Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the unfortunate hour of four a.m. when Ekko got the call. 

It took him a while to register that it wasn't, in fact, his alarm waking him but instead the horrible notion of someone calling him dead at night. 

To add insult to injury, he had an early morning, and the incessant, screeching ring of his phone made him sure that, as soon as it was between his hands, rather than picking it up, he’d snap it in half, if only to be put out of his misery.

For barely a second, he considered just letting it ring altogether, burying his head in his pillows and waiting for them to either choke him or for the caller to give up. Whichever came first, Ekko didn't really have the energy to care.

Unfortunately, none of them did, and instead, it was Jinx’s loud groan beside him that pierced the air. 

“Ekko, if you don’t pick up that damn phone right now,” she growled, sounding muffled beside him, “I’ll shove it so far down your throat, the ringing’ll come out of your ass.”

“Christ.” He muttered, palming the little nightstand beside him and reaching as far as he could. 

The phone was cold and solid beneath his hands, and Ekko bemoaned the loss of his thick duvet and fluffy pillows. It felt like a reminder— cruel and unrelenting— of what was being taken away from him.

Except all at once, the ringing stopped, replaced by a thick silence only broken by the soft sound of Jinx’s breathing as she curled further into herself. 

Ekko sighed, glad for the peace. 

He had an early class the next morning, and he and Jinx had already stayed up late watching movies. Considering his youth, he didn’t think falling asleep on his desk would help secure his students’ already precarious respect.

Unfortunately, he soon realized the reason the ringing had ceased in the first place wasn’t some form of divine mercy but was very much because Ekko had picked up the call. 

“Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice, light and airy, though heavily accented with an intense sense of confidence. Ekko didn't recognize her at all. Much less could he possibly think why she'd call him at such an ungodly hour.

A quick look at the caller ID confirmed he had no idea who she was, but something about the cadence of her greeting convinced him not to hang up. There was an urgency to her greeting, and even after the silence— giving him time to wake up, surely— he could hear the soft click of heels in the background.

“Uh, hi?” He muttered sleepily, unsurely, figuring it was too late to pretend he'd fallen back asleep. 

Instantly, Jinx’s head snapped up with a low hiss. 

Ekko just rolled his eyes, pulling himself upright and out of the bed. He pushed his feet into the soft slippers he kept by his bedside, despite Jinx’s teasing of turning into an old man, and made his way to the kitchen.

The woman still hadn't responded.

“Hello?” He insisted, furrowing his brows but refusing to hang up, still hearing the constant tapping of steps on the other line and now stubbornly wanting to see the call through.

A sigh. 

The sound stopped.

“Yes, hello.” The woman repeated, sounding just slightly breathless but somehow still firm and a bit intimidating, even if he couldn’t see her. “Is this Ekko Greenwood?”

“Yeah, uh, yes. That’s me.”

The quick clicking sound started again; wherever the woman was going, she clearly needed to talk to him first. The thought was unsettling, and the decisive nature of her steps did nothing to comfort him.

“I’m Mel Medarda from Child Protective Services.”

Instantly, Ekko’s eyebrows shot up, and his shoulders tensed. All hopes of sleep left him at once. 

Somehow, the feeling that CPS was still there, following him, coming for him, had never left, even if he’d aged out years prior and was adopted almost twice as long ago. The call felt like every one of his worst nightmares confirmed.

His mouth felt dry. “I don’t have kids.” 

Mel’s voice sounded tight when she responded. “Yes, well, unfortunately, that’s what I’m calling about.”

Ekko’s shoulder tensed up even more.

 He’d never been especially fond of what these types of calls entailed. All he remembered was they were never good: new placement; parental rights have been terminated, I heard they didn’t even put up a fight; we’re not sure Benzo is fit to keep you, he’s too old for such a problem child; new social worker again.

The woman’s controlled voice made his blood run cold all over again. 

“Not to be rude, but it’s four am, and I work tomorrow.” He snapped shortly, suddenly feeling defensive.

At that, the sound stopped again, but he could hear the fiddling of keys dangling from her hands, soft, airy chiming sounds. 

“My apologies.” She sighed, and to her credit, she really did sound sorry. Ekko relaxed slightly; it felt like the first show of genuine emotion he’d gotten from the voice at the other end of the line. It made him remember Sky and her open, innocent expression every time they went over his case together. “It’s been a long night. I wanted to talk to you about a distant family member.” 

A distant family member.

Dread built up in his stomach as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, feeling like he'd collapse.

“Sure.”

“As you may have guessed, she is a child. Her name is Isha, about nine years old. You're the only family we were able to get in contact with.” 

Ekko nodded along, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly, and though Mel couldn't see him, he assumed his silence was answer enough.

On the other line, he heard a door be unlocked and pushed open. 

“Essentially, she has been in care for about five years now and is currently in need of a new placement.”  The door closed shut. The steps continued and halted just as fast as they’d begun. “I try to prioritize kinship when possible…”

The woman sounded unsure now, and Ekko wanted badly to tell her to just be out with it. He knew exactly what he was asking, and watching the bedroom door ajar across from him, seeing Jinx stir and pull herself up blearily, no doubt wondering where he’d gone, he already knew the answer. 

There was no world he could imagine him saying no. He didn't know what he wanted so badly. 

He just hoped his roommate would somehow be open to it, too— he knew few people were as passionate about kinship as Jinx and Vi, but this was wholly unexpected, and neither of them had ever planned for children. The spare bedroom in their apartment was merely a stroke of luck: a guest room for Vi and an office for Ekko, nothing more.

“We were wondering if temporary placement at your home is a possibility so she can avoid going to a group home.” She rushed out. “At least until we’re able to find a more… permanent solution.”

Instantly, Ekko’s blood boiled, and, to her credit, the woman at least had the decency to sound ashamed, to push the words out with the same distasteful cadence he was receiving them. 

He knew, most of all, that he had to talk to Jinx, but he didn’t trust anyone else with this kid, even if he didn’t know her yet. 

Looking straight ahead, he could see she was pulling the covers off herself, surrounded by a pool of bright blue. Suddenly, he was grateful for the open concept of their apartment.

“And why the hell wasn’t I called before?” He growled, probably louder than he should’ve, considering Jinx’s figure suddenly rushed out of the room, alert. Despite bothering her, he felt grateful for her fierce protective streak as soon as he saw her big blue eyes hovering beneath him.

“Unfortunately, I was not on her case before.” The woman muttered voice clipped like she was refraining from saying something she wasn’t supposed to. “Isha was transferred to me about three months ago, and my colleague and I… we don’t seem to share the same philosophy.”

He snorted, bitterness still clawing at the edges of his throat. “On kinship?”

“Yes.” She answered curtly. “On kinship.” Then, with some out-of-character semblance of humor, something dry and angry that put him at ease, she muttered out, almost low enough that he missed it: “Clearly, we can’t all have sense.”

He sighed, finding her disgustingly charming for no reason. He wanted to hate her more than he did. Still, he didn’t trust her, and handing out any information felt like pulling teeth, even if he knew it would be the fastest way to be done with the call. Maybe she could already hear Ekko's implied agreement. 

“I live with another woman. My, uh, my best friend, Jinx.” He rasped out. “Our apartment is rented; both names on the leash.”

Mel hummed softly on the other side, and he could tell she was grateful for the olive branch; took it for what it was. “That should be fine, given that you’re both okay with the placement.”

He nodded, biting his lip and looking down at Jinx. 

Her eyes had grown impossibly wider, and he was sure they’d start glowing if he blinked too fast.

“Neither of us are licensed.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I’ll have to talk it over with her.”

“Of course.”

Finally, he sighed. “How long do we have to get back to you?”

“I just dropped her off with an emergency placement.” She cleared her throat softly. “They customarily do respite; about a week.”

He nodded stiffly.

Then, realizing she couldn’t see him, he coughed. “Okay. Should I call this number?”

“Yes. You may call whenever it is you decide. If not, expect a call from me next Monday.” Exactly seven days, then. “At a more appropriate hour, I assure you.”

At that, he couldn’t help the soft wheeze that left him, sounding almost like a tired laugh. “Good night, Miss Medarda.”

“Good night, Mister Greenwood. I look forward to hearing from you again.”

With that, the line went silent.

It took a few seconds for Ekko to actually put the phone down after.

He checked the bright green digital clock shining on their microwave: four twenty-five.  

It felt like it had been longer.

He turned to Jinx. She was still looking at him.

“So, how do you feel about kids?”

“What?”

/)/)

(  .  .) 

As it turned out, Jinx felt very positively about kids. 

Or more like competitive.

She felt competitive about kids.

Really, he should’ve known. Jinx felt competitive about everything, even at the age of twenty-seven, and apparently, she absolutely refused the idea of Ekko giving up on the kid because of her. 

Ekko thought she had a massive guilt complex to address in therapy, but Jinx said that if CPS couldn’t stop her, then her therapist, of all people, had no say in it.

She clearly knew him too well, anyway; knew that the second the woman hung up, Ekko was ready to call her back and say yes— of course, he wanted to take her in, of course he did. Jinx said that he had a savior complex to address in therapy, but really, she wasn’t stopping him, so he should be happy that Jinx was so obstinate. 

And at the end of the day, it wasn’t exactly true, either. They teased and jested and mocked because that’s what they did, but Jinx knew as well as he did that there was no world in which they thought Isha was better off being tossed around like they had. There was especially no world where the two of them would let her go on, thinking they hadn’t wanted her before meeting her.

Still, he never intended to corner Jinx into accepting.

“Are you sure, though?” He pressed for what could’ve been the thousandth time while they did their now-weekly shopping, deciding they had to get into the type of good, adult habits that Cait and Vi pestered them about now that they wanted to raise a child.  

It had been about four days since the initial call and two after they’d had a proper, in-depth conversation about it, but somehow, Ekko still wasn’t convinced. 

It was then Jinx’s turn to tell him he needed to have his trust issues addressed in therapy with a self-satisfied smirk. Most definitely to spite him, despite both of them having been in therapy since they moved in with Vander and Benzo.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She huffed, pulling the cart to a stop as she inspected the frankly absurd amount of options for milk the city offered. It was something neither of them, growing up somewhere poor and rural, had ever gotten used to when moving for work. “You’re great with brats.”

“We live together, Pow.” He huffed, unable to help the affection leaking into his voice as he watched her long braids sway down to her hips. 

She turned, tilting her head with the familiar, mischievous spark in her eye that drew him in when they were kids. 

“As long as you keep them away during episodes, kids and I get along great.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, ‘cause you are one.” He huffed, shoving her slightly and settling for the cheapest carton of milk in sight— they could differ from their usual brand once they found out the kid's preferences. 

“Hey! I'm plenty mature!” She grinned, gesturing to their cart, now filled with a variety of vegetables that Ekko knew for a fact had never touched Jinx's stomach before. “Plus, I learned from the best. If I freak out, I'll just call Vi.”

He snorted, carefully resting his hand on the side of Jinx's waist as they pushed the cart forward.“So your plan is to exploit her?” 

“What are big sisters for, huh?”

At that, Ekko paused, considering. It did sound less overwhelming knowing she was just a phone call away, and he’d known her long enough to be allowed a bit of shamelessness.

“Mm, yeah, Clag was real good at handling us too…”

“Now you're getting it!” She cheered, leaning closer. “And well, I guess My got nicer after middle school, so he can babysit sometimes. Maybe .”

Instantly, Ekko snorted, leading them both towards the fridges and shaking his head lightly. He didn't like to think about middle school— none of them did, really, it was more a taboo than a memory in their family— but it was nice to see her being casual about it.

“Please, you and Mylo are attached at the hip. I bet he'll be meeting her right after Vi.”

“I mean, technically, she’s your ki,d so sure, dude, if you want.”

Ekko could see right through her bluff and chuckled lightly, settling beside her in front of the vast fridges, knowing perfectly well she was good at picking the best cuts through methods Ekko couldn’t quite grasp. “Whatever you say, Pow.”

Again, she turned to him, grinning brightly. He felt his heart flutter slightly with the need to keep her close. He squeezed her into the side hug, and like she always did, Powder let him.

It was then, in front of the fucking meat aisle of all things, with Powder tucked to his side and an empty space right in front of them, that it really sunk in. 

Soon, that space would be occupied by a child.

A child. 

That they’d be raising.

Between the two of them.

He didn’t even know where the hell he was going with any of this— why he wanted it or what he wanted to do.

“Powder, we're raising a kid.” He breathed out. “Are you sure you wanna raise a kid?!”

“I told you, Ekko.” She frowned. “I'm not gonna screw over some little girl I don't even know. I know I kinda suck, but not enough to let a nine-year-old get institutionalized.” 

“You don’t suck,” he sighed, wheezing slightly hysterically as Jinx evaluated the different cuts of chicken by whatever arbitrary scale she last devised. “I'm just kinda freaking out? I mean, a kid?! I feel like you should also be freaking out!”

Jinx blinked, turning to him like he was losing his grip on reality. Maybe he was at least a little bit.

“Of course I'm freaking out.” She hissed. “I'm always freaking out, remember? Crazy girl!” 

“You don't look like you're freaking out!” He muttered petulantly, not caring that they were starting to get stares from passing customers. It wasn't like they actually lived in the area, anyway.

“Like I said,” she ground out, setting her jaw firmly, “I'm not jinxing this. Not this time. And it's either this or going full bananas, so…”

Then, she shrugged, leaning back and finally grabbing some chicken she must have deemed good enough despite looking exactly the same as the rest of it to him. 

He just bit his lip, watching her long braids shine under the industrial lights and trying to remind himself they'd already had this conversation. 

There was no need to do it again, not really.

Already, they'd talked about taking charge of Isha when Jinx was having a particularly bad episode or day. They’d discussed giving her the spare room with the big window that used to be a makeshift office; who would take her to school (Jinx) and who would pick her up (Ekko); which one of them would cook (Ekko) and which one would clean (Jinx). 

They'd talked about everything down to increasing therapy and doing joint sessions to the point they’d already started researching children’s therapists in their area after a particularly frantic night.

Really, it was a rash, quick decision, more thrust upon them than thought through and Ekko knew there was only so much they could discuss if, more than anything, they just didn't want Isha to be sent to some group home with no real welfare backing. Because they'd heard it a million times before, it didn't sit right with either of them to deny her a chance to get out of that.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “yeah, you're right. I'm sorry.”

“Nah,” she smiled, waving him off lightly, “maybe I just haven't had my meltdown yet . I'll up my therapy hours or whatever.”

He had the decency not to point out Caitlyn had been asking her to do so for months. 

“You know, if it helps, I’m scared too, Ekko.” She sighed, leaning back against him. “I mean, nothing guarantees that I’m that much better than a group home, right? Like, at least you’re distant family somehow. I’m just some crazy chick.”

“Powder, come on—”

“You know it’s true .”

And well, Ekko did know. Of course he knew.

He, just like Jinx, had been in foster homes a thousand times worse than the cramped group homes he’d been shoved into when they decided he was no longer worth taking care of. Half the time, he’d just asked Sky to send him back to one.

But finding Benzo, growing up with his own bed and his own plushies and his own room with no need to pull his weight, had been undeniably a thousand times better in every way. And he trusted Jinx. He couldn’t imagine anyone could love more wholly than she did. There was not a single person on Earth who would love Isha quite like Jinx would.

“I know,” he sighed, trying to convince himself as much as he was her. “At least we’re doing it together, yeah? We’ll do good by her.”

At that, Jinx turned, smiling hopefully. It put him at ease like it always did. “‘Course we will. I’m not letting the goddamn American government beat me, who do you think I am?”

He snorted, feeling a bit better at her determination— Jinx wasn’t one to let things go easily. He thought it might be a good thing this time around.

“Always a dance with you, huh?”

“Part of my charm.” She shrugged, pushing the trolley forward. 

“Yeah, I guess you are pretty great.” He breathed out, wondering if the words had come out too vulnerable, too sincere— he and Jinx were close, practically intertwined, but neither of them felt a need to say it all aloud.

This whole ordeal was messing with his head, leaving him raw in places he thought he’d long finished covering. It made him want to call Benzo; it made him want to grab a car and visit his dad. The feeling was choking him.

Jinx, however, just giggled, pulling him towards the snack aisle. Really, he thought it was a shocking show of self-control that she’d taken that long in the first place. 

It was weird now, seeing how their roles had been reversed, seeing how she'd somehow become his rock. It made him want to latch onto her and never let go. It made him want to scream— ask her again how she could be so calm about this. He thought that maybe it was for him. 

It was his kin in the first place. Whatever that was, at this point. He hadn't even considered what that meant for him, not really. 

Growing up, he had no family to speak of. It felt unfair, in a cruel and bitter kind of way, that somehow he was thrust into caring for some girl he didn't even know when he'd never gotten the same opportunity. 

All he was left with was the wonder if his own estranged family had said no to him or they'd never been contacted at all. Both thoughts left the same bitter feeling of bile filling his mouth.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. It was all too choking, and the girl hadn’t even been alive back then. There was no reason to burden her with the same vacancy.

He limited himself to trailing behind Jinx, watching as she grabbed about ten different brands of cookies and chips and only put three of them back on the shelf when she wasn’t looking. He found it to be an easier system than reminding her that not only had she already bought them last time, but she’d declared all three to be ‘an attempt against her taste buds.’ Ekko had no desire to finish all three boxes himself again; he hadn't cared for them much, either. 

Once she was done, he wrapped an arm around her waist, more of a comfort for him than her, and guided the both of them to the cash register. 

They settled in a medium-length line with a cashier who seemed to move pretty fast, and Jinx sighed, leaning into him. He wasn’t sure if she was somehow hiding her anxiety better than he was, needing the comfort, too, or if it was just an attempt to comfort him . 

It might’ve been both.

“So,” she hummed, tilting her head back, “we should call the social worker lady.”

And Ekko— Ekko knew that was true. He knew. The sooner the call, the sooner they could get it over with and hopefully kickstart the process. Five years in foster care was already five years too many, and he wanted the kid out as soon as possible. 

He couldn't prove to be the perfect alternative, but he was better, at least. Mel wouldn't just put a girl with a good home in respite at four in the morning, that much was obvious.

Yet the thought of calling her, of showing his hand too soon or sounding too desperate, made him feel like he was a child again, handing over everything he had to some stranger who barely knew him and didn’t have time to grow to. 

Even when he'd been switched to Sky, he'd only got to know her so much. And he liked her, he did— she was nice and kind and always open with Ekko, honest about how things were going with his case. But she made him feel raw and unwanted every time he saw her, and he always looked at him with these sad eyes. Like she understood. 

She'd gotten out of his life as quickly as she could after Benzo finally adopted him. He was glad for it, despite himself.

Now, it was technically him who could rush Mel; it was him who could call and make demands and get licensed. He wasn’t getting tossed around anymore. Or he wasn't supposed to be. Somehow, it still felt like he held no power over the situation; Isha was kin and that was leverage for them, not for him. It was a mentality he couldn’t shake— he didn’t think Mel was out to get him.

Suddenly, he understood Benzo’s grief every time he got any type of call from Sky, and he wasn't sure who was supposed to be winning. 

Maybe he was just unlucky; he knew perfectly well what the industry had amounted to. The fact that it was an industry at all gave him the title of consumer. He was supposed to be demanding— maybe. He still wasn't quite sure and the whole ordeal was making him lose sleep.

He didn't like the thought at all.

Mel Medarda had sounded kind and worried and almost angry for Isha. And maybe the industry itself was fucked up but Mel wasn’t trying to sell him anything. Still, her voice made him feel like he was small and helpless all over again. It wasn’t her fault, not really. He was sure that anyone even remotely associated with CPS was enough to send every nerve in his body flaring in an instant fight or flight.

Except Ekko had always been the flight to Jinx’s fight; it was how they kept each other going. Vi joked it was how they kept each other out of jail.

“Ekko?” Jinx insisted. “It’s better to get it over with.”

He nodded stiffly, feeling the tension building up in his jaw at the same time his grip on Jinx tightened, just barely, but desperately enough for her to notice. 

She turned, looking at him worriedly, but the person in front of them finished paying just as she was about to speak, and she turned, deciding to do the talking. It was slightly funny, considering she hadn't once done the talking in all their years of friendship. It made his heart swell.

Jinx squeezed the hand resting on her waist lightly and gave him a small smile before turning to the cashier, telling her they’d pay in cash.

After that, bagging the groceries and making their way back was an easy, practiced ordeal. It was almost muscle memory, and Ekko found himself loving the prematurely quiet life he'd settled into more than ever.

He knew that, technically, he was young. He was supposed to be partying and going out and having the time of his life. Dating around, maybe, and showing up to work terribly hungover on a bus he caught from some dingy corner of the city.

And Ekko hated to say he was aged beyond his years— he found the phrase disgusting and cheesy, and unlike him at all. Because Ekko didn't feel old and aged and withered. He didn't feel like he was rushing into a stage of his life he hadn't naturally settled into yet. But he appreciated his domestic life. He appreciated living like he was just a bit older than he was. 

It was peaceful when all he'd known previously was unrest. 

He knew Jinx thought so too. She'd grown tired, probably, after her rebellious years of teenage rebellion after her sister had been sent to juvie.

Ekko remembered those years— remembered sticking fiercely by her, and remembered falling out with her. Ekko remembered it all, and had no desire for anything even vaguely reminiscent of it.

It was comforting, nice, to think that Jinx remembered too. That they were both choosing to move on together. It was nice to have the privilege of settling into domesticity, even as they were young. Ekko thought he'd been dreaming of it since he was six— maybe sooner.

They didn’t speak again until they were both seated in the bus stop, waiting patiently. 

For once, Ekko was grateful for how long their usual bus took, enjoying the feeling of cold wind against his cheeks. It was grounding, if even slightly, and reminded him of the dry cold of home. 

Jinx slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and sighed. That, too, felt like being home again. 

“Ekko.”

Instinctively, he hugged her closer, humming in acknowledgment. 

“I know why you don’t wanna call.” 

“Yeah."

From his periphery, he could see her biting her lip as she turned to look up at him unsurely. 

He almost felt a little guilty, knowing perfectly well she was probably just as anxious and dreaded the idea as much as he did. Usually, he’d lean into her— assure her that they’d get through it together like they did everything else. 

But Jinx was the fight to his flight, and for once, he let himself shut down and have her come up with their next steps.

He trusted her.

“We have to.” 

“Yeah.”

“Listen, we can do it tomorrow, okay?” She pushed, uncharacteristically gentle. “I know it sucks but it’s Friday and we both have the weekend off after.”

He nodded again, slightly comforted by the idea of having at least two days to take it easy and shove down his anxiety, maybe even schedule an emergency appointment with his therapist. 

When he was little, he used to spend weekend mornings on Benzo’s old wooden porch. He sat on the edge of it and looked at the beginnings of the city from afar, letting the mild chill of the morning wake him as he listened to the morning birds. When he was especially lucky, the dog he’d grown up with would join him until the Benzo woke up.

Maybe it wouldn't be the same but he thought he could chase a similar peace on their tiny balcony staring down at the city skyline. It was slightly out of routine— he'd never found it the same— but it might take his head back to somewhere quiet. If only just for a few minutes. 

These days, a few minutes felt like all he needed.

He hated the inconvenience, hated having to plan around his stupid anxiety and leaving Jinx to figure these kinds of things for him— hated everything about the situation. But he was grateful, nonetheless, for his gorgeous best friend and the heavy security in his chest assuring him that they were making the right call. 

“Okay,” he breathed out, closing his eyes and resting his head on top of hers. 

“Ugh… being responsible is so gross.” She joked lightly. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

He just laughed, feeling a little lighter.

/)/)

(  .  .) 

So, the next evening, he was on a call with Mel Medarda on the other line and Jinx beside them on their little couch.

They’d gotten off from work early— they were both blessed with lenient bosses who had no problem letting them leave early. Apparently, their tendency to turn into workaholics the second they were left to their own devices earned them some grace when they called in with an emergency. 

And really, Ekko wasn’t quite sure this could be qualified as an emergency at all, he’d never given specifics, but Jinx was bouncing her leg insistently beside him, and the phone had already rang twice, so it was starting to feel like one.

Clearly, his best friend was just as nervous about it as he was and he wondered if, for once, if her stubbornness would crumble under the pressure of it. He wasn’t quite sure he could keep it together for the both of them if it did.

The phone rang five times before Mel finally picked up. 

Jinx sucked in a sharp breath. 

He put a steadying hand against her thigh, and she pressed her leg closer to his.

Ekko put the phone on speaker, not minding the way Mel’s voice crackled into something grainy and static. Jinx was always teasing him about his stupidly old phone but he found the sound comforting, in a silly, nostalgic way.

Now, as the woman’s voice filtered in, he found himself less intimidated when he could properly process how distorted her voice was by Ekko’s shitty speakers.

“Hello?” She greeted pleasantly, clearly glad to hear from them before Monday. It was Friday evening and she was probably getting just as antsy as they were. Or maybe she wasn’t; Ekko didn’t know if he was projecting anymore.

“Yes, hi,” he cleared his throat nervously, “it’s Ekko. From last week. I’m calling about Isha.”

“Of course. Have you made your decision?” She responded, sounding much cheerier than he’d ever heard her, and while he couldn’t see her at all, didn’t even know what she looked like, Ekko could practically hear her beam.  

It would’ve been relieving if he didn’t feel the familiar distrust creeping up on him— she just wanted to get the kid into some house she could ignore her from as soon as possible. 

He nodded, stiff and nervous, wondering why the hell it was so hard— why it felt like someone was clutching his chest and squeezing it shut.

Suddenly, Jinx tapped his thigh, quick and urgent. She was looking at him unimpressedly, and only then did he realize that Mel couldn’t see him, that this was a phone call and there was no reason she’d know what he was doing.

“Yes, I… we.” He breathed out, pursing his lips. “We want her to live with us.”

“Your… best friend… Jinx, was it? I take it she’s okay with the arrangement?”

At that, Jinx jumped in quickly, looking urgent and protective, like she was scared the question would be retracted if she didn’t answer soon enough. Ekko couldn’t understand if it was her fear bouncing off him or his own but he felt it too, as he heard her answer.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Perfect, and your full name is?”

