but they thought it would still be awkward if they asked her to come to their wedding. They had sent Mel an invite, but she hadn’t been able to make it, busy with her duties in Noxus. She had sent them well wishes.
So, many chairs sat empty. Caitlyn wondered why they had been set up in the first place. It was only later when she realized why. She saw it then—pieces of paper left on the seat, each marked with a name.
Across one row was Vi’s family. Her father Vander. Mylo and Claggor, the brothers she didn’t know much about, but looked forward to learning more about. And, of course, Jinx.
Next to her father was marked Cassandra. Her chest suddenly felt heavy. She knew her mother would have loved to be here, to see her daughter married. She would have helped her with her hair and makeup, told her she looked beautiful. She would have given a stern warning look to Vi, but Caitlyn knew her mother would have come to love her.
Her eyes caught a particular chair, one up front. The seat next to what would’ve been her mother’s. Sat between Cassandra and Ximena was his name.
She wished he could have been here. He would’ve helped her pick her dress and dragged her out of bed when she got cold feet the morning before. He would’ve made her laugh while getting ready and made her accidentally smear her mascara. He would get teary eyes watching her walk down the aisle but deny it every time. He would’ve given an embarrassing speech at the reception and stolen a dance from her, twirling her around.
He would’ve loved to see her get married.
She wished her mother was here. She wished her brother was here too.
An arm looped through hers and she knew Vi was looking at the chairs too, at the names of their lost family.
Her voice was low, quiet. “They would’ve been happy for us,” she said slowly. “They all would’ve.”
“Yeah,” Caitlyn replied. “I know.”
One night, she and Jayce managed to slip away from one of the fancy galas that some of parent’s friends hosted. It was late, and they walked the gardens of the foreign estate in the dark, talking about whatever came to them in the moment.
Caitlyn was barefoot, her heels carried in hand. She couldn’t bear to walk in the things, and, besides, she was already tall enough. Jayce walked beside her, a half-empty wine glass in hand. She was only seventeen, not yet old enough to drink, but he let her sneak sips here and there.
They ended up in one corner of the garden, sitting on a stone bench. Caitlyn’s eyes gazed over the nearby flowers. The plaque said it was a memorial garden for someone long dead.
The question suddenly struck her.
“How do you want to be remembered?” She asked.
In her peripheral vision, she saw him pause, considering the question. She knew it was on his mind more lately.
All of it. Legacy. Fame. Innovation.
Progress.
He wondered how he would be remembered. For his inventions, his image, or how he helped people?
And Caitlyn didn’t know much. She just remembered snorting the first she saw that stupid Man of Progress mug tucked away in his cupboard. It didn’t matter to her how famous he got, how many fans threw themselves at his feet.
He would always be her annoying best friend first and genius inventor second. At least to her.
“Well, I don’t need any good statues,” he replied. “I want to be remembered for how I helped people.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want a grand memorial? You don’t want your legacy to be displayed?”
Jayce shrugged. “Legacy is just a word we use to make sense of the things we can’t finish in our lifetime.” He paused for a beat. “History won’t remember our names, just the weight of our decisions. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s how we should be remembered. Not for who we are, but for what we did.”
She blinked, surprised. “Wow,” she said. “That was.. strangely poetic.”
She lifted her hand, asking for the glass. He laughed and passed her the wine.
He would’ve hated it, a part of her thought.
Vi stood beside her, hands tucked in her pockets. She squinted up at the statue right in the middle of the rebuilt Academy Square, not far from his old workshop. Caitlyn gazed at it, at the smile carved out of stone and staring back at her.
The statue had gone up rather recently. They were calling him a hero. They said he sacrificed himself to stop Viktor.
Caitlyn still didn’t know the full story despite hearing Ekko’s account, but she supposed there was some truth to it.
He had sacrificed himself. He had saved them.
As she gazed up at the statue of her brother, her heart was still heavy.
Then, Vi snorted. “They got his nose wrong.”
Caitlyn only laughed and took her hand.
“So,” he said. “You and Vi, huh?”
Caitlyn whipped her head around. Of course only Jayce would have the nerve to disappear to gods knows where for months on end and then show back up and tease her about her love life.
She raised an eyebrow. “And what about it?”
“Oh. Nothing.” He looked away, up at the darkening sky above. It felt like a sense of impending doom settling over them. “You were just down there for a while.”
His voice rose at the end, like he was insinuating something.
Well, it was true, but he didn’t need to know that. “Oh my gods, Jayce!” She exclaimed, fighting the urge to shove him off the ledge they were sitting on, overlooking the lights of the city.
She decided that was probably not a good idea. If anything, Jayce seemed even bigger, more muscular, than before. She had no idea what had gone on in the months he was missing and she hadn’t the time to ask. She hadn’t been able to tease him about the beard yet either.
“I’m happy for you,” he said, suddenly serious.
She blinked, taken aback. “Thank you,” she replied, then all went quiet.
They looked out over the city—their city. Their home. It all felt so surreal. They had had so little time to prepare. The next morning, there would be foreign vessels in their harbor. The next morning, the enemy would be on their shore.
A war was at their doorstep and they had to be ready to fight it.
But, for now, all was quiet.
