Chapter Text
The warm sun, the blue sky, the sand between her toes, and the wonderfully cool breeze might make for a perfect afternoon at Shimmer Beach, were it not fucking Wednesday.
Caitlyn typically loved a day like this, when the wind was weak enough not to painfully blast sand against her ankles, to play with her hair without tangling it, and to lift away the heat that often turned the shore into an oven.
She paced away from Tower 30, toward the south end of the beach, scanned the water, and hoped the distance might improve her mood. But of course, someone was blaring shitty electronic music from a massive speaker, almost loud enough to smother the symphony of crashing waves.
Shimmer Beach was a thirty-mile stretch of white sand coastline, beginning down at the rocky outcrop of the Piltover Lighthouse, and ending up north at Pirate’s Pier. As the busiest tourist destination in all of Piltover, the beach earned almost fifteen thousand visitors a day. Mile 30, being right against a boardwalk, ten hotels, and hundreds of shops, was the most crowded section by a landslide.
Caitlyn stopped suddenly, as a group of children darted in front of her towards the sea. Shaking her head, adjusting her sunglasses, and watching the waves pummel them, Caitlyn couldn’t help the grimace on her face.
The busiest beach on the entire coast, and by far the most dangerous. Four-foot wave average. Daily riptides. Approximately 3.5 drownings annually, and a few hundred hospitalizations. And yet, for some fucking reason, for every day of the summer, tourists show up in droves to sneak beers in plastic cups and not watch their kids.
Lovely.
She watched one of the children disappear beneath a white cap, only to turn up twenty feet away, laughing in excitement.
Caitlyn grinned.
She didn’t hate the beach. She didn’t hate the warm sand or sunshine or the teal blue water.
She just hated stupid people.
Which brings her to Wednesday.
After making her rounds, walking all the way down to the black, rock-lined peninsula, Caitlyn turned back toward Tower 30. When she started forward, she could easily spot the very recent, yet certifiable, bane of her existence.
Said bane was a new hire. A pink-haired transfer from Zaun Bay that Caitlyn could not fucking stand.
Right now, she stood by the tower, a grin stretched across her face, as two girls in ridiculously revealing bikinis stood in front of her. One knee bent with hips tilted, the little tassels of their bottoms flickering in the wind. With locks of hair curled flirtatiously around their fingers, they gazed at the woman, their sunglasses doing little to hide the awe in their eyes. One reached out, just as the other lifeguard held out her elbow.
They were squeezing her biceps.
Jesus Christ.
“Tower 30, Vi,” Caitlyn said, digging her fingernail into the worn rubber of the walkie button.
Across the beach, still holding out her flexed arm, Vi tilted the radio clipped to her shoulder strap. “Go for Vi.”
“Vi, your parole officer is here. He says you’re done with your community service hours and you can go home.”
Vi didn’t answer. She just scanned the beach for Caitlyn and locked eyes on her. Beside her, the two women looked at each other nervously and walked away.
Caitlyn turned back to watch the water, the clench in her jaw starting to make her whole head ache. This. This was why she hated Wednesdays.
A beach this dangerous required a pretty large staff, so Caitlyn didn’t often work with the same people. On Mondays, when the beaches were relatively quiet, she typically worked Tower 15 alone. On Tuesdays, she was here at 30 with her friend Jayce.
She used to work Wednesdays with him, too. That is, until management decided to throw a dart into a big pile of resumes and hired whoever it landed on. An incompetent, annoying, ridiculously douchey—
“Jokes on you, Kiramman, my parole officer’s a woman.” Caitlyn crossed her arms and refused to look at her. “Pretty funny, though. Just one question. What the fuck?”
“What? You want me to be sorry?”
“Um, duh,” Vi scoffed. “Did you see the ass on the tall one?”
Caitlyn was going to have a brain aneurysm. Just five more hours of this god-forsaken shift. “You’re supposed to be doing your damn job. You want to see some ass? Watch the fucking water, maybe you’ll find one.”
