Chapter Text
Soft sunlight filtered through the translucent drapes, bathing their bedroom in a gentle glow. Long, shimmering lanes of gold spilled over the bed's rumpled sheets, marking the quiet arrival of morning. Caitlyn stirred first, stretching with a languid sigh. Her limbs brushed against the warm body beside her, and her right eye fluttered open, a flicker of cautious awareness. Her left, however, remained forever sealed, a puckered, unseeing scar—a permanent testament to the battle that had once seized it shut. The gentle smile that touched her lips was, consequently, a soft, lopsided curve.
Vi, half-draped over her, made a noise in protest and pulled Caitlyn back into the cocoon of their shared heat.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Vi murmured, voice thick with sleep and husky with something else entirely.
Caitlyn chuckled softly, the sound a warm vibration in her chest. “We have a briefing in an hour, love.”
Vi leaned in, pressing her nose against the curve of Caitlyn’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Mmh. That’s future Caitlyn’s problem.” Her hand slid under the hem of Caitlyn’s shirt—which, Vi noted smugly, had actually belonged to her once—and wandered south. “Present Caitlyn should stay in bed. With me.”
A slow, amused smile spread across Caitlyn’s face. “Is that an order, Officer Vi?”
Vi grinned against her skin, teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down Caitlyn’s spine. “More like a very persuasive suggestion.”
The next kiss wasn’t teasing. Vi’s lips found Caitlyn’s jaw, then her collarbone, trailing heat with every press. Caitlyn arched slightly, hand slipping into Vi’s pink-tousled hair. The feeling of Vi so close, her body insistent and warm and utterly unrelenting, stirred something deep inside her.
“We’ll be late,” Caitlyn murmured, but her voice faltered as Vi shifted between her legs, fingers slipping lower.
Vi met her gaze, eyes glowing with mischievous heat. “It’ll be worth it.”
Caitlyn let out a soft gasp as Vi’s touch became more intimate, her hips instinctively tilting. Her breath hitched, the playful resistance melting away into a shared, potent warmth. For a moment, the briefing and the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the insistent press of Vi’s body, the promise in those mesmerizing eyes. She could feel herself on the precipice, the overwhelming urge to give in, to wrap her legs around Vi and pull her closer, eclipsing all reason.
Then, with a supreme effort of will, a wry, mischievous glint entered Caitlyn's blue eye. She caught Vi's hand, holding it firmly but gently. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face, lopsided and utterly captivating.
She leaned down, pressing a quick, fierce kiss to Vi’s lips, lingering just a second longer than was strictly necessary. “If you're good today… maybe I’ll let you finish what you started tonight.”
Vi froze for a heartbeat—then groaned in exaggerated agony as Caitlyn slipped from the bed with maddening grace, the morning light catching the curve of her bare thigh beneath the hem of the shirt.
“Cait—! That’s just cruel.”
“Mmh. Motivating,” Caitlyn corrected, already halfway to their adjoining bathroom, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Five minutes. Don’t make me come drag you.”
“Is that a promise?” Vi’s voice was a low rumble, her eyes tracing Caitlyn’s form. The thought of Caitlyn returning, even to drag her, was suddenly much more appealing than the idea of getting up.
Caitlyn paused at the bathroom door, one hand on the frame. Her smile softened, losing some of its playful edge and becoming something fonder, deeper. “Perhaps,” she murmured, and then, with a final, lingering look that promised much more than just a shower, she slipped through the doorway.
The gentle click of the door closing echoed in the sudden quiet. Vi lay there for another long moment, the scent of Caitlyn still clinging to the sheets, the whisper of “perhaps” replaying in her mind. She sighed, a luxurious, contented sound, before finally, reluctantly, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. “Alright, alright, Cupcake,” she muttered to the empty room, already feeling an unusual spring in her step. “But you owe me.”
-
They moved like clockwork when they got ready—a practiced rhythm born from years of shared routines. Vi emerged from the shower with a towel slung low on her hips and another wrapped around her hair. Caitlyn was already buttoning up her deep-blue uniform, Enforcer badge gleaming on her belt.
