Chapter Text
Heat swallows her whole, gnawing at her skin, her lungs, the edges of her mind. Smoke curls into her throat, thick and choking, acrid and everywhere. The world is screaming. Crackling. Burning. Exploding.
Jinx doesn’t move. Can’t; body feels wrong—too heavy, too light, too disconnected from the earth beneath her. She’s on the ground, knees scraped raw, hands trembling against the ash-coated dirt.
The air shakes. The ground quakes. Something groans—a wall? A tower? A memory? She doesn’t know, doesn’t care; lifts her head, eyes unfocused, searching through the haze.
And sees her.
Isha.
Small. Frail. Running. Why is she running?
Jinx blink, blinks hard, mind stumbling, stumbling over itself. Everything is too loud, too bright, too much.
Drags herself up, one shaky step after another, legs wobbling beneath her.
“Isha?” voice breaks on the name, barely a sound, and clears her throat, screams this time: “ISHA!”
The little girl? She doesn't stop. Doesn’t turn around. Her little hands clutch the zapper—her Zapper, blue stones glow, glowing inside it- what is she doing?!
Ground shifts under her feet, stumbles, nearly falls, but doesn’t stop. She’s moving now, forcing her body forward, faster, faster. S-she has to reach her, has to stop her!!
“Isha, stop! Don’t!”
A hand clamps down on her arm, yanks her backward. Hard. Too hard.
“Jinx!” Vi’s voice cuts, it cuts through the noise, raw and panicked, arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, holding her tight. “You can’t! You can’t go! She’s—”
“ISHA!! N-no, l-let me go, let me go!” and screams, hand reach, reaching in the air , after her, after nothing. She thrashes, twists, kicks, fights. “She’ll die! She’s—she’s gonna—”
“Jinx, please!” and her sisters' voice wavers, tears choking the edges of her words, grip tightens, desperate, but Jinx doesn’t care. Can’t care.
“LET ME GO!”
Breaks free, finally, stumbles forward, legs pumping, heart pounding. She doesn’t look back. She can’t. Eyes are on Isha—just Isha— her small figure against the wall of fire and chaos.
Has to keep running. Has to stop her, to tell her she can't, can't, shouldn't scare her like that, should stop with these little hero acts- but Isha- she stops. Turns.
And smiles.
Her fingers form a gun, playful, familiar, a gesture that feels so wrong, so cruel in the moment.
And her breath catches, chest tight, too tight throat dry.
She's closer now, almost only five feet away from her, hand reaching out again, trembling, tears streaming down her face.
“Isha…”
The zapper hums, a high-pitched whine, a warning.
And she swears her fingers almost brush Isha’s shoulder- she did it, she did it! she reached her, she can stop her she-
Gone. The touch, her fingers feeling her warmth, her softness, only a memory now.
Body jerks, suspended, ground disappearring from underneath her feet, caught in motion that isn’t her own.
Arms wrap around her, strong and unyielding, pulling her away, up, out.
And everything, everything blurs—heat, light, sound, all of it crashing into her, over her, swallowing her whole.
She feels it before she sees it, the rush, the pull, the wrongness of it all.
And screams, thrashes, claws, desperate to get back, desperate to reach her, to save her.
“Isha! ISHA!” voice tears through the air, raw and broken, carried into the chaos below.
Doesn’t see the arms holding her, doesn’t feel the way they shake, doesn’t notice the mechanical hum surrounding her. All she sees is Isha—smiling, crying, gone.
The explosion tears through the world beneath her, a roar that drowns her screams.
“NO!”
And then the chaos, gone, swallowed by distance.
Yet all she can so is keep screaming, keep reaching, her mind trapped in the moment where everything ended.
A kick into the air, a punch in the arm that keeps her guarded- as if it'd do anything, as if it would take her back down, back to the moment she could've stopped.