“Please,” Vi laughed, dragging the word out long. With a slow lean and a tilt of her head, Vi stepped in front of her. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Kiramman. It’s okay,” she tilted her sunglasses down, “Tall is kinda my type.” Grey irises slipped back behind black sunglasses, as another cocky laugh blew from her mouth.
Five more hours. Five more hours.
The woman in front of her grinned, revealing a piece of gum pressed between her straight, but sharp teeth. Cinnamon, of all fucking flavors, forced its way into Caitlyn’s nose.
Caitlyn cringed and glared over her head. Pink locks waved in the wind, long on the right side, but shaved tight on the other. “Get the fuck out of my face and do your damn job, or I’m talking to management again.”
“How about you shut up, and you won’t have to worry about getting another complaint for being too bossy? You know, because you’re not my boss.”
Caitlyn finally spared her a glance. And fuck, she could barely stand to look at her.
She was ripped. Covered in tattoos. Even this one by her eye that literally spelled her name out. Her tattoos came up to her neck, down her arms, and all the way across her back. Which, despite the blaring sun, apparently absolutely needed to be on display, beneath her red sports bra and matching trunks. But none of that actually pissed Caitlyn off that much.
No, that was all thanks to the stupid proud look on her face. And of course, the streak of white sunscreen on her nose that she hadn’t rubbed in properly. She’d done it on purpose, she did it every day, as if the caricature of a lifeguard was the look she was shooting for.
It aggravated Caitlyn to no end.
“Well?” Vi said, tapping against the life tube that hung from her shoulder, in beat with the terrible electronic music. “Got nothing to say?”
Caitlyn knew her type. Maybe that’s why four shifts together were enough to earn Vi this level of loathing. A preexisting, foundation of hate for this particular kind of asshole. The kind that watched Baywatch when they were thirteen and (in a stroke of pure genius) thought, ‘Wow! What a great career to score hot chicks!’.
Caitlyn had met a hundred of them. And every time, they cave beneath the pressure of what the job really is, and quit before they’d even gotten the base tan.
“Look, I don’t know how they do things down at the Bay,” Caitlyn sneered, leaning in closer, “But here, we watch for riptides instead of flirting with tourists. You want to dick around and pick up random girls? Fine. But do it on your own time. And don’t make it my fucking problem. I’m here to save lives, so at least pretend like you’re here to do the same, and maybe I won’t have to act bossy.” Caitlyn turned, kicking up sand with her heel as she trudged away.
“Wow.” Vi was quick to follow. “Inspiring. Here to save lives, huh? Which Grey’s Anatomy episode did you steal that speech from?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. Five hours. Just five fucking hours.
“You know you’d walk faster without that stick up your ass, Kiramman.”
“It’s Caitlyn. And you’d do better selling corn dogs on the pier, but things aren’t exactly how they should be.”
“Wait a second,” Vi said, stopping behind her.
Caitlyn stopped and turned.
“Kiramman…if you’re here…then who’s punishing all the damned souls in hell?”
Caitlyn scoffed and trudged back to the tower. Her feet hurt. And she hated that she could still hear that fucking music behind her. And she hated Wednesdays because they always, always went something like this.
She couldn’t wait to call Jayce later and rant this long fucking day off her chest. He was who she should be spending the day beside, relaxed, knowing the other half of her section wasn’t being neglected. But this is just how Wednesdays were for her now. Stressful. Stressed about another stupid argument. Stressed about the heads that disappear beneath the waves. Stressed about blind drunk parents and their overconfident kids.
“Just so you know, I’ve probably asked for a new schedule more than you have. You’re not exactly a pleasure to work with, either.”
Caitlyn stopped again, finally in the shade of the tower. It was a simple hut, square on tall stilts. It was painted with a sun-stained mural of dolphins and purple starfish, and had a yellow flag waving from its pole.