Vi whistled low. “You’re gonna make the bad guys surrender just by walking into the room looking like that.”
Caitlyn rolled her eye, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Try to focus, Vi. This raid is a serious operation.”
Vi snapped a mock salute, then dropped the towel with no shame and began dressing. “Right. Serious Vi engaged.”
By the time they reached HQ, they were all business. Caitlyn reviewed the tactical maps with a sharp eye, briefing the unit with quiet authority. Vi, standing beside her, cracked her knuckles and scanned the squad with the eyes of someone ready to brawl if needed.
The shimmer factory was hidden deep in the warehouse district—a labyrinth of crumbling brick and iron, where the constant rumble of freight haulers and the acrid tang of industrial waste masked a thousand illicit activities. It was the perfect spot to cook illegal, volatile drugs.
The warehouse loomed over them like a slumbering beast—wide, gray, and strangely quiet. The shimmer tip had come from a reliable source, but now, as Vi and Caitlyn stepped through the rusted side entrance, the silence inside gnawed at them.
Vi moved first, gauntlets lowered but charged. Caitlyn followed close behind, her rifle slung and safety off. The interior was surprisingly clean. Organized. Industrial lights buzzed overhead, casting pale light across stacked crates and rows of equipment.
And then—voices.
A group of workers in faded uniforms and grease-stained boots emerged from a side corridor, pausing only a second when they saw the Enforcer jackets.
A burly man with a shaved head raised both hands calmly. “Officers,” he greeted smoothly, “something I can help you with?”
Caitlyn stepped forward. “We received word this facility was involved in illegal production of shimmer. We’ll be conducting a search.”
“Search all you like,” the man said, spreading his arms. “This is a packaging warehouse. Chemicals for plumbing and industrial cleaners. Nothing more.”
The other workers—maybe ten of them—nodded along, wearing carefully practiced confusion.
Vi raised an eyebrow. “Funny. Smells more like a rave in Zaun on a bad night.”
The man chuckled, though his eyes stayed cold. “Maybe you need your nose checked, sweetheart.”
Vi took a step forward, but Caitlyn’s hand on her shoulder stilled her. “We’ll verify your story with our own inspection,” Caitlyn said coolly. “If everything checks out, we’ll be on our way.”
They split up, Enforcers taking different corridors. Vi and Caitlyn moved through a side door into what appeared to be a supply room. Stacks of barrels—labeled innocently enough—lined the walls.
But Caitlyn noticed the faint shimmer on the floor. A thin residue trailing beneath a shelf. She knelt down, fingers brushing the stain. Her nose twitched.
“Vi,” she said, standing slowly, “this barrel isn’t sealed.”
Vi cracked the lid.
The smell hit instantly—sweet, acrid, unmistakable.
“Shimmer,” she growled.
They barely had time to react.
A loud whistle echoed from the front room. Then chaos.
The workers dropped the act. One pulled a pipe from under his shirt, another reached for a switch that triggered emergency shutters. Lights flickered red. Somewhere behind them, an engine roared to life.
“Backup, now!” Caitlyn shouted into her comm, rifle raised.
Vi was already moving—charging through the corridor and slamming into one of the attackers with enough force to knock him flat. Another lunged at Caitlyn with a broken bottle, and she dropped him with a clean shot to the leg.
It was a brawl now. Enforcers spilled into the building, guns raised. Shimmer vials were hurled like grenades—some exploding in clouds of purple mist, disorienting the squad.
“They’re trying to destroy the evidence!” Caitlyn shouted, ducking behind a console. “Secure the—”
A large man barreled toward her, swinging a wrench. Vi was on him in a heartbeat, slamming him to the ground hard enough to crack the floor.
“Don’t touch her,” she snarled.
The battle was almost over.
Vi stood in the haze of shimmer residue and smoke, breathing hard, bruised but upright. Around her, Enforcers cuffed groaning workers, shimmer vials cracked and leaking onto the concrete. Caitlyn stood several feet away, scanning the area, rifle lowered, her breath steady and eye sharp.