“Let go of me, let go!” twisting in the iron grip that keeps her from falling, as her voice, it cracks, splinters, shatters, but there’s no answer. Just the mechanical hum, rhythmic and steady, mocking her with its silence.
Throws her head back, tries to see, tries to know. “Take me- t-take me back, what did you do?!” The words tear through her, as feral as she feels, her throat raw with the effort, but met with nothing. No response. No words. Just the hum.
Eyes sting, vision blurs—not from smoke now, but from tears. “I could’ve saved her!” she could've, should've saved her- still should, still could! Back, back, she wants back!
The grip, it doesn’t falter. It doesn’t shake. It doesn’t loosen. She hates it. Hates the unyielding presence that robbed her of the chance to… to fix it. To fix everything.
Head jerks back toward the fire, the smoldering ruins, the place where little Isha was—is. Must still be.
But it’s already gone. The ground, the chaos, the explosions—nowhere to be seen. Just a distant glow against a sky that feels too empty, too quiet.
It's no use anymore. No use for her to keep screaming, keep cursing, keep demanding to be taken back down, back to her- because it'd already be too late. Nothing can bring her back now
She stops thrashing, her limbs going limp, heavy, useless.
Voice catches again, chest heaving with the effort to breathe, to speak, to hold herself together.
But she can’t. She can’t.
Knees pull up toward her chest, body folding into itself, a shaking bundle of grief and rage and hopelessness. She’s sobbing now—loud, ugly, raw, and uncontrollable. It pours out of her, messy and endless, like a wound she can’t stitch up.
And doesn’t fight it anymore. Doesn’t care who sees, who hears, who—what—carries her away.
And then, slowly, the sobs stop. The tears dry up, not because she’s finished, but because she can’t feel anything anymore. Just the hollow ache in her chest, the absence of air, of warmth, of life.
The world tilts. She tilts. Head falls back, eyes flutter, fluttering shut, and the nothingness, it swallows her whole.
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Her body jerks awake, a violent shock to her senses, breath ragged and sharp. The nothingness doesn't last; the emptiness, that suffocating void, recedes like the tide. But it leaves behind something worse.
Pain.
It radiates from her head, her chest, her limbs, every inch of her broken, bruised. She groans, the sound rasping in her throat, unfamiliar.
Body aches as though she’s been torn apart and stitched back together too hastily, too recklessly. For a moment, she wonders if she's still in the same hellscape—the heat, the fire, the screams—but then the cold hits her skin. The cold and the damp.
Hands scrape against the cold, hard surface beneath her. It’s rough—concrete, maybe. The scent of damp stone, rust, and oil mixes with the stench of smoke that still lingers in the air.
Slowly, she rolls onto her side, trying to steady herself, trying to make sense of the place she is in.
Two figures.
They're the first thing she makes out, makes out out of this blurred, unfocused image, but who are they, that she can't tell.
Standing just ahead, outlined by the dim, flickering glow of a lamp, both are turned away, one taller, broader, the other smaller, and her vision begins to form more, more, and they're suddenly looking familiar, all too familiar.
The taller figure gestures his hands as he speaks, movements quick, animated, while the smaller one stands with her arms crossed, tense.
Her breath, it catch, catches in her throat.
That stance—rigid, defiant, unyielding. She knows it like she knows the scars on her hands.
“Vi...”
The name slips out before she can stop it, barely a whisper, a ghost of a word. Chest tightens, emotions clawing their way up her throat. Relief? Anger? She doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know.
Up. She has to get up, up, to her, to them-
Her legs wobble as she pushes herself upright, leaning heavily against the wall. It takes everything she has to stay standing, to focus on them. On her. On Vi.
But the other figure...
Gaze shifts, narrowing, trying to make out details, make out the details already!
Their features, they blur at first, indistinct, like a smudge on a painting- not that it was somthing new.
Longer she stares, more they sharpen. The height. The way he stands, the slight tilt of his head. The shadows don’t hide the goggles hanging loosely around his neck.