“Powder.” She sighed, gritting it out like it pained her. “Powder Lane. Me and Ekko are both twenty-seven.”

Mel hummed, and they started to hear the soft clicks of a keyboard. “Oh?”

“Jinx is a…” Her face scrunched up distastefully as she mulled over the word. “A nickname.”

“Right,” Mel continued, completely unfazed. Ekko was glad for it. “Well, both of you will have to attain your license. Given this is a kinship placement, you can apply for an initial license so Isha is allowed to move in with you while you undergo the full process. That will quicken the process but it still usually takes a few weeks so Isha’s current placement has will be doing respite for that time.” 

After a moment of silence, all three of them thawing over their words, stewing in the tension building up through the line, Mel spoke again. Ekko was glad he wasn’t forced to be the one who cut through the silence. 

“I will be the worker assigned to your case.”  

Again, Ekko could manage little more than a stiff noise of acknowledgment, wondering what kind of worker Mel would be. He almost wanted to call the whole thing off, hang up, and pretend it had never happened, just so he never had to find out.

Then, after some consideration, she spoke again. “I would like you to meet her at least once before she is placed in your home. We can arrange visitation rights too so she’s able to get to know you for however long the licensing process takes.”

Turning to Jinx, he knew neither of them even had to ask, and that, maybe, it put them equally as ease that she was willing to make demands for the kid.

“How far is her current placement?”

“Just under eighty miles from my office in the middle of Oakland.”

“That’s perfect,” Jinx cut in, “we live in the outskirts. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours away from us."

“Lovely.” Mel hummed. “As a quick overview of what you can expect next, I’ve recently cleared a couple of cases so it shouldn’t be too hard to get a background check done in about three weeks. Once cleared for that, expect a full home study.”

And though, objectively, he knew three weeks was a short time, that Mel was probably doing them a favor, being extra pushing, working later than he should, he couldn’t help the sinking feeling that overcame him— at least three weeks. 

Then, just as he processed the words, his heart stopped. For a second, he was unsure if he should ask her to repeat herself even knowing he'd heard her perfectly well.

Background check.

Next to him, he thought Jinx went so pale he thought she actually started turning grey.

“Um,” she choked, wincing like the words were painful to admit, “I actually do have a criminal record.”

Ekko couldn't be sure if her mortified expression was due to the constant guilt that loomed over her head— I'm not ruining this, Ekko— or the bitter idea of having to admit it to a social worker. Somehow, she'd never quite been able to let her guard down, and just like him, every weakness felt like defeat.

One of Jinx's families once told her that no one wanted broken goods when they sent her away. Her social worker had pursed his lips and nodded his head at them as they left. 

When they were older, more settled, Jinx admitted he didn't look pleased with them at all. She said he'd rushed her out of there as quickly as he could. He took her to Vi's then-placement, finally available for a second, like he wanted to get away as much as she did. 

But he didn't defend her. He'd twitched, ever so slightly, and nodded his head on the way out. No amount of maturity, teenage, adult or otherwise, would be enough for her to forget how no one wanted broken goods. 

All over again, he wondered if it was the guilt or the bitterness that was bringing back the memory.

To her credit, Mel didn’t so much as pause. “Of what nature?”

“Mostly petty stuff like graffiti and shoplifting in high school.”

The sound of the keyboard stopped. 

Irrationally, Ekko almost thought she'd somehow tell him that it was serious— that she'd let his faceless relative of whatever kind live in a group home that didn't know her and didn't care for her. 

He remembered being told there was no family for him all too well to let that happen.

For a brief second, panic gripped at him all over again.

“Well. As long as you weren’t charged with violent and sexual misconduct, you should be fine. Especially if you were a minor at the time and it hasn't repeated itself.” She sighed, lowering her voice into something gentle and soothing. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Still, Jinx didn’t look convinced and Ekko wanted nothing more than to assure her— promise her— that it wasn’t her fault. He would've had it not been for Mel still waiting on the other line.

“Is there anything we can do to speed things up?”

“There is, actually.” She replied, keeping the same soft tone she’d used prior. Ekko would’ve resented it if not for the comfort it brought. “Getting a health check from your doctors assuring you’re equipped to properly care for a child and getting a couple of references from people in your personal life ready would be wonderful.”

“Okay,” he breathed out, “okay, yeah, we can do that.” 

“Any other questions?” She hummed, somehow making it sound neutral, like she wasn't in a rush and there was no pressure to be put upon them.

Ekko swallowed, rushing the question out between his choking breaths. “Who exactly… is Isha? I was told I had no remaining family when I was a foster kid.”

“Well.” Mel cleared her throat, like she was buying time to decide how to explain the unexplainable screw-up to him. “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you if they were not looked into or something else happened.”

Again, Ekko willed himself not to speak. He didn't think there was much to say about it, anyway. 

Mel continued, clearly picking up on the fact he had no answer to offer her. “Isha's mother was your mother's cousin. That makes Isha your cousin, as well.” 

Next to him, Jinx rolled her eyes and mouthed third cousin at him like Mel was being ridiculous. And well, it did sound a bit ridiculous, but Ekko would be damned if he let it get in the way. Distantly, he wondered if she was only trying to convince everyone it was a good placement. 

He smiled at her and turned his attention back to the call.

“Okay, uh, when can we meet her? Does she know about us?”

“She knows that there is a distant relative interested in taking care of her.” Mel answered, cold and professional as he'd ever heard her. Distantly, he almost thought she sounded protective . “I'm hoping your first visit can take place right after the background check, as I'm expecting the rest of the process to go smoothly. I will try to arrange visitation rights in the meantime. Maybe I can manage to rush through this.”

And though she didn't say it, though she was discreet and quiet with maybe tacked on before any other word, Ekko could hear it: I'll pull strings.

He didn't understand what it was that had Mel so invested in their case, not quite, but he took it gratefully. He’d long learned to never look a gifted horse in the mouth and he had no intention of starting. 

“Thank you.” He licked his lips, thinking over his next words. “It means a lot.”

“Of course.” She replied, sounding a bit warmer than she ever had.

“Heya, uh, toots?” Jinx cut in. “What happened to the rest of the kid's family? Do any of them have visitation or parental rights? Are we waiting on some judge….?” 

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, “Isha's father passed away and her grandparents didn't get the chance to meet her. Her mother was ill-disposed to taking care of her so she's been in the system since she was quite young, but she also passed. You were the only relative we could track down.”

Again, they could hear what she was really saying: she's in care indefinitely. She has nowhere to go. No family to speak of.

She cleared her throat, continuing before they could say anything. “It will, of course, be temporary, if that's what you want. There is always the possibility of another family adopting her in the future.”

“Okay.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Jinx's expression pinched into a frown. "Anything else?”

“Yes!” Mel rushed, sounding a bit flustered, urgent, like she’d forgotten something crucial. “Isha is mute. I recommend learning ASL.”

“Okay,” Jinx agreed immediately, winking at Ekko as he glared, disgruntled. He had no problem learning but Jinx had taken it as one of her general education credits after befriending a hard-of-hearing girl, and while she wasn't fluent, she knew just enough to antagonize him over it.

“Perfect.”

“We'll get started on the references.” 

“Then that would be all. Thank you for getting in contact with me; we’ll keep in touch.”

“Sure.”

The silence after Mel hung up, not before leaving her email address, was deafening. Somehow, it was choking both of them despite her never technically giving them bad news.

He almost thought any news would sound bad if it came from her, given her line of work. The thought made him feel a little guilty, but it was a gut instinct burrowed deep underneath his skin, and one he'd given up on scraping out.

He turned to Jinx, feeling her eyes drilling into the side of his skull.

He couldn’t find the right words to say— couldn’t find any good words at all.

“Is our doctor board-certified?”

“Of course he’s board-certified.” She huffed. “Cupcake found him for us, the fuck you think she is?”

“Careful there, Pow,” he breathed out, feeling some of the tension bleed out of him, “you’re starting to sound like you actually like her.”

“Like I would ever like Princess.” She spat out, curling into Ekko’s side. He didn’t point out how the words had no heat to them anymore. Really, they both knew they were starting to border on fond.

Unfortunately, Ekko didn’t have it in him to tease her the way he usually did, and the mention of their quasi-family made his heart squeeze with the desire to see his dad.

Jinx was home, she always had been, but their family and the physical space they took up was different. Ekko found himself missing it like it had been ripped out from inside him, a beating organ left raw and exposed for other people to take residence in— lucky for him, they took care of it well.

He missed it badly. He wanted it back where it belonged, between his ribs, against his lungs. 

Suddenly, it was all too much.

“We should go visit.” He blurted out, still staring at the dark phone screen like it would bite him.

Jinx startled, like she wasn’t expecting him to talk.

“What?”

“We should go visit our dads,” Ekko repeated, sounding a little breathless. 

She blinked, turning to him with something in between shock and mild concern.

“I mean, sure? I guess we can.” She shrugged, pulling away slightly. “But it’s a long trip, and we just saw them for Christmas.”

He shook his head, starting to feel a bit desperate, cagey. “That was too long ago.”

Somehow, Jinx must have sensed his urgency, suddenly getting up and slipping on the pair of shoes she always kept by the entrance. 

Ekko barely had time to process what was happening before she spoke.

“Okay.” She sighed. “Okay, call Silco. You know he’s the only one who ever picks up. Tell him we’ll be there past midnight.”

He frowned, already reaching for his phone, almost on autopilot. He thought he’d find a way to listen to Jinx in his sleep if he had to. “It’s already four; there’s no way we can catch a bus this late.”

“I know,” she grinned, grabbing her keys, hand peeking out through her half-on jacket amidst her rush to get out of the apartment, “but Cupcake owes me a favor.”

Ekko’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “You’re driving?”

He couldn’t remember the last time either of them drove anywhere. Jinx hated driving, claiming she wanted to be nowhere near those ‘death machines,’ and Ekko saw no need once he found a semi-punctual bus he could catch for work. He wouldn’t pressure her either; he’d been there after Vander crashed.

Jinx turned, biting her lip. “Pack whatever responsible shit you want for the road, yeah?”

Ekko couldn’t help but let out a tiny, rasping laugh. “You mean food and water?”

Jinx shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Ekko, half on autopilot, just huffed, watching the door slam shut behind her, and took out his phone, heading to the kitchen.

It rang exactly three times before Silco picked up. 

“Ekko?” His voice was deep and warm on the other line, just like he’d remembered it from childhood— Uncle Silco, he used to cheer, read us a bedtime story!  

It was comforting despite the crackling static on account of his rural location, and Ekko found himself blurting out the words before his brain could catch up to his mouth. 

“Powder says we’ll be there at midnight.” Wait. No. “Or, uh. After midnight… We’ll be there after midnight.”

To his credit, Silco didn’t even hesitate, just sighed softly, sounding more resigned than annoyed. The familiar sound put him at ease; it sounded exactly like he remembered it from childhood.

“I’ll inform Benzo and Vander.”

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Exactly two hours later, Ekko was sitting in the passenger seat of Caitlyn's expensive new car. 

It was so nice, in fact, that despite Jinx happily jumping in like she had no care in the world, Ekko was scared to even move in it for fear he'd so much as scrape the pristine white seats.

The navy blue exterior was clean and polished, completely unfit for the dusty roads Jinx was gonna take them on— quite janky, no doubt, given how often she drove— and Ekko felt preemptively sorry for his technically sister-in-law.

“What happened to death traps on wheels?” He wheezed, nervously inspecting the bumpy roads ahead of them and Jinx's vice grip on the wheel. 

“Eh,” she shrugged, clearly trying to come off as far more casual than she was feeling, “gotta die from something. Might as well be while I'm doing your sorry ass a favor.”

Ekko relaxed slightly, smiling at her attempt to cheer him up. He'd never thought he could be known so wholly. Sometimes, it felt like Jinx had mapped parts of him he didn't even know existed. 

Still, there was no reason for her to do this— not because Ekko missed home, and not when she was bound to be as shaken by it as he was, keeping it together or not.

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive?” 

She softened, turning to him with a small, uncharacteristically sincere smile. “Nah. I feel better when I'm behind the wheel.”

“I'm sure you do.” He snarked, brightening when she giggled.

“I'm not that bad.”

“Powder, you're the worst driver I've ever met.”

“Oh my god, you whipped out the full name and everything.” She cackled. 

“Because this is serious!” He insisted, choking on his own laughter as he turned, watching the way the corners of her eyes wrinkled.

“ How is this serious, Ekko?!”

“A serious threat to my safety, Powder!” He cried, reaching for the blanket he'd neatly folded right below him to nuzzle into.

“Yeah,” she drawled, “you look like you feel soo unsafe right now.”

“I am self-soothing.” He sniffed indignantly, wrapping his arms around himself and the soft wool as tight as he could. “I want my last moments to be comfortable.”

“Your last moments are going to be bloody if you don't shut up right about now.” Jinx sang, grinning slightly at his taunts despite how her eyes were steadily trained on the road at all times.

“Are you gonna tell Benzo about my cause of death, too?” He snorted.

Instantly, Jinx's jaw dropped open with a small, offended gasp. “Why do you hate me?! You know I'm Benzo's favorite!”

“What, so I lose my life, and you don't even lose the title ?!”

“Yes!”

“You're the worst.” He muttered, leaning against the window, finally starting to see the familiar sight of thick trees announcing upcoming country roads. “I want a refund.”

“Too late to go back to foster care and trauma bond with another kid…” Jinx hummed, letting her eyes dance over him playfully. “Plus, everyone's kinda boring once you've gotten your bedroom blown up once or twice.”

“I think the word you're looking for is peaceful.”

“The word I'm looking for is lame , scaredy cat.”

“If I bond with some other kid, will I get a nicer best friend?”

Jinx wrinkled her nose, wheezing shortly. 

“I don't know about a friend, but you might get charges for being a creep.”

Ekko laughed, dry and shocked, coming from the back of his throat as he turned to grin at her. Her hands had relaxed slightly. Her wrists still looked a bit shaky.

“Then I'm moving back in with Benzo.” He pouted petulantly. 

“What, leaving me alone with a little girl?” She gasped. “They always told me teen pregnancy was a bad idea! I can't believe— ”

“Oh my God, I'd pay child support!” Ekko cackled, falling back on his seat and feeling lighter than he had all week.

“For the therapy we’ll use to substitute your bond?!” Jinx wailed.

“You're ridiculous.” He laughed, now fully turning to the side and curling his knees into his chest.

“It’s what makes me so much fun.” She agreed, grinning happily. He wondered if she'd heard the compliment for what it was. Maybe she did; it was always a compliment when he talked about Jinx.

The thought made him sober up ever-so-slightly. Suddenly, instead of the carefree laughter they'd been lost in, Ekko felt an urgent sense of affection squeeze him.

He needed her to know how much she meant to him. There was no possible world where he could stand Jinx, not knowing how everything in him settled around her.

“You know I'd never leave you, right?” Ekko asked, sounding solemn and serious. “Isha or not— I'd never leave.”

At that, Jinx whipped around, constantly alternating her worried eyes between him and the road, like his words were an upcoming crash within themselves.

She bit her lip, brow furrowed, and pouted the way it always was when she was lost for words. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do, what the hell was that for?” 

He shrugged, sighing as he melted further into Caitlyn's soft car, suddenly at a loss for words. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I know,” she breathed out, half-biting, half-affectionate.

They didn't really speak again for the rest of the ride, aside from Ekko's gentle beckoning when he saw Jinx getting too tense. 

They only stopped once, on the side of an old, winding road that was bumpier than they remembered. Jinx pulled over immediately, saying she needed some air, but didn't ask Ekko to drive for her. When they got back in, only an hour to go, he shooed her into the passenger's seat and drove anyway. 

It was nice, he decided, to have a friend so fiercely loyal as Jinx.

Still, they didn't really talk for the rest of the trip, with Ekko dozing off and Jinx looking at the road with an intensity she only had for her inventions. Their stop was spent mostly leaning against the car and breathing in the fresh air of the country as they stared up at her moon. It was full that night.

Instead, Ekko found himself curled into a ball, letting the warmth seep into his muscles and training his gaze on the driver's seat. He was half-staring at Jinx and half-admiring the scenery behind her, but when she asked, he said he was only looking at the window. He told her the view was prettier than his, even if he hadn't looked out of his own window once.

Jinx, in turn, drove bumpily but dutifully, humming and prodding at Ekko's words whenever prompted. 

Eventually, the rocks in the road and the darkness of the night must've gotten to her because, in the time leading to them pulling up, her replies were getting shorter and snappier. And though Ekko didn't mind, he could see she was starting to grow as frustrated as she was anxious. 

Once they'd traded spots, Jinx fervently promised to talk until they arrived to keep him awake. Then, she turned over, wrapped in the same dark blanket he'd used, and fell asleep.

He didn't wake her.

And though Ekko didn't like driving at all, and Jinx made the right call taking over the trip while he felt like even getting behind the wheel would make him crumble, it was pleasant. 

The deafening quiet felt larger than himself, his car, his Jinx. It felt bigger than all the problems and fears whispering in his ear. It was the kind of peace he'd been chasing so desperately.

Suddenly, the trees felt much bigger than before and Ekko wanted to cry tears of joy. 

He'd missed the feeling of small insignificance of the tall forests, and it brought back a kind of relief he couldn't even place. 

Whatever was missing between his ribs rightfully curled right back around his heart and laid its head to rest.

Ekko felt like he could breathe again.

He texted both Benzo and Silco, telling them they'd be there soon. 

By the time they arrived, he shook Jinx awake and felt the bitterness pushing him in the first place had thawed into something kinder.

As soon as they got out, Jinx tucked herself under his arm, as Ekko pulled her in closer. He could see twice as many stars as he did in the city, even at first glance, so Jinx started pointing out constellations, waiting for their fathers to come welcome them.

And it was one am, and Ekko was exhausted and lost and confused but he was home, finally. 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

The sun was soft and golden, bathing the dark, perennial greens in shades of orange and amber. The birds were chirping happily, insistent on announcing the arrival of a new day, and like a thousand days before it, Ekko sat on Benzo's porch and looked straight ahead.

The peace of his childhood was returning to him all over again, just as he'd hoped, and it was different but it was good. 

He wasn't a kid anymore but it was still home, just as he'd hoped.

Jinx was asleep in the house across the street; Ekko knew she would be until well after noon. She'd wake up to Vander's lunch like she always did, and find everyone already seated on the table, waiting for her.

Then, she'd sit down and start eating quietly, ignoring Silco's huff as he got up to brush her tangles and braid her hair. 

Vander would tut about wasting the day and Jinx would smile, small and soft like it was an inside joke, calling him an old man. The rest of the table would laugh rambunctiously, taking their cue to tease either party as they saw fit.

This time, it would be him and Benzo doing all the teasing, but he thought it was close enough— the trip had been too impromptu to call anyone else.

Except that would all be later. 

In the meantime, Ekko would sit on the creaky porch, wrapped in bright green fleece that swallowed him whole just as it had when he was little, and watch the view.

Exactly an hour after he'd first settled down, like a practiced choreography, the clock turned to eight, and he felt something heavy on his shoulder. 

It was a lucky morning then— a good day.

He reached his hand back, scratching the giant mastiff right above the ears, feeling it preen under him. 

“Morning, Hound.” 

The dog just yawned, pushing himself further against Ekko's neck. He hummed, tilting his head slightly to give the dog more space.

Hound had been there when he arrived, a tiny puppy tripping over its own snout, and he'd stayed long after Ekko left, a gentle giant, long grown into its name.

When they were little, Ekko and Jinx used to joke that Hound was just like them: a stray mutt Benzo had taken pity on. 

Benzo never fought them on it, not even trying to deny it. All he ever said was that it was great timing, then, that he'd taken Hound in only months before Ekko arrived. He told them, fondly, that raising Hound since he was practically a newborn only made him all the more gentle— ready— for him. For both of them, really.

Ekko remembered he always went quiet after that. The words felt far more loving than he was accustomed too, and he always choked up a little bit, even if they never changed.

Jinx used to tell him Benzo and Vander were the first trustworthy adults she'd ever met when they were little. Said her parents used to be but they didn't count, and Ekko never met them. He used to agree, adding that it made sense that they were best friends.

Just like back then, the family he'd settled into put him at ease, and falling back into his routine was easy.

He was pulled out of his thoughts soon after, when Hound fully sprawled himself across Ekko's lap and nuzzled as close to him as he could, sighing contently.

“Such a sweet boy.” He giggled, resting his hand right below his neck, taking turns between watching his childhood pet and his childhood view. 

Another hour passed by the time Benzo walked in. Just as he always had, he announced his presence with paused, heavy steps. It made Ekko feel like he had company even as his father walked up the stairs. He'd always liked that.

“Old habits die hard, eh?” Benzo laughed lowly, lowering himself down next to him.

Hound just wiggled slightly, making it so his lower legs settled on top of Benzo.

“It's peaceful.” Ekko shrugged. “Helps me think.”

“I hear ya, kid.” Benzo nodded, and though they'd never been particularly physically affectionate, he pulled him in by the shoulders and Ekko let him, feeling like he'd cry. “What's on your mind, huh?”

Ekko huffed, leaning into the touch, a bit amused by Benzo's straightforwardness. Still, there was no use stalling when their parents knew as well as they did that there was a reason for their impromptu visit.

“Why did you decide to foster me?” 

Benzo sighed, sounding almost sad. Something adjacent to it, really; something Ekko couldn't place.

“Wanna know the truth?”

He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat even before Benzo started speaking. 

“It was because Vander took in Powder and Violet, kid, no other reason.”

Ekko frowned, confused by the statement because well, he knew that.

“I know but why? ”

“When Vander took in Pow and Vi, he went all in on the parenting books.” Benzo huffed. “Suddenly, he was an expert of kids, parenting, and foster care all in one. Kept talking my ear off about fictive kinship and grief and child development…”

Ekko hummed, looking down at Hound and feeling the pressure of tears build up behind his eyes.

“I didn't take any of that too seriously back then… But then Pow arrived, trailing behind her big sister like a little duckling. And Vi was so fierce about it— so protective of her little sister, like she didn't trust us at all.” He huffed. “They've always been like that. Even if they knew Vander was a family friend already, it was no use.”

“Yeah,” Ekko giggled softly, “they're still basically attached at the hip.”

“It only took them a few months to get used to us, to trust us. They were such brave little girls. Even when it seemed like we weren't going anywhere, they still insisted on keeping afloat.”

Again, Ekko just hummed. 

He'd always admired the sisters’ fighting spirit. He remembered being much shier, quieter, as a kid. Their loud voices and excited attitude was entirely fascinating to him— moth to a flame.

“I think it was the first time Vi walked in the bar, with a huge smile on her face, no Powder nearby and no need to know where she was, that I realized I wanted to do it too.”

Ekko frowned, feeling he'd lost the story somewhere. He hadn't been there yet; he arrived soon after, moved in across the block and glued himself to Powder like a lifeline. To him, she'd always been settled, and Benzo never doubted he'd foster kids.

“Huh?”

“Well, it was a huge win, kid.” Benzo chuckled. “Vi was telling Vander good news of some kind; it was the first time she did that, and Vander had to hold back tears because he's a big sap. And Powder was napping upstairs, both sisters unconcerned for the other's safety for the first time since they'd arrived. Like they trusted us.”

Ekko remembered the first time he'd trusted Benzo, really trusted him, just as well.

It was equally as mundane as Vi and Powder's story, just a bit more private. There weren't many people around back then, just him and Benzo and Hound. 

It was one of the rare nights they didn't eat over at the Warwick-Lane house.

Usually, Vander made some kind of huge pot and gathered leftovers from the bar to lay out. It was a nice arrangement— pot in the center, and small plates to snack on all around it. Benzo and Ekko were always invited.

Except that night, Vander had been sick so he and the girls ate alone. 

Ekko had already been there for a few months, so rationally, he knew perfectly well Benzo would feed him because he always had; he had no reason not to. 

Except Ekko was small and couldn't reach the counter and had no way of cooking for himself if Benzo decided he wouldn't. And Ekko was scrawny back then, and constantly hungry. It was easy to imagine a reality where Benzo would simply run out of money to feed him enough. A meal every day was a luxury— he'd been told that a dozen times before. 

By the time dinner came around, and Benzo told him to set the table for them both, relief crashed over him so hard, it threatened to knock him out. 

By the time he sat down and Benzo came in, two plates in hand, he'd expected a bowl of rice, or some bread— something simple and filling that he'd long learned was the cheap food he could get away asking for. 

Except it wasn't that at all. 

Instead, Benzo gave him a huge plate of fried chicken on a bed of fires so big he couldn't see the plate. Not only that but when he looked over, he noticed he had more chicken than the older man. 

It was his favorite food. 

Benzo remembered his favorite food.

Benzo made his favorite food for him. He wanted him to eat as much as he was hungry for, even if meat was the expensive stuff.

You can have as much as you want, kid .

“What was so important about that moment?”

Benzo shrugged, “it made me realize I have a big house, and a playful puppy, and a solid business. I could offer other kids that kind of stability too. A safe place to stay, food on the table, an adult to look towards. There wasn't much more to it.”

“So just because you could? ”

“Sure. Because I could.” He sighed, pulling Ekko closer. “There was no epiphany for me, I fear, just the realization I could offer something other people might need. I didn't really want anything out of it.”

“Really?”

“Hm,” he nodded, “finding my son was just luck.”  

It took him a second after that, long and thick, to realize what Benzo was saying. 

Instantly, the tears building up were flowing down his face in a stream of hiccuped little sobs he didn't quite understand.

Benzo had been calling him his son forever, Ekko had called him dad for twice as long— they'd both signed the adoption papers years ago. 

Yet somehow the implication that he was lucky , that he meant as much to Benzo as he did to him, was all too much. They weren't words left unsaid but words that brought the same joy every time he heard them.

He turned to wrap his arms around his father, fully burying his head in his shoulder, much to Hound's dismay.

“You mean a lot to me.” He choked.

Benzo just hugged him back, and like every other time, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He could tell his father was sniffling a little too, ever the emotional man.