Then—movement.
A blur behind Caitlyn.
Vi’s instincts screamed.
“Cait—!”
She bolted.
Caitlyn turned in confusion just as a small figure launched at her from behind a fallen crate, a glint of metal in her hand.
But Vi was faster.
She tackled the attacker mid-lunge, grabbing the small arm with the knife and twisting just enough to disarm her without breaking it. The blade clattered to the floor as Vi slammed the figure down with controlled force, pinning her with a knee to the back, holding her thin wrists with ease.
“Got her!” Vi barked, glancing up at Caitlyn.
Caitlyn blinked, shaken, her hand still halfway to her sidearm. “What the hell—?”
Vi stared down, surprised.
It was a child.
A girl. Seven, maybe eight. Wild blond hair matted with dirt, a face smudged with soot and bruises, a loose shirt barely hanging onto her thin shoulders. And those eyes—green that glared up at them with a mixture of panic and fierce defiance.
“Easy,” Vi muttered, adjusting her grip. “You done?”
“Get off me!” The girl snapped, wriggling beneath her. Her voice was rough, angry—but there was fear buried under the fire. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Didn’t do anything?” Vi arched a brow. “You were two seconds from stabbing my wife.”
“Cait, you okay?” she added over her shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Caitlyn answered, catching her breath. She approached quickly, scanning the child beneath Vi’s hold.
Before either of them could say more, a man among the arrested workers groaned, struggling to sit upright despite the cuffs on his wrists. His voice was urgent. “Wait! Don’t hurt her—that’s just Nika! She’s a kid!”
Another worker, a woman with a bruised cheek, called out. “She’s not part of this, not really! She just lives here. We’ve been looking after her.”
Vi blinked, her grip loosening just a bit. Caitlyn stepped beside her, rifle lowered.
“What do you mean she lives here?” Caitlyn asked.
“She’s an orphan,” the woman explained. “Parents long gone. She’s not a gang member, I swear. We took her in months ago.”
“She helps around the place, runs errands. We feed her, give her a place to sleep. That’s all.” The man added. “She’s not involved in the production. We kept her away from that.”
“I pull my weight,” the girl muttered, not looking at either of them. “Didn’t ask for charity.”
Vi stared at her for a long moment. The kid couldn’t have been older than eight—scrawny, bruised, but clearly full of grit. The kind of kid who’d learned too early not to trust anyone.
The Enforcers had finished restraining the remaining workers. One officer approached with a nod. “Ma’am, we’re done here. Everyone’ll be processed and sent to Stillwater by morning.”
“No!” Nika’s head shot up. “You can’t take them! They’re my people! I’m going too!”
Vi’s eyes narrowed. “Stillwater’s a prison, kid. Not a playground. Trust me on that.”
“I don’t care!” Nika shouted. “I’m not going anywhere without them!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Vi snapped, the edge in her voice sharper now. “You’re not going to Stillwater. Not on my watch.”
Nika bit her lip, the defiance faltering for the first time. “Then what’s gonna happen to me?”
Caitlyn knelt beside her, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ll come with us. To the station. We'll call social services, let them find a placement for you.”
“I don’t need it. I’m not a baby.”
“No,” Caitlyn said gently. “You’re not. But you’re still a child. And that’s why we’re not going to treat you like a criminal.”
Nika turned her head sharply away, jaw clenched. Her arms trembled beneath Vi’s hold, but she didn’t say anything more.
Vi exhaled slowly and eased her grip. “She’s got fight, I’ll give her that.”
“She reminds me of someone,” Caitlyn murmured.
“Don’t start,” Vi replied, helping Nika up to her feet while she sulked in silence.
“Bring the others in,” Caitlyn ordered her team. “And log the girl as a dependent for now. I’ll handle her report personally.”
The ride to the station was tense.
Nika sat in the back of the Enforcer vehicle, arms crossed, chin tucked to her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to the window, watching the city blur past with that same quiet storm bottled inside her. She hadn’t said a word since the arrest, but her body was stiff with resistance.
