Arcane fanfic: "Falling Down, Rising Up"

[kaffy_r]

Title: Falling Down, Rising Up
Author: kaffy_r 
Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Netflix animated series)
Characters: Vi/Violet; Powder; Mylo; Claggor; Vander
Words: 3,889, per AO3
Edited by: My beloved dr_whuh.
Summary/Author's Notes: Under cut to avoid spoilers for folks who haven't seen it, but might do so.
Disclaimer: With the exception of one original character, all characters here are the properties of Riot Games, Fortiche Productions, Alex Yee and Christian Linke. I intend no copyright infringement and take no coin. I just love all the characters.

Summary:  After Powder falls from the wall of Silco's lair, short-circuiting the timeline in which her monkey bomb goes off, Vi and the rest of Powder's adoptive family fight to keep her alive. A look into a timeline where life for Vi and Powder - for the entirety of The Lanes, perhaps - is kinder.
Author's note: I fell in love with Arcane, and think its canon story is an exemplary example of a well constructed tragedy. I'm glad its writers wrote the story as they did, even if it gutted me and many others.

Still, I've been haunted with the idea of what might have happened, had Powder's monkey bomb *not* gone off. Would the divergence into an alternate timeline be huge? Would it differ very little ultimately? I love Vander and his adopted family - and Mylo especially, for some odd reason. I started wondering if his sniping at Powder, and her sniping back, might actually hint at a deeper brother/sister relationship that might be possible if her family wasn't buried under tons of rubble.

So here is a story that comes from all my questions. I don't know if other stories are in the offing, but I'm glad I wrote this one. I hope you enjoy.

***   ***   ***    ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

They found her crumpled at the base of the wall she’d obviously been trying to climb, her little satchel still slung over one shoulder.  Vi ran to her, looking at the stones she lay on and breathing just a little easier when she saw no blood; none under her head, none in her tangled blue hair. No blood, that was good, she thought; there’d been too much blood tonight already. 

“She breathing?” Claggor was wheezing himself, covered in brick dust and blood from where he’d slid down the broken staircase as fast as his thickset frame would allow. He’d pushed his goggles up to the top of his head and he moved to Vi’s side.

“Yeah. Help me get her up. Don’t move her neck; keep it still,” Vi said. She fell to her knees beside her sister, aware that she was trying to sound as if she knew what she was doing when she could barely think at all beyond the panic of Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die.  

“Back off, Vi. Claggor and I will get her. You and Mylo keep a lookout; Silco’s people are going to be through that door any minute — may already be. We’ve got to move.”  Vander loomed over her. She knew he was in rough shape, but she also knew he and Claggor still had enough strength to carry Powder, and would be as gentle as possible with her. 

“Where do we go? Back to The Last Drop? Do we want that?” Vi didn’t want to think about having to fight inside the confines of home, breaking tables she helped clean, scrubbing blood from the floors — 

“We’ve got friends there. They won’t give Silco’s people much of a welcome.” Vander tried to smile, but winced instead. The bruises on his face were purpling even more, and one eye was now completely swollen shut. 

Mylo, who’d landed on the ground faster than anyone except Vi, hadn’t joined everyone else by Powder’s side. Not until now; when he moved into the circle and saw her, his breath caught, then came out in a little gasp. Vi hadn’t expected that, nor Mylo’s look of stricken guilt. 

“Vi, I —”  He stopped himself. “I’ll take the rear and keep watch as we go, OK? When I see anyone, I’ll yell. 

“We can do this,” he said; a weak but determined echo of what Vander had told him. 

“Good.” It was all Vi could bring herself to say. Not just because she was as winded as Claggor after her battle, but because she was as guilt-stricken as Mylo seemed to be. I should have locked the door. I should have done what Vander did to me.

Far above them, they heard faint shouts. Vi thought she saw Deckard’s misshapen silhouette moving on the half-collapsed balcony that had won their final escape from Silco’s building. For one second she wondered if she’d ever get the look of him out of her dreams. “They’re through.”

As Claggor and Vander carefully picked Powder up, her bag fell from her shoulder. Vi saw something flash blue through its canvas. Seeing the light connected dots in her head between the explosion in Piltover and what must have been Powder’s plan. She almost fell in her rush to keep it from hitting the ground. 

“Wha — Vi?” Claggor was holding Powder’s feet, and saw Vi’s scramble.

“Tell you at home,” Vi managed. She looked at Vander. “Go, please!”

Vander nodded, his one eye looking up at the same sight she’d seen. “You too. Both of you. Run.” 