In front of them, a man chased a bag of chips as it dangled from a seagull’s beak. She didn’t get to pause to appreciate the sight, because her eyes were stabbing into Vi’s. “I am six days a week.”
“The Princess of Piltover works seven days a week?” Vi said doubtfully. “No wonder you’re so high strung.”
“We’re supposed to be high strung, Vi. Not sure how many times I have to explain that to you. If that’s such a difficult concept for you, maybe you should try the boardwalk dispensary, I think they’re hiring.”
“Jesus, Kiramman. When was the last time you relaxed?” She took a step closer, bit her bottom lip, tilted her shades down, and made a disgusting display of looking Caitlyn up and down. The skin on Caitlyn’s back prickled. “Or when was the last time you got fu—,”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll have you fired before the end of your shift.” Shit, maybe she should have let her. That’d be a quick way to get rid of her.
“What? It’s not like I’m offering.” Her voice lowered, and a snide grin pressed a dimple into her cheek. “King Arthur couldn’t pry that fucking stick out.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re a bitch.”
“And you’re under-qualified.”
“I lifeguarded at Zaun Bay for six years.”
“Right,” Caitlyn laughed. “Where the waves max out at half a foot, your number one threat is jellyfish stings, and your main attraction is fucking paddle board rentals. That’s quite the experience.”
Vi scoffed and crossed her arms. Got her. Finally, in the silence, Caitlyn could truly feel the almost perfect day seeping back in. Warm sun. Toes in the sand. Down the beach, the seagull dropped the chip bag. The man caught it and cheered, earning applause from others nearby.
Caitlyn eyed her again, watching the muscle in her temple pop out as she angrily chewed her gum. She would have preferred to slap that smear of sunscreen off her face, but getting her to shut up like this was nice, too.
The walkie hissed with static. “Tower 30.”
Caitlyn held it to her mouth. “Go for 30.”
“Wind is up to twenty-five mph. Surf up to five feet. Red flag warning.”
“Copy. Switching flags to red.” Caitlyn clipped the radio back to her shorts and turned to Vi. “I’m on it.”
“What? Don’t think I’m experienced enough to work a flagpole?”
“Never said that,” Caitlyn said passively, walking behind her. “Just didn’t want to be called bossy again for asking you to do a simple task.”
Vi laughed humorlessly. “For someone who doesn’t like to be called Kiramman, you are so classic fucking Piltie.”
“You don’t know me at all.” Caitlyn stopped at the pole and began untying the rope from the cleat.
“I know your type. You’re a rich girl who thinks she knows everything and walks all over me for being from Zaun—,”
“Jesus, you’re even more inattentive than I thought, if that’s your takeaway.” She pulled one side of the rope, and the yellow flag eased steadily down. “You haven’t heard a damn word I’ve said if—,”
Both of their heads snapped to the side.
A faint commotion.
A woman pointing towards the water. A small shout. In the wind and yelling and music, a slight interruption.
Both of them took off running.
Vi went towards the woman, throwing off her sunglasses and raising the red tube, charging powerfully through the thick sand. Her feet splashed in the shallow water before she dove like a bullet through the first wave, her pink hair disappearing beneath the white cap in an instant.
Caitlyn went away from them, towards the north, where the red jet ski bobbed near the shore. She tore off her shirt and dropped it as she ran, watching constantly for Vi. Her scarlet suit surfaced just after her tube. Her arms thrashed quickly, tearing through the water in sharp strides, the faint black strips of her tattoo, fighting the tide.
Caitlyn’s bare feet slapped the cold water before she leapt onto the ski. She untied the anchor rope, opened the center console, and pulled out the key. It clicked into place, and with the handle already turned, she pressed the ignition and revved it to life. She gripped the throttle all the way, pivoting and firing into the first wave all at once.
White water washed over the top, soaking her as she stood, her knees bent and bracing for impact. But it roared and splashed down over the top before firing forward.
