Sister Cities

Part 20: Caitlyn

I would do anything you want me to

I would do anything for you

I would do anything

I would do anything

Whatever you want me to do, I will do

~

Coverеd in scars a canyon deep

It's not like what I thought it'd be

The gruеsome beauty of your face in everyone I meet

________________________________________________________________________________

My door creaks open. I snatch my rifle from the floor and aim at the shadow on the threshold; it doesn't react, and after a moment, my eyes adjust enough to recognize it as Vi's.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

I hear her inhale as if she means to respond, but she doesn't. Disconcerted, I stand and put on my lanterns, and she inhales again, and again she says nothing.

I turn around. She leans heavily on my doorframe, wearing the same limited amount of clothing as last night, only this time, I don't care. Her gaze is fixed on one of the lights.

"What's wrong?" I ask. She blinks. "Vi," I say, padding across the floor as mildly as I can. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes finally move to me. "Caitlyn."

"Yes." I push down my impatience. "What happened? Why are you here?"

"She's gone."

It takes a second to click, but there is no question as to who "she" is meant to refer to. And "gone" unequivocally means gone: outside the fort, with no trail.

"How?" I ask. "How? She was restrained. There are guards everywhere."

Vi shakes her head. "Guards don't stop Powder when she really wants to go."

"But she was restrained. The handcuffs I gave you are unbreakable, and the locks can't be picked, if she even had anything to pick them with, which she couldn't have."

Vi pulls away from the doorframe and sways like she's drunk. I catch her by the forearms. "Come here," I say, drawing her after me to my cot, trying not to panic when she doesn't protest.

"I set her free."

Her voice is quiet— not controlled quiet, like mine, but uncontrolled quiet, born of a strange combination of frailty and restlessness. Vi should not be frail. When she was dying of a stab wound, she was more anchored than this.

I slide a bit closer to her on the bed and gravity pushes us just enough that our shoulders touch, something she doesn't object to either. "You set her free," I say.

She nods.

"Why?"

Her fists half-curl between her knees, then go limp. "I wanted her to choose."

It's impossible for me to fathom. Jinx has been good, surprisingly good, but at the end of the day, she's still Jinx.

We should be on our feet. We should be collecting weapons and fighters and tearing through the city until we find her, because God knows what she's planning to do, but we can all guess that it's not good. My first thought is joining Sevika; my second thought is usurping her.

But I stay here, because Vi is here, shivering like a wet leaf, and I don't want to see her break.

"I understand," I say. "It's all right."