He felt like a child again— the good way. Safe and protected, like there was someone looking out for him and he didn't have to worry about anything at all. 

I could offer something other people might need.

Ekko could offer safety.

He could offer food on the table, and a sunlit bedroom, and unwavering support. He could offer stability— a place to go back home to. Everyone needed it, at the end of the day, even if it wasn't a parent's house.

He wanted to offer it too, just as Benzo had. His version of the trees, and Hound, and fried chicken when he was sad, and a big house across the street with rambunctious siblings and a big pot at the center of the table.

Maybe something smaller and less extravagant but a home all the same. He had room for it.

I didn't really want anything out of it .

Just like that, he was crying into his father's shoulder as he held him close and promised him that everything would turn out okay, that he could always go home, and Ekko was more at peace with his decision than he had been all week.

He hadn't been sure, at any point, what the hell he was doing or where the hell he was going with fighting for Isha. All he was thinking about was how she was too young for a group home and how she'd been bouncing around for too many years already. 

Now, he thought he wanted to offer a safe place to stay and someone steady to lean against.

Chapter Text

It was two days into their visit— Sunday morning, because they were stretching their time with their parents as long as they could— when Jinx finally broke. Characteristically stubborn, all things considered.

Ekko had already told her about his talk with Benzo. He said it helped him settle his nerves and figure out what he was trying to do when he accepted Mel's plea. 

Something something, old man's wisdom , he'd smiled, calmer than Jinx had seen him all week, something something, you should try it, Powder .

He was probably right, if Jinx thought about it. In the past, Vander and Silco had always given her the best advice. As stubborn as she was, it was easy to see why asking two men who'd taken in four children would help her clear her head about becoming a foster parent. 

Especially when those two men were her fathers.

She'd always been troubled and difficult. A thousand different people had said it a thousand different times, and it would've been obvious even if they didn't voice it. 

All in all, she was definitely a hard kid to parent and even harder to advise. There wasn't much you could say to a shouting, crying teenager throwing shit against her bedroom wall and begging everyone around her to stop talking even when they were quiet. Jinx herself probably couldn't have handled it. 

Still, they'd somehow managed to hold her through the worst of it a thousand times and talk her out of it doubly as much. 

Vander used to joke he leaned against her bedroom door so much, he was starting to leave a dent. Once, long after the fact, Jinx snarkily pointed out that she could actually see the spot where the bright paint greyed and darkened. Silco laughed at him for a week, but he was no better. 

At first, Jinx had been wary of him, unable to understand exactly who he was or why he was there. By the time the man had joined their household, Vi, Powder, and their brothers were already well established within Vander's home and didn't welcome outsiders.

Still , despite what they might've thought, Vander was in the hospital at the time, and the need for another guardian to take them in was all but obvious, and somehow, by the time Vander came back, Silco was clearly there to stay.  

By then, inadvertently, the kids had carved him a permanent space in their lives, and the idea of separation felt impossible. 

This was just made even more obvious by Jinx's recurring night terrors and the permanent dent moulded into Silco's office couch in the shape of her back.

So really, she knew no one could give her better advice than them. 

Except Jinx was stubborn.

Jinx was stubborn and she was scared.

Jinx was stubborn and scared but , she admitted, half-kindly, sympathetic to herself: a thousand times better at keeping her emotions in check than her past self ever was.

And unfortunately, that last part granted her the self-awareness to know for sure she needed to talk to her parents; they'd put her mind to rest the same way Benzo had Ekko's. 

But again, she was stubborn and scared— some part of her forever holding onto the tiny ten-year-old that had cried and cried when her big sister had been sent to juvie— so she'd put it off as long as she could. 

Unfortunately, their stay was short enough that no matter how much she was putting it off, slithering away and pretending she didn't hear, even at her ninety percent capacity of avoidance, it didn't take too long before she asked. 

Ekko had talked to Benzo on Saturday morning and unceremoniously announced that she should do the same, leaving her all day after that to ponder on her own pending unraveling. 

After all, her parents knew as well as Benzo did that there was a reason for her showing up unannounced. She was on borrowed time, anyway— the only reason they hadn't asked yet was probably because Benzo, unable to ever hide anything from them, had asked them to stay quiet. 

With the reality being their stay would only last a weekend, Jinx had gone to sleep that day knowing perfectly well what awaited her in the morning and as such slept rather lightly. 

Somehow, it resulted in her waking up earlier than usual, just barely past noon. Because of this, when she made her way down to the dining room, Ekko and Benzo hadn't arrived. 

She saw the opening clearly, sighing half in defeat, knowing perfectly well there was no avoiding the talk when it was only the three of them unless she wanted the talk to become a whole heart-to-heart, cheesy ass ordeal. 

So, of course, she plopped herself down on her usual seat, right next to Silco's, and threw her head back with a groan loud enough to alert both of them of her presence and, more importantly, of her call for attention. 

“You're up early.” Vander chuckled, emerging from the kitchen in a worn blue apron and loose bun, clearly having spent the morning chatting away with Silco. 

Disgustingly domestic , if Jinx were to be asked. (No one asked). 

“She is up at almost one in the afternoon.” Silco huffed, rolling his eyes. 

Jinx didn't know who he was trying to fool. He was beside her already, grabbing the brush they kept in the living room especially for her. 

“Aw, but I'm usually not up til past one in the afternoon!” She pouted, crossing her arms. “Aren't you proud of me?”

At that, the man just sighed, shaking his head with a fond little huff. “I’m always proud of you, Jinx.” 

“Aw,” she cooed, leaning back despite Silco’s disgruntled pull of her hair, “you’re so sweet to me, Dad.”

Silco snorted, disregarding it as he usually did despite Jinx being able to see the grin on his face perfectly well. “Now. Why are you up so early, then?”

“Ekko thought I should talk to you.” She shrugged. 

“About the girl?”

She just hummed, watching as Vander disappeared back into their little kitchen, clearly visible from the adjacent dining room. He was getting started on lunch shockingly late and she wondered if he'd already let Benzo know about it.

“Well, I didn't exactly take you in myself, Jinx.”

“But you did.” She huffed, rolling her eyes and carefully picking her words, remembering a time where she pointedly did the opposite. “When Vander was… sick and all.”

“Ask away then. If you must.”

At that, Jinx just snorted, knowing perfectly well the small frown on Silco's face was hiding his delight at being asked for advice more than it was from genuine annoyance. He'd always been like that, even when they were little, putting up a tougher exterior than his actual personality.

“I don't know,” she shrugged, not fully sure when she was taking any of this, anyway, “we're kinda in the same situation here, old man.”

Silco just hummed neutrally. “That being?”

“Taking care of a kid that isn't ours ‘cause we're whipped for their guardian?” She grinned, throwing her head back to look up at him, unbothered by Silco's grumbles about having to tighten the braid again.

Distantly, Vander could be heard laughing softly from the kitchen.

“Believe it or not,” Silco huffed, in his new soft and well-humored manner, “I did not do it because I was ‘whipped’ for your father.”

“Sure you didn't.” 

Again, Vander let out a choked laugh from his place chopping vegetables behind the counter.

“I already told you girls— I used to be friends with Connol and Felicia, same as your father. It was through… unfortunate circumstances that we all fell out.”

Jinx just snorted, knowing perfectly well already what unfortunate circumstances he was talking about, and finding she didn't really mind all that much.

After all, she understood; it was hard navigating grief alone— if Ekko had decided, so violently, to do it without her, she would've dropped off the face of the Earth too.

Similarly, if Vi suddenly died in a freak accident, she couldn't see herself being the kindest.

“What about My and Clag?”

“I'm not a monster, you know.” He huffed. “I wouldn't just throw your brothers on their backs.”

“Okay, but after mom and dad died, Vander was the one that fought to take us in?”

Immediately, Silco's hands stopped moving, stunned, and Jinx wished she would've just bit her tongue and shut up. There was no need at all to be poking at old wounds everyone had long gotten over— the sisters never even resented him, in the first place. 

But she'd never been good at that.

“Yes, well,” he sighed, “after what happened, I simply thought he'd be the better guardian. I unfortunately did not anticipate the legal trouble he'd run into. Once he was no longer an option, taking over just felt like the natural way of things.”

Again, Jinx hummed, relaxing at the familiar feeling of Silco twining her hair again. She never meant to hurt others; that was the biggest tragedy about her. 

“So you did it ‘cause you were my only option, huh?”

And, well, self-deprecating and depressing as it was, it was true. 

No one wanted a freak and a jinx as their kid— especially not the kind that got their sister into juvie, and much less the kind that refused to skip a single visit or be moved away from brothers that weren't even hers. Most folks wanted a child of their own in the first place, and Jinx was already spoken for. 

It was a miracle within itself that Silco was an option at all. 

“New approach, then.” Silco sighed though it sounded amused, and Jinx knew he'd long grown to be fond of her smartass mouth. “Why do you do the things you do, child?” 

“Uhh, ‘cause I'm sick in the head?” Jinx giggled, not quite sure what he was even talking about— in her defense, it wasn't like she was even lying either.

“Well, yes, but—”

“You mean no, Silco!” Vander cut in, voice low and rough from the kitchen, unable to hide the laughter choking his voice.

“You think it's just as funny as we do, old man!” Jinx called back, now fully laughing, short and breathless like a giddy inside joke.

“As I was saying ,” Silco interrupted with a light tug to Jinx's hair, “why did you choose your prosthetic design job, hm?” 

The answer felt obvious, almost a confusing thing to be asked, rolling off the tip of her tongue with a practiced sense of naturalness like it was always where she was meant to end up.

“It was something I could fix.” She shrugged.

“Well, you can't fix people, Jinx.” He reminded her gently, carefully, like she'd blow up the way she used to. 

“I know that.”   She huffed, falling backwards on her chair forcing Silco to tighten his grip on her hair. “But if I can't fix it, I'll make it worse.”

That was just how Jinx was, after all. It had been a pattern ever since she was small, had given her her name; anything she couldn't fix, she broke. Maybe because it made it easier to accept she, again, couldn't make things better.

“Is that why you're taking her in, then? To ruin her?”

“I don’t suck that much,” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms with a rather immature pout; the words felt sharp and insulting even if she was sure there was something more to them she wasn’t quite grasping. 

Silco had always been like that— his jabs had never been so much to injure as they were to push . It was unpleasant in an almost useful way about half the time.

“You don’t.” He agreed, going on to braid the other half of Jinx’s head like nothing was amiss at all. “Which is why I’m asking you— are you taking her in to ruin her?”

“No.” She insisted, starting to grow pissed off, more at whatever she was missing than at the words themselves.

“Exactly.” He nodded; decisive. “Why is it, then?”

“I— I don't know . I just don't want her to be alone, okay?” She snapped. 

Damn, Ekko had it so easy with Benzo. He sure as hell didn't have to go through this minefield of a conversation every time he was asked a question.

She hadn't even given it much thought in the first place; had said yes with the impulsive fervor of someone refusing to fuck everything up for everyone else. Again. It felt like an easy decision at the time— spitfire off her tongue before she was responsible for yet another person's tragedy. 

Now, she still refused to back down. Ekko would be a good guardian without any shadow of a doubt, and every kid deserved someone like that. The man had a bleeding heart and took care of people as easy as breathing— Jinx couldn't take that chance away from her. 

Even then, maybe she could be good for her too. She hoped so, at least. She didn't want to be selfish about this too.

“I just… I don't want her to go through the same shit I did.” She sighed. “And distant or not, Ekko's family. She should be with a family that loves her.” 

“And?”

“ And ,” Jinx heaved, annoyed that she understood what he was getting at, “our fancy ass jobs give enough cash to give her a good life as long as she stays… I don't trust just any rando.” 

And maybe she didn't. Maybe she felt protective of this unknown kid on the basis that they couldn't find anyone better than so many degrees of separation Ekko hadn't even met her. 

But true or not, whoever Isha was, it was undeniable that the both of them had the kind of resources that could give someone a good life. 

“Now,” Silco tutted, tying her braids with one of the ponytails he carried around his wrist, “was that so hard?”

“God, I hate your manipulative ass.” She huffed, falling back to her chair with a pout. 

“You have your answer now.” He grinned, sounding way too smug for someone who just got in a catfight with his daughter. 

“You could've just told me that.” She lamented, turning to him and pointing an accusatory finger right at his eye.

“That’s my good eye, Jinx; be sure not to poke it out.” He huffed, pushing the sharp nail away with a practiced annoyance. “Just remember: the most important thing is to think of the child.”

Finally, Jinx leaned back, reaching for her father as a show of gratitude, though, rather pettily, she had no desire to thank him. 

Rough and pushy as Silco was, he'd always had a way of moving around the landmine in her brain, knowing when to push and when to pull without setting off an explosion. 

From the kitchen, Vander covered whatever it was he was cooking and walked towards them with a tired chuckle. “You done antagonizing our kid?” 

“Oh, please. If anything, our grown daughter was antagonizing me.”

“I live with a child.” Vander huffed, sitting in the chair closest to Jinx and letting her fall against his shoulder.

“Yes, well, I fear you did get rather overzealous with the adoption papers.”

“I’m telling Vi you called us a mistake again.” Jinx snorted, nuzzling further into her father.

“Oh, please,” he laughed, “I didn’t even say it this time.”

“You’re a horrible father figure.”

“And yet I raised four perfect children.” 

Jinx couldn’t help it, she leaned to her other side wrapping her arms around Silco stubbornly. That was one thing he’d never faltered with, even when she was at her most selfish and violent, even when she was a brat and fought with Vander more than she spoke to either of them. 

He’d always adored her and her siblings.

It made her feel like maybe, if she followed their example, things wouldn’t turn out so bad. If she could find a way to love Isha the same way Silco had loved her, even if it was more for Ekko’s sake than her own, they’d be able to make it work.

Still, that was a very big if and as much as her sister told her she had a big heart, Ekko was good in a way she wasn't— maybe in a way she'd never be. 

“What if I don’t love her enough?”

At that, Vander seemed to take his cue, gently pulling Jinx off Silco and smiling at her with that gentle grin of his that always made her feel like he knew all the answers. 

She used to find it infuriating, at first; it was what pushed her to grow closer to Silco in the first place, but with time she’d come to find it was the most comforting thing in the world.

“Would you say I loved you enough?” He hummed, holding her gaze. “Or Mylo and Claggor, who I didn’t know at all before fostering? Or Benzo— do you think Benzo loved Ekko enough?”

“Yeah,” she snorted, mildly shocked by the line of questioning and again wishing she could have the easy talk Benzo had surely provided, “you guys were stupidly obnoxious about it.”

“How?” He hummed, pulling her in by the shoulder, and Jinx, stupidly tactile as she was, leaned further into it, gratefully. “We didn’t say it until over a year after you started living with us. We hardly even say it now, Pow.”

“I mean yeah ,” she huffed, wrinkling her brows slightly, “but you were always making sure we ate enough, and we did the weekend lunch thing with Ekko and Benzo, and you packed us lunches with little notes, and kept fighting with that bitch of a principal, and—”

It was only halfway through her rambling when she cut herself off, realizing what her father was trying to get at. 

“You didn’t need to say it.” 

“Love is a decision.” Vander nodded. “I love the four of you, but I didn’t even know My and Clag when they came here. But I did love them. I gave them each their own room, and I learned to make their favorite foods. At first, love was all about taking them to their doctors’ appointments and making sure they were eating enough.”

“I can do all that.” She muttered, biting her lip unsurely.

In reality, she wasn’t quite sure if she could, but if so much of it really did rely on intentionality— well, Jinx was the most stubborn person she knew. 

“Then you can love the girl enough. You never do things by halves.” 

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Jinx just stared, wondering if he was just being obtuse on purpose. 

“I’m not gonna answer that.” She declared, unceremoniously falling back against him.

“Raise crows, I guess.” Vander sighed, pulling her closer. 

She let him. 

Something about her father’s embrace made her feel like a little girl again, safe and warm away from anything in the world that could possibly hurt her. 

Those days had been scarce, to begin with. Jinx hadn’t gotten many years to bask in the feeling, but the few memories of it she did have were ones she clutched to like precious treasures.

She loved her dad probably more than anything in the world. 

“I am a delight.” She muttered, blowing a raspberry and crossing her arms childishly.

“Never said you weren’t, kid.”

“You used your old man expression.”

“I’m hardly old. You kids just aged me.”

Jinx scoffed, already rolling one of her million possible retorts around her head, toying with it, when she heard footsteps behind them.

“You can say that again.” Benzo laughed, joining them with Ekko trailing closely behind.

Jinx lit up, running to Benzo like she was a child again. Out of all of them, he'd always been the softest on her and, in turn, Jinx had always favored him the most. 

“Uncle Benzo!” She cheered, giggling as the man pulled her into a hug. She'd always prided herself, despite everything, on being his favorite.

“Good morning, Baby Blue.” The man laughed, clasping the back of her head and pulling her against his shoulder. “You're up early.”

“Aren't I?” She preened, sticking her tongue out at her parents happily. “Silco kept trying to say I wasn't.”

“Well,” he nodded, leaning his head in conspiratorially, “between me and you, your old man's always been a wet blanket.”

At that, Jinx threw her head back laughing, sticking her tongue out at Silco and relishing the way the man stooped down to her level and stuck his tongue out right back. It was always fun to get the regal, composed Silco to join in on the children's antics— Vander had always been softer on them than he had.

“Come on,” Vander huffed, “help me set the table, kid.”

“Do I have to?” Jinx groaned, leaning into the fact that Vi wasn't present to get on her ass about being helpful and polite. 

As usual, Vander, who'd always had a bit of a soft spot for her, just huffed and disappeared into the kitchen. Half the time, it just made her feel guilty and she'd set the table, anyway. The other half, she'd run away from Vi's nagging or use the excuse of Silco braiding her hair.

But there was, of course, nothing to hold her accountable but her own conscience, and that was easily overpowered by her morning drowsiness so this time, she happily plopped down in her usual seat.

Except she hadn't accounted for Ekko who, similarly to Vi, was always whining in her ear about something or other. Worse than Vi, even— she couldn't say no to Ekko.

So, like clockwork, his hand was on her shoulder, half-heartedly pulling her up. 

“Don't be a brat.”

“Is that how you're gonna talk to our child ?” Jinx gasped, getting up to follow him immediately. Her pride had been left behind in college, back when she still tried to convince people she had the dignity or conviction to not indulge him even in his petty nagging. 

“She is not our child, and she's not even here.” Ekko huffed. Then, almost an afterthought, “plus, I'm not talking to our child, I'm talking to you .”

Jinx, of course, pointedly ignored the soft edges of his voice around the word our , and the content feeling of stability that settled around her at the thought.

Instead, she huffed and puffed the whole way to the kitchen because being annoying was her God-given right, and the freedom the American people had fought for during Hamilton.

“You know,” she whined, carrying a large stack of mismatched plates, “if you're so bossy all the time you'll never find a girlfriend.”

Ekko snorted. “Why would I want a girlfriend?” 

“Because you didn't tell me you were gay, first of all—” Jinx started, gaping and gasping like Ekko's bisexuality was new whatsoever. Or in any way influential in his lack of a love life. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I live with you.” He grinned, shooing Benzo and Silco to the table and glaring at their attempts to help.

“Genius and madness, silly.” She grinned, checking his hip with hers as she passed him. “We were basically born with a do not separate label.”

“We weren’t even born at the same time .” Ekko insisted, carefully setting down the plates and cutlery.

“Okay, well, I knew you in another life. Clearly. ” She insisted from the other room, filling up a big pitcher of water with one hand while she piled an assortment of glasses with the other.

“How could you possibly know that?” He snorted.

“How could you possibly not? ” Jinx retorted, finally setting it all down. “I can't believe you forgot about me!”

“You're impossible.”

“Or you're just mean.” Jinx grinned. 

“How am I mean?”  He guffawed, looking over the table to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything.

Once he was finally satisfied, he took his usual spot beside Benzo, while Jinx sat down right across from him, next to Silco. 

Her siblings' seats remained empty; it was almost a tradition to not occupy someone else's chair if they weren't there to fight for it.

“You're literally allergic to fun.” 

“That's not how you use literally, Powder.”

“See, boring .”

“Children.” Silco sighed.

“We're twenty-eight.” Jinx laughed. 

“And yet you act as if you're five.”

“All part of my charm.”

“So I've heard.” 

“Hey, I'm plenty charming.” She pouted, turning to her plate haughtily in faux offense. 

Looking down, she instantly felt herself perk up, only to wilt right after. The excitement she'd felt at the dish flatlined in point three seconds, just as her annoyance came up. 

It was halfway between fish stew and soup, and shockingly to absolutely everyone, Jinx loved it . It was creamy and soft, and the chunks of vegetables in it weren't cooked enough to come undone on the plate but weren't so hard that the textures clashed. The fishy taste itself was dulled by the cream Vander used for the broth, which left behind the warm taste of pepper. 

As such, the stew was, shockingly, a big hit with her, and had since then become a winter staple. Vander used to say it was a good way to eat pricey fish for cheap, and Mylo retorted it was a good way to get Powder to eat, period. Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong, but she'd pout at him anyway.

She'd always been like that: only liked specific things cooked in specific ways with good spices and clean cuts— Vander joked he could tell when he had to sharpen his knife when Powder started complaining about the meat on her plate.

Usually, the stew was the only way Vander could get her to eat any vegetables as a child, given its main components were potatoes, onions, and carrots, and as such they ate it more nights than not. It was also a big bonus, she supposed, that it knocked the kids right out after dinner, leaving them warm and full. 

So, usually, she'd be delighted at the sight of the dish. Especially considering the freezing winter months out by the woods where their parents lived.

Except sometimes Vander decided he absolutely hated her and wanted her to die and added any assortment of other random vegetables under the guise of them going bad. Which, post-broke-college-student era Jinx understood, but her taste buds pointedly did not.

Hence why the sight of cauliflower in her soup was upsetting to say the least, leading her to do her usual routine of pushing and nudging her food until someone on the table grew sick of her. 

This time, it was Ekko. That didn't particularly shock her— he'd always been bossy. It was usually endearing, if a bit annoying.

“Pow, you're way too old to be playing with your food, you know that?”

This time, it was just annoying.

“Am not.” She grumbled, continuing to press and separate the odd pieces of cauliflower on her plate, refusing to think about how the taste lingered in the liquid broth.

“We're gonna be raising a child . How do you expect her to eat vegetables if I can't even get you to, huh?”

“I don't know.” Jinx shrugged, “Don't? I turned out just fine.”

“That's because I snuck veggies into your pasta sauce, Pow.” Vander snorted, quick to take Ekko's side like a traitor.  

Of course, the man turned to her with a triumphant smirk, I win written all over his expression clear as day.

“My own blood!” Jinx pouted, slouching back moodily. 

“You're adopted, Powder.”

“Ugh.” She groaned, falling against the table with practiced skill to avoid toppling everything over. After all, this was her usual pouty routine. “You guys suck, and I'm totally gonna be Isha's favorite.”

“She can't have favorites if she dies of scurvy.” Ekko shot back, sending the rest of the adults into choking laughter, probably finding it funny that he, of all people, was parroting the exact words Silco used to get them to eat as kids.

“She'll die happy, at least.” Jinx grumbled, knowing perfectly well her tone already gave away her defeat.

“Yeah but I don't want infanticide on my conscience.”

“Well, duh, Ekko . That's why I'm madness.”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, a bit more on edge than he usually would be, but clearly still amused, “I came up with that in middle school. Let it go .”

“Hey, you just accused me of child murder!”

“No, I did not!”

“Children, children,” Vander placated, “you're both immature.”

“It’s good that you’re worried. There's no need to drive yourselves so crazy.” Benzo added, smiling warm and hearty like he knew how big their worry had grown, and found a space for it, anyway. 

He'd always been like that— tender and welcoming. 

“Well, yeah,” Ekko frowned, “but trying doesn't mean we'll automatically be a good fit… I know my mom tried really hard. Back when she still could, at least.”

“No amount of trying is gonna bring Isha's parents back to life either.” Jinx added, low and somber, with the special solemnity she only took on when she remembered her parents.

At that, the rest of the adults’ faces went stony, like they, too, were weighed down by the grief of mourning ghosts. 

And for a second, they all let it sit, petty arguments about food and other trivialities forgotten, almost akin to respect for relatives past. It would've been a joke, that that was the only way to get Jinx to be quiet, if it hadn't been quite so choking.

For a moment, she almost thought someone would take the bowls and clean the table, the whole thing cut short. Their parents’ funerals, Ekko's too, had been years ago, so long that they almost forgot that their graves resided on the kitchen table, adorned only with the flowers falling out of spring's trees, and the warm laughter assuring the dead that they could rest— that the kids were taken care of.

For a moment, Jinx almost thought she should bow her head and try her hand at a prayer— whatever was familiar— even if she hadn't done it in years.

However, just as Ekko's hand hovered near the pot, Vander cleared his throat and the silence was broken with the unanimous sound of spoons clattering against bowls in the haste to eat before it got too cold.

“It won't.” The man nodded. “It couldn't bring Connol or Felicia back either. It couldn't make Quinn able to care for Ekko the way she wanted.”

At that, both of them nodded, ducking their heads and avoiding the mens’ eyes. There was always a lingering guilt, at least for her, about daring to miss parents she barely got time to know after Vander and Silco raised her like their own. 

It was ungrateful to want more, when Benzo and Hound took care of her with no strings attached, and her adoptive parents dealt with the worst of her during her teen years. At least, that's the feeling that gnawed at her, no matter how many times she was told otherwise.

Sometimes, she wondered if the feeling would ever go away. Silco told her over and over again, back when she was too deep in her spirals to see shades of grey, that two things could be true at once. Even now, long after finally learning her lesson, it never stuck when it came to missing her mom.

“But it's all we can do, Powder.” Vander insisted, nudging her gently, grounding her the only way she was comfortable with— reading her like an open book. “Even if you can't change the past, you can build a future. She deserves that much.” 

Jinx just nodded, feeling her eyes mist over. She'd been so sure they'd do just fine just hours ago, days ago— suddenly, she didn't think so anymore. Suddenly, she was trying not to cry about things that hadn't even happened yet when a kid's mom was dead. 