Vi got to him first. Just two dots in the distance, Caitlyn spotted her hand in the air.
A signal.
Gunning it towards them, Caitlyn held up her walkie. “Control. Dispatch ambulance, Tower 30.”
“Copy. Ambulance dispatched to 30.”
Caitlyn tucked it back and leaned forward, bracing for another wave. The blood was rushing so loudly in her ears, and her vision blurred at the edges. All she could see was the hand raised over the water.
As she approached, she saw a large man clinging to the red tube. His long hair was wet and covering his eyes. He was coughing violently with water spilling from his lips.
Caitlyn eased the jet ski to a halt, cutting it into reverse to spin it around. “Ambulance is on its way!”
Panting and treading water, Vi pushed the man towards the back of the ski, where a red sled was attached. Caitlyn cut the engine, turned around, and planted her feet on the footwells. She reached for the man’s shoulders, pulling as Vi pushed.
The man groaned and muttered something. His exhausted body barely clung to the handles. He was way too far out, probably caught in a riptide.
“What?” Vi yelled, her voice barely louder than the violent splashing around them. She climbed up, practically pressing her ear against the man’s face.
Caitlyn stood up straight in anticipation, scanning the water around them.
“Your son? Cait, there’s a kid!”
“There!” Caitlyn pointed, spotting something dark beneath the surface.
Shit.
Shit.
Vi had already dove under, her tube untied from her waist. Through the churn of thick foam, her red suit was barely a blur.
Milliseconds ticked by like hours.
Caitlyn panted. This was too long. He was under too long.
Thirty seconds to affect brain function. Two minutes for unconsciousness. Four minutes for irreversible brain damage—
Two hands shot up out of the water. A large fist clasped around a tiny wrist.
Caitlyn seized the small arm and yanked it up. With adrenaline surging through her veins, the little boy came effortlessly out of the water. She laid him across her lap, tapped his cheek, and yelled in his ear.
No response.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Gasping for breath, Vi clung to the handles of the sled and waved her forward.
Holding the limp child in one arm, Caitlyn revved the ski back to life and gunned it. By now, the view ahead was a crowded beach and an empty sea, a clear path ahead. But all she could think about was the motionless body that hung over her elbow.
The ski bounced over the waves. Caitlyn looked back, but Vi was holding the man firmly against the sled.
It beached with a jolt, the sudden halt, drifting the vehicle to the side.
Clutching the boy against her chest, Caitlyn leapt off. The second her feet were out of the water, she sank to her knees, laying him in the sand. The crowd closed in, draping her in shadow.
“Come on,” she said loudly, tapping him again, rubbing her knuckles against his sternum.
Nothing.
Four minutes for irreversible brain damage. Six minutes for death—
“Back up!” Vi rasped, and the crowd backed away.
Caitlyn tilted up his chin, pressed her hand into his chest. The heel of her palm, directly in the center. Two inches deep. A hundred to a hundred-twenty beats per minute. Thirty times. Only three seconds after his back hit the ground, Caitlyn had begun compressions.
Behind her, his father coughed and yelled out.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
Vi yelled at the crowd again, her voice strained in exhaustion. It was amazing she could even stand after swimming that much. But no one even got close to Caitlyn. Nothing broke her focus.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
Sirens whirred in the distance. A woman cried.
Twenty-nine. Thirty.
Caitlyn tilted his chin again and gave two breaths, the chest rising each time. Then lifted away.
Nothing.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Come on, Cait,” Vi whispered, the beach suddenly dead silent. “You got this.”
Compressions again. One. Two. Three.
The sirens got closer.
Four more cycles. Compressions. Breaths. Again and again.
Two EMTs stopped in front of her, but didn’t interrupt. “Riptide. Four-year-old,” Vi told them. “Time under unknown. CPR three minutes…”
One. Two. Three—
The boy’s chest lurched beneath her hands, seawater spilling from his mouth. Caitlyn immediately turned him on his side and he coughed up more.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
The crowd roared and Caitlyn finally leaned back. Then EMTs took over, speaking praise that Caitlyn couldn’t quite hear. Her hands hit the sand behind her, the muscles in her arms burning in relief.