Vi took a last look at her sister as Claggor gingerly moved her to Vander’s shoulder, and steadied her neck. She watched as the two of them took off, moving more smoothly in tandem than she imagined they could. 

Something small and sodden with rain lay near the base of the wall where Powder had landed. Mylo looked closer, and dashed back to grab it. He stared at the cloth rabbit, seemingly mesmerized. 

“C’mon, Mylo! Move it — now!”

“Got it.”  He shook off whatever thought had stopped his usual physical jittering, then took off, holding the rabbit. Mylo could do the right thing when it absolutely came down to it, Vi thought distractedly as she caught up with him. They ran.

***   ***   ***   ***

“Go to Babette.” 

“But she’s —”

Vander looked at Huck, his frown deepening. “I know what she is. She’s a friend, and she keeps her girls safe. She’s got someone on staff at her place, a decent healer, if not a doctor.

“It’s someone we can trust not to run to Silco. See? And Huck? Bring her in the back way.”

After a second, the little man nodded, then scuttled off up the stairs to the main section of the bar.

Vi, who hadn’t slept in two days, looked at Vander. “Can we trust him ?”

Vander, who hadn’t slept in three, rubbed one large hand across his face, flinching slightly when the pressure hit his still damaged eye. “Huck’s alright for something like this. He’s not someone Silco’s goons will pay any attention to. They’re looking for me. Or you; maybe Mylo or Claggor. Not Huck. And Huck wants to help.”

Almost everyone in The Lanes wanted to help.  It was why The Last Drop was still free from Silco; why they’d been able to bury Benzo and make sure Ekko was safe in the store where he’d been raised; why the enforcers under Marcus had collected Grayson’s body, but had retreated without hauling Vander or any of his adopted children into custody. Without Grayson, Marcus — clearly now in Silco’s pay — was a paper tiger. Even some of Sevika’s disaffected followers had come back, horrified at what his new purple drug had done to one of their own, and willing to accept Vander’s leadership once more.

But improvised weapons and all the bravery of The Lanes, couldn’t help a little girl who’d smashed hard into unforgiving stones. 

Powder whimpered and clutched her thin blanket around her neck. She wasn’t awake or aware, but she wasn’t quite asleep either, and noise seemed to bother her. Vi and Vander fell silent.

Powder had lingered in this limbo for almost as long as Vander and Vi had been awake. They were at their wits’ end with worry, and none of the basic first aid Vander had brought to bear on his littlest girl had done much except keep her from dying outright.

Finally, Vander gave a reluctant pronouncement. It was something to do with her brain, he said. There may be something that was damaged when her head hit the ground. I’ve seen it happen in fighters who’ve had bad matches. I can’t help her with something like that; we’ll have to find someone who can. 

Now Powder’s family waited for a miracle, in the person of the healer from Babette’s brothel. 

They didn’t have long to wait. Huck arrived, completely out of breath, followed by a tall woman with facial tattoos, an extremely long neck that hinted at some non-human background, and very large, very kind eyes. That she sported a long knife inside a gator-skin scabbard didn’t bother Vi. Her haversack, a corner of which appeared to glow a very faint green, did. 

The healer saw where Vi was looking, and smiled slightly. “Don’t worry. It’s a fungus I’ve found helpful in treating injuries. It won’t hurt the little girl.” Her smile disappeared as she looked at Powder. “Although I’m not sure I can … well, perhaps…”

She turned to Vander. “My name is — the name I call myself, rather — is Allium. May I touch her? I will be gentle, but I need to feel her head and neck.”

Vander nodded tightly, and the healer approached the bed and its shivering occupant. Her fingers were long and thin, like her neck, but they were very delicate, as they explored Powder’s skull, patiently holding off if Powder whimpered or moaned. Vi tried not to hold her breath. 

She turned at the sound of the door opening again, and watched Claggor do his best to tiptoe quietly down to a position beside her. She held her finger to her lips; he blinked, but obeyed while jerking his chin in the direction of the healer. Vi shook her head; she had no idea what the woman was doing. 

“Huck, Vi, Claggor; out, now,” Vander said. 

Huck cringed his way out, although not before Vander clapped him on both shoulders by way of thanks. The little man smiled nervously, and ducked his head in gratitude.

Vi didn’t move. 

“Go on,” Vander said. “I’ll let you know —”

“I’m not leaving,” Vi said. She meant it to sound tough and determined. It came out as a plea. 

Vander’s shoulders slumped. “Stay on the stairs, then.” 

When the healer finished her inspection of Powder she said quietly, “Is there someplace we can talk? Perhaps in the hall above?”

