Chapter Text
𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤, 𝙜𝙤.
Jinx stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the abyss below—a vast, consuming darkness that mirrored the chaos within her. She noticed how dark everything seemed. Her surroundings, her thoughts, even the world felt suffocating.
When did it get this dark?
𝘖𝘩.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be brighter. She’d made sure of it—added sparkle to this place, little bits of light to make it feel safe for Isha. She’d hidden the things that might scare her, anything to make her comfortable.
But Isha wasn’t here anymore.
Isha. The one who protected.
She had died protecting Jinx.
Why? Why do the people close to her always end up like this?
'Because you’re Jinx.'
Yeah. She was Jinx.
But then his words came back to her:
'𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳.'
She gripped the bomb tighter, her fingers trembling. Was it true? Could she trust him? Could she believe in the hope he spoke of when all she’d ever brought was destruction?
𝑮𝒐, 𝒈𝒐, 𝒈𝒐, 𝒈𝒐, 𝒈𝒐...
𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒐.
Her fingers hovered over the pin, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She had almost pulled it, almost given in—if he hadn’t stopped her.
She glanced at him now, her eyes flickering to his face, searching for something—truth, sincerity, anything to hold onto. Her breath caught as his words hung in the air again:
'𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳.'
Her gaze stayed on him, studying every detail—the steadiness in his eyes, the absence of anger, the raw sincerity in his voice. How? she wondered. How could he look at her this way after everything she’d done—after killing his comrade, after almost killing him?
She was the destroyer, the villain, the most wanted criminal in Zaun. Yet here he was, telling her she could still rebuild, that she was still worth something.
Her chest tightened under the weight of his belief, heavier than any weapon she’d ever held. She looked away first, her eyes dropping to the bomb in her hands. Its metallic surface reflected her warped image, and she hated what she saw. Her breath came unevenly as she stared at it, her fingers trembling again.
Behind her, Ekko sat quietly, not far away, his presence steady and unintrusive. He closed his eyes, exhausted from rewinding time so many times to reach this moment. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint wind and her unsteady breathing.
Minutes passed—or maybe longer. The air felt thick with everything unsaid.
Then, she inhaled deeply, shakily, before exhaling in a long, trembling breath.
“So… what now?” she asked, her voice soft but weighed down by exhaustion.
Ekko opened his eyes to find her looking at him. Her gaze was tired, carrying the scars of countless mistakes, but there was something else, too. Beneath the weariness was a fragile glimmer of hope—small, almost imperceptible, but there.
She wanted to believe.
She wanted to 𝘧𝘪𝘹 something.
Jinx lowered her eyes to the bomb again, her grip still firm. For once, though, her thoughts weren’t on destruction.
Maybe, just maybe, she could fix something. Something real. Something that wasn’t Sevika’s metal arm or another weapon of chaos.
Something that mattered.
__________
Not like you
You lost your nerve, you lost the game
But you and I, we're not the same
I'm not lost, this fate was mine to choose
So I chose to lose my doubts and lose my chains
Lose each weakness that remains
Now that I have nothing left to lose
Nothing left to lose
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰
I only want my rightful dues
𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥
(I'm not gonna lose)
𝘈𝘭𝘭'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥
(I refuse)
Cut your losses, drop the IOUs
(I refuse)
Oh-oh, choose
I lose no tears and lose no sleep
What I want I'll take and keep
(It's time for you to choose)
You can't stop the turning on the screws
__________
Jinx sat down beside him, her body stiff, her eyes fixed ahead. Neither of them spoke, both lost in their thoughts. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally broke it.
"Let's help them."
"Help them?" she asked, confused. "Who?"
"Your sister and the others. They don't have enough help. I'm going to ask my comrades to join us too."
She blinked, wide-eyed, shocked by his words. Work together? Was he serious? Or was he just foolish enough to say something like that?
"Are you crazy?!"
His gaze didn’t waver, calm and steady. "Are you sure you want my help? What if it makes everything worse? What if your comrades die again by my hands? What if you die? What if my sister dies, like in the past? She almost died because of me. What if—"
"Jinx, breathe, please."
She gasped, realizing she had been holding her breath, her chest tightening with panic. How stupid, she thought. How had she forgotten how to breathe? She tried, but it hurt so much, a sharp pain that made it hard to focus. She squeezed her chest, hoping it might help, but nothing worked.
Then, without warning, someone took her hand—the one pressed against her chest—and the pressure eased. It didn’t hurt at all. Instead, it felt strangely comforting. She looked down and realized her hand was now on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and rhythmic, like a lifeline. It calmed her.
"Please follow my breathing," he said gently. "In and out, slowly. Alright?"
She nodded and tried to match her breath with his, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly, her breathing became more stable. The pain in her chest lessened, and she finally managed to open her eyes.
He was looking at her. His gaze was soft, full of concern, and something more—a quiet sincerity that made her heart ache.
For a moment, she couldn’t look away. The world felt distant, but in his eyes, there was a warmth, a hope, and a care she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in so long.
__________
"Let's take this easy, shall we?" he chuckled softly, trying to break the tension between them.
"...Alright."
He looked at her gently, his voice calm. "Let me ask you—what do you want to do?"
"I... I don't know. I just want all of this to end. I'm so tired."
He nodded, his gaze steady. "You want to help?"
"..."
He waited, watching her carefully. "But you're scared, aren't you?"
She stiffened, a flash of defiance in her eyes.
'Me? Scared? There’s no way I’m scared. I’m not weak.'
"You know," he continued, "feeling scared isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s normal. After all, we’re human. We have emotions."
"I—"
"But you can’t let fear control you. It doesn’t mean you have to bottle it all up inside. You can ask for help. You don’t have to do everything alone. Let me help you. Please?"
There was silence between them, her gaze distant, her thoughts racing. Then, almost too quietly to hear, she whispered, "Alright."
He barely caught the word, but he knew. Her agreement, however small, was a shift. He could see it—the light in her eyes, fragile but unmistakable. Even after everything, even when she had almost given up, there was still a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she believed someone might stop her. Anyone.
"So, do you want to discuss the plan now or later? Tomorrow, or whenever you're ready—"
"Now."
"Are you sure? I mean, I want you to help me, but I didn't expect you to agree so quickly."
"If we delay it any longer, more people might die. You actually look like you want to help them as fast as you can."
"..."
"Yeah, that's true."
"But before that, can I take a look at that thing? It looks like something I might have created, but I don't remember making it. How did you even get it?"
"That's—"