Vi glanced back at her once. “You doing okay?”
No answer.
“You hungry?”
Nika shifted slightly but didn’t reply.
When they arrived, Vi opened the back door slowly. “Come on.”
Nika didn’t move.
Vi crouched beside the door, speaking softly but firmly. “You’re not in trouble. We just need to figure out where you're supposed to go, alright?”
Nika narrowed her eyes. “I already told you. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Vi sighed. “Not how this works, kid.”
Eventually, after a moment of stubborn silence, Nika hopped out of the vehicle and followed them inside—but the minute they passed through the metal doors of the station, she froze. Her head whipped around, taking in the buzzing of Enforcers, the clack of boots, the ringing of phones. The presence of law.
She backed up a step.
Caitlyn reached for her gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
“I don’t like this,” Nika muttered, eyes darting around.
“We’re not putting you in a cell,” Caitlyn added. “You’ll just stay here until social services arrive.”
“No,” Nika said suddenly, spinning toward the door. “I’m not staying here!”
Vi was quick to block her path, gently but firmly holding her shoulders. “Hey, hey—breathe. You’re alright.”
“Let me go!” she shouted, beginning to squirm. “I’m not listening to you!”
“You need to calm down,” Caitlyn said firmly, still patient.
“I am calm!”
But Nika was unraveling now—panic creeping into every motion. She tried to twist out of Vi’s grip, knocking over a chair in the process.
Caitlyn gave a warning glance before gently taking Nika’s arm. “Enough.”
When Nika tried to pull away, Caitlyn glanced to Vi. “Hold her steady.”
Vi hesitated but complied. “Sorry, kid.”
With practiced ease, she cuffed Nika’s wrists to a metal bar attached to the wall—not too tightly, but enough to stop her from trying to bolt again. Nika yanked against them, frustrated.
“This is so stupid!” she muttered. “You said I wasn’t a prisoner!”
“You’re not,” Caitlyn said calmly. “But you’re also not making it easy for us to help you.”
That earned another glare, but this time, Nika didn’t reply. She just stared at the floor, jaw tight.
Vi knelt in front of her. “You’ll sit over there, alright? Just for a little while. No one’s going to touch you.”
Nika looked away, blinking fast. Her face was red with anger and something else—something Vi recognized far too well.
Fear.
They gave her a chair by the front desk and sat close enough to keep an eye on her. Vi handed her a bottle of water, which Nika ignored, and a sandwich, which she accepted only after glancing at them to see if it was poisoned.
About twenty minutes later, the social services liaison arrived—a tired-looking woman in her fifties with her hair pulled into a loose bun.
“Sheriff Kiramman?” she asked.
Cait nodded, gesturing her into her office.
Vi followed without asking.
“Name’s Elena,” the woman said. “Thank you for contacting us. This is the girl?”
“Yes. Nika. Orphan, parents deceased. She was living in a shimmer factory with the workers. No official documentation or previous history we could find.”
Elena opened her tablet, typed a few things, then sighed heavily.
“Well,” she said after a long pause, “that’s a problem.”
Vi leaned forward. “What kind of problem?”
“Our system is… stretched,” Elena admitted. “All the official orphanages in Piltover are full. Overflow homes too. Zaun’s networks are worse—unstable, underfunded. I could put in a cross-regional request, but—”
“How long would that take?” Caitlyn asked.
“Best case, a few days. Worst case? Longer.”
Cait looked visibly troubled. “And until then?”
“She’d need to stay at a temporary shelter, likely supervised by two rotating guards.”
“A shelter?” Vi said flatly. “You mean a holding facility.”
Elena gave her a pained look. “Technically, yes.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “She’s eight.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
There was a long silence.
Vi glanced out the window of the office at Nika, who sat hunched over in the chair, arms still cuffed.
“Cait,” Vi said suddenly, “we can’t let her go to a shelter.”
“She’s not our responsibility,” Caitlyn said firmly.