“Kids can feel that.” Benzo added, much softer, and much more composed than everyone else. 

Still, when she found the courage to look up, his hand was on Ekko's shoulder, and Ekko's body was tilted towards him; safe .

The sight made her smile a little bit, almost imagining herself as something similar. She'd never been comforting to anyone but her small family, and even then, half the time they needed comfort because of her. But the thought of shielding someone else, though foreign, wasn't unpleasant. 

She wanted Isha to feel safe with her too.

“I just— I wanna do good by her.” Ekko cracked, quickly shoving more food into his mouth like he was scared he'd be forced to say more otherwise. It was a habit she liked pointing out because he always felt better when pulled into their banter, but this time she kept her mouth shut and tried to eat something herself.

Finally, Silco, ever careful, spoke. “Good.”

“The most important thing is making sure you're thinking of Isha.” Benzo agreed. 

“You have big hearts, so keeping that in mind shouldn't be too hard.” Vander added, finally smiling with his usual warmth, almost looking proud of the both of them even if Jinx wanted to argue they hadn't done anything yet. 

“As for eating your vegetables, that's easy.” Silco smiled, his good eye twinkling with laughter. “Just tell her about scurvy.” 

“Or you can mix them into her food like normal parents.”

Finally, Jinx felt herself perk up, a bit lighter. “Aw, but that would be no fun.”

Ekko scoffed, still a bit tense, but at least willing to meet her eyes. She pretended they didn't look glassy, and he pretended there was no tension around her eyebrows. 

“Why are you complaining?” He whined. “I'm the one who has to do the cooking!”

“Okay, and you enjoy cooking.”

“Nobody enjoys cooking that much !”

“See,” Silco interrupted, “you'll be just fine. The child will get so tired of your bickering she'll eat faster so she can leave.”

“I'm sending you to a nursing home.” Jinx announced. 

“No need. I'm sure your antics will kill me before I make it to old age.” 

“You and Ekko should start a club then.” She grinned, angelic and honey-sweet.

“I can’t believe you killed me off before I hit thirty.” Ekko quipped.

“It’s what you got when you married into the family!” 

“We’re not even dating!” He scoffed, easily falling into her childish teasing— it was routine for them by then: Jinx would poke and prod and push, and Ekko would take and take and take.  

Surprisingly, it worked for them. It was good. They were good.

“Speaking of family.” Silco snorted, tilting his head with the exact look in his eyes he knew drove her up the wall— It said: I see right through you. “Are you telling your siblings?”

“I mean, we can't exactly hide a whole child, I guess.”

“Can't you?” He smiled, small and knowing like he was ten steps ahead of Jinx. 

To be fair, he probably was. 

She'd grown unfortunately predictable with the years— something about stability. It made her rather boring, but she enjoyed the quiet so she took her pills and resigned herself to staying unsurprising. At least the trinkets she came up with in her free time were still fun. 

With a bit of leeway, looking at it more kindly: Silco had raised her for over half her life; it was more a compliment to him than an insult to her. 

It took about five seconds of unimpressed silence for Jinx to slump in her seat. Ekko laughed, but cut himself halfway through it— they both knew it was a record for her.

“Ugh, I just don't want Vi to lecture me, okay?”

“My and Claggor would have no reason to do such a thing.”

“It feels wrong to hide it from Vi and not them, though.”

“I don't want to see the look on her face when she thinks we're not ready.” Ekko added, suddenly sounding small. 

It made Jinx's heart squeeze a little, that she still admired the girl so much after so many years. 

She'd always been a bit scared that people wouldn't get it— it was her sister, and then it was her. That's how it had always been; Vi came first. 

Ekko had proved her wrong every time. Jinx thought she might've been a little bit in love with him.

“She'd never say that.” 

“I know.” He added, somehow looking even more remorseful than before. They'd always fallen into place; Jinx's feelings were Ekko's words, synchronized— partners in crime.

“Well,” Vander cut in, ever-soft, ever the peacemaker, “you can wait until you've settled.”

“What? Not denying she'll judge us? That I'm not ready to take in a kid? That I'll fuck this up too?” Jinx cut back, always pushing, seeing how far she could go, a constant test; never happy and never quiet— not about Vi.

Even on meds, her temper was short and her mood shifted like a pendulum. Her sister was still her soft spot; the place that would gush and sink when pressed, the blood never clotting it closed. Jinx loved Vi like a dog loved its owner— enough to turn feral with it.

However, Vander had grown up doubly as sharp and triply as mean. There was no amount of pulling and growling Jinx could do that wasn't met with the unimpressed ease of someone who'd been there before. 

“She might.” He answered, remaining infuriatingly collected. “But your sister is a good person. You should remember that.”

With that, Jinx effectively shut up and looked down. Shane was burning from inside her as she realized that, still, she didn't know.  

She'd already faced Vi's rejection once, and the scorn had been enough to kill her. The mere thought of it repeating itself made her feel like she'd puke her guts out.

It was, at least, a consolation to know that Ekko felt the same, that he was just as scared of a possible rejection, of being faced with the idea that, maybe, Isha wasn't better off with them. That they wouldn't be good for her. 

It eased her conscience, if even slightly, that the fear was shared, and she'd learned to accept silence when it came.

“We'll tell you when we do.” Ekko cut in, and with that, made the whole conversation final. 

Finally, the air cleared, thinned out into its usual peace, though the traces of lingering heaviness couldn't fully be ignored— Ekko always had that effect on people. 

Jinx thought that he'd be an amazing guardian, the kind that would put the kid at ease. He'd make up for every one of her own faults just by being around; she'd never been cut out for parenthood the same way he had. 

Still, her dread at being herself was almost outweighed by the curiosity of who the little girl would be. She almost wanted to meet her. 

The rest of the meal was filled with comfortable chatter and strangely solemn laughter. 

Ekko, of course, didn't miss a single chance to get on Jinx's ass about eating her vegetables, and she, in turn, made sure to make every annoying remark she could think of. 

Their parents just seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. Benzo, especially, kept laughing heartily whenever Jinx made any pointed remark at his son. Sometimes it felt like he knew something she didn't, but she brushed it off more often than not— the man wasn't stupid, and it wasn't like her affection was a secret.

Finally, Jinx took her last bite, and with the sharp, staggering chime of her spoon against ceramic, declared that lunch had come to an end. 

She'd always been the slowest eater out of the family, and with it, the one who decided when a meal was over. 

Lunch and dinner only ever lasted as long as Jinx's appetite; after all, everyone else had already finished their food by then. 

It always made little Powder feel extra special. 

These days, it just meant she was the first to get up and clean out the table— despite all her moaning and whining, she never let her parents clean up when she was home anymore. Maybe in penitence for her brat years, but mostly because she wasn't stupid and noticed Vander's knees starting to ache and Silco's back threatening to give out. 

Plus, the task was even more work than setting the table itself and she was half the reason Vander had bad knees to begin with.

Soon after, Ekko was spurred into motion and followed her lead, making sure to glare and shush the older men as soon as they made a move to try and get up. 

It was a funny scene, still, and Jinx stopped at the doorway to watch, feeling herself soften and warm. Vander and Benzo only ever made the polite feint to try and get up, but Silco insisted on arguing honestly, though everyone knew he always lost. 

“Child, I am not old enough for you to be acting as though I cannot lift my own plate.”

“You certainly talk like you are.” Ekko snorted, snatching it so fast Silco's fingers had no choice but to let up. “And Jinx and I don't have time to take you to the hospital before we leave.”

“The hospital?” He spluttered, slack-jawed and offended. Jinx couldn't help but giggle, quick to cover her mouth lest she be caught staring.

“Yes. For when you break your hip trying to get up.” 

“I will do no such thing.”

“Exactly. ‘Cause you're not getting up.”

With that, he grabbed the last plate and left, leaving the men laughing and grumbling. 

Finally, Jinx was spurred into motion, catching herself thinking that everything truly would work out so long as Ekko was there. It made her ache with the thought of years spent without him.

Unfortunately, she didn't move fast enough, and squawked angrily, feeling his hip push against her with a laugh. Probably trying to pull her out of whatever trance she was in.

Instantly, all niceties between them vanished, and Jinx thought about how she should've strangled him when they were kids and she was still bigger than him. She made sure to tell him as much, but he didn't seem too impressed. 

Soon, though, Ekko's efforts turned out to be a resounding success and everyone was effectively shooed off to take a nap while the two of them cleaned up. 

It was strange, being responsible. 

Even at twenty-eight, Jinx felt like a small child, in need of being coddled. It was hard, even for her, to believe that she'd grown up enough to actually be trusted— to take care of other people. 

The thought would bounce around in her head, sticky and gooey until she died. Probably.

But of course, their parents were stubborn and as soon as Ekko left, going to pack what little they'd actually bothered bringing while Jinx washed the dishes, Vander appeared beside her, diligently drying whatever she left behind. 

“We have a perfectly fine dish rack.” She huffed, not bothering to keep stacking the plates and handing them one by one to her father instead.

“Silco is a neat freak.” He answered, and though Jinx rolled her eyes and went along with it, they both knew he just wanted some alone time with his daughter. 

She kept her mouth shut mostly because she appreciated it— one on one time had always been a priority for them growing up, but with the number of them it was hard for Vander to keep up, despite his best efforts. 

Symptomatically, the man always took whatever little moments he could manage to be in his kids’ presence, even when Jinx would insist on screaming and crying at things that weren't there. 

She never told him so, but it always made her feel extra loved when he tried so hard, and because she was no better than her childhood self, she didn't bother shooing him away.

And, of course, she liked spending time alone with her father just as much. 

“Thanks for the advice.” She offered, somehow still tense after she'd snapped about Vi. She and Vander hadn't fought in years. She didn't like the memory of those days.

“Anything for my little girl.” He grinned, half-teasing with the knowledge that Jinx despised cheesy shit like that. 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm the runt of the litter, we get it.”

“Don't be so harsh on yourself,” he huffed, with a gentle tap on the crown of her head, “you're gonna make a great caretaker.”

“I don't know about that, but I appreciate the delusion.” 

“Just bring it in, kid.” Vander laughed, putting the rag he was holding aside, and pulling her in by the shoulders. 

“You're such a sap.” She grumbled, sinking into the embrace with a content sigh— she couldn't help it, never could; there was nothing as grounding as physical contact. It made her unfortunately affectionate. 

“You'll understand when you meet the girl.” He snorted, hugging her just a bit tighter.

Jinx shook her head. “We're not going to be her parents.”

“And you’ll understand, anyway.” 

At that, Jinx laughed, feeling slightly breathless as she looked up at her father's fond eyes— it was hard to believe he could still love her after everything. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Come on,” Vander nodded, pulling away, “let's make sure everything's set for you two to leave.”

And with that, before she knew it, she was beside Ekko, leaning against Caitlyn's pristine car as he begged Hound not to jump on it in his attempts to say goodbye to the both of them. 

Given it was technically her who had borrowed it, she probably should have helped, but it was funnier to stand by and watch him bargain with a dog. It was especially funny when he pleaded with facts about how a dent in it would probably cost more than their non-existent mortgage.

Hound didn't seem to care, though, refusing to back down until he was satisfied with his send-off, after which Ekko must've had about eighteen consecutive strokes. 

Still, the car was intact by the time the dog laid off them and let them hug their parents goodbye. It was an embarrassingly teary endeavor, with Benzo especially being unable to hide his glassy eyes despite the fact that really, they saw each other constantly.  

Of course, when she pointed this out she was met with an unimpressed look and a retort of how she was the one always complaining about living too far away. Which she couldn't even deny given that she whined about it every chance she could get. 

All in all, the bickering only dragged out the goodbye to be doubly as long, and both Jinx and Ekko dragged their feet the whole way out. 

But eventually, they did manage to pile into the car without Hound chasing after them, and took off. The dirt roads became unforgiving at night and they were unwilling to take any more time off work knowing they'd probably need some time at home when Isha first arrived, so they really couldn't stall any longer.

The drive home was long and mild, and as always, Jinx started it with her head sticking out the window and her arm flailing in goodbye.

In their wake, behind the futuristic, quiet hum of the fancy car they'd been loaned, all that was left was a thick, nostalgic silence, only broken by the heavy laugh at Jinx's familiar antics.

Every goodbye was hard when one lived away from their children, especially when they still felt so young and had already been away from home for so long, but to be faced with them taking on a child was entirely different. 

For once, Benzo's tears at the departure felt justified, and though they'd all been staying strong for their children, the stray tear was inevitable. 

Silco's voice came out thick and sardonic when he finally spoke. Still, he was smiling, small and sad like he was having his heart ripped straight out of his chest. “Is there anything so undoing as a child?”

“You do this every time they visit.” Vander laughed wetly. 

Both Benzo and Silco kindly didn't point out how his eyes were glassy. 

In reality, all three of them shared the same nostalgic feeling of wondering when all the time had passed, of seeing each other reflected in their children. Once, that would've been their worst nightmare.

“This time's different.” Benzo chuckled softly. 

“Yeah,” Vander agreed, “maybe we should go see the graves later.”

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Meanwhile, in the car, Ekko took his turn driving, mainly so Jinx could indulge in sticking her head out the window and watching until the house disappeared into nothing. 

She told Ekko she liked knowing the three men were still there, even after they left, and he'd always accepted it. She was glad he'd always been so understanding, hadn't pointed out how they both knew that, in reality, the adrenaline just pushed off the need to grapple with the being in a car when she loathed it so— a welcome distraction. He was kind like that.

It was only a few seconds after the view faded into the monotony of evergreen trees that she plopped back down, and settled in her seat. Finally, she pulled out her phone and took the opportunity to kick her feet up onto the dashboard and browse through her playlists.

“How long do you think it took them to start crying?”

“Like five minutes?” Ekko grinned. 

“More like five seconds.” Jinx snorted, settling on a surprisingly calm mix of quiet songs. 

It wasn't her usual playlist, but given how quick cars were to freak her out she tended to go for softer things when she was in a car, anything that would lull her anxiety. It wasn't like asking Ekko to switch would do much for her either; she'd never particularly enjoyed driving. It was more of a necessity than anything else, and she'd only took over on the way there so he could rest.

“Crank up the heater, boy savior.” Jinx grinned, bringing her feet to her face and pulling off her shoes, one by one. 

“This is gonna be so much gas money.” He whined, and did so regardless.

“Not our problem.” Jinx cackled, wiggling her toes as she shoved them closer to his face, much to his abject horror. 

“This is an evil use of your powers.” Ekko whined, leaning to the side with practiced ease. Jinx only ever pushed it on the country roads, and even then, he had plenty of practice driving while dealing with her antics. 

“What powers? My inhuman genius?” She snorted, finally letting up and letting both her feet settle back on the dashboard. 

“Your inhuman flexibility.”

“Eh, that's Vander's fault.” She shrugged. “He was the one who signed me up for gymnastics.”

“And you used the lessons for evil.” He insisted, eyes now firmly on the road, knowing he was nearing a common grazing area.

“I am angelic.” Jinx scoffed, now fully laughing.

Begrudgingly, she had to admit that a trip to see their parents was a good idea. There was a tension she didn't even realize she was carrying weighing down on her, yet somehow, the knots holding it in place had slipped undone sometime over the weekend.

She knew Ekko felt the same way too. It was nice to have somewhere to go home to— a place to rest, even for just a while. The three men had an open house policy, always had, and Jinx, despite feeling spiteful and burdensome, had never once felt abandoned by them, even when she thought she'd pushed them away for good. 

That might've been the point when she agreed to take Isha in so quickly. Some kids just needed to know they had someone in their corner. Mostly, she just hoped the girl felt safe around her, temporary as the whole situation was meant to be. 

“Angels have blue hair, huh?”

“Nah, I'm just one of the freaks.”

“Yeah, I guess that would explain a few things.” 

After that, they mostly limited themselves to singing along to some of the livelier songs in Jinx's playlists. She didn't ask if he was teasing her or agreeing that she looked like an angel— she almost didn't want to know: the uncertainty made her feel fuzzy.

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Once they finally got home, the first thing Jinx did while Ekko made dinner— Vander had offered to send them home with food, but as always, they'd eaten any leftovers before that— was, shockingly, not drive the precious death machine on wheels back to Cait’s place despite Ekko's nagging. Instead, she pointedly ignored any sense of lingering responsibility in favor of plopping  down on the couch to go on Amazon. 

“I'm buying ASL textbooks!” She announced, though neither of them had agreed on doing such a thing. 

“Search for a good course too!” Ekko called back.

“I'm already on it, boy savior, who do you take me for?!”

“Do you really want me to answer that?!” 

“Fuck you!”

With that, Jinx searched for any possibly good classes in their area, hoping she'd find something targeted to parents even if, technically, she was no such thing and it was still strange to think of herself as one— bitter and out of place.

“Did the social worker say if she knew ASL already?!” She added, noting how there was a difference between courses meant for family and those for family and children. 

“She did, yeah.” Ekko answered, and then walked back into the room with one hand above his hip, untying his apron, and the other on his side, shaking his phone with a little wave. “Speak of the devil.”

“You're such an old man.” Jinx rolled her eyes, scooching over and gesturing for Ekko to take a seat down beside her. 

Somehow, calls from Isha's social worker always felt like bad news, even now that she was supposed to be on their side and the kid  hadn't even arrived. Even when it wasn't her— any sound from their phones felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had felt that way since they were little.

“Hello?”

“Ekko, Jinx.” The woman on the other side greeted curtly. “I hope you've been well.”

“We have.” Jinx answered, feeling her teeth press together as she ground her jaw. There was no amount of nice Mel could be that would manage to sway her. At least, not until Isha found a permanent placement ; maybe not ever. 

Thankfully, the woman was sharp enough to know when to take a hint, and seemed to have to problem rushing through the pleasantries in their conversations. Secretly, Jinx thought she was just as pleased with their desire to get to the point as they were. 

She was just glad the woman was willing to cut her some slack too; she was known to come off rude with strangers. Not that she particularly cared, but she supposed with anyone else it wouldn't have reflected well on her guardianship abilities or some other stupid bullshit of the sort.

“I’m glad. Getting to the point, I have managed to come up with a date for when you'll be meeting Isha before she is placed in your home.”

At once, both of them were rendered silent, holding their breath like any sound would break the spell and get them in trouble— what kind didn't matter since that had always been the logical conclusion when interacting with CPS.

The thought almost made her feel a bit sorry for Miss Medarda who was clearly just trying to help, but old habits die hard and Jinx only had so much room to let go of the past.

It wasn't even that much of a hindrance when both of them knew that no matter what she said, they'd make time. Stranger or not, Jinx knew perfectly well how it felt when everybody refused to take responsibility for her— the sort of abandoned, drifting feeling she wouldn't wish on any child. Whatever the timeline was, they'd adapt to it. 

Thankfully, the woman seemed to understand this too and continued talking without a hint of hesitation, carefully describing how they were rushing through the process to the point Jinx was almost compelled to ask her if she ever relaxed. Even she, who'd always been a bit of a workaholic, lost in her tech for hours on end, forgetting to eat and drink until someone came in to drag her out, thought that the woman sounded in desperate need of a nap. 

“You will officially be meeting her a month from now, and, given everything goes well, she will be placed in your home five weeks after that. I trust that is a realistic timeline for you, yes?”

Again, Jinx had to bite her tongue, stop herself from saying that, if given the choice, she'd decimate the process into hours. 

However, almost as if sensing the words testing their way on her tongue, Ekko was quick to shoot her a glare and shake his head. Jinx just rolled her eyes. Unfortunately, she had to stay on the woman's good side. 

The argumentative part of her almost questioned why , exactly, she'd do that, if she didn't even know the child in question at all, but the growing conscience she was cultivating was quick to remind her the kid was Ekko's niece, no matter how many times removed.

“It is.” Ekko rushed out, presumably before Jinx could say anything stupid. 

“Good.” She responded, suddenly inhaling sharply, her voice coming out stiff and sounded, as if preparing to say something unpleasant. “But unfortunately only Mr Greenwood will be able to attend the visit. I was unable to get visitation rights for non-kin.” 

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Jinx felt the reality of who she was and what she'd done crashing over her, guilty and suffocating. Mel didn't know that— she had no reason to, this was all just legal bullshit. And yet . 

She was the only one who couldn't meet Isha. She wasn't kin, wasn't family, she'd fuck it up, and would have to wait until a stranger moved into her house. She had no right to more. 

It felt like betrayal, like being singled out and laughed at. Like a target on her back warning people she was not to be trusted, never was, and never had been. 

Except, she reminded herself, feeling Ekko's wide, scared eyes on her, pleading, except Mel didn't know any of that.  

Except both she and Ekko were clearly scared of her reaction, and it may be even harder to face this poor kid alone, so Jinx, for once, didn't have it in herself to be selfish— not with this. 

Finally, she cleared her throat and shot an unsure smile at Ekko. “That's fine. I understand.” 

On the other line, Mel breathed out a sigh of relief and suddenly, Jinx felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. She really did sound overworked, having to figure all this out on a Sunday evening, of all times. 

Hesitantly, she decided for an olive branch; uncharacteristically polite: “Thank you, Miss Medarda.”

Almost as if hearing the struggle behind her words, the woman's tone softened in kind. “Please, call me Mel.”

“Yeah, uh…, yeah, thanks Mel.” She smiled tightly, still feeling that same tension squeezing the air around her heart, tightening and twisting until everything settled— if it ever did manage to.

With that, Ekko finally took pity on her and decided to take the reins of the conversation, letting her space out and thankfully, telling Mel to forward all the details to their shared account. 

Suddenly, Jinx was grateful that they'd decided to make a shared email account for their bills, as she heard Ekko rattle off the name after Mel promised them all to forward details. There was nothing she hated more than being left in the dark, treated as a ticking time bomb, even if that was exactly what she was.

But Ekko never did that.  

Ekko never did that, and hearing him wrap up the call with Mel, Jinx felt another wave of relief wash over her at the thought that she was doing this with him. 

Fostering still seemed scary and daunting and entirely unfit for her, but knowing she wasn't doing it alone felt like having a safety net— someone to fall back on. Maybe, if she was lucky, Ekko would feel the same way about her.

And maybe, for once, he could — should— she thought, watching his tense shoulders as he hung up. He'd always seemed to take the calls worse than she did, good news or bad. 

This time, though it had been her who'd faced rejection outright, he seemed like the thought of facing the girl alone would kill him. And Jinx supposed there was something to her, after all, because it wasn't hard to decide she'd be the solid one this time.

“So,” she started, clearing her throat to get his attention and trying for a reassuring smile, “she’s always busy, huh? Talk about a workaholic.” 

“I mean,” Ekko smiled tiredly, “we're not much better, are we?” 

“I guess not.” She nodded, thinking of the truly ridiculous pile or varied paperwork and half-made designs sitting in the room they were supposed to renovate for Isha's stay, given it was the only spare room in the apartment. “But I guess we'll slow down a little now . At least during the day.”

“Yeah,” he groaned, “I am not looking forward to even more nighttime papers.”

“Tough luck, boy savior.” Jinx nodded, patting him on the shoulder in mock sympathy. “If I have to clean out the workshop, you have to do family time in the evenings.”

“You're basically saying if you have to work less, then I have to work more.” He grumbled, pouting rather childishly.

In any other situation, Jinx would've pounced on the opportunity for a fight but, good-natured as theirs always were, Ekko looked like he'd drop dead at any second and, for once, she decided to take pity on him. 

“I did tell you there's a reason I signed with Viktor and Jayce right away.” She shrugged, pulling softly at Ekko's ponytail as she got up. Mostly just to annoy him. Secretly because she liked the way his eyes shot up to look at her right after.

“In my defense,” he groaned, voice distant and muffled from Jinx's position in the kitchen and Ekko's position in fetal position with his head in his hands, “you're not usually right.” 

“Okay, first of all,” she scoffed, grabbing basically the only two decent plates they owned— she made a mental note to get new ones before Isha came, “fuck you.”

“... Is there a second?” He asked, after a few seconds of silence. 

“Yes.” She huffed angrily, filling the plates with the simple pasta Ekko had made for both of them; another thing they'd have to change before Isha's arrival. 

“Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“Yeah. Fuck you.” She repeated, with fervor, grabbing a couple of forks and carrying the plates towards the couch, not bothering to set the table at all. That, she thought, might stay the same even with Isha around. 

“You know,” Ekko laughed, soft and airy, finally crawling out of his despaired position, “you really have to cut back on the swearing. Isha's, like, eight.”

And Jinx, because she was a brat through and through, decided to be a contrarian and correct him on the age even if both of them knew it was nothing but bait to argue further— Ekko knew every single detail they'd been given about Isha like the back of his hand. 

Still, for a second, maybe less, just a passing moment too short for anyone to have noticed but her, he was looking up at her, unguarded and soft, and she hesitated. She'd never say it, couldn't pinpoint it in any concrete way, but there was something there that made her feel that, maybe, if he asked, she'd say yes to anything. 

But she was still Jinx, and arguing was half their fun, was the only reason Ekko looked up at her with those eyes at all, so, of course, she snarked back. “She's nine, smart guy.”

“And a nine year old can't be swearing.”

“Vi swore at nine years old and she turned out perfectly fine.” 

“Vi gets punched for a living.”

“No, she punches for a living. She's all brawn, no brains. Don't take that away from her.”

“Just give me the damn pasta.” He huffed, making grabby hands at the plates she was holding.

“Hypocrite.” She grinned, leaning the plate further back from his reach, “what's the magic word?”

“You're insufferable.”

“Nuh-uh,” she sang back. “We're gonna raise a kid, remember? Gotta teach it manners and all that proper snooty people shit.”

“Jinx, please.” 

“Only because I'm nice.” She smiled, finally relinquishing the plate and unceremoniously dropping down on the opposite side of the couch.

Ekko, of course, wasted no time in stuffing his face with he pasta like it was the last meal he'd ever have. Jinx always found it funny how he ate like every piece of food was a blessing, like it would somehow be taken away from him if he didn't, though it was probably sadder than it was quirky.