“My study,” Vander said, referring to the cubby he used while toting up The Last Drop’s bills and evening takings. “Not upstairs.” The bar had shut down for the night, and although many of their tougher friends were on watch outside, he didn’t want to attract attention from any skulkers who might be taking Silco’s coin. 

Claggor’s broad honest face was full of worry as he said, “I’ll stay and watch, Vi. You go hear what the healer has to say.” 

Vi grimaced, but agreed, touching Claggor’s shoulder gratefully. As she, Vander, and the healer headed up the stairs, Claggor stage-whispered, “Don’t trip over Mylo. He’s asleep outside the door.”

Vi wasn’t surprised. The wild-haired wise-ass she’d had to school so many times, especially over the way he bullied Powder, was almost beside himself now that Powder was this close to death; a disconsolate shadow haunting the hall outside the sickroom, unable to bring himself to come in and unable to leave.

He’d said little to anyone after they came back to The Last Drop, except to tell Vander and Vi that he was sorry, he was really sorry. When Vander told him once again that he’d helped immeasurably in the rescue mission, Mylo hadn’t responded. When Vi told him he’d done nothing wrong, forcing herself past the stupid rage she felt about Mylo’s little cruelties to Powder, he had just shaken his head, eyes swimming with misery.

He had always been a noisy risk in their thieving missions and street scuffles, prone to the kind of mouthy bragging that had gotten them into trouble with Deckard’s pack. He’d always complained about things, always boasted about his somewhat suspect talents.

Yet he’d also been a source of spiky companionship and erratic warmth among the four of them. In fact, when Mylo wasn’t walking around with a chip on his shoulder, he could be funny and generous. When he didn’t feel like he was being judged by the world, Mylo could be kind to Powder — even (very occasionally, and he would have denied it if confronted) protective of her.

Powder danced with Claggor; she skipped and played with Ekko; she worshiped her sister, something that unnerved Vi once she was old enough to realize it. But for some reason, she always veered toward Mylo, drawn into conflict with him, almost seeming to bump into him deliberately, to scowl at him and better his shooting scores with her own. It was as if she thought Mylo was daring her to grow up, to be better, as if she wanted his approval almost as much as she wanted Vi’s and Vander’s.

Of course, most of the time, it was Mylo being an ass, being more than a little bit of a bully. But … 

… but now he slept outside the sickroom, with a lumpen stuffed rabbit drying by his side.

***   ***   ***   ***

Allium had to bend down to get through the door to Vander’s study; Vi realized the healer was even taller than her adoptive father. She shook her head when Vander gestured toward a chair. 

“I wish I had better news,” the healer said. “Your little one has a brain fever. Her brain was bruised from her fall —” here, she looked keenly at Vander, who didn’t react. “ — and that has caused swelling, with fluids pressing on the brain.”

Vi, who was leaning against the door, spoke before Vander could. “Can you help her?”

Allium looked at the ceiling, not at Vander or Vi. “I have a procedure I can do, that siphons the fluids off of an injured brain and relieves pressure. Once the pressure is off, the bruising can usually heal. But I have never done it on someone so young. It is always risky; I must tell you that I think it’s far more risky for that little one than for the men and women I’ve used the procedure on.

“Are you willing to take that risk?” That was directed at Vander.

“What happens if you don’t do it?”

Allium’s facial tattoos didn’t hide her grimace. “She will most likely die.”

Vi couldn’t help her cry. “Then do it. She should do it, right, Vander? Do it!”

Vander sat at his desk, his hulking mass dwarfing the desk and his chair. He looked defeated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes … If you have to, to save her. She’s my daughter. Do it.”  

He fell silent, then visibly forced himself to be Vander again; to be the one who would keep them all safe. “Alright. What do you need? How do we help?”

Allium considered. “Clean blankets and sheets. Hot water. Bandages. An empty basin. And soft restraints to keep her from moving about — especially around her head.

“The rest I have in my haversack.”

The next few minutes were a confusion of running to the bar’s storeroom, of finding clean linens, of heating pots of water in the tiny kitchen that was part of the family’s space rather than The Last Drop’s. Vi followed every order from Allium, taking her cue from Vander. 

They returned to the bedroom, which Vi now realized stank of illness. Vander was the only one who could reach the transom window that sat above a bricked up old door; he forced it open, and had Claggor keep the bedroom door open, so that what passed for fresh air in The Lanes could flow through and clear some of the miasma. 

All of the bustle woke Mylo, and he pulled himself upright. As Vi passed by with another pot of hot water, he plucked at her arm. “Vi? What’s going on?”