Hands clapped her shoulders, but she could barely feel a thing.
The world around her moved in flashes. Like a movie, a blur around her, she was still, a spectator through her own eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest. Everything that happened after that, after Caitlyn could hear the child suck in a breath of air, sped by her in an instant. The crowd. The stretcher. The lights and sirens blaring again. All of it.
It wasn’t until the crowd had dissipated, and she watched the ambulance round the curve of the road, that her body came to a halt.
And then, it was everything.
The thin layer of sand between her feet and the concrete path. The slow breath in her lungs. The gull flying over her head. Every detail, selectively greeting her as she came back to life.
And Vi, standing beside her.
Fuck. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.
“Shit,” Vi whispered, shaking her head. She swiped back her dark, dampened hair and turned to Caitlyn. “That was insane.”
Caitlyn nodded and swallowed, her mouth unnaturally dry.
“Nice job, Cait.”
Caitlyn blinked at her. Forcing herself to replay it all, she grasped for every moment, like a dream she’d just woken up from. Like if she didn’t remember it all now, it might be gone forever. “You, too, Vi.”
Vi held up her hand. And Caitlyn high-fived her. She turned and walked back to the tower, and Caitlyn trailed slowly behind, blinking down at her watch.
Four hours and forty-five minutes left.
Four hours and thirty minutes left. Reporters showed up and shoved a microphone in her face. Caitlyn couldn’t quite get the words out and looked to Vi, who was quick to recount the story.
Four hours left. The water stayed pretty empty. Families who had come with kids packed up their stuff and left. Parallel lines carved through the sand beneath plastic cooler wheels. Caitlyn picked up half-buried toys left behind.
Three hours left. Caitlyn and Vi made their rounds in silence, anxiously watching the few final swimmers.
Two hours left. The sun fell completely behind the tallest hotel on the boardwalk, casting a long shadow over the beach.
One hour left. Vi beached the jet ski for the night.
Five minutes left. Caitlyn slung her bag over her shoulder and locked the tower door.
One minute left. Caitlyn and Vi began walking to the parking lot, then drove in the Jeep to the South Shimmer Lifeguard Station.
As the only one in the showers, Caitlyn took her time. She stared at her feet, watching bits of sand sparkle in a stream toward the drain. Being at the furthest station meant they were typically the last to get in for the night. But word got around, and several others stuck around to congratulate them in the lobby. Caitlyn didn’t really care for the attention and slipped by them quickly.
Now, it was quiet, save for the steady stream of warm water tapping against her back. She took a deep breath of the steamy air, before finally shutting it off.
Her locker clicked as she twisted the knob. She swung it open, toweled off, and tucked her swimsuit into her bag. The soft, dry t-shirt embraced her like a hug. Like the finish line of the world’s longest day, relief seemed to seep through every thread. Dressed, with her bag in her hands, and her locker shut, Caitlyn should have been eager to go home.
But instead, she just sat back on the bench, staring blankly ahead.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way the boy felt in her arms. That endless ride back to the shore, where every second felt like his life was ticking away.
Four minutes for irreversible brain damage. Lung complications. Every other possible outcome. She didn’t want to walk out of this room and have another person tell her she’s a hero. She just did what she was supposed to. What she was trained to do. And still, it might not have been enough.
“Have you ever done CPR on a kid that small?”
Caitlyn jumped and looked over. Vi stood with her shoulder leaned against the row of lockers, her arms crossed in front of her. “Um,” Caitlyn’s voice rasped, not having spoken for hours. She cleared her throat and looked forward again. “No.”
Vi eased down on the bench beside her. Caitlyn didn’t even know she was still here. But she was also dressed, and her wet hair was slicked back. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”
Caitlyn blinked. It kind of sounded like a compliment. “Have you?”