Still, there was not much to be done about it, and Jinx dug into her own food. It was just plain pasta with some basic seasoning they had lying around the cupboards, but she always liked how Ekko cooked. He always joked that it was just because he'd learned her complaints like a recipe book. 

She didn't really mind the jabs at her fussy attitude; none of them were lies, anyway. All she heard was that Vander didn't have to worry about her diet since Ekko had figured out how to get her to eat half things.

It was halfway through their meal when she finally realized that Ekko wouldn't speak. She guessed it was fair enough since Isha was technically his niece.

“So,” she started, talking clumsily through a mouthfuls of food— she and Ekko had never bothered with manners; they'd practically learned to use a knife together, after all, “we should make a list or some shit for Isha's stuff.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you know, that responsible neat freak thing you like to do so we make sure we buy everything we need.” 

“Oh my god, are you serious? Also, I'm not a neat freak, you're just a mess.”

“What?” She shrugged, “kids need a ton of stuff. They're like puppies but uglier.” 

“No, I mean, did you hit your head or something? I don't think I've seen you make a list for anything in your life.”

“I made a blacklist.”

“Just Caitlyn doesn't count as a list.”

“You just really hate me, huh?” 

“No, the list is a good idea. We'll have to turn our workshop into a bedroom, so we can start there.” 

“Clothes?”

“Just the basics, I think.”

“We’ll take her shopping when she's here.” Jinx agreed. “What else do kids need? A litterbox?”

“She's a child. ” Ekko snorted. “But toys can't hurt.”

Instantly, she wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I don't know what kids like.” 

“Just to make her feel welcomed.” Ekko argued. “At least a plushie.”

“We can pick something out, I guess.” Jinx sighed, thinking back to how attached she and Vi had been to the little stuffed bunny they used to carry around. 

She wondered what kind of animal Isha would like— if that would be included in her file. She didn't think it was included in hers, but Jinx supposed she had bigger problems when she was little. 

“We can go to that store you were obsessed with as a kid.”

“You mean where Vi got my replacement bunny?”

Jinx knew perfectly well what he was talking about— a quaint little shop with the softest plushies she'd ever seen. Vi had headed straight to it after she'd gotten out of juvie, searching for a replacement rabbit for her sister in hopes they could make up.

She hadn't told her back then, just snatched the toy and recoiled at the way she refused to accept the person she'd become, at how she hadn't tried to talk to her first, and instead prattled off about some rich woman's daughter she'd met, but it had quickly become her most treasured possession. 

These days, Vi knew she still kept it by the bed with her, and Jinx was just glad her sister hadn't given up on her. 

The bunny itself was soft and plush, and had Jinx not been half out of her mind when she first received it, she would've realized its cream-blue fur and carefully stitched fabric screamed expensive . The quality was shockingly good too, given it still held up. 

She'd never been much into stuffed animals, even as a kid, only ever that bunny, but she imagined that was exactly the kind of toy people who liked those sort of things would want to grow up with. 

“Yeah, I know they're expensive but…”

“No, you're right. I'll ask Vi where she got it.”

Finally, Ekko smiled— a real, bright smile; the kind he usually did— and even if she had no idea what she was thinking, she was hit with a wave of relief: the thought that, maybe, Ekko could rely on her, too.

With that thought, she pulled out her phone and texted her sister.

Soon after, she and Ekko lay in bed carefully crouched over her phone as they scrolled through a seemingly endless catalogue of stuffed animals, arguing amongst themselves at the options, and laughing, belatedly, at how fucking ridiculous they were being about it.

Hopefully, it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Isha found out about her new placement on a Monday morning right before school, and it landed wrong in her chest. 

Wrong because she knew she was leaving, and she didn’t like her current fosters, and they probably didn’t like her, but somehow she didn’t want to. 

It furled around her chest and tugged at something she couldn’t name, because she was tired of all the moving.

Wrong because Mel claimed she was moving in with family, but she was talking about a man Isha had never met or heard about, and who definitely didn’t know her mother— Isha knew about everyone her mother did. 

It landed against the back of her head, and made it hurt, pushing uncomfortably, unnaturally like it didn’t belong there.

Wrong because apparently he was living with a woman, his family, but they didn’t love each other like two adults were supposed to, and her current foster mother had told her that was part of the reason Isha had lost her mom . 

It got into her eyes, digging like needles, making them sting with the reminder that Isha was alone now. 

She didn’t want to go to school. 

She didn’t want to put on her itchy uniform or stupidly boring shirt and go to a school where no one spoke to her. 

She didn’t want to leave this placement either. She didn’t like it here, but she didn’t hate it, and that was probably close enough. It was probably better than moving somewhere new again. 

She didn’t want any of it.

It made her sort of mad, the whole situation. 

It felt unfair.

Everything in her life felt unfair.

She wanted to scream.

It was only eight am. Mel had gotten there early and left early.

Meaning it was too early to deal with her nonsense. Everyone was stressed; it was Monday, a working day, and being loud would get her nowhere. 

She shouldn’t be difficult. She didn’t want to be— she just wanted to be one of the good kids everyone loved so much. That wasn't how anyone won over a family's affection. 

She didn’t want to be difficult.

But she was.

As soon as Mel left, she started yelling at the top of her lungs. Kicked and screamed and cried as hard as she possibly could until she was pardoned from school and shoved into her room, calling it being grounded. 

They'd barely looked at her when they sent her away with a sweep of their hands. No comforts, no hugs, no questions asked.

Whatever got her to stop throwing up a fuss, as long as she shut up.

Isha didn’t care. There was no point in asking for more. That had been exactly what she wanted, after all— a day alone. 

Just her, Moony, and her old pajamas that always smelled like her mom, even if it was just her imagination. 

The whole situation was stupid, and she probably was too for thinking about it so much, for reacting to it, and letting it get to her. That’s what her foster father said when he’d shoved her into the room, anyway. 

Isha didn’t care.

She didn’t care about much apart from Moony, her soft cream-colored elephant plushie with glittering fairy wings sewn in the same fabric yellow patterned fabric as its yellow patterned ears. It had big eyes and a soft nose, with its mouth always open in a smile. 

She'd had it since she was little, a gift from some stranger; she never really knew who, just that it was someone who knew her mom was having a baby. The plushie was beaten and bruised now, but it was hers. 

Eventually, it had turned into all she had.

/)/)

(  .  .) 

The day Isha finally met her supposed ‘cousin’ a-thousand-times removed, she decided that even if he absolutely sucked and didn’t like her at all, because he would, she could at least dress up. 

She’d been with her current placement for a few months, not a lot, but the first thing they’d done upon hearing how much Isha struggled in school was move her to one of those preppy, high-end private schools with stupidly itchy uniforms and strict teachers. 

She hated that school as much as she’d hated the public school she’d been in most of her life before that, but since she didn’t have a lot of clothes, she kind of liked everyone using the same uniform every day.

But that also meant that she barely ever had a chance to wear her outside clothes, so she had to take every special occasion for them she could get. Especially since Ekko hadn’t seen her rotation of about four outfits, so it would be like getting a whole new set of clothes when she wore them around him. 

With that in mind, she picked the only pair of long pants she owned. White sweatpants with blue flowers sewn along the bottom of the leg that her current foster mom had gotten her because she said Isha needed a pair of winter pants apart from her uniform. 

Isha didn’t mind; they were they were loose and soft, and more importantly, not jeans. She hated jeans: they were way too itchy, and way too tight, and she felt every thread against her skin. It was disgusting.

With them, she got her favorite shirt; it was pastel yellow with sharks drawn all over it, and she’d gotten it with her favorite foster mom so far at the aquarium. The woman only did short-term placements, but she’d let Isha pick the most expensive thing from the gift shop, and she still wore it every chance she got.

After that, really all that was left was to wait. The visit wasn't supposed to be too long, just a little bit over an hour, so he and Isha could meet before she was officially placed with him and his not-girlfriend. Plus, it was at her house, so she didn't have to move at all.

Or, well, it was her foster parents’ house, but they didn't seem to like it when she said that, so she kept her mouth shut. There was no point in fighting with them, anyway. 

Apparently, he wanted to make things easier for her; probably butter her up to get on her good side before she realized what an unruly brat Isha turned out to be. She was almost sorry for the inevitable disappointment he’d face once he met her.

She honestly just wanted the whole thing over and done with.

Thankfully, Ekko turned out to be the kind of person who was always on time, wasting not even a second to be late, and while Isha usually hated people like that since they always scolded her for running late, this time she preferred it. 

This way, she would get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible and have to spend less time fidgeting uncomfortably in her room with her annoying new foster. 

It was probably okay that she called them that, since he wouldn’t like Isha much either. She had nothing to feel guilty about— she constantly reminded herself of this. 

She’d often gotten questioned about her cold personality, but Mel assured her it was nothing to be ashamed of, and Isha had no choice but to believe her. She still wasn’t sure about the woman, but she’d never lied to her thus far, and that had to be good enough. 

Still, she’d been told a thousand times that it was unnatural for a child to act like her: so serious and uncaring, never speaking and never bothering to communicate with others. But Isha didn’t think that was true; this way, she wouldn’t care when she inevitably jumped into yet another stranger’s home.

Which was why she’d already decided,  even before meeting him, that she’d absolutely not get attached to Ekko either. 

She probably wouldn’t have time to anyway, it wasn’t like he’d keep her for long. Mel told her this was his first time fostering, and for adult standards, he was supposed to be pretty young. There was no way he’d be able to put up with her. She’d always been one of the ‘problematic kids’ according to her previous caseworker. Apparently, that’s why most people didn’t want her to stick around.

That was fine. It wasn’t like she could help it, anyway. 

So by the time Ekko finally arrived, she’d long decided she had no interest in trying to talk to him or get close to the man in any way. Her mandatory home visits had stopped after her mother passed, and she had no interest in them resuming with anyone else after that. 

She had no other relatives in the first place.

And if the man really was kin, he would’ve helped her mom.

Because, contrary to popular belief, Isha loved her mom. 

She was tired of people trying to make her forget that, or telling her that her mom didn’t deserve a daughter anyway. It was stupid— it wasn’t like they knew any better, and no one who said that wanted to keep her around once they saw her bad habits, anyway.

Nobody ever tried to help her mom until she died. 

Even after that, all they’d done for Isha was give her a sad pat on the back and tell her she was now available for adoption .

Like it was a good thing. 

Like Isha would ever want to be adopted by anyone that wasn’t her mom after she’d learned sign language just to teach her, being the whole reason Isha could communicate at all. 

Like she’d want to get adopted by the same stupid adults that refused to help her mom, refusing to tell Isha anything more than how her mom was ill in hushed voices like she was the dumb one; as if Isha didn’t know some illnesses didn’t kill just the body.

The whole thing was unfair and stupid, and Isha didn’t even have to think about getting attached in the first place because she hated Ekko before she’d even met him. 

If he really was family, he would’ve helped her mother. 

But no one did, and now she was being forced to meet him so he could take her home and give her back in two months, probably less.

That’s what she was thinking when she sat down on the living room couch across from Ekko. 

Both of them, alone with one door open so her foster parents, in the other room, could make sure she was okay. They’d said it was to give her ‘privacy’, but really, Isha thought, because they didn’t care; the decision was already made. 

“Hi,” the man in front of her giggled nervously, looking almost like he was about to throw up or pass out, or both. 

Begrudgingly, she signed a quick hello back, mostly in remembrance of her mom’s words when she was little: always be polite, even when you don’t like someone, sunshine; it’s important that you don’t stoop to their level, mkay? 

Back then, she had nodded, as good as a promise, and she’d always known you didn’t break promises to dead people ever. Her mom had taught her that too, one day when Isha asked why she kept tending to the minuscule flower garden they had in the entrance to their house.

I promised your grandma I’d look after her flowers, and you shouldn’t break promises you made to the dead, y’know? That kind of stuff is important.

And so, Isha was still polite when he clumsily tried to answer back in sign language, seemingly sharing his name with her and trying to ask her how she was and butchering the whole thing. 

Briefly, she considered giving him her sign name, something she hadn’t used since her mom died, but quickly, she shook it off. He probably didn’t even know what that was.

“I’m fine.” She signed, instead.

“That’s good,” he nodded stiffly, smiling the same way everyone did when they didn’t just want to come out and say they felt sorry for her. 

That was fine too.

“Uh, sorry Powder couldn’t be here.” He said, seemingly trying to offer her something to talk about, though his uncomfortable smile was still glued in place. 

And Isha wanted the whole thing to be done with already, the man seemed nice enough, definitely younger than anyone she’d been placed with prior, but he looked nothing like her, and her mother hadn’t mentioned him once. Isha had no interest in getting to know him.

Still, he had to be there for at least an hour, probably, and she kind of did want to know who Powder was and why he was sorry. 

“Who?” She signed wearily, not even sure if he’d understand her.

“Oh!” He smiled, seemingly energized by her answer. That happened often too, people got excited by her receptiveness, even if she was just trying to be polite for her dead mom. That would go away, too. “You know her as Jinx.”

She did know Jinx. Mel had told her about her; she’d be living with them too, but she couldn’t visit. Something about Mel’s boss being a hardass, though she wasn’t supposed to hear that last part.

She didn’t care much, but Ekko seemed to like speaking about her. His eyes changed, and the smile didn’t seem so fake anymore. Isha knew all about that look. It’s how her mother had looked when she told Isha about her father, the one who’d died at work.

For his benefit, slowly, finally, she nodded.

It was all the go-ahead he needed, as he pulled out his phone and started talking. 

Isha was at least glad he picked up on the fact that she had nothing to say to him.

She didn’t mind the talking much.

“I always call her Powder, but her name’s Jinx. That’s what everyone else uses.” He grinned, pulling out pictures that, although she wouldn’t want to admit it, Isha found herself invested in.

The first one seemed to be the most recent, showing Ekko with his phone close to his face, and a girl’s cheek pressed against his, both of them laughing. Jinx carried the same softness around her eyes than Ekko did when he brought her up. 

They looked happy. 

That would stop when she moved in. 

It almost made her feel bad for them.

Almost.

The next picture was of Jinx alone, probably taken when she wasn’t looking. Those were Isha’s favorite kind of pictures; her mommy’d been a photographer, and she said those were the ones that truly captured people’s souls. And while Isha didn’t like Ekko, she had no problem admitting that Jinx’s soul must be beautiful.

The picture was simple: a girl sitting in the back of a car with her knees pulled up as she tinkered with a piece of metal. The light glowed a pretty shade of orange behind her, tinting her skin like she was made of gold. Her hands were long and slender, with long, brightly colored nails and enough rings that Isha lost count, making her almost miss the calluses peeking through her palms.

Her face was pretty, too. She was half-turned, laughing at the camera like someone had made a joke that had caught her off guard, revealing bright blue eyes in a shade Isha had never seen before. Her cheeks were bright, rosy pink with light freckles dusting all over them, like she’d been in the sun too long and never tanned, just burned. 

Her smile was just as eye-catching, sharp like she knew something nobody else did, some sort of secret. Somehow, though, she still looked nice. Like an angel. The kind of person Isha would dream of being placed with if she didn’t dream of her mom coming back for her.

But that wasn’t the part that caught her attention the most. Instead, she couldn’t help but fixate on her hair: bright blue, so long it went down past her hip, but Isha couldn’t tell where it ended, pooling around her— constant, unmoving. 

It looked soft. Like it was made out of water. 

She looked like she wasn’t human, like she was from somewhere else; a girl from the fairytales of princesses and fairies Isha loved so much.

She wanted to reach out and touch her.

Then, Ekko scrolled, and she was on the couch again, and Jinx was just her will-be foster mother that would eventually tell Mel she was too hard to take care of, and Isha still had no family to speak of.

She shook her head, scooted minimally closer to Ekko, and watched a video of a younger Jinx in a dark blue outfit, skin-tight, as she flipped and jumped on some kind of trampoline with too many people to count behind her.

Isha had never seen something like that before, but immediately, her fingers, the static under her skin, itched to try it.

“She’s a gymnast.” Ekko offered, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Like he understood perfectly that Isha wanted nothing to do with him, didn’t want to know him at all, but didn’t like silences anyway. “She doesn’t compete or anything, but she still practices like once a week. It’s casual now.”

Now.

It’s casual now.

It hadn’t always been.

Maybe she was good. She looked like she was.

The video looked like it was from a competition. Maybe one she’d won. Isha hadn’t won anything in her life.

Jinx looked otherworldly; the type of person who won fast and often.

She turned to Ekko, nodding: an invitation to continue. Not an olive branch because Isha couldn’t offer him something so grand, but telling him she wasn’t hostile. 

She wanted to hear more about this woman she’d supposedly be moving in with. She didn’t want to hear more about the man whom Mel promised was family, but she’d never known of. At least, she thought wryly, he didn’t claim to be family; didn’t claim anything at all.

“She’s really good, but it started as a way to get out all of her energy. She’s super hyper and got into trouble a lot as a kid. Vander said she might’ve learned to climb the house walls if he didn’t let her do something fun and risky.”

Again, Isha nodded, kind of jealous of Jinx and her apparently kind dad making jokes about climbing on walls and taking her somewhere she could jump and flip and fly all she wanted. Isha thinks that if she took her stunts too far, all she’d get was smacked upside the head.

She wouldn’t ask Ekko and Jinx to go herself, though.

“Jinx and I have been friends since we were eight. You’ll like her. She’s more fun than I am, but she’s meaner too, more… explosive.” He grinned like he was telling a joke. One Isha didn’t get, but wasn’t really meant to. Adults did that often. She didn’t like it.

Still, mean was usually code for something else. The kind of thing grown-ups said when they were trying to insult someone but didn’t want to say so. Isha got called mean, too. Maybe Jinx was like her.

But Ekko didn’t look like he meant it as an insult. He looked like it was a good thing, like everything he said about her was. 

He was weird.

He didn’t seem to mind it much when Isha told him so, using the simplest signs she could because she had to stay polite. 

That was weird, too.

Finally, she said something different, less clipped, less holding back, more testing. He’d been talking nonstop. She supposed it was polite to say something back. 

The visit was almost over, anyway.

“I’m mean.” She signed carefully, making sure he understood.

Thankfully, he seemed to, but just smiled. He didn’t deny it, didn’t assure her otherwise, or use some old proverb about kindness and judgment she couldn’t understand. He just smiled. Like it was a joke.

Nothing like the reaction Isha expected.

“Jinx always says no one would like her if she weren’t mean. It’s fun.”

Isha thought Ekko didn’t know what the definition of fun was. 

He probably didn’t know enough ASL for her to tell him that.

It would probably be mean to even if he did.

“Weird.”

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Somehow, it was two days before the move when it finally, truly, hit her that she was leaving. She didn’t understand why it felt like such a big deal out of nowhere, but it did. 

She couldn’t help it. 

She was moving, leaving, going somewhere new with the nice man she didn’t know, but thought would be no different because, kin or not, they were all nice at first. And her visit had done nothing to sell her on Ekko, despite her curiosity about Jinx.

She didn’t even like the foster family she was staying with, and she knew they didn’t like her.  

Not even a little. 

Isha knew this. 

But then again, she could always end up somewhere worse, and at least she knew where she stood with them. Ekko had tried to be nice to her and learned sign to speak to her and talked about Jinx like she’d hung the moon in the sky, and Isha had no place somewhere like that.

Here, the fosters were transparent, detached, and gave her everything she needed.

Still, somehow, right before she left, it all boiled over.

She’d heard them whispering to each other at night, when they thought she was asleep: a confirmation that they didn’t like her at all; quite the opposite, really. 

That was the worst part about it; she knew they didn’t want to keep her, but she at least thought her feelings of not caring that much were mutual. She hadn’t expected them to hate her. Maybe she should’ve.

It had been at night, those dreaded two days before moving, when she’d heard them. 

She’d always been a light sleeper, so she didn’t think they’d make noise since they always complained about her eyebags, but she guessed it made sense. Her foster mom said adults need time away from kids. She never added anything else, so Isha didn’t think anything of it; after all, kids were meant to be seen, not heard. 

This time, though, Isha had a good reason to be up past her bedtime. 

Her foster father, who always checked to make sure she was asleep, had forgotten to bring her the glass of water she asked for every night since she couldn’t reach the cupboards yet, and was forbidden from climbing them.

Still, she was thirsty, and they were having the alone time they wanted so badly, and Isha didn’t want them to get mad, so she decided to get up on a chair and do it herself. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, she wasn’t climbing the counters or hanging off furniture like a cat.

She did, for a second, after placing Moony on the table, hesitate, wondering what would happen if she got caught, but she’d already moved the chair and everything, so the worst part was probably already over with. She’d even seen other adults use the same method before.

She hopped on the chair, standing up.

That was when she heard their voices.

Instinctively, she froze, bracing herself to be caught and somehow punished. They’d always been very strict about bedtime, even if they were pretty nice about everything else, and Isha didn’t want to get on their bad side right before leaving. They still had time to kick her out, after all.

So instead of moving, she stayed very still and held her breath, closing her eyes so she could at least avoid seeing their disappointed faces, and listening closely for footsteps.

But they never came.

Instead, the voices only got louder.

“Thank God she’s leaving.” Sighed her foster mother from the other room, probably thinking Isha had already fallen asleep.

There was no one else in the house with them. They were talking about her.

“Yeah, there’s not much to do with a kid that doesn’t even talk.” Her foster father snorted back, not even trying to defend her, even if he’d always tucked her in at night. That hurt more than she would’ve liked to admit.

“Not to mention how little she sleeps. Like, come on, isn’t she like six? I thought they were supposed to sleep a lot at that age?”

For some reason, the words made her eyes water. 

She wasn’t six; she was nine. She’d be ten in just a handful of months. They told her they marked it in their calendars just in case she was still there. She didn’t realize it was probably a lie. That had been stupid of her.

She didn’t understand why she cared.

“Yeah, well, thankfully she’s going to live with that man and his crazy bitch.”

At that, Isha squeaked, startled. No one had told her about any crazy bitch. She’d been told she was going to live with a man and a woman, and the Jinx didn’t seem so bad. He’d promised Isha that she would like her and everything! 

But maybe she was just being stupid again. She’d also believed the calendar thing, after all.

“I wish you didn’t speak like that,” her foster mother sighed, but despite her tone, Isha thought she wasn’t disagreeing. Her voice was only getting louder.

Suddenly, she realized they were probably getting closer, going to grab something from the kitchen, only to find her balancing on a chair when they’d told her a thousand times they didn’t like her climbing things.

Maybe they’d punish her, then. There were only three days left; it would make perfect sense if they did. They always said they would the next time they found her, and while it hadn’t happened yet, Isha was scared of finding out what they’d do once they finally got sick of her. 

Unfortunately, the thought just made her legs start to shake, and as she tried to hop off, hearing the thoughts getting closer, the only thing that happened was the chair wobbling to the side and Isha falling right off, head first, and the wooden backrest on top of her.

The crash surely made noise, and for a second, Isha felt her lungs squeeze shut. 

Her chest hurt, and her head did too. It was pounding. She didn’t think she could move the chair on top of her either, so that probably meant she’d be grounded somehow. 

The thought made her start crying— her head hurt really bad.

She only wanted a glass of water.

She wanted her mom.

“Isha!” A gasping voice startled her, making her crane her neck to find herself face to face with her foster mom. Her brows were creased, lips pulled together, and eyes darkened. She couldn’t tell if she was worried or annoyed. She never liked Isha that much.

She whimpered.

“What happened?” She sighed, crouching down to pull the chair off her, but not bothering to look at her hands when Isha tried to explain. After the first couple of signs, she just put her hands down and gave up, angrily scrubbing her face instead.

Her cheeks felt hot, and her forehead was pounding. 

She kind of wanted a hug. 

She tried to sign for it, but it didn’t do much. Her foster mom still wasn’t looking, but Isha didn’t want to reach out, fearing she’d be shoved off. 

Thank God she’s leaving.

She didn’t think she’d get a hug even if her foster mom understood sign language.

“Come on,” the woman muttered sternly, “it’s time for bed. You know this already.”

At that, part of her wanted to argue; explain that she couldn’t sleep, that she was nervous about leaving, that maybe Ekko wasn’t as nice as he seemed, that she didn’t want to be shipped off to someone crazy. 

Instead, she just whined again, hoping she could at least get the woman to hand her back her plushie. She couldn’t sleep without it, and the world was kind of spinning a little, so she didn’t want to reach for it herself. Everything in this house was high, and while Isha didn’t think she was too short, she could barely reach most of it.

Luckily, her foster mom seemed to get the message, and even if she sighed moodily, muttering something or other Isha couldn’t make out, she quickly grabbed Moony by one of her wings, and tossed her into Isha’s waiting arms. 

She didn’t bother explaining that the wing’s stitches were already starting to come undone, so she shouldn’t grab it like that. It wasn’t like she’d care, and Isha was moving away soon, anyway. The poor elephant would only have to last a couple of more days. She’d figure something out after.

Still, once she finally managed to tuck herself into bed, she couldn’t help but fret over the growing tear in her precious Moony. Isha didn’t know how to sew, no one had taught her, and there wasn’t anyone she could ask to fix it for her, so she worried that one day, the wings would just fall off, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

That night, she slept even less than usual; she kept flipping herself on the side of the bruise, and it hurt like it was on fire every time she did.

The next morning, unfortunately, was much of the same, and Isha found herself about to cry all throughout breakfast. It was the same as every morning: toast with butter and salt, but for once, Isha didn’t have much of an appetite. Maybe it was the memories of the previous night, but she didn’t think she could stomach it.

At least her headache had mostly disappeared. 

Still, she probably had a bruise. 

Unfortunately, her foster parents took notice, and with it, poked and prodded to their hearts’ content. Isha thought she hated them a little for it— after all, it had been there all night. There was no reason for them to only see it now.

She didn’t say that.

Instead, she held their stare until one of them bothered to ask. 

It took longer than she would’ve wanted, and involuntarily, she felt her eyes start to water yet again.

“Wanna tell us why your face is purple?”

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, and took a bite of the bread in front of her so they couldn’t force her to try and write. For some reason, they still seemed to associate chewing with her ability to communicate with them, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

If they hated her so bad, then she didn’t want to talk to them either.