“Healer’s going to take some pressure off Powder’s brain,” Vi said, once again trying to sound as if she knew what she was talking about. “Healer says that should lower her fever, and let her recover.”

Mylo rarely smiled; he generally smirked instead, all part of his largely unsuccessful efforts to appear cool. But when he heard Vi’s explanation, his face went soft in a smile that smoothed out all of his usual edges. 

“Oh. Oh … yeah. Good. Yeah, good.”

Vi found herself smiling back at him. “You want to help?”

Mylo looked taken aback. “Uh … yeah, sure. What can I do?”

“That rabbit,” Vi said, pointing to her old toy. “Can you clean it up more?”

Why Powder had brought it with her when she tried to climb into Silco’s lair, Vi had no idea, but if it had been that important to her, then Vi wanted it to be there for her when she finally opened her eyes. 

She’ll open her eyes. I promise I’ll be good and I promise I’ll keep her safe if you let her open her eyes. Please, please don’t die.

“It’s almost dry,” Mylo said, looking hopeful, and almost, almost, almost as young as Powder for a second. “I … I can get the last of the dirt off.”

“Good. Do that. And Mylo?”

He actually hunched down as if he thought Vi was going to hit him. 

“Thanks for bringing it back. You can give it to Powder when she wakes up.”

Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die.

Mylo smiled even more, a lop-sided grin. “Yeah.” He leaned down, grabbed the rabbit, and started carefully brushing the last of the dirt off it with the kind of focus he normally saved for lock-picking.

Vi moved past him, headed once again down the stairs into the bedroom. Under Allium’s direction, she and Vander secured Powder, gingerly tying her arms and legs to the posts of the bunk bed. It was harder to secure her head; even unconscious, Powder resisted, moaning and twisting away from the restraints. 

As they struggled with her, Allium brought out her tools, including the green fungus that had glimmered in the haversack. She placed some of it in a shallow dish and set the dish on the floor as close to Powder’s head as she could make it. She struck a flame from her small tinder box, and lit the fungus. To Vi’s surprise, the smoke it gave off was sweet and fresh, clearing the sick room of its stink even more than the open window.

Vi found herself calming down, felt her heart beat a little more slowly. Vander, too, seemed to relax ever so slightly. And Powder, who was closest to the smoke, stopped struggling and breathed more regularly. 

The tools Allium laid carefully on a clean cloth atop a chair were sharp, unfamiliar, and frightening. If it hadn’t been for the smoke’s psychically analgesic influence, Vi might have panicked when she saw them. Instead, she forced herself to watch the entire procedure, surprised when Powder didn’t cry out at what the healer did. 

What seemed like hours later, Allium breathed a sigh of relief as clear yellow liquid, streaked with palest pink, dropped from the narrow tube she’d delicately inserted at Powder’s temple into the basin the healer held. 

The healer watched until the tube stopped dripping fluid, then removed it from the incision. She cleaned and bandaged the wound with some of the soft clean strips Vi had turned one sheet into, placing some kind of moss under the bandages. 

“I’ve bandaged this very loosely; the moss will soak up any remaining fluids, and it will keep bleeding to a minimum, but we don’t want the incision sewn up, not yet at least,” she explained. 

“Let us see what happens now, and over the next few hours,” she whispered, almost to herself. 

Vi felt rather than saw Mylo and Claggor peer into the room. They had both retreated as Allium began her work, unnerved by the tools, and the blood that had initially flowed from the incision. They could happily fight in the street, but this kind of thing clearly spooked them.

She startled, as Vander put his arms around her and hugged, hard. “She’ll make it,” he said to Vi, breathing into her hair as he did so. Then he turned to Allium. “Thank you. You’ve saved her. What do we owe?”

Allium shook her head. “Let us wait until we’re sure she can see and speak before saying she is saved.

“And there is no charge. Babette is paying. She said not to take ‘no’ for an answer.” She smiled. Vander bowed his head in thanks, and she bowed her head in acceptance before cleaning her tools and packing her haversack. 

The three of them stayed and watched over Powder. The night stretched into the early morning hours before Powder took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. 

“Vi?” The word was so low Vi almost missed it.

“I’m here, Powder.” She took her sister’s hand and almost shouted with joy when Powder weakly squeezed back and whispered, “Oh, Vi, I’m sorry … I was so worried …”

“It’s OK. Don’t worry; just rest.” Vi smiled at her sister, the smile showing all the love in her heart. 

Powder raised her free hand to her face, covering her eyes from the lamp light. “I’m back home? Vander — ”

“I’m here.” Vander crouched low, and stroked Powder’s hair, careful to avoid the bandage. “You’re with us. You’re safe.”