Something, cold, sharp lodges itself in her chest.
No.
Her feet move before her mind catches up, faster, faster- one step, then another, each one quicker than the other, agonizing, the ache in her body barely registering against the storm building inside her.
Closer.
The taller figure leans forward slightly, speaking in low tones. His voice—steady, calm, controlled— now confirms it, confirms it all.
Doesn't even have to make out the words to know.
Ekko.
Ekko. Alive. Alive and well, alive and standing, alive and.. talking.
He did it. Survived that night, that awful night, that explosion, explosion set by her, just like she did.
She wants to run, run and take him in her arms, run and tell him how sorry she was, how bad she felt, that that bomb- wasn't meant for him. Was never meant for him.
But- would he accept it? Her, all over him, pulling him into a tight, tight embrace? Doesn't think so- surely wouldn't if she was in his place.
But why was he here? After all this time? After there's been no sign of him for months?
Gaze turns, a gadget sitting right at his legs, looked familiar too- and suddenly the hum, hums, humming came back to her mind, chaos right down at her feet, yet nothing was to hear, nothing than the humming of the hoverboard she was placed on.
Stomach twists, rage igniting in her veins like gasoline, joy, joy being replaced by the opposite.
He’s the one. It was him. Him. He was the one who ripped her away, who stole her chance to save Isha, who held her back while—
Her hands, they ball into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, sharp enough to draw blood.
Closer.
She hurries, hurries even more now, has to get to them, get to him.
She’s close, close enough to see his face, his lips moving as he speaks to Vi, his expression somber. He looks calm, too calm, like none of this is his fault, like he hasn’t just torn her world apart.
Breath quickens, vision narrowing, focus zeroing in on him.
Closer.
Hands shake, jaw clenches. And then she’s there, standing right behind him, body vibrating with the effort to keep it all in.
He senses it before she speaks, senses it before she moves. His head turns slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet hers.
And she swings.
The slap lands with a sharp crack, crack that echoes in the quiet, splitting the stillness like glass shattering on a concrete floor.
Head snaps to the side, goggles slipping from their perch to dangle from his neck.
He doesn’t say anything, can't, not even a reaction from him at first- not until she sees his shocked frozen face.
Vi, on her in an instant, her grip vice, yanks Jinx back, spinning her away from Ekko with a force that sends her stumbling.
“Jinx, the hell are you doing?” she snaps, voice cut, cutting through the thick tension, a blade meeting chaos. Arms strain to keep Jinx from lunging forward, from tearing into the boy who stands silent and still just a few feet away.
But Jinx doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even turn to meet her sister’s eyes. Her focus is singular, laser-sharp, locked on Ekko. Her teeth bare themselves in a feral snarl, venom dripping from every syllable. “It's you” she spits, her voice low and serrated. "You're the one who
ruined it! You're the one who took me away
from her!"
Vi dig, digs her boots into the ground, muscles screaming against Jinx’s fury. “You’re out of your mind,” she growls. “Stop this before—”
“Shut up!” voice explodes, filling the space like shrapnel, words ricocheting off the cracked concrete walls, vibrating up, up in the air.
Ekko doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. His cheek still burns faintly from the slap, but his face remains impassive. The goggles around his neck glint in the dim light, as though they’re watching this unfold with some muted judgment.
“No sign of you,” she snarls, voice trembling, yet refusing to break. “For months.”
Months. Months of silence. Months of nothing but her thoughts, thoughts of him, of the guilt that gnawed at her insides, of the chaos that she created.
And in the chaos, his face. Always his face. The goggles. The sneer. The way he’d look at her like she was still Powder, like she wasn’t broken. She hated it. She hated him. She missed him. But she shouldn't show it- mustn't show it!
Thought she killed him, thought she killed him she did. What she told herself.
