Work Text:
“I found this notebook on a dead enforcer… ironic isn't it? I don't even know why I'm writing.
“10:05 pm end of patrolling XII street. Girl Zaunite arrested for damaging private property (the fucker was writing something in light blue paint, I swear, these people..)” is the last entry. I wonder who put two bullets on his back.
What do I have to say? That I failed Powder… Jinx? That I failed everyone I loved? I do enjoy the thrill of a fight. It gives me… someone that's there literally to be punched to unconsciousness… sometimes to death.
Death yea, it seems to follow me wherever I go. I thought… jeez I thought that by joining you, your group of marvellous avenging enforcers I'd have given my life a better purpose. And yet you left. When the very first fight was about to be won, you turned your back at me.
I had seen something there, Cait. I had seen something in my sister's eyes, in the words she chose “it had to be you”... Fuck Cait, did you even try to see what I was feeling?
I had my little sister in front of me, changed, moulded to be some sort of preem solo hitman, I don't fucking know… telling me that she was expecting me to be her end, that she had probably been waiting.
I didn't even have the time to think before that little kid jumped on her and… I was frozen. My emotions shut off and came back all at once, but all wrong, all distorted. Good and bad melted together in a way that I couldn't untangle.
And you didn't listen to me.
Cait, I had asked you one thing… I had asked you to promise me. You fucking kissed me. Just to leave me behind because I didn't strike, because I got too confused, played by my emotions once again.
And so I am now. Every time I fight there's a face I know on my opponent. Silco, Sevika, Jinx, You… you Cait. Sometimes I knock someone out and see your bleeding face on the ground. I see your blue hair matted in blood and your face calm, your eyes closed and your cheek bruised. Sometimes blood is spilling out of your lips.
Those are the days I hate the most. When it's your face that I'm forced to punch over and over. When it's your cries I hear instead those of my opponent. I fucking hate this. The days I see you or Jinx I drink the most. I just want to pass out, I couldn't care less.
Better to pass out in an alley than remembering Powder’s child smile laying on the ground or your soft lips broken and leaking droplets of scarlet.
I still damn love you, Cait. I still damn love you and I never had a chance to tell you. I never even had a chance to talk about us… apart from that fucking stupid thing I said about oil and water.
I never believed that, that's why I joined you in the first place. I became a damn enforcer, Cait! Those motherfuckers killed my parents and yet here I am, siding with you because all you damn gave me was something real to live for.
I don't care if I die tomorrow on the ring, I don't care if I'll never have the chance to see you again… I don't even know if it's me or the booze talking now. As I was writing I got to the end of the bottle.
Damn Cait… I never had anything, didn't have the privileges of a name or a damn parent in the council! Fuck… sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could've seen that coming. I wish I understood before why you seemed so damn full of rage to the point of leaving me.
I understand it now. It wasn't because you had the shot, it wasn't because it was my fault that Jinx got away… you knew you'd eventually find her again.
You needed to get away from me because I'm her sister, and in that moment when I looked into her eyes and realised I still loved her, you saw in me the same person who killed your mom.
I'm so sorry, Cait… There's no day I don't think about her funeral and how my mind just went from “half of the council is dead” to “my Caitlyn's mom is dead”. I'm so sorry for her… it's not right that I've got a chance to rescue Jinx in some way, while you'll never hear your mom's voice again. I met her once and she was pointing a rifle at us, called me a “stray” and yet, trust me Cait, I'm sorry.
I know what it feels like… trust me. It's that hate for you enforcers that sprouted from that feeling… when I realised mom and dad were never going to return. When I saw my mother's face laying on the stone bridge. I still have the framed picture of her glassy wide open eyes as she laid dead burnt on my mind. I got taken away back then, I didn't have the privilege of a funeral or a gravestone to kneel in front of. I shouldn't even write about this because… it's not your fault. Being born in Zaun or Piltover isn't a choice, it's probably like spinning a wheel and being really lucky, depending on the point of view.
I pray I won't see the next of my opponents wearing her face, laying on the sand. I guess I'd break. What didn't completely break me once would do it now. As much as it does seeing you.
It's stupid how many blue things I can name. I try to keep them away from me and my memory. Whenever I see something blue I push it back at some remote corner of my mind. I avoid the daily sky, I turn my back from that colour every time I see it.
But yesterday I was half gone, I was barely standing and some fucking banners got me. Blue. It was all so fucking blue. And you were there, smiling, screaming.
And my head started to scream too at all the memories. So I just buried my face in the sink and screamed back. I screamed the blue out of my head as the water bubbled around my eyes.
I didn't feel better. I just felt exhausted. All I'm doing it's because I have nothing else left. Maybe I'm wasting my time, I'm letting Powder down again. I'm not coming to look for you.
But I have to paint all that blue I have around me and in my head with a black void. A black that covers any other colour.
I leave a little bit of red to remember the me I left behind, but all the rest… it's just black. Though Cait… you're not only blue. You're soft and the same as a sweet violin melody. There are no soft things left around me, no violin music to remind me of the only time I had a chance to kiss you.
If I had any, I guess I'd really go insane… and yet my mind aches for those things the same way my hands ache for a face to punch, a face that sometimes isn't the right one.
If you ever come back, if we ever meet again, I don't know if I'll punch you or kiss you. Probably both, I'm guessing which one will be the first”