“Come on, don’t be a brat.” 

At that, her face scrunched up, eyes stinging at the familiar word. 

She’d been called lots of things during her time in care: syropy drawls of sweetheart, and darlin’ mostly by older, emergency placements that didn’t seem half bad, kid and buddy by younger, hopeful couples that never seemed to quite find what they were looking for with her, and even you there by the fuller houses with more mouths than the parents’ memories served to remember.

Brat was her least favorite of them all. That one always came with some scolding or another, maybe a harsh punishment, getting her plushie ripped away, or going without dinner. Worst of all, it always, always came with a slap.

Especially when she cried, and especially when the voice curled around that word with that tone.

Instantly, she flared up, clenching her jaw and glaring at them as hard as she could.

“It’s a simple question, kid.”

Again, she shook her head, desperately shoving the food in her mouth like it would somehow get them to shut up and stop pushing her. Her stomach flipped at the speed, upset. She wanted to talk to them even less now. 

She just wanted to be left alone.

Instead, her foster dad just seemed to get fed up with her, and his eyes sharply landed on the plate. 

Instinctively, Isha panicked, grabbing her half-eaten toast and shoving it into her mouth as fast as she could, stuffing her cheeks like the chipmunks she’d seen in her animal books, and reaching for the other before it could be taken away. Unfortunately, it was too late for that second one, and her hand was slapped away for trying to grab it as the plate was taken.

“Just tell us what happened.” The man gritted, looking angrier than Isha had ever seen him.

It was scary. 

She didn’t know he had a temper.

But unfortunately, she did too, and getting her food taken away was the fastest way to get her to shut down. 

For a moment, she stood, gearing up to lunge at the other side of the table and get her food back, ready to kick, scream, and wail if she had to. She just wanted to be left alone. She didn’t want their pity or their fake concern, she just wanted someone to feed her and sew up her plushie.

She didn’t understand why that was so hard.

But just as she reached out, anger boiling over, the scream got caught in her throat, and she found herself choking down a horribly dry piece of bread, rasping her throat and pulling her to her senses.

It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to fight one of her foster parents. 

It never ended well for her.

All at once, her fight poured out, and her self-preservation kicked in, making her flop down on her chair and finish swallowing her food with hot tears of frustration and shame pouring down her face. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby.” Her foster mother chimed in, shaking her head and making Isha remember she’d always had a thing about hating overly emotional people. The thought just made her want to cry harder. “It’s just a piece of bread.”

“Tell us what’s wrong.” Her foster father insisted, dangling the plate in front of her like she was nothing more than a stupid puppy waiting to perform a trick.

Again, Isha’s anger flared.

“I hate you,” she signed, quick and intense, the fastest she’d ever said anything, stomping her feet and snarling her mouth— loud, she was being loud.  

Still, all they did was tilt their head and frown, clearly confused.

“You know, we don’t know what that means.” Her foster father sighed, seemingly forgetting she was angry in the first place, and piling up the plates and leaving for the kitchen. “If it’s important, just write it down for us, okay?”

Isha just watched as he left, realizing he probably just didn’t care enough about her to actually get an answer. 

Her foster mother just let out a low, little tsk, the kind Isha had learned meant she didn’t like something, and walked off behind her husband.

She just blinked owlishly, staring at their backs as they left, still feeling the burning track of tears on her cheek, and realizing that they should know perfectly well where the bruise was from. She didn’t know if they cared so little that they’d forgotten or if they were just trying to taunt her, somehow force her into speaking, still.

She didn’t really care; both options made her feel equally as horrible.

For a few minutes, she couldn’t tell how many, just knew that time was passing by the mechanical ticking of the clock behind the dining room table, she just stared at the wooden pattern of the old table, frozen in place. 

She might have been crying, she didn’t really check— couldn’t feel her face, like she wasn’t there.

She didn’t like the feeling. She felt a little bit like a doll, one of her old wind-up toys that only moved if shaken and spurred into motion. But if she was one of those, she was probably cracked and useless. Unusable; soulless.

Maybe that was why no one seemed to like her that much. She didn’t think it was fair; she couldn’t fix it. 

She felt kind of floaty.

“What a bothersome girl.”

“And we thought she’d be cute…”

Finally, almost involuntarily, she felt herself get up and rush to her room, fast enough that her foster parents couldn’t see her leave. She didn’t want them to try and follow her. She still didn’t think she could feel her legs if she had to kick them away.

They didn’t check to see if she’d left.

With that, she grabbed Moony, understanding perfectly well that she had no place in the house in the first place. She didn’t want to be sent away, but she didn’t want to live with them either. Her mind was made up, and clearly, the feeling was mutual. 

The walls were closing in on her. 

If she stayed, she’d be crushed; if she moved, she’d suffocate on the way out.

Cornered, she found herself with no other option, and bolted out the front door as soon as they weren’t looking. 

She didn’t want anything to do with any of those people. She hated them truly. Somehow, the headache was back. She was no longer as floaty as she’d been a few moments ago; now that she seemed to wake back up, she didn’t know if she liked it better.

Running down the stairs, clutching Moony as close to her body as she physically could, she found herself wondering why she ever thought the lack of attention they paid to her was anything but dislike. Indifference was clearly wishful thinking.

There was no reason for her to think that these people would somehow be different. She hadn't even been expecting them to be in the first place. 

She couldn't even place when she'd gotten caught up in it, overlooked every part of them that glaringly pointed out she had no place there, and decided that her disinterest was somehow mutual. 

Maybe, even, holding a little place for doubt— disinterest could grow into fondness, and that was probably further than Isha had ever gotten.

She was so stupid.

Their rejection wasn't supposed to hurt. 

She wasn't a baby anymore. 

She'd stopped being a baby the second her former social worker, with his light blond hair and steely eyes, had informed her that no, there is no next-in-line kin to take care of you. 

Quickly thereafter, she'd found out that what he was really saying was no, there is no one left who loves you.

Isha didn't think about it much anymore. It wasn't that important; she was old enough to understand.

Except apparently she'd let hope creep up on her in blind gestures and empty threats. They'd fed her and taken her to school every day after all, hadn't even forgotten once, that was all family was, wasn't it? She wanted that to be love.

It was, most definitely, stupid.

One of her favorite teachers back when she still lived further up north had told her that it was okay. She said there was a difference between being stupid and being a kid, catching Isha mid-meltdown, furiously scrubbing the tears off her face. 

But Isha wasn’t that young anymore. It had been too long since that for her to still hold onto the excuse. At least, she thought so. It wasn't like there was anyone to correct her if she was wrong. No one would care to.

So the fact remained, she wasn't a baby, and pretending otherwise was stupid. That was all there was to it. 

Still, she supposed she could keep Moony, even if it was just a kid’s toy. Even if she wasn't really sure where she'd gotten the little fairy plush, she didn't want to part with it anymore. It was the only thing in the world that was fully, truly hers . 

She couldn't get that taken away from her.

That was all she was thinking as she rushed down the stairs, ignoring the way her soles hurt with the quick pace of her little jumps, scared that somehow they'd come after her if she didn't. It only served to motivate her further, fuel to the fire burning under her feet, rushing her away.

She didn't realize until she'd run the whole way to the bus station nearest to the apartment that they probably hadn't even noticed she was gone. They never knocked, never went into her room, never cared for her company. 

She wondered when they’d finally realize, and hoped it was long enough for her to be gone.

Once she finally sat down at the stop, waiting for whatever bus could take her as far away from there as possible, she hugged Moony close and looked back. 

There was no one there. 

She expected that.

She buried her face in her fairy; somehow, it was less embarrassing to cry if no one could see her tears. Still, she let her eyes peek out, waiting for the next bus to come. She was smarter than her tantrums, after all— not a baby.

In the meantime, she swung her legs back and forth like a pendulum— a new word from English class— and counted the minutes in her head. She lost count by the time she finally saw a bus in the distance, but she was pretty sure it had been over thirty.

Still, no one came.

Somehow, the reality of it just made her grit her teeth and palm her front pocket, making sure she had the change she always grabbed just in case , and sighing softly when she found it was still all there. 

After that, stopping the bus and getting on was easy. She had Moony with her, and that made her feel brave despite the strange looks she got as she counted the dull coins with shaking hands. 

She imagined her mom would’ve ruffled her hair and proudly called her a little rascal, always three steps ahead in her little adventures. 

None of the other adults were thinking that at all; that much was obvious. 

She didn't care, anyway. She was being polite, she paid what she had to, and she wasn't causing a ruckus for anyone. There should be no problem with her going wherever this bus was supposed to take her. 

With that, she plopped down on the nearest window seat to the exit and hugged her fairy close. Moony was the only friend she had, after all, and it was Isha's responsibility to take care of her.

Together, they both looked through the window, watching the city pass them by in the bright shades of blue and white of fresh fallen snow and a more depressing hue of brick and cement once they got to the older parts.

One time, driving some place or another in Mel’s car, very early on in their friendship— Mel insisted they could be friends if she wanted, but Isha still wasn’t convinced, even a year in— she’d gathered the courage to ask why that was. 

At the time, she really had been curious; she’d lived in the stupid city her whole life, after all, and yet she had no idea why it was. Another, sharper part of her wanted to test the woman; most adults had no interest in answering Isha’s questions, so it was always the first thing she noticed when she met a new one.

Mel, surprisingly, despite her prissy tone and proper appearance, easily explained that older parts of town used cement because it was cheaper to build with, and they’d been made in times where that sort of thing was important. She also said people back then didn’t realize how important trees and greenery were in cities, so only newer neighborhoods had them.

Isha remembers thinking that was stupid. She’d always appreciated the big trees and pretty bushes with flowers all around. The birds clearly did too. There was no reason for the adults not to see something so obvious, but she supposed old people were weird.

Still, she liked Mel for answering. It kind of made Isha respect her more, especially since she didn’t lie. Isha was way too old to fall for stupid lies. She knew more than enough about money. 

She still didn’t trust her, but she already preferred her to her previous social worker. Against her will, she might even admit that she wanted Mel to stick around despite only being the second person to ever work with her.

It helped that she was so pretty and sparkly. It made Isha feel like she was a princess in a movie with her very own fairy godmother, one who was kind and beautiful, and always had Isha’s happiness in mind. 

That way, she’d be like Cinderella, and maybe her foster homes would feel a little less bad: just a part of her backstory, the setup for happily ever after. 

Now, with the passing trees, bare and leafless in preparation for a new spring, she realized Mel would have no idea where she was going, and Cinderella was no princess without her fairy godmother.

She hadn’t even realized that when she ran out, but it was obvious that she couldn’t exactly see Mel again after what happened.

The thought made her feel a bit sad.

Mel was the only person Isha really remembered taking care of her, and while she didn't think the woman cared about her that much, she still didn't want her to feel worried. 

Or even worse, betrayed— Isha wanted to promise her she'd done a good job, and that wasn't the reason she'd run away. Mel was a good fairy, but Isha just wasn't a princess. She'd be a horrible Cinderella, there was nothing the poor woman could've done about it. 

Isha was always going to end up like this, possessionless in the back of a bus, hugging her favorite toy close, and wishing she wasn't such a baby . 

Nine was plenty old, and she'd always been told she was mature for her age, so there was no reason to be making such a fuss about all of this. Even if she wanted to have people chase after her. 

It was fine. Isha was doing just fine.

Plus, this way, she didn’t have to bounce around and find out yet again just how and how much her new foster family would pick her apart.

She got to her stop faster than she thought. Maybe because she didn’t know where she was going, or really what bus she’d gotten on. Looking back, all she’d wanted to do was get out. She couldn’t handle it anymore; any of it.

Now, being ushered out by the kind driver who still looked at her with a bit of pity, and told her to be safe, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. 

Isha smiled at him on the way out and hoped he didn’t take the fact that she didn’t speak to him personally. She would’ve said goodbye, but she didn’t think the man would understand her or think she was being rude by waving her hands in his face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Once she got down, she checked her front pocket, making sure she still had the money she needed, and hugged Moony closer to her, happily noting her wing hadn’t fallen off yet. She didn’t take anything else, so it was easy to make sure nothing was missing. 

Finally, she nodded, trying to remember what she was supposed to do after running away. The movies she watched never really got this far, and Isha almost didn’t think she would either. 

But she had no time to think about that anymore. Not when she had a new life to figure out— the bus stop had a little metal bench where she could sit down while she thought about what she was supposed to do next. 

Thankfully, not all her foster homes had been so bad, and despite all the bouncing around she’d done, aquarium-woman had been good to her, but apparently, she only did respite. Isha had been sad to watch her go. Somehow, despite only knowing basic sign language and being way too young to foster according to her social worker at the time, she got Isha. 

It was on the third day that she realized Isha was prone to running off and getting lost or left alone. She’d told her she shouldn’t do that, of course, but she’d also giggled and admitted that there was probably nothing she could do about it. Isha had thought she was pretty smart.

I’ll teach you what you should do if you’re alone somewhere unfamiliar, okay?

So, of course, Isha, who at the time often ended up alone in unfamiliar places, nodded eagerly, delighted that an adult was actually willing to see the reality of her situation. 

First, sit down somewhere calm and check your body, okay? You gotta make sure you’re not injured or cold or hungry, babygirl. 

Then, you should check the time and find a map to make sure you know what’s going on around you. 

And once you’re sure everything’s okay, you should go ask someone for help— always make sure it’s a family with kids or babies near your age, or a policeman, yeah?

Back then, Isha had nodded, knowing that she’d just skip the last step but still wanting to make the nice woman happy. She liked it when people were happy with her— when they actually liked her. It didn’t happen often.

With that, she diligently started to make sure she didn’t have any bruises or scratches, and found that apart from a small lump on above her eyebrow, she seemed to be fine. She’d already made sure Moony was fine before, too, so she skipped on that step. 

Startlingly, though, she realized with a passing gust of wind that it was a chilly kind of day, and though the weather was turning milder, it certainly held the frigidness of late winter. All the while, she was wearing nothing but the sweater she’d changed into in the morning, not to mention she hadn’t even finished her breakfast. 

Suddenly, the world seemed even bigger and scarier than it had ever been before. Isha felt like she might cry again.

Instinctively, though, she shook her head, remembering she needed to find out where she was and when it was. Judging by the sun, though, it couldn’t be too far past noon. That was good, at least. She had time to find somewhere before dark.

With that, she stood up, grabbed her plushie, and slapped her cheeks in determination, venturing into the unknown town until she found somewhere she could get some food, and maybe a map.

Luck seemed to be on her side, though, because she only had to walk for about ten minutes before she found a decent-sized convenience store, and happily walked in, running down the aisles in search of any of her favorite snacks. It had been a while since she’d had anything with chocolate in it, and she finally had enough money to buy some herself.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

Until, of course, she was face to face with two tall, angry men dressed in police uniforms, and any and all instructions from the nice lady left her with their angry voice telling her off. 

But Isha was polite. 

She wanted to be a good kid. 

She’d only wanted some chocolate; she didn’t even realize she didn’t have enough money, but she was definitely too young to go to jail. She didn’t want to be a criminal, she really didn’t. She just hoped they believed her even if she couldn’t explain with words.

So she stood there and listened, wringing Moony between her hands and keeping her head down, hoping they wouldn’t be too mad at her.

That was, of course, until she heard the threat— because the tone was angry, and mean, and exactly the kind an adult used before they slapped her— of calling her parents, and she freaked out. They already probably hated her! Annoyance must have turned into anger that morning, and they hadn’t even searched for her after she ran off.

If they got called by the police because Isha was a thief—

She couldn’t let that happen.

Swiftly, she shot up, ready to bed and plead and cry: promise she’d never do it again, and she was sorry as long as they didn’t call. But the second she finally pushed her eyes up, she saw the men losing their patience, still yelling at her insistently until one of them tried to grab her.

She couldn’t help it.

Grabbing never meant anything good.

She kicked the man as hard as she could and bolted in the opposite direction, terrified of what the punishment would be for hitting an adult. 

She was definitely going to jail.

So, again, she did the quickest thing she possibly could and tried to climb up a pipe. 

She was light, definitely more than the police officers trying to chase her down, and she already had a penchant for jumping and climbing on things that she wasn't supposed to so that was fine too. 

Really, the only flaw in her logic was that once she was ten feet off the floor, and realized the pipe not only led to a dead end, but the two men were chasing her straight into it.

She really was too young for jail.

“Hey!” One of them barked, rough and low enough to convince Isha she was for sure a goner. “Get down from there, you brat!”

Turning, Isha realized they were only a few feet away from the alley she'd cornered herself into, and made the split-second choice of trying to make the jump for the next roof over. The wall there was much lower, and she could probably climb it onto the top. 

It would be impossible for them to reach her then, if she could barely make the climb, there was no way the old men would manage it.

Only then, looking down at her hands and gearing her little legs against the wall, did she look down and realize she'd lost Moony. Instantly, she felt panic grip her with the same lung-tight squeeze in her chest, and familiar feeling of gasping choking her throat.

Next thing she knew, her grip on the pipe slipped, and with it, Isha found herself falling face-first into a stranger’s stomach. 

“Oof.”

The first thing Isha registered was the voice sounding mad.

The second thing was that the policemen were now, effectively, looming over her.

The last thing was, shockingly, that the stranger had pushed Isha off but only far enough to be able to sit up. 

Instinctively, she crawled backwards, feeling the warm presence against her back, and taking the fact that she hadn’t been pushed away as a sign of the person being at least somewhat safer than the men chasing her. She’d deal with the problem of whoever the strange person was afterwards.

Finally, the men were, again, reaching to grab her, despite how she clearly recoiled, letting out a small whimper.

Somehow, though, the hands never came.

Instead, looking up, she only found the uneasy face of two men stepping back.

She turned, startled by the development. 

It was a woman. A woman with shockingly electric blue eyes, and a face that meant nothing but trouble.

“Didn’t know I paid taxes so you could run around chasing kids all day.” The woman snorted, leaning forward so her head was hovering right above Isha’s. Despite herself, it made her feel kind of safe. “But I guess people up top never knew where money was actually needed, huh?”

Instantly, the cops’ eyes narrowed, seemingly torn between anger and the same intimidation Isha had felt when she first saw the strange woman’s face. 

The air around them seemed to freeze, dropping about fifty degrees in a moment. 

“Ma’am, this kid was caught stealing, and kicked a police officer when questioned—”

“This kid,” the woman hissed, voice so low and venomous Isha was sure she had some kind of power she wasn’t aware of, “cannot be held legally accountable.”

One of the man’s eyes narrowed, seemingly angrier by the second; the both of them looked like they were about to bash their heads in. Unable to help it, Isha curled herself further into the woman’s body with a squeak.

“Are you her guardian?”

“No.” She huffed, lighter and airier than before. Almost like she was enjoying it. “She’s a ward of the state, so your fining might get a bit complicated, huh?”

“Well, she still kicked a federal employee—”

“I’m gonna stop you riiight there, toots,” the woman laughed. “ You. Are employed by the state of California. Which, by the way, is real strict about children. It’s like you think I’m stupid or something.”

“The child committed an infraction and refused to cooperate when questioned—”

“The child can’t speak, and has no stolen items on her.” The woman snorted, and Isha felt herself relax a bit at the defense, even if she didn’t really know how or why she possibly knew all that about her. 

At that, they seemed to run out of retorts, snapping their mouths shut for long enough for Isha to get a look at the woman who had saved her, only to let out a little gasp when she finally noticed her long blue hair and purple-tinted lips. She should’ve recognized the eyes.

She’s meaner than I am.

So this, apparently, was Jinx. 

Meeting Isha before she was supposed to, stranded in some back alley, proving Ekko’s description right. 

Despite not being in a photograph, she still looked a bit otherworldly— all sharp, jagged edges, with a knowing smile and a sense of confidence denoting purpose, ownership, like she belonged in the space she took up, made it hers.

It just made Isha cling to her more.

Jinx, however, didn’t seem fazed by any of it, instead continuing her tirade ruthlessly.

“I’m not telling you how to do your jobs, but I’m pretty sure it should involve finding out why there’s a little ankle-biter running loose without any adult in sight at one pm on a Sunday.”

“She refused to cooperate—”

“When intimidated by a police officer?” She grinned, and Isha finally understood why Ekko had talked like she was the coolest girl he’d ever met. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s ground to sue, toots.”

Finally, both men gave up, grumbling out half-hearted apologies that only made Isha feel even more scared, as they reached forward and explained that no matter what, she definitely did need to be escorted to the nearest station. 

Except when they stepped closer, she finally found the courage to throw her arms back towards Jinx— that was the woman’s name; Isha knew for sure now. 

“Uh, yeah,” she huffed, looking down at Isha with a wink, gently snaking her arms behind Isha’s back, “the kid needs an escort, and I can give you her social worker’s number once we’re there.”

At the mention of her social worker, however, Isha just tensed up further, clutching onto Jinx like her life absolutely depended on it. 

She really didn’t want them to call Mel.

Mel was nice and sweet, and she’d be hurt and disappointed that Isha ran away, and then she’d hate her forever, and she’d get a new social worker even if Isha liked her, and they wouldn’t look like a fairy at all, and—

“A moment.” Jinx hummed, raising an eyebrow at the men in front of them. “Kid clearly needs some space.”

Begrudgingly, the men walked away, waiting at the mouth of the alley and whispering amongst themselves. They probably weren’t nice things, Isha was sure.

“You feel it?” Jinx grinned, finally backing away.

Isha just stared, thinking she might’ve let out a little squeak at the sudden movement. Jinx didn’t seem to care, though.

“That… buzzing?” She huffed, waving her fingers around, showing off her bright neon nails, painted in chipped shades of pink and blue. “Behind your eyes?”

Suddenly, she stopped, dramatically letting her closed hand lunge forward, landing only a few inches away from Isha’s face. Still, she wasn’t quite scary, just different.

“Because you know in a moment it could all… poow.” She giggled, throwing her hand open, fingers wiggling, mimicking an explosion. “Best feeling in the world, kid.”

Curiously, Isha leaned forward, tilting her head, hoping Jinx understood the question for what it was.

“That little stunt you pulled with the pipes? Exactly what I’m talking about.” She grinned, “I used to do shit like that all the time when I was your age. Almost sent my old man to an early grave.”

Unable to help herself, Isha felt a thousand different questions running laps around her head all at once, her hands aching to move, to say something, to check if Ekko hadn’t lied when he said they were really learning sign language— find out if Jinx was really an angel.

Carefully, slow and hesitant, the way she had when she’d met Ekko, she spelled out the name, one letter at a time: “j-i-n-x?”

“Yep,” she grinned, finally getting up and stretching her back lazily, “that’s me. You ever need to run from the cops, or ditch some stupid fosters again? Give me a call.”

With that, she found herself walking down the alley, halfway to the cops before she turned and tilted her head at Isha, like she was being the strange one in their interaction. “What’re ya waiting for, kid? We got a precinct to run.”

Brought out of her daze, Isha nodded, running up to Jinx as fast as her legs could keep up, without tripping and instantly grabbing the hem of Jinx’s sweater, too scared to actually reach out for her hand. Somehow, she didn’t seem to mind, casually strolling up to the policemen with a happy grin as she teased them about leading the way.

It wasn’t until she was finally seated at the police station with a blue popsicle Jinx had given her for her ‘good behavior’ in her mouth, and a very, very angry Mel chewing out the men from before, that she realized she still hadn’t found Moony.

Unfortunately, she didn't even have time to think about it because next thing she knew, Jinx was saying her goodbyes, and Mel was speaking in that soft, gentle tone she always did when she had to give Isha bad news. 

She cried the whole way back. 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

That night, Mel ushered her kindly into her office, shushing and smiling at her like she always did when she felt sorry about something. 

Isha didn’t want to make her feel bad, either. She really, really didn’t. But the whole day had been absolutely miserable: from running away to losing Moony to being told that, no matter how much Mel insisted and sighed, she’d only managed to push Isha’s relocation forward by a day.

Mel said it had nothing to do with her, that Jinx had loved her and Ekko had been asking for updates non-stop since they’d met, but Isha couldn’t help but think that maybe they didn’t want her around either. This time, it hurt more than before. She actually, truly liked Jinx. 

She was like the coolest person Isha had ever met, and she’d messed up even before she got to go to their house.

No matter what Ekko said about a younger version of Jinx, no one liked trouble, and Isha was anything but. She couldn’t help it.

Instantly, she started sniffling again, feeling more hopeless than she ever had.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mel sighed, “don’t cry. I’ll be staying here with you tonight, okay? It’s just one more day until you go to your new home.”

Desperately, Isha nodded, trying not to start crying again, and instead considering how bad of an idea it would be to reach out to Mel. The woman had always been gentle, nothing but kind and honest with Isha— that’s what she liked most about her— but she’d never been affectionate. 

Still, there was no Moony to hug, and she couldn’t seem to get herself to stop hiccuping through her sobs. For the first time, she was truly, fully alone, and it was, as usual, all her fault.

She didn’t want Mel to drop her case, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t help it.

Slowly, she reached out to the woman, tugging on her long skirt and pulling her arms up the way she’d seen other kids do in hopes she’d understand what she was asking. 

The next thing she knew, Mel was crouching down to hug her, one arm around her shoulders and the other petting her hair. The effect was nearly instant, and before she knew it, Isha was quietly sitting on the woman’s couch, sipping on a juice box she’d pulled out from a tiny mini-fridge, and feeling more relaxed than she had all day.

Mel seemed to have that effect on everyone she met, though— Isha always thought people seemed happier when she was around. It kind of made her wish she were like that, too. 

“Okay, darling,” she smiled, setting aside her laptop where she’d previously been typing furiously, and turning to Isha, “here’s the plan for tonight: it was impossible to find any emergency placement on such short notic,e so I’m afraid you’ll be sleeping at the office tonight. I’m going down the street to grab sandwiches for dinner, and then I can play a movie on my phone and work from here until you fall asleep, okay?”

Isha just nodded mildly, finding that all she really wanted was to curl up in bed and fall asleep until it was time to move in with Ekko and Jinx. 

Almost like she was relieved, Mel smiled and made her way out, promising it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes before she was back. 