Told herself it was better that way. Clean break. No loose ends. But it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t anything. It was jagged and messy and bleeding, and no matter how much she told herself it didn’t matter, it did.
It mattered.
“You disappeared, like some ghost, like you didn’t exist anymore. I thought you were dead.” voice cracks, raw and jagged, the edges sharp enough to cut it, cut her own throat.
And she thought he was gone—gone like the stars when the sun comes up, gone like a dream you can’t remember, the edges of it the only thing lingering in the back of your skull, taunting.
She’d told herself that over and over again. He’s dead. Dead. Dead is what he was-the bridge, it took him, just like it took everything else, everyone else, her included.
Yet she checked. Oh, she checked. Every shadow, every whisper in the dark, every face in the crowd that wasn’t his but might’ve been. Told herself it was to make sure. Make sure he was gone. Make sure he wasn’t coming back to ruin her, to haunt her, to remind her of what she’d done.
But maybe, maybe, just maybe she wanted him to be alive.
“I thought I killed you,” finally does it, finally chokes it out, quieter, the venom momentarily diluted by something softer, something..fragile??
Wanted to scream at him, wanted to claw at him, wanted to hurt him for what he’d done, what the hell, what hell have you just done?
But underneath all the rage was something else. Something soft and ugly and raw. Relief, if she may call it that.
Because he wasn’t dead. Because she hadn’t killed him. Because for all, all the times she’d told herself it didn’t matter, it did. It always had. And she hated him for making her feel that way. For making her care. For making her want him to stay.
For making her hope.
Her head tilts as if she’s trying to reconcile the living, breathing Ekko with the memory of him she buried long ago. “And now you just show up?” voice rises again, anger overtaking sorrow, like some moments ago didn't soften, didn't show remorse, “Like it’s nothing? Like nothing happened? You just—take me from her. Take me—”
“Enough!” Vi’s voice roars, interferes once again, desperate now, and her grip tightens further. “Jinx, stop it!”
She hears her this time, maybe she had the first time also, just didn't want for her to know it- yet still doesn't want to answer, rage unraveling, threads of fury and anguish tangling into knots she can’t undo.
Curses fly like stray bullets, wounding indiscriminately. Each one ricochets, and Ekko takes them all. Silent. Unmoving.
And then, he shifts.
Straightens.
Air crackles with anticipation, it does while he raises his head up, up to meet her glare-
-and finally speaks, voice quiet, almost too quiet. But his words hit like the final blow.
“So, what?” tone calm, almost detached. “You would’ve preferred if I’d died on that bridge?”
She freezes, freezes is what she does. The world goes still, breath catches, eyes widen. Even the weight of Vi’s grip seems to disappear as she stares at him, unblinking, unmoving.
He- he really thought that? Really thought she wanted him dead? N-no- but they- she had to die that night! He was just in the way! It wasn't, it wasn't her plan!!
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” takes a step forward, eyes locked on hers, unreadable. “For me to be gone. Wished me to by dead right now. Maybe this way I wouldn't have gotten to you; wouldn't have took you out of there.”
And her lips, they part, a rebuttal ready on her tongue, but it never come, words turn to dust right in her throat. The weight of his accusation is too much, too much to bear, too much to-
Her knees, they buckle, and she collapses, the fight draining from her body like water through a sieve. Hands hit the ground, palms scraping against rough concrete as her shoulders shake.
And then the tears come.
Silent at first. Slow, like cracks forming in glass. But they build, they grow, until she’s sobbing, raw and broken, wetting it all, wetting her whole face.
Vi hesitates, grip loosening as she crouches down beside her sister. Hand hovers over Jinx’s trembling shoulder, unsure if the touch will help or hurt.
“Jinx…” and says softly, voice stripped of its earlier edge.
No response. She doesn’t move. She stays crumpled, shattered in a way that even Vi can’t fix.
Ekko watches her, watches them, face unreadable, own emotions locked behind a wall she can’t breach. Shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he speaks again, voice quieter this time. Firmer.