“Claggor?”

“He’s safe,” Vander said. 

“Mylo? Is Mylo safe?”

Vander looked momentarily bemused — he knew the constant sniping between Powder and his skinny boy — but he said, “Mylo’s safe, too.”

“Good. Good,” Powder said. Her eyes closed again, but this time she fell into a true sleep, not the brain-injured limbo that almost took her.

Allium made a satisfied sound and stood up. “I think she will live.”

Vander finally turned at the sound of sniffling and saw the boys still waiting at the top of the steps. Claggor was wiping his eyes with a handkerchief; Mylo stood beside him. “Can they come in?” 

Allium nodded. “Yes, they can, and they should. When next she opens her eyes, she should have family around her. But I think they should not come too close to your daughter during her first days of healing. And you and your older daughter should be careful to wash your hands before you change her dressings.

“Now,” she said. “It’s time for me to return to Babette’s.”

Vander, Vi, and Claggor accompanied her to The Last Drop’s rear entrance. As gracefully as she’d arrived, Allium left. She shook her head when Vander asked if she needed an escort. 

Once she was gone, Vander put one hand to a wall and seemed to sag. Then he turned to Vi, and to Claggor. “Where’s Mylo?”

“Sitting with Powder,” Claggor said. “He’s got her rabbit. Says he won’t leave until she wakes up and he can give it to her.” Claggor stopped and looked anxious. “That’s OK, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Vi said, not waiting for Vander. “Absolutely.”

***   ***   ***   ***

Powder healed. 

The Lanes waited; there would be an accounting, Vander said. There would be a fight against the purple drug, this “shimmer” that  Silco’s pet scientist had developed to turn children into monsters. There would be justice; not Enforcer justice, not after Grayson’s death and Marcus’s treachery. Undercity justice. Silco would pay. 

Allium made one last visit to close the healed incision completely. Powder would have a tiny scar on her temple for the rest of her life. Once that was done, Powder left her bed, holding on to Vi as she relearned to walk. 

Vi made sure all the strange blue crystals in Powder’s satchel were swaddled in rags and stuffed into a box that got locked and put on the highest shelf in The Last Drop’s storeroom. She never did tell Claggor why she’d grabbed the bag; he never asked her, and that was fine by Vi.  Time enough after Powder was completely well to talk about what to do with them. 

Up above, Piltover marveled at the discoveries of two young scientists. People in The Lanes, the ones who brought back rumors from the low-paying scut-jobs they could get in the overcity, looked at each other and wondered what new troubles those young scientists might bring to the world, especially theirs. 

Powder joined the others in carefully guarded walks outside. The day she first skipped as Claggor hummed a tune, Vander decreed a free round for everyone in The Last Drop.

Vander and Vi watched in something close to wonder as Mylo became her unofficial (but very officious) guardian any time she left home. 

And when Mylo asked Powder to help him get better at target practice, Powder smiled, surprised, and said yes.

-30-

Comments

[a_phoenixdragon]

YES.

Yes, more of this, please.

I had something similar in mind, but as this is the superior fiction, I shall happily paddle about in your words and be contented.

My only issue? Where. Is. The. Rest?!?!? *Ahem* Thank you very much for the lovely fiction butcanyoubringmorepleasebecauseIneedthisalternateuniverseNAO.

Ahh...yes...thank you.

*SQUISHES*

[kaffy_r]

Oh, I'm so glad you liked it! I hope I get to talk to you about canon Arcane, but to know you are like me, wishing there was at least some universe in which the family survived, and Powder didn't attach like a baby bird to Silco, makes me even more happy.

I've been thinking of where to go from here; a lot of potential routes, but I want the divergence from canon to work organically, and that affects what story should come next (to say the least.) Ack.

Hey - I want to see your story! Get your writing gear on, and make me happy!

And thank you again for reading. Have many, many, many hugs!

[a_phoenixdragon]

I do love the idea of a different outcome where we get to keep the family together a little longer. Of course, I think a lot of Jinx would come about naturally (alas). Her high intelligence and paranoid tendencies and acting out would give you close to the same result - but without the baggage and it would be fun to explore that.

OMG, right?!?! I shall follow your lead...and your awesome ficcage. For Reasons. Of course. *Cackles*

Arrghhh...I dunno. I want to write All the Things, but I'm gunshy for some odd reason. Guess I just need to figure a way to sit down and just...make it happen.

Aww, honey! Totally my pleasure! I love it when I get a chance to read awesome fiction - and yours is always a treat for me. :D