At least, Isha thought, holding back a yawn, this was more peaceful than her previous couple of nights had been.

With that, she finally settled, curling up against the armrest and trying not to think too hard about losing Moony or having to sleep on her caseworker’s couch. 

Instead, she waited patiently until Mel arrived, ate her sandwich in silence, and let Mel pick a children’s movie she promised Isha she’d like. 

To be fair, she did. 

The woman knew her pretty well, all things considered, and Isha found herself being lulled to sleep by the animated feature about two girls moving to the countryside only to find a wordless creature to guide them around.

The whole thing kind of reminded her of herself, if she were to be seen by someone kind, someone who loved her.

That night, she fell asleep dreaming of running barefoot in the woods, one hand wrapped about her fairy’s ear, and the other wrapped around Jinx’s. She thought, if she was lucky, the move would be quick and the couple would like Isha enough to hunt for fairies with her, too.

Chapter Text

Ekko was effectively going to have a meltdown. 

Just fully freak out, lose his mind, scream and cry, the whole nine yards. All of it.

But looking into the decorated room, wide and unlived in, he wasn’t sure if his voice would work or if he could vocalize any of it. Like someone had snipped his vocal cords, cut his voice off until his throat could produce nothing but breathless, soundless panic. 

He kind of felt like ripping his throat out, the whole situation starting to sound more like a mistake bouncing around his head than a reality. He wasn’t fit to raise anyone, he was hardly fit to take care of himself; he wasn’t good enough, never had been.

With that, he opened his mouth, choked, and said so into the open space, fearing he’d lose his voice if he didn’t. Feeling guilty that he’d tainted it with his anxieties and about three seconds away from a breakdown.

Except, like always, Jinx was right there too, and things were different with her around. 

Safer, calmer, louder in a good way. The silence would just asphyxiate him. He couldn't imagine a life without her— thought it wouldn't be a life at all.

“Well, damn, boy savior, maybe save it for after the demon’s here,” Jinx chuckled from behind him, snaking her arms over his shoulders and pressing herself against his back.

“Easy for you to say,” Ekko breathed out, instantly leaning back, searching for the contact, “she actually likes you.”

“Everyone likes the big, fat hero,” Jinx shrugged, hooking her chin on his shoulder. “Why were they chasing her, anyway?”

“What,” Ekko snorted, slowly relaxing at the familiar closeness, “you didn’t ask Mel?”

“Nah, I kinda had to run out after she said Isha couldn’t leave with me,” she shrugged. “I almost fought her, but I didn’t wanna gouge anyone’s eyes out. Y’know, since I’m trying my hand at this ‘peaceful citizen’ shit and all.”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing we’re supposed to know?” Ekko laughed, and though he felt guilty for it, the notion that Jinx felt just as lost as he did was oddly comforting. At least he wouldn’t be the only fish out of water. 

“Sure, but Mel texted you anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “apparently, unkempt solo children running around grabbing stuff comes off as stealing.” 

“She didn’t have anything on her, though,” Jinx grumbled, tightening her hold on him slightly. 

Her nails were digging into his skin, just slightly, just enough to hurt, but he didn’t say anything. The telltale sign of anger just reminded him that, despite Isha technically being Ekko’s responsibility, Jinx was just as involved as he was. The notion was comforting.

It was also, of course, nice to know how much Jinx cared. She never did anything by halves, only loved people with everything she had in her; the kind of unyielding devotion a kid deserved. 

“She can’t talk,” Ekko answered, leaning his head back to rest his neck against her shoulder, craving any further closeness he could manage. “Mel thinks she freaked out— they tried to grab her, so she kicked them and ran away. You know how that looks.” 

“What kind of pig for brains tries to grab a lost child?” 

“There was clearly something wrong.” Ekko agreed, feeling that same quiet anger simmering inside of him, popping with the injustice of it all; a reminder of a thousand statistics he wished he never had to know, and a childhood memory of swarming police officers blocking his view, hiding his best friend’s crying face.

“Yeah, they’re fucked in the head, that’s what wrong.” 

“You can’t say stuff like that when Isha gets here, you know?” Ekko laughed, letting his previous anxiety bleed out as he turned and pulled Jinx in by the waist, holding her as close as he could allow himself to. Never close enough. 

“Oh, yeah? Who’s gonna stop me?” Jinx giggled, wrapping her hands around Ekko’s back, pushing herself impossibly closer, making him wonder if the contact was just as comforting to her as it was to him. 

“Child Protective Services.” Ekko deadpanned, knocking their foreheads together the same way he did when they were kids. Mostly just to annoy her.

Effectively, Jinx squawked, leaning back with a whine. “Ugh, how would they know?”

“I’m pretty sure Mel is, like, a minor goddess,” he shrugged. 

“Yeah, Sparkles is terrifying when she’s mad, let me tell you that.” She grinned, pouting in faux sympathy, maniacal glee slipping through. “Almost felt sorry for those cops.”

“No, you didn't,” Ekko snorted. Then, after a minute: “You nicknamed our social worker Sparkles?”

“She literally sparkles when she walks.” 

“That’s like if I called you Blue because your braids swing behind you!” Ekko insisted, though there was no real heat behind the words, and both of them saw, clear as day, that the only real reason they were entertaining the fight was to quell the shared anxiety of Isha’s arrival.

“You people have called me Blue since I was eight!” Jinx laughed, low and incredulous, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Benzo has called you Blue since you were eight.” Ekko corrected.

“What, you think I don’t snoop through your phone? I know my contact name.” Jinx snorted, referring to the hundreds of times that they’d exchanged phones with one another, stalked each other’s college friends, pointed and giggled, and reminded each other of work emails and old texts they’d forgotten, lying side by side, heads tilted together.

“That’s a breach of my privacy!” Ekko squawked, just to be difficult. 

“You snoop through mine!” Jinx retorted, both of them laughing, no heat behind it.

“Hey—!”

But before Ekko could retort at all— with something much wittier and better than Jinx— the doorbell rang, and instead, he felt like he’d jump out of his own skin. 

Unfortunately, his best friend of around twenty years, probably going on more, knew him like she was in his head, and snorted, giving him a half-teasing pat on the shoulder, and heading to open the door herself. 

It only took him a few seconds, lost in his own stupor – in the memory of Isha's untrusting eyes when she first saw him, in the panging guilt needling his chest – before he snapped out of it and remembered the secondary nature of his own feelings. There was no time or use in wallowing; that would be reserved for quiet nights with Jinx, if she was kind enough to let him.

She was shockingly calm, and it would've irked him if it wasn't the only reason he had room to breathe.

Once he reached the door, Mel was smiling, but Isha was carefully tucked behind her leg like she was afraid of being seen. Like she'd rather be anywhere else; wishing she was ten feet underground, maybe. The expression was all too familiar. 

Again, Ekko was sure he was going to have a meltdown. 

Again, Jinx saved the day. 

“Hey, kid,” she grinned, crouching down in front of Mel's legs only a couple of feet away from the door: far enough for space but close enough to seem familiar. “Long time no see, get into any more trouble?” 

For a second, no move was made, and Ekko stood frozen, watching Mel bend slightly, hand on something behind her while Jinx watched with quiet, patient eyes— a look he'd rarely ever seen before. 

Uselessly, he stood frozen, remembering the disdain coming off the kid in waves the last time they'd met. 

Finally, after about half an eternity or six minutes if Ekko were to count, which he always was, two big golden eyes peeked out from Mel's long, perfectly ironed skirt. 

The gesture only seemed to invigorate Jinx, who leaned back and grinned, making use of years of training to stretch her back without falling on her ass in her crouched position. 

“I'll take that as a no.” She grinned, slowly coaxing Isha to face her fully. “That's too bad. I've gotten in plenty of trouble, isn't that right, Ekko?” 

At that, as if shaken from his stupor (pulled out from the blood-curdling fear, a thousand insecurities of being like foster parents before him left behind), Ekko smiled, slower and more gently, but hopefully just as genuinely. Talking about Jinx was neutral— it was easy. 

“Yeah, caught this one napping on our bookshelf yesterday.” He nodded, gesturing to the wooden bookshelf on the far end of the room, so tall it almost reached the ceiling. 

He still wasn't sure how exactly Jinx climbed it, but finding her stretched out on top of it, limbs spread and hanging out like a cat, had almost given him a stroke when he'd gotten home. 

Belatedly, he realized maybe that wasn't the best endorsement to share with a social worker, nor the best idea to give to an impressionable child. 

Mel, however, just ducked her head, shoulders shaking, and Ekko could clearly hear the laughter under her careful guise of professionalism. And maybe the whole idea wasn't that bad because, finally, Isha detached herself from the woman's leg and stood right in the middle of their doorway, hovering like she wanted to go in.

“You like climbing too, huh?” Jinx leaned in, whispering it almost like it was a well-kept secret; something between the two of them that the adults shouldn't know. 

She'd always been good at making people feel special like that; it was probably the whole reason Ekko managed to get a family at all.

Shyly, Isha nodded, wringing her hands on the hem of her t-shirt. Ekko didn't want to point it out, didn't want to be mean, but it was the same shirt she'd worn the day they'd met. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

“Well, don't tell Sparkles over there,” she giggled, tilting her head up towards Mel, ignoring the way the woman fully covered her mouth, seemingly choking on her own laughter, “but there's plenty of stuff you can climb to give us a heart attack, wanna come see?” 

Finally, Isha nodded, hovering forward and breathing deeply like she was about to do something monumental – which, to be fair, Ekko thought she kind of was – and pushing herself forward. 

“Come on, kid,” Jinx sprang up with a smile, gentler now, “I'll give you a tour.”

Carefully, hesitantly, Isha followed Jinx as she showed her around the rooms, staring up at her with her huge cow eyes, like the woman was the most interesting thing in the world. Ekko thought it might've been how he looked at her, too, but that was neither here nor there. 

Jinx had always been enthralling, it was nothing new. The girl, if nothing else, had a way of working a room.

Even Mel, with her infinite poise and confident disposition, seemed to crack under Jinx's teasing brand of humor. 

“Well, then,” she coughed, clearing her throat and smiling down at Isha, who'd circled back to the entrance before seeing her room, “I ought to leave now. Do you think you will be okay?”

Again, Isha nodded, only slightly less shyly, but noticeably enough for Ekko to be a little shocked. He'd always known his best friend was good with kids, and even if on the outside it might've looked like a natural progression or not a progression at all, Jinx was basically an Isha whisperer. 

“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.” The woman smiled, all white teeth and stunningly bright eyes despite him knowing perfectly well that her sleeping habits were, being awfully generous, subpar. 

He was starting to understand the whole Sparkles thing. 

It would've been unnerving if she wasn't so damn perfect. 

Mel went over the finer details and scheduling logistics one last time, quickly discussing anything they'd need to consider. All of them settled on keeping Isha in the same school since nowhere else would take a new student this late, and with that, Mel promised to stay in touch. 

Then, she said goodbye to Isha again, and soon after, she was off. 

The silence left behind was tense and thick, oxygen condensing in their lungs like a boiling liquid. 

Ekko swore he could see Isha holding her breath. 

He was holding his, too. 

A few seconds passed like that, all three of them standing in the doorway, painfully quiet and excruciatingly awkward, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

No one moved. 

It almost felt like no one breathed.

Then:

A small, beeping, crashing sound outside; one Ekko recognized as the garbage truck. 

Jinx's shoulders hunched over, shaking in what he could only assume was nervous laughter.

Isha's unsure expression turned to her.

Jinx's mouth turned up. “Hey kid, you wanna see your room, now?”

Whatever illusion or spell they were under: broken. Just like that.

Isha nodded once. She made no other efforts to sign, despite knowing both of them knew at least the basics. 

She didn't look very excited. 

That was fine. She didn't have to be. 

Jinx, however, seemed to take it as the go-ahead to keep talking, and she really must have been the Isha whisperer, because it actually seemed to get the kid to relax. 

“Okay, so,” she started, bright and excited with all the bubbling, bursting firecracker energy she always had pushing against the seams of her lips by way of her voice, “we wanted to make sure you liked your room since, duh, you're staying for a while, and you can't just sleep somewhere boring , right?”

Again, Isha nodded, small and confused, like she wasn't sure what Jinx wanted from her. 

That was fine too. 

“So we did a lot of poking and prodding with Mel, right, like totally hounded her ass— I mean, butt, or. Uh. You know what– just don't swear, kid.” Finally, thanks to her frantic giggle, Ekko, quite belatedly, recognized the manic tone. 

Jinx was just as nervous as he was. 

Inadvertently, the thought put him at ease. The knowledge that no matter how much Isha seemed to like her, he wasn't inherently failing because of the anxiety spurring within him.

“ Anyway , we bugged her, is what I mean.” At that, almost looking startled, like she didn't expect it herself, Isha let out a little giggle. 

Jinx brightened further, leading her to a tall white door with a piece of white paper on it that said Isha in bright pink Sharpie. 

It had been a quick fix, since both their rooms had those cheesy, personalized signs they'd had since they were kids, but they fully intended to get something better for her if she liked it. 

“Mel said your favorite color is yellow, and you like fairies. We did the walls and the furniture, but it's boring if you don't have any artistic liberty, so you can take care of the posters and the pictures.” She explained, shifting her weight between her feet, as she leaned against the door and finally pushed it open. “So basically, ta-da.” 

The room, Ekko had to admit, had come out pretty nice. 

He didn't want to be presumptuous and was generally uncomfortable with outright bragging, but he thought it was pretty undeniable that they'd done a good job. 

The walls were a soft, pastel shade of lemon yellow that brightened the whole room, making it seem big and spacious, bouncing off the light that came in through the window beside the bed. For decoration, Ekko had painted little fairies, dancing and playing around with various flowers and animals on the baseboard and, minute as they were, he'd paid careful attention to keeping them detailed. 

Both of their rooms were painted in darker, more muted colors, but Jinx said she didn't want Isha to feel like the walls were closing in on her, and the rest of their house was already a pretty shade of white. They wanted something different— it was a kid's bedroom, after all. Ekko couldn't help but agree and insisted on the fairies himself. 

He'd also miraculously thrifted a set of light wooden furniture, and minimally painted the same designs onto a cabinet, a bookshelf, a tiny nightstand, and a dresser. Across from the dresser, a sturdy desk that should comfortably fit all her stuff. 

Finally, he'd picked out a plush carpet displaying cartoon sheep and a soft fabric he'd seen at the kids’ store across from Jinx's job. 

Meanwhile, Jinx had insisted on handling the bed, claiming that, since Mel had said the kid had nightmares, she'd have to build the perfect 'nest': a large canopy with draping white fabrics, and the best mattress they could reasonably afford. She'd even gone out of her way to carefully intertwine fairy-lights that glimmered like little stars at night within it just in case Isha got scared of the dark. 

The bedding itself was thick and soft with layers upon layers of fuzzy blankets and pillows on the brand-new duvet. A few plushies were lovingly tucked in, with a soft cream-colored elephant plushie right in the middle. 

All in all, though the bookshelf and other furniture were mostly empty, save for a handful of their favorite childhood books and a rabbit-shaped lamp on the nightstand, it looked homey, ready to be lived in. 

It was like Jinx said— they'd wanted Isha to feel welcome, but not boxed in. Their plan had always been to take her shopping once she arrived. 

For a few seconds, there was nothing but tense silence. The kind that didn't break unless shattered. Something heavy, calling for solemnity. 

Then Isha started crying, and Ekko felt his heart drop down to his feet. 

Fuck.

Instantly, years by Jinx’s side – of scraped knees and easy tears, and then of panic attacks and suffocating episodes – kicked in at once, and he was kneeling on the floor beside her, leaving about a foot and a half of distance between them. That, he’d learned, was the golden ratio: close enough to reach out, and far enough to avoid crowding her. 

Soon after, Jinx seemed to snap out of her own stupor, and crouched down slightly behind him.

“Hey,” he started, making sure to keep his voice low and gentle without being patronizing, “I know we made it kind of overwhelming, so if you want to change it, we can.”

“You can tell us if you hate it,” Jinx agreed, tucking her hands between her legs, clearly trying to avoid anyone seeing the way they shook, trying to keep her voice even. 

To be fair, Ekko only noticed because he'd practically memorized every one of her nervous habits down to a careful catalogue in his mind.

Slowly, Isha looked up through her bloodshot eyes. The poor thing looked exhausted and brought her hands up, only to find they were shaking too bad to sign, and all she could manage was hiccuping sobs.

The whole ordeal just seemed to make her more tense and frustrated, crying harder, and Ekko couldn’t help but feel a bit like she was watching himself in a mirror, shrunken and young.  

“It’s okay,” he insisted, slowly lowering himself to sit down, “we got time.”

“Yeah, kid, cry yourself out. No shame in that. Ekko cried himself stupid last week.” 

“It was a sad movie,” Ekko huffed weakly, watching Jinx settle down beside him, as both of them resolved to stop bickering and actually keep quiet. There was no reason to rush the poor kid, and as much as she didn’t seem to mind their talking, he didn’t think she’d appreciate it much right now.

And so, Isha cried, tiny fists furiously rubbing her face like it would somehow get the tears to stop, trembling like a leaf all the while. 

As she shook, looking so frail, he was almost sure she was going to knock herself out somehow. 

Meanwhile, Ekko and Jinx just sat and waited, hoping she'd reach out on her own, too wary of frightening her to get too close, ready to just ride it out the way they used to do when Jinx went through the same. The way Benzo and Hound used to, sitting by Ekko until the tears stopped coming. 

Now, sitting here, years since Jinx’s last serious episode, he wondered how everyone used to do it. It seemed like an impossibility to him, watching the poor girl cry. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and fix it; whatever it was, he just wanted to right it.

Except he was old enough and had enough scares under his belt to know when to sit and wait. He understood when something couldn't be fixed, and didn't need to.

Distantly, he wondered how Vander, who famously waited outside Jinx’s door, slept against the wall when she was sixteen and in the worst of it, didn’t break right in half. 

Ekko barely knew Isha at all; he had no attachment to the girl past the basic truth that he didn’t want her to go to just anyone when they had a good home and even a vague connection to her. And yet, watching her tiny sobs felt like being ripped open.

He couldn’t imagine Vander, who’d raised Powder his whole life, who’d waited outside the hospital room when she was born and brought her up into a bright woman, had been able to withstand it. The waiting, the silence, the screaming.  

He kept his mouth shut and waited. 

Nobody moved for about thirty minutes.

Ekko was half sure it had been thirty hours, instead. 

It might have been. They wouldn’t notice, either way. Jinx was equally as immobile as he was, looking just the slightest bit haunted, like the same old memories were pounding behind her eyes. 

Once Isha finally moved, it felt like the biggest victory of his life.

Slowly, she crawled closer to them, hesitating before reaching her hand out, carefully resting it against Jinx’s wrist, feather-light and still shaky. He could see the exact moment Jinx sucked in her breath. Ekko could feel his own lungs come to a stop.

After a moment’s hesitation, a few seconds that felt like a few lifetimes, she tugged it: a request.

Jinx tilted her head, waiting for her to ask. Whatever it was, Ekko already knew she’d say yes. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that much. 

Again, emboldened, Isha tugged on Jinx’s wrist, pulling her the slightest bit closer.

It clicked for both of them at once.

Jinx pulled Isha forward, one hand behind her head, and one intertwined in hers. “C’mere.”

Ekko tried not to let it get to him, but he didn’t think it was working. Mostly, he was just happy Isha was reaching out; his grief about the girl’s apparent dislike of him was his own issue. 

After a little bit, only a couple of minutes at most, Isha pulled back, just slightly, just enough to use her hands to sign. “I like it.”  

“Are you sure? You can tell us we have crappy tastes.” Jinx inquired, rubbing small, soothing circles against the back of her neck. Ekko nodded, not wanting to give off the impression that Isha had to abide by anything; their only intention was to give her a nice space of her own. 

Isha just nodded, now looking a bit frantic, like she was scared they’d somehow take it away from her. Ekko’s stomach was twisting into about a thousand knots. 

“So what’s wrong?” He inquired softly. “If you’re just overwhelmed, we can give you some alone time.” 

Again, Isha shook her head, wringing her hands together while biting her lip, like there was something she wanted to say. Like she didn’t quite know how to. Ekko remembered to keep himself calm, steady. 

They waited. 

“It’s a lot.” She signed out hesitantly, refusing to meet either of their eyes, shoulders still trembling slightly. 

“We can tone it down, if you’d like,” Ekko assured. “I’ll redo the walls any color you want, and the fairies on the furniture and boards can be painted over.” 

“Just say the word, kid.” Jinx agreed. “Ekko and I are crafty, we can get this place anywhere from Wonderland to industrial suburb complex.”

At that, Isha loosened slightly, cracking a little smile, finally raising her eyes. 

She shook her head again, more decisively this time. 

“It’s perfect.” She decided, finally tearing herself away from Jinx. “I love it. Just tired.”  

Suddenly, Ekko felt a bit like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

He smiled gently. “Are you sure? Powder was being serious when she said we could change it.” 

“I’m sure. I promise.”

“Okay, kid. If you change your mind, just let us know.” Jinx amended, and again, Ekko wondered how he possibly would’ve done this without her. He was instantly washed over with an intense wave of gratitude for her presence in his life. “You said you were tired?” 

Again, Isha nodded, looking completely worn out, like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. Ekko wondered if that was really the case. 

“What about food? You hungry?” 

“Lunch with Mel.”  

“Yeah but it’s like, six so, you hungry?” Jinx repeated. 

Isha blinked. She looked confused, like she didn’t understand the question. Again, Ekko's insides twisted.

“Dinner's in like an hour-ish, usually, but we can push it forward or give you a snack.” Ekko offered.

For a second, Isha paused, seemingly considering, but ultimately shook her head. “Room alone?” 

“Yeah, kid, we'll knock at dinner time, ‘kay?” Jinx smiled, finally getting up, and tapping Ekko's shoulder on the way out. 

“If you're not feeling up to it, we'll leave your plate by the door.” He added, following Jinx closely. 

With one final nod, Isha closed the door behind them, and Ekko felt a bit like the sky falling down, crashing on his shoulders, the kind of weight that threatened to break his spine in half. The kind of weight he hadn’t felt since he’d held Jinx as she sobbed, right before college, and right after years of barely speaking.

“So,” she huffed, chest rising and falling in the same rapid, heavyweight motion it did when she was trying to keep it together, “that could’ve gone worse.”

“I’m gonna lie down,” Ekko yawned, promptly leaving for the living room and sprawling himself face-down across the couch, completely deflated.

He heard footsteps behind him shortly thereafter, and before he knew it, Jinx was curled up against him, mostly using his back as a mattress. 

“You’re so dramatic, boy savior,” she snarked, burying her face in his shoulder and sighing. 

He knew the contact was grounding for both of them.

“Am not,” he whined, shaking with the feeling of Jinx giggling against him, and melting into it. “And stop calling me that, Isha’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

“Then you can just explain how I used to run around locking myself in dark places with questionable objects.” Jinx yawned, finally settling into him like a cat.

“I will do no such thing,” he retorted, “I’ve had too much therapy for anyone to think I have a fucking savior complex.”  

“Seriously, though, she actually talked to us. I think I didn’t even look at Vander for like, a week, and I already knew the guy, even if we were separated for a while.” 

“She was using simple signs on purpose, too,” he sighed, feeling a bit comforted by it, her willingness to communicate with them.

“Yeah, she’s kinda great,” Jinx agreed. 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

It had been about two weeks since Isha had come out of her room. 

Or. Well, not really. Not quite.

If Ekko was being honest and objective, he would admit that Isha came out for basic things like using the bathroom, and while she didn't eat meals with them, she always ate what they left outside her room gratefully. And on the odd occasion that they saw her around the house, she was extremely polite, even sweet. 

All in all, he was being dramatic. 

He remembered what it was like: being small and scared and having an adult swoop in and act like they'd somehow fix you. He had no desire to do that. 

The waiting was okay, he didn't mind it. She let Jinx into her room occasionally, and she told him everything was fine, that her biggest concern was actually how the kid could possibly be entertaining herself. 

It was impossible for the books and crayons they'd left in the room to actually last her that long, and her chats with Jinx were short and occasional. 

But Isha herself was practically an angel. The kind of kid that wasn't heard or seen unless it was to give a polite thanks or a small nod. 

It made his skin crawl to think she had a reason to believe she had to act like that. He didn't say anything. 

It was fine. He'd been there. 

“You're just a bit neurotic.” Jinx giggled one day, stuffing her face with the chicken pasta Ekko had made for lunch. 

“I know,” he sighed, “it's just… she clearly doesn't like me much.” 

“She hasn't talked to you enough to dislike you.” She retorted, rolling her eyes like she always did when something wasn't getting through to him. 

“That's the point!” 

“Ekko, come on,” Jinx insisted, gentler this time, “it's not about you. Just give the kid room to breathe.” 

And Ekko, because Jinx was right, did. 

He continued his routine like normal, just slightly tweaking it, bending it, making space: 

He woke up in the morning, anywhere between six thirty to seven depending on how tightly Jinx was clinging to him, stretched his way lazily out of bed, and made breakfast. 

Before, it had been breakfast for two. His food, and a probably-adapted version of it on the pan for Jinx. 

Now, it was still much the same, just different. Breakfast was for three. His food, and two probably-adapted versions of it on the pan for Jinx and Isha: one for picky habits, and another to look pretty enough to make Isha less depressed about school.

That was different too. Before, he’d left at eight am and didn't wake Jinx up before he left because there was no need. Her shift started later than his did, and while time was always catching up to her, rushing her and leaving her always a few minutes behind, she always made it on time. She kept staying up late anyway, and Ekko wanted her to sleep for at least a handful of hours.

Now, it was wake up Jinx so she could get Isha ready for school, and leave at eight… ish . 

Then, receive a text at nine confirming that, even though the clock was basically ticking against her ass, Jinx had successfully dropped Isha off at the damn private school they'd decided to reconsider for the next school year.

They didn't want to shake her too much, not yet when she clearly wasn't comfortable with them, but she hated school with an intense passion, and they weren't actually sure how much of it was institution-dependent. 