“No,” Vi said, shaking her head. “I’m glad it was you.”
Brain damage. Lung complications. “Yeah,” Caitlyn said absently. She took a deep breath through her nose and looked down at her fingernails. But she tucked them into fists before she could pick them again. “You’re a fast swimmer.”
That was the other thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. Vi diving through that wave. Her body gliding furiously through the water.
But it wasn’t just her speed. It was the way her head snapped the same time Caitlyn’s did. The way she reacted. The way she moved without having to be told anything. The two of them, they were like this…cohesive team. This ebb and flow.
They did everything they were supposed to. Tomorrow, she’d have to write up a report for this, and when she did, she’d tell that every single protocol was followed perfectly. Right? Thirty compressions. Two breaths. A hundred to a hundred-twenty beats per minute—
“Thanks,” Vi said, sounding a little surprised.
Caitlyn spared her another glance. Vi pulled out her phone, checked the screen, then tucked it back into her pocket. Something about her was just…different. Everything Caitlyn had thought about her…maybe Vi was a little more qualified than she seemed.
Maybe she was good at this.
But even if they did everything right, it didn’t mean they’d succeeded.
“He’s gonna be okay,” Vi said reassuringly before standing up.
“Yeah,” Caitlyn looked at the floor again. Brain damage. Lung complications. She might be here a while. “I hope so.”
“No, he is.” Vi smiled warmly, quietly chewing another piece of cinnamon gum. “Like actually.”
Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“I’ve got a buddy who works in the South Point ER who owes me a favor.” She tapped her thigh, where the rectangle of her phone poked through her basketball shorts. “The kid’s gonna be fine. So’s his dad.”
Vi turned for the exit.
Caitlyn stalled, then quickly stood up to follow her. “You’re serious?” Vi held the metal door open behind her, and Caitlyn rushed to grab it. “Isn’t that a HIPAA violation?”
“Eh,” Vi shrugged, slowing down to walk beside her through the lobby. The lights had been dimmed, and their footsteps echoed against the vinyl floor. “It’s not a big deal. I figured we both deserved to sleep tonight.”
Caitlyn smiled at the floor.
He’s fine. The kid was fine.
Holy shit.
Relief flooded through her. She released her fists and clutched her chest, the fabric of her t-shirt, soft against her skin. She could have cried right there, but she swallowed it back. Her keycard beeped against the sensor, and the door clicked open, taking her turn to hold it for Vi.
Vi.
Of all people.
“I thought you said I deserved to go to hell,” Caitlyn teased as she walked through.
Wait, what?
“I said you deserved to rule hell,” Vi grinned, keeping her eye contact and walking backward as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Important distinction.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” What was this? Was she…joking…with Vi? Caitlyn quickly looked away from her. In a quiet panic, her eyes darted, searching for her car in the dark parking lot.
She’s gotta leave.
This was getting weird.
She took one step away and stopped. “For what it’s worth,” Caitlyn said suddenly, not even really deciding the words that came out of her mouth. “I don’t care that you’re from Zaun. That’s not why…I’m not…you know…”
Vi raised an eyebrow, toying with her car key between her fingertips.
“I just…” Caitlyn’s skin felt weird. Like ants were crawling under her clothes. All of the comfort of the situation had just disappeared as instinct forced her to speak. “It’s hard to live with a mistake. So…”
Vi’s eyes narrowed, only for a second. “I got it, Cait.” She pressed on her car key, and her headlights lit up. She grinned again, “You’re here to save lives.”
Caitlyn smiled back. “Looks like we both are.”
What is happening?
Vi opened her car door. A few spots away, Caitlyn did the same. “See you next Wednesday, Cait.”
“Goodnight, Vi.”
Caitlyn closed her door.
Then hiked the collar of her shirt up over her face, pressed her palms against her mouth, and screamed into her hand. The muffled yell rang out in her car.
What the fuck was that?