“Vi.”
She looks up at him, reluctant, lips pressed into a thin line. “Ekko, she’s—”
“I’ll handle it,” and cuts her off, his tone brooking no argument.
Gaze flickers between the two of them, the sister she’s trying to hold together and the boy who seems to be unraveling her further. Finally, she nods, rises to her feet, takes a step back, boots scuff, scuffing against the ground, and leaves.
And now they were alone. He was alone, alone with her, alone with her like he requested, but what he should begin with?
Silence. Something he wasn't expecting, not coming from her- how could he when the girl, just moments before, was shouting, cursing, screaming at him- and now nothing. Nothing other than her sobs, her little sobs and ragged breath.
Is there really any good way to begin this with? He doubts it.
Still not sure enough what to do, he slow, slowly crouches in front of her, movements deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t touch her. Instead, simply waits, what else is he supposed to do?
Maybe he should've let Vi stay, maybe she knew, knew how to handle this better-
“So,” and begins, voice too hoarse, maybe clearing his throat will make it sound better, “are you ready to talk properly now?”
Reaction? None. Just the same sobs, coming over and over, not stopping, how could they stop? She wishes to make them stop, make them stop!!
"Uhm," he mumbles, considering his next move, his next words, but he was out of them, it seemed.
How is he going to do it? To make her talk? Maybe he can-
And falls right on his butt, eyes widening in shock, too taken aback to understand what's happening- soft, pale arms wrapped around him, hugging him tight, too tight, keeping him guarded into an embrace. Long, blue braids brushing against his own skin, too soft for the vibrant blue it carries, and the sobs- even closer now, all muffled sound coming from his chest, from where she buried her head- swears he might even feel them himself.
"I-I didn't...-" can't even finish her words, can't even finish her sentence- stupid, stupid sobs!! Stupid her, stupid everything!!
"...I never wanted you to die, " words almost a whisper, can't believe she's saying them herself.
"I, I'm glad," she sniff, sniffs her nose, clinging to his clothes, dig, digging her nails into his skin, harder, harder, not even realizing it, too overwhelmed to even realize it, "I'm glad you're here. Glad you're alive"
Has he heard that right? He blink, blinks, unsure of what she just said, unsure if he even heard her right- but maybe he did, surely he did!!
Arms rise, ready to hug her themselves, ready to return the embrace, to keep her close, never let go again and-
Hers loosens, lets him go, breaks the hug, her curling up on him no longer, and the fragile, soft, pale arms push, pushes him away, away from her.
"YOU COULD'VE SAVED HER! TAKE HER UP, AWAY, LEAVE ME INSTEAD!! WHY?!" and she gets up from the floor, pushes herself up in just a matter of seconds, now scolding him, scolding him angrily, the nice, beautiful, little moment they had just moments before gone, forgotten.
Tch, talking about bipolarity. He forgot that part of her, thought they might actually have one normal conversation, no shouting, no fighting-
"Why do you have to act like one big brat? Why can't you just listen?" up gets himself, shouting at her too, shouting because other way she wouldn't listen.
"I did what I had to do!! You think it was easy for me? Leaving a fucking child behind? " and takes one, two, three steps towards her, takes them towards while she takes them back, backing out from him, afraid if she might not he'd just as well trample her.
"It was either her or both of you! Either you survived or none of you would! There was no saving her!!
How..h-how can he be so sure?? How can he possibly know that..that there was no way, no way in saving her?
"T-then so should've been it!! So I should've died with her! I can't, I can't go on, can't go on without her-" words caught in he throat, feels like she can't breath, like she might suffocate- breathe, you fool, just breath!- but doesn't, can't, hands gather around her throat, pressing, pressing as she chokes, air not able to get to her lungs.