For now, Caitlyn took a deep breath. The night air was cool. “Jayce,” she said, trailing off. “What.. happened?”
He was silent for a moment, biting his lip, then he lifted his head. He looked her right in the eyes. “After everything is over,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. I swear, Cait.”
After.
She swallowed thickly, not meeting his gaze. What if there was not an after?
She opened her mouth. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t go there,” he said. He leaned over, taking her hand. “If one of us gets out of this, we get out for both of us, okay?”
She nodded. She felt so small. “Okay.”
He squeezed her hand, voice light. “Okay.” Then he turned back, facing the city they were ready to die for to defend, and Caitlyn limply dropped her head on his shoulder.
“Gods,” she muttered. “I’m so scared.”
Jayce closed his eyes again, feeling the breeze against his skin. As if he was savoring it. As if it was the last time.
“We’ll be alright,” he assured her, but his voice cracked.
She didn’t believe him—and he didn’t believe himself either. But, for now, Caitlyn ignored it.
She leaned closer to her brother, not knowing it was the last time.
When she had been kneeling, facing forwards, she forced her head up. She would not cower. She would not close her eyes.
She would not beg.
But as she had felt the barrel of a rifle pointed down her neck, she saw them in her mind. Her mother. Her father. Childhood friends and old crushes and comrades. Mel. Jayce. Vi.
She took a deep breath.
And the gun went off.
“Did the wall offend you?” Jayce asked as she slipped behind her, coming to stand next to her.
He had found her in the long hallway, glaring up at an empty spot on the wall. A gleamin, golden frame was already attached there, waiting, taunting her.
The staff had already cleared a spot for the next family portrait. Her family portrait.
Kiramman women had many portraits done in their lives. A few as children. A wedding portrait. An official matriarchal portrait that would go up in the study with the others. And finally a family portrait that included the whole family, spouse and children included.
She continued glaring at the spot on the wall.
Jayce tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what I want,” Caitlyn replied.
Did she want to get married? Eventually assume her mother’s seat? Did she really want to continue the Kiramman line? Would she make a good mother?—
Jayce only snorted, interrupting her spiraling. “Caitlyn,” he said. “You’re eighteen. You don’t need to worry about all that.” He leaned over, nudging her. “You know what you do need to worry about? Your chemistry lesson.”
Her groan echoed down the hallway.
It was an early afternoon when it happened.
Caitlyn sat behind her desk in her study. The hearth was warm, the orange-red flames flickering and crackling, a half-empty glass of bourbon and an empty tea cup on the edge of her desk. She stared down at the letter, another message from the Council. More complaints, probably.
She rubbed at her temple. She could already feel the headache coming in.
She was just finishing signing off her signature on another document when the door to the study pushed open.
“Mum!” A small voice called.
Caitlyn looked up to see her five-year-old daughter walk in, a familiar bunny plushie tucked under one arm. Felicia’s indigo hair was a mess, there was a smear of dirt on her cheek, but her blue eyes were bright and wide. Vi’s eyes.
Caitlyn smiled to herself. She must have been playing in the garden again.
“Mum,” Cici said again, coming to a stop in front of Caitlyn’s desk. She was just about tall enough to look over the edge of it.
Caitlyn stood. “What is it, darling? Mum’s working, remember?”
Her daughter blinked. “I just wanted to see you.”
Caitlyn hummed. “Is that so?”
The little girl nodded. “I missed you.”
Caitlyn smiled again and reached over, scooping her daughter into her lap. Paperwork be damned. Her child was more important. She pressed a kiss to the crown of Cici’s head, her hair soft. “I missed you too.” She reached out, tapping the nose of the bunny Cici had cradled in one arm. “You know where you got this from?”
Cici shook her head.
“It was your mom’s,” she explained. “And when you were born, she decided to give it to you.” She trailed off, staring at the stuffed animal. “It was your aunt’s too. I think she would want you to have it.”
“Do you have any sisters, Mum?” Cici asked, using one finger to flick the ear of the worn plushie.
“No,” Caitlyn replied slowly. “But I had a brother.”
“Uncle Jayce?” Cici asked, perking up.
Caitlyn smiled, tucking her daughter closer. “That’s right, darling. His name was Jayce.”
Cici paused, holding the bunny to her chest. She looked up, meeting Caitlyn’s eye. In this light, she could see the tiny freckles splattered against the ridge of her nose. She looked so much like Vi.
“Where is Uncle Jayce?” She asked, confused.
Gods, Jayce would have loved her so much. He would have spoiled her rotten.
Caitlyn blinked, looking for an answer. “Remember I said that he’s not here anymore, but that we can remember him by keeping him in here?” She said, poking Cici’s chest.
She giggled and pushed her mother off. “In our heart?”
She nodded. “In our hearts. By doing that, by remembering him, we can keep him alive.”
His words came back to her then. If one of us gets out of this, we get out for both of us.
I got out, Jayce, she thought. I did it for both of us.
A tug at her sleeve brought her back to the present. Cici was pulling on her shirt, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Can we remember him more?” She asked.
And Caitlyn only smiled. “Sure, darling,” she said back. She pressed another kiss to her daughter’s temple. “We can remember him more.”