“But she is a kid,” Vi countered, stepping closer to her. “A kid who just lost her family and is staring down a cell, basically. Sounds familiar?”
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. The unspoken reference to Vi’s own past hung heavy in the air. She wanted to argue, to cite protocol and professional distance, but the image of Nika’s trembling shoulders and the quiet desperation in her eyes made the words catch in her throat.
Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “What are you suggesting?”
Vi shrugged. “Let her stay with us. Just until a spot opens up.”
Caitlyn gave her a long look. “Vi, we’re Enforcers. We’re married, we’re barely home as it is, and we both work active assignments. We’re not equipped to handle a child.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Vi said simply. It’s just a few days. A week, maybe.”
There was a beat of silence between them. Neither raised their voice, but the air grew tense.
Elena glanced at them. “If you volunteer as temporary guardian, I can file the form now. It would buy us time while we look for a proper placement.”
Caitlyn looked through the glass again. Nika had leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed— exhausted, but too proud to show it.
Vi gave Cait a quiet look. “Please.”
Caitlyn stared at the floor for a long moment. Then, softly, she said, “We’ll take her. Just for now.”
Elena’s expression softened with a flicker of relief. “Thank you, Sheriff Kiramman. That is… a great help to us. And to her.” She quickly navigated her datapad. “I’ll just need one of you to sign here as the temporary guardian. This is a short-term emergency placement form, so it’s less intensive than a full foster application, but it still grants you temporary legal custody and responsibility for her well-being.” She looked between them. “Who will be the primary signatory?”
Caitlyn hesitated only a moment. “I will.” It made sense, given her official capacity. She took the datapad and signed with a practiced flourish.
Elena nodded, her fingers flying over the screen. “Excellent. This will be filed immediately. I’ll keep searching for a long-term placement, of course, and you’ll be notified of any suitable openings. My advice? Start with a warm meal and a quiet space.” She offered a small, sympathetic smile. “And good luck. She seems a tough one.”
“We’re aware,” Vi muttered, earning a light nudge from Caitlyn.
As Elena gathered her things, promising to send over a digital copy of the signed forms and a list of emergency contacts, Caitlyn and Vi stepped out of the office. Nika was still in the chair, head against the wall, but her eyes were now open, watching them. Her gaze was sharp, wary.
Vi walked over to her first, kneeling again. “Hey, kiddo.”
Nika didn’t respond, just watched Vi’s face, assessing.
“What now?” she mumbled.
“So,” Vi began, trying for a soft, reassuring tone, “Good news is you’re not staying here.” Vi leaned down to unlock the cuffs.
Nika blinked, rubbing her wrists. “I’m not?”
“Nope,” she said. “You’ll be staying with us for a little while. Just until we find you a better place, alright?”
Suspicion returned to her eyes. “Why?”
Vi exchanged a quick glance with Caitlyn. This was going to be harder than just signing a form. “Because,” Vi began, trying to find the right words, “no kid should have to stay in a… a facility like this. You need a place to be safe, to get some food, to sleep in a proper bed.” She gestured vaguely around the sterile, brightly lit room. “This isn’t it.”
Nika’s gaze flickered from Vi to Caitlyn, then back again. Her brow furrowed, as if trying to calculate the angle, the hidden cost. “You’re Enforcers,” she stated, as if it were an accusation. “You lock people up.”
“We do,” Caitlyn said, stepping closer, her voice calm and level. “But we also help people.” She knelt down too, mirroring Vi, her posture less casual but equally sincere.
Nika bit her lip, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t look convinced, but the underlying exhaustion was evident. “You don’t even know me.”
“That’s true,” Vi said gently. “But we’re going to. And for now, that’s all you need to know.” She offered Nika a small, tentative smile. “And we have better snacks than they do here, I promise.”
For the barest moment, a flicker of something unreadable—curiosity, perhaps, or just plain weariness—crossed Nika’s face. She didn't smile back, but she didn’t look away either.
“Don’t expect me to be all… thankful or anything,” she muttered, arms crossed.
Vi ruffled her messy hair. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”