He panicks- shit, what's he supposed to do? All he's risked for her to be saved, for her to be alive, just for her to now suffocate to her death? His hands, reach, reach to her shoulders, ready to shake her, shake her awake- but it's no need to do so, not even able to touch her as she finally, slowly starts breathing.
And tries to calm herself she does, taking one deep breath after all those quick, messy ones finish.
"Why didn't you just let me die?"
And how the hell is he supposed to explain that to her? 'Hey, ya know, I've already watched you die multiple times, not really funny I might say while I'm at it..'
And now, now it was his turn to inhale one, deep breath, closing his eyes, choosing his words carefully, but once again, there was no right way to tell her this, was it?
"I..." he gulp, gulps down the saliva that just formed in his throat, scared it might actually be a sign of the food threatening to come back, spill over, all over the place- maybe he shouldn't have ate that tuna sandwich after all, it's been in his backpack way too many timelines to still have been good, - "I actually did let you die."
Her brows, they narrow, and her eyes, they look back at him like he's a madman; for a second he even thinks she's goanna start laughing, laughing at him, yet she doesn't, doesn't even dares to speak a word at least.
"L-let's just say, the future without you, i-it's all chaos, everything's a mess, " he's a mess, life all too simple, too quiet, but he can't tell her that, won't tell her that.
"H-how? How can you know? How can you be-" tries to ask, demanding answers, but doesn't finish her question, response already there, in front of her eyes.
He was the response, he and, and what- whatever was laying besides him, all over the table, all that he was looking at right now.
And turns all his attention over it, " After you.. first died, I couldn't believe it, that you really were gone, and I... wasn't even there, could've helped you, could've helped all of you out, " and stare, stares at it down, at the broken gadget that laid just before his eyes.
"People.. people thought there would, would finally be peace, now that you were gone, threat to Piltover no more- but they were wrong, so, so wrong"
What.. what was he saying? None of it made sense, none of it was-
" Ambessa's plan, it was never to free Zaun, not if you were handed in, not if she killed you herself. You were just an obstacle, a distraction from all she actually had to do."
She could already feel, already know what he was about to say, already afraid of what followed.
"And war started. And, people- they weren't even fighting, weren't even trying, all hope lost, no symbol to guide them- not you to guide them.." speaks over his shoulder now, has to be clear that he's speaking with her, though there was no one else there, not with them.
"I've came back so many, so many times, I- I've even lost count. I was not just failing at saving her, but also failing at saving you." takes a screw into his hand, takes it just throw it away, just to show his anger.
"And now I did it. I saved you. But it broke. Overused it it's what I did, can't find a way to fix it back now-"
And her eyes, they linger, linger with hope, as the only thing she hear are the last words leaving his lips, the other things he said not really important, not to her.
"You- you gotta do it!! You gotta fix it!! I- I can help you, and after you'll go back, save her instead!!"
"I can't!! Have you not heard anything from what I said? Not at all?" body turning back, back towards her, finger pointing accusingly- for what? her not listening? getting on his nerves? Yeah- maybe that was it.
"Fine!! She gets saved! Has the chance to live!! And then what? Gets killed in the war? She has no chance!! It- it killed Vi."
Has it now? Yeah, well, seems like she had not quite thought this through, had she? the head that went low, was now back up, new idea formed in her mind.
"But she won't.. she won't die. Not if she has you."
But would he want to? Take care after Isha if she really was about to die? Would he really do it? Do it for her?
Thinking about it now sounded stupid, was wondering why she even said that, refusal the only thing she wasn't ready to hear coming from him, not if it was about Isha, not if it meant..
"Y-you know I can't ensure her safety though, right? As much as I'll try.."
"Please, Ekko, please," pink, pink eyes staring up at him, locked onto his earth browns, pleading, pleading him to do it, do it for her.
"F-fine. Fine I'll see what I can.. what I can do." fragile, soft, pale arms wrap around him once more, lets him return the embrace this time.
And hell, he wouldn't have thought he'd be able to witness this ever again in his life.
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