Beyond that, however, changes were minimal. He'd shower, get dressed, make sure he had everything for the day about four thousand times, and check that everything planned for the day was reasonably scheduled.

Isha was either a heavy sleeper or too afraid to wake them, though Ekko suspected the second, so she didn't stir or leave her room before Jinx woke her up, and Jinx slept like the dead. 

So mornings were mostly just his. 

These days, he wasn't sure if he enjoyed that fact as much as he used to. 

There were silent moments of in-between . Times that he used to cherish for their quiet — the peace they brought with them — only to find himself hit with the layered grief of them time and time again. 

These days, all he seemed to think about was Isha, and his own dead mother, and kinship. 

It was a rather morbid way to start his mornings and one he found only made him miss his mother more than usual. 

Their relationship might've been rocky – always had been, down to the moment she'd gotten her rights terminated – but there would always be times when Ekko, like any other kid, just wanted his mother.

Now, with Isha across the hall, locked in her room after someone had claimed them to be kin without ever meeting them – it was one of those moments. 

He wanted to ask his mother questions. He wanted to ask her about her life, about what she was like when she was younger, about Isha's mother, about how big their family really was. He should've pried more than what he had, pushed harder, nuzzled closer when she scooped him up in her arms. 

He wanted to tell his mother that she was beautiful, that he'd always thought so, that everyone told him he looked like her and, even as a small kid, he'd always preened under it. He wanted to ask her if he still looked like her now, hoping she'd say yes. 

He wanted to tell her he was sorry; that sometimes he imagined a life for her where he'd never been in the picture in the first place, and it was bright. He never meant to take anything away from her. Had he? He hoped not. 

He was sorry, anyway.

It was mornings like this, mornings full of in-between time where Ekko wanted his mother, when he'd get up extra early, pull out his laptop, and eat breakfast on one hand while he typed with the other. He'd search up his mother's obituary and find that no one had written one for Isha's mom. He continued to see no connection between them, but his heart would ache in the same way every time.

There was little of Inna left behind, and most of it was Benzo's now. 

He resolved to call him one morning. Some time. When he was brave enough. 

Any and all information the man had always volunteered freely, but this line of questioning was sharp and prodding. It pulled at strings neither of them had noticed, and asked for people they'd never heard of. (He was avoiding it mostly for himself.)

One morning, he'd call. 

That morning, he didn't. 

It was his evening routine that really changed. That was his turn to pick Isha up from school, more than an hour's bus ride away from their home but thankfully less from his work. 

Still, by the time he was usually home, cooking dinner or tinkering at a project or banging his head against his laptop as he reviewed his thesis paper for the thousandth time, he was instead standing in front of an elementary school far bigger and more imposing than any he'd ever attended. 

Jinx would still work for a couple of hours longer, but she always texted Ekko at around that time to wish him good luck, reminding him it wasn't a bad thing to spend some time alone with Isha.

And Ekko didn't think it was bad at all. 

He liked Isha. 

She was charming, and quick, and sweet.

He just thought Isha didn't like him very much, so it was more so about not wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

Still, she didn't seem to be unless he forced himself too close, which, in turn, Ekko never did in the first place. 

So mostly their commute home would be filled with the occasional soft chatter by Ekko and Isha's polite humming, which didn't seem like much, but was more than he expected in the first place. 

It was all about baby steps. 

Once they actually got home, however, his routine was much the same as always. He rushed through dinner a little bit more, and lay half-dead across the sofa a little bit less but not much changed apart from that. 

He pulled less extra hours during the day and made up for it at night through bleary eyes and exhausted yawns, knowing he had to fit the work he couldn't get done somewhere but fine with it overall. 

Even if they weren’t necessarily ideal, evenings were tranquil. 

It was good enough because it had to be. 

His time was cut between working away on his laptop, searching for records on Ivy Fisher— Isha's mother—, and slicing banana pieces for Isha until Jinx got home. 

After that, since Isha preferred Jinx in her room rather than Ekko, he'd make something for dinner and leave a plate outside the door, before he and Jinx ate together since Isha still wasn't comfortable with them for periods spanning that long. 

Jinx said she was getting there. He wasn’t as sure. 

But maybe he should've believed her because, halfway through the three week mark, just under a month, Isha peeked out of her room at exactly seven pm and washed her hands in the kitchen sink, carefully pushing herself up onto her tiptoes. 

Ekko did nothing but stare, dumbfounded, and then wanted to beat himself up, turn time and rewind, for not getting the poor kid a stool. Everything in their current apartment was rather high up, and Isha was pretty short for her age.

But before he could make any sort of move, she turned to him with those wide, almost unblinking eyes, and started moving her hands. 

Instantly, he snapped out of it.

“Huh?”

“Where's Jinx?” She repeated. 

“Oh, Pow’s just getting changed. She likes to eat dinner in her pajamas. Do you wanna eat dinner with her?” 

For a second, Isha paused, like she was considering something, searching for some sort of catch in his words, evaluating the situation. The kid was smart, that was something both of them had quickly picked up on.

“Can I?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “you both can eat in your room, or at the table like we usually do. I can eat in my room if you want.”

Again, Isha hesitated, looking up at him with conflicted eyes, and biting her lip. Ekko was scared that if she kept it up it would start bleeding, but he didn't say anything. 

Finally, she looked away, tensing up slightly before signing something again. 

This time, he was paying rapt attention. 

“Stay. If you want.” 

Despite it, he still felt a bit like he must've looked away at exactly the wrong time, and missed something entirely. An important piece. A big word. Nuance in sign he didn't get yet. 

“You… want me to eat dinner with you?” 

Instantly, Isha's face turned flaming red, and she looked away with a pout. She looked exactly like Powder. Ekko almost laughed— Jinx was really rubbing off on her. 

“If you want to.” She nodded. 

It felt like the biggest win of his life, everything else rendered irrelevant in comparison. “Of course I want to. Where do you wanna eat?” 

Right then, a new voice joined the conversation, rough against Ekko's ear, and warm around his chest. “You never let me eat dinner anywhere but the table.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but Isha's special, so she gets to pick.” 

Hopefully, Jinx would understand he just wanted her to feel comfortable. The fact that she was eating with them was already more than enough. He didn't see the point in pushing strict rules for something like that. 

“Unfair,” Jinx grumbled, burying her face briefly against his shoulder before looking up with an affectionate grin. He could feel Jinx’s leg press against him from behind.

Thankfully, though, Isha just shook her head, and pointed to the dining table a few feet away where all of them ended up settling for dinner, with Ekko serving the food and Isha and Jinx setting the table together. 

Soon, both of the girls were not-so-patiently waiting for Ekko to come out with dinner, while he internally panicked about having someone new eat his food right in front of him. He’d always liked cooking, and once he’d learned the basics, Vander had all but taken him in, teaching him almost all he knew, so he figured he was pretty okay at it too – good, even, given that he’d actually gotten Jinx to like vegetables.

Still, watching someone outside of his family eat his food for the first time, someone unaccustomed to the way he cooked and the spices he used, was nerve-wracking, and Ekko thought he’d do fine if he never had to do it again. 

Except obviously he had to feed Isha, and she’d been eating everything without complaining just fine. 

It was just different. 

“Hey, Ish?” He called, hovering in the doorway. “How do you feel about savory pancakes? I was gonna ask if you wanted pasta instead.” 

Predictably, Isha, always small, always easy, just shook her head. “It’s fine.”

With that, Ekko sighed, nodding and moving to bring the plates to the table. 

He and Jinx had both been hard to feed when they were little. 

Neither of them liked much, and with Ekko in particular, basically any ability to discern the separate ingredients in his food instantly made him declare he hated it unless it was chicken or potatoes. Meanwhile, Jinx only liked a very narrow range of ingredients, and while she didn’t mind actually seeing them in stews, anything else had to be thoroughly mixed, blended, and hidden. 

Back in those days, there was no Silco to scare them out of scurvy, and instead, Vander and Benzo had to get creative, given that, despite all their little nitpicks, both of them hated purees with a burning, gagging passion. 

Ekko still refused to make them.

So instead, they experimented and modified recipes until they hit the jackpot: Powder loved fish stew, and Ekko turned out to be a huge fan of anything Benzo could convince him was a ‘potato salad’. They got by, they worked around it, found the spices their kids liked and got them to eat pretty well, all things considered. 

But by far, their biggest hit, one that worked with both of them, had been the savory pancake. 

Powder and Ekko loved pancakes more than anything else in the world. They could eat them as breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with any combination of ingredients and any kind of sauce. If Vander went so far as to paint swirling characters or little faces on them, they’d even ask for seconds. 

Somehow, Ekko had more or less grown out of his picky attitude towards most foods, but Jinx, while she ate a lot more than when she was a child, remained stubborn in her preferences. 

Hence, the pancakes became a staple. 

Hence, he and Jinx ate them frequently for dinner. 

Hence, Ekko panicking about serving a nine-year-old spinach pancakes with a side of cheese and eggs. 

With Isha, he’d mostly kept it to easier comfort foods he knew kids liked. He’d snuck in some vegetables, and even fish here and there, and she’d eaten everything without a single complaint, but he hadn’t really pushed it, and when asked, Isha said she didn’t have preferences about food. 

This was the first time he was serving her the same pancakes as they ate, and he wasn’t sure how she was going to feel about them.

“You really don’t have to eat them if you don’t like them.” He promised, putting the plate in front of her, and cautiously starting to eat himself, worried she’d hate them or make that face kids did when they were trying not to gag.

Jinx, however, seemed to have no such reservations and scarfed the food down like a rabid dog. She didn't seem very worried at all.

Finally, Ekko sighed, tearing his own gaze away and starting to eat himself. 

Dinner was quieter than usual that night.

Jinx and Ekko talked about their days with minimal input from Isha, though sometimes she would giggle lightly at one of Jinx's jokes or Ekko's jabs, and he'd feel a little bit like his heart was pounding out of his chest. 

They didn't speak as much as usual, but it somehow felt livelier, and Ekko found himself hoping Isha would want to eat with them more often. 

She didn't say anything about the food, just ate her entire plate, basically licked it clean, and politely thanked him. She didn't share any opinions.

For a moment, almost at the end of the meal, she looked like she'd say something, but in the end, she pushed her hands against the table and looked away. Ekko just assumed she thought they were fine, if not a bit gross, but even when asked, she didn't say much, so he let it be.

In the end, the meal was a quiet affair, and Isha quickly helped them tidy up before locking herself back in her room. Neither Jinx nor Ekko tried to push it. 

Still, he hoped it turned into a habit, hopefully a way for the girl to warm up to them a bit. Isha's school was weird, so it wasn't spring break yet, but it was definitely getting there, and Ekko was glad she seemed to be getting comfortable before she was forced to spend a whole week alone with them. Especially considering that, despite her liking Jinx, she still didn't seem too sure about him. 

“Hey, Pow, help me wash the dishes,” he called, already reaching for the permanently stained plastic gloves with one too many holes to be useful that both of them kept forgetting to replace. 

“Let's just go to bed.” 

“Since when do you wanna call it a night so early?”

But of course, Jinx was persuasive, and it didn't take long for both of them to be comfortably in bed, Jinx having showered while Ekko brushed his teeth and wished Isha goodnight from the other side of her door. 

In the end, it was just the both of them, collapsed into bed, pretending they didn't have chores to do, or unfinished work to get to. 

“Idiots one to three are visiting, like, next month.” Jinx yawned. 

“They staying with us again?” 

“Nah, My and Clag are staying at Vi's this time. There's no way I'm letting them harass Isha for a week.” 

“She'd be at school.” Ekko offered, though he himself would've told them to fuck off if they tried to stay over so soon. Sometimes he had to be the one to fuck with Jinx. 

“You're just being a contrarian.” 

“Mm.” 

“Anyway, they were whining about us not going up for Easter this year, and also probably, like, confused about why our dads didn't bug us about it.” 

“So instead of telling them about Isha you let them decide to impromptu visit us in the middle of May?”

“Eh, they'll find out eventually,” she shrugged.

“There's a name for this, you know.”

“You're not a therapist, Ekko.” Jinx sing-songed, stretching her arms over his neck, and closing her eyes.  

“It's called avoidance.”

“You work in engineering, Ekko.”

“Yes, in a university.” He insisted, jostling her slightly, knowing that once got into a sleeping position, she was out. “You remember what college was like in May, right?” 

“I keep telling you there's a reason why I got a job right after graduating,” Jinx hummed, only latching onto him further. 

“Yeah, ‘cause your employers are weird as hell and basically offered to pay for your master's.”  

“Eh, Viktor was white trash growing up. He recognized his brethren.” 

“Poor Vander,” Ekko snorted. 

“It's true!” She giggled, “we just got lucky Silco moved in after the accident, since he’s basically rich.” 

“Okay so does Viktor know you call him that?”

“Of course he does,” Jinx gasped instantly, “he thinks I'm hilarious.”

“He thinks you're the daughter he never had.” 

“I do seem to have that effect on adults, yes. Even if I'm like… a total nutjob.”

“We are adults. We have a child in the other room.” Ekko snorted. 

“Anyway, it's more like the little sister he never had. He's not that old.” 

“Point stands.”

“I mean, yeah, everyone loves circus clowns, don't they?”

“First of all, literally no one loves clowns.” Ekko grumbled, remembering some birthday party or another he'd been invited to when he was a kid only to be utterly traumatized by the creepy old man they'd hired as entertainment. 

“Correction, you don't like clowns, but go on.”

“Secondly, you're not a clown—”

“More like a charity project, yeah,” she hummed. 

“I'm telling Vi you're saying we're charity again.” Ekko laughed, flicking her head. 

“I didn't bring you into this!” She squawked, slapping him away only to push herself closer. 

“It was implied.” 

“It literally wasn't.” 

Again, Ekko wanted to tease Jinx about her use of the word literally, even if this time, technically, she'd been right. 

“I've been looking into Isha's mom.” He said instead. 

Suddenly, Jinx stilled, face somber. “Yeah?” 

“No one wrote an obituary.” 

“Oh.” 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Somehow, the meals became a regular occurrence, and before Ekko knew it, he was sitting with Isha and Jinx every time they ate except for breakfast, which remained much the same. 

Isha was starting to loosen up around them too, which Ekko was grateful for considering spring break was starting in less than a week and he had no desire to make the poor girl feel out of place. 

Apparently, though, Jinx had already promised they'd take her shopping to celebrate the school year almost being over. She said it was a reward for being so good. 

Ekko kindly agreed, and all neither of them told Isha that the school had already called them twice about what they called “behavioral issues” and Jinx called “being fucking pussies”. Mostly because Jinx was right, and the calls consisted of one of them arguing about was, and wasn't normal behavior for children until the principal hung up. Ekko didn't say it in so many words, but he agreed with Jinx, anyway.

It was during one of those god-forsaken calls, bringing the tally up to three , that Ekko finally snapped. 

Thankfully, Isha was safely tucked behind her bedroom door, and didn't hear anything being said. The girl was probably well-aware about the school's disdain, given they did nothing to hide it, going as far as to imply she'd been given time out several times even if Isha refused to elaborate, but Ekko and Jinx insisted on her not hearing what they discussed anyway.

Partly because Ekko didn't think Jinx would set up the best example on how to deal with a pissed authority figure, but mostly because they didn't think hearing the school's stupid complaints would be all that great for her.

“Hello?” He sighed into the phone, already anticipating the grating voice that would speak back at him.

“Your child's behavior is completely unacceptable—”

“Jumping right to it, huh, toots?” Jinx sneered, already practically seething beside him. 

Privately, Ekko shared the sentiment. 

“Principal Hoskel, good evening,” he gritted out, “I'd say it's nice to hear from you, but unfortunately I'd be lying.”

“Yes, well, there's a reason for my call, after all.”

“To annoy us?”

“To tell you that your child was suspended for three days for being disrespectful.”

God, Ekko hated this man.

Granted, he should probably be more concerned than he was, but this was the same man that had complained Isha moved too much in class in the past so Ekko was about one call from losing it on him.

“So no school until spring break ends?” Jinx snorted, at the same time Ekko asked. “What did she even do?” 

“Well, if you must know—”

“We're her guardians.” 

“She was called in to my office for disciplinary action, and when asked to justify her actions, she refused, claiming it was ‘stupid’.”

And, really, Ekko supposed that was grounds for temporary expulsion, but he also really fucking hated the guy, and half the reasons Isha got sent to the office in the first place were bullshit. So far they'd already been told it was because she “refused to answer questions in class” and “made a disrespectful gesture at the teacher's back” which Isha claimed to be simple ASL.

So when Jinx ducked her head, and started shaking with laughter, clearly thinking the whole situation was one big joke, he couldn't help but slap a hand over her mouth, lest she make him laugh too.

Unfortunately, he forgot to account for Jinx being an absolute menace and next thing he knew, she was licking his palm, and he was trying not to burst out laughing at the stupidity of the whole situation. 

“Yes, well,” he choked, trying to shush Jinx's giggles beside him in hurried, frantic movements that only made her laugh harder, “why was she sent into the office in the first place?”

“Also, have you considered you have a rancid vibe?” Jinx added, suddenly straight-faced and completely serious. 

“Jinx,” Ekko hissed, covering his own to avoid laughing in the principal’s face.

“She was antagonizing her teachers yet again, and I am starting to see where this attitude problem is stemming from—”

“Okay, great talk, Principal Hoskel.” Ekko cut in, knowing that for all her bluffing bravado, Jinx actually was worried about raising Isha right. “We'll see you when spring break ends. Have a great day.” 

With that, he hung up, and turned to Jinx with a deadpan expression. “Free vacation.” 

“Free vacation,” she grinned, probably putting in the same effort he was into ignoring the principal's cutting words— he wasn't exactly great at his job either, after all.

Suddenly, through the small pitter patter of footsteps, and a shy tug on each of their sleeves, Ekko and Jinx were looking at Isha's devastated face, and felt their hearts drop down to their stomachs. 

“Free vacation?”

“Yeah, baby, didn't the mean man tell you? You're suspended for a few days, so no school ‘til spring break's over.” Jinx sighed, worrying at her bottom lip and looking a bit like she was about to lose it. 

Isha just shook her head, refusing to look at either of them. 

“It's okay, we're not mad,” Ekko promised, getting out of his chair and crouching down to Isha's eye level, “wanna tell us what happened, though?” 

Again, the girl just shook her head, anxiously tangling her hands together. 

“You know Pow got expelled for insane stuff all the time,” Ekko laughed softly, trying to at least coax her out of her anxiety. 

“Oh, totally,” Jinx agreed, “one time I set a minor fire off in the science lab, and my teacher almost popped a blood vessel.” She giggled.

“Yeah, see, whatever it is can't be worse than that, can it?” 

Finally, Isha shook her head, cracking a small smile, and looking back up at them with wide, earnest eyes. “Fought with the teacher.” 

Leaning back, Ekko blinked, caught off guard and unsure of how to respond. It did sound like what Hoskel had said, but surely it couldn't have been for no reason… Still, even when Jinx pried, Isha refused to offer any further details, and the school seemed firmly not on her side overall, so he couldn't exactly ask them either. 

In the end, both of them just gave up and sighed, not wanting to overwhelm Isha, and deciding on settling the issue further down the line as they got more information. If push came to shove, they could always go down there and hound the principal themselves, considering they were paying a goddamn fortune in tuition because the local public schools weren't taking in kids so late into the year. 

“I'm sorry,” Isha lamented, looking a bit like she was about to cry, like she was waiting for a punishment that wouldn't come.

“Nah, it's fine, kid,” Jinx grinned, and Ekko ignored the tightness around her eyes, “wanna shower and stuff before dinner?”

Again, Isha seemed to hesitate, swaying slightly and looking between the both of them like she wasn't sure what they were getting at, like it couldn't possibly be as straightforward as they were presenting it. 

“You can also stay with us if you don't want to be alone,” Ekko offered, hoping to calm the tightness around her shoulders, or at least, bring Jinx's glassy eyes back.

Slowly, she sucked in a breath, shaking her head with a tense sort of half-smile.

“I'll see you at dinner.” She decided on, finally. “Thank you.”

“‘Course, kid,” Jinx replied absently, waiting to see Isha trailing off and into her room before finally turning to him, expression now fully unyieldingly vacant.  

It had been a while since he'd seen her look like that. The mood swings, even now, were truly jarring. 

He smiled softly, reaching out, playing with her hand the way he always did when he wanted to ground but not overwhelm. “Call Silco and Vander. I'll go make dinner.”

At that, her head snapped up, looking a bit lost and a bit like a child all over again, on the brink of something terrifying, about to break down, needing her parents. Back then, Ekko never knew what to do. 

Her breath came out shaky, “I don't wanna freak them out. I already did that enough as a kid.”

“Well, it's been a while since you called Luxanna, right?” He pushed, knowing the past couple of months had been hectic, and though the girls had been basically best friends since high school, it had definitely been a while since they'd caught up. 

“I— yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna go talk to Lux. She's been hounding me about it, anyway, and I haven't really told her about Isha. She only knows I'm fostering now.”

After she left, Ekko was left alone leaning against the kitchen island, wondering if he should phone one of his own friends. With Isha in the picture, both of them had kind of fallen behind on their friendships, and everyone kept hounding them about it in the group chat. 

In the end, though, he just sighed, pursed his lips, and dialed Benzo's number. Somehow, he still knew it by heart, even now, had it committed to memory like the name of an old friend.

He picked up on the third ring. 

Ekko felt ten all over again.

His voice was shaking. 

“Benzo, did mom ever mention anything about a cousin?” 

Instantly, the man on the other line sighed, and Ekko recognized the comforting paternal voice he was going to take on before he even said anything.

“You know she didn't talk about her family much, my boy. Is this about the child?”

“Yeah, it's just… I was told mom had no family, and that's why I had to be put in the system.” He sighed, hating the bitter taste the words left on his tongue, hating the implication that Benzo wasn't good enough for him. “I mean, you're my father now but when I—”

“It's okay, son,” the man huffed, soft and gentle in a way that made him feel like he'd burst into tears at any moment. “You’re right to be upset.”

“I– yeah. Thanks,” he coughed, blinking back unshed tears and wondering what the hell had made him so emotional lately. As if it wasn't obvious.

“You know your mom's stuff is still here. You can look through it when you visit, and I can dig up any old records she left behind.”

Unconsciously, Ekko nodded, remembering the pile of cardboard boxes with his name on it, waiting outside Benzo's doorstep when he'd been unable to take them himself. College dorms weren't exactly the place to sort through his recently-deceased relative's stuff, and he trusted Benzo to keep everything safe for him.

“Mel just said her name was Ivy Fisher and she died early last year,” he sighed, “apparently, Isha's been in foster care since she was, like, three or four because of neglect. Her dad died before that.” 

“Well, you can always ask, but I'd wait for the child to say something herself.” 

“Yeah,” he choked, voice cracking with the beginning of tears, “I guess you're right, I'm just. I don't know, I miss Mom.” 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Dinner that night was especially quiet. Moreso than usual.

Eventually, Jinx had come out of the room with a puffy red face, only to find Ekko’s own eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Isha had joined them soon after, helping set the table as usual and eating everything without complaint, but it wasn’t hard to notice that she refused to look at them.

“So,” Jinx finally coughed, picking at her food with an overly-cheerful smile, “you and me are spending a few days together at home, how's that sound, little terror?”

Isha just shrugged, continuing to shove food in her mouth like it would somehow keep her from talking to them.

“We’re not upset, you know,” Ekko reassured, remembering he was the parent now, pushing his emotions down and smiling gently, “I just have a class tomorrow, so you and Pow can bond instead.”

“You’re upset.”  

“It was just a minor setback.” Jinx argued.

“You were crying.”

“Geez, kid, is it that obvious?” 

Isha just leveled her with a harsh, unforgiving glare. Privately, Ekko was glad it wasn’t directed at him. Her huge eyes looked like they could see right through someone’s soul and, being raised by Jinx, they could only get more intimidating with age.

“I didn’t scare you, did I?” She sighed.

Quickly, fiercely, Isha shook her head, looking almost offended by the idea. 

“Your face is red.” She pointed out, pouting decisively, like her thought process was obvious. Privately, Ekko resisted the urge to tease; it was wholly obvious that was the reason she'd noticed in the first place.

“Wow, you really call ‘em like you see ‘em. Can’t get anything past you.” 

Again, Isha just leveled her with an unimpressed glare, and for a moment, forgetting the reality of the situation, Ekko had to choke down a laugh at the sight of Jinx, of all people, being intimidated by a scrawny nine-year-old.

“Okay, okay,” Jinx huffed, relenting. “That, um, that happens sometimes. I’ve got this thing, in my head, that makes me a little coo. Usually, it’s fine, but sometimes the crazy comes out. I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

“Like Mommy?”

Ekko felt his chest squeeze, file coming to mind: Continued neglect due to severe mentally dysregulation. 

“I– uh, yeah. Yeah, kind of like that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby, ‘course. I’m fine. I got Ekko and a small army of hardasses to bug me about it. You don’t have to worry about me, I just talked to my friend Lux for a little while.”

Suddenly, Isha’s piercing eyes were back at him, an unfamiliar glare, new but old, like the day she’d first met him, before they had melted into something softer— a caution that didn’t hold the same anger as before. Now, she almost looked accusing. 

Ekko didn’t know how to respond, just held her gaze in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He had nothing else to offer, wasn’t even sure what he’d done. 

Finally, Isha turned back to Jinx, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Hoskel’s a bully,” Jinx snorted, starting to sound more like she usually did.

“What Powder means is,” Ekko sighed, choking on his own giggle and trying to shake off the suffocating feeling of Isha’s glare, “sometimes adults get upset and need a time out, but it isn’t your fault, and you don’t have to worry.”

“And Hoskel’s a bully.” Jinx nodded, finally getting a small laugh out of Isha.

“Yeah, I kind of wanted to scream at him,” Ekko conceded.

Finally, Isha turned to him again, the tiny smirk still playing at her lips, and this time, her eyes looked different. Still guarded, not with the soft beginnings of adoration she directed at Jinx, but more appreciative than before, almost like she was assessing him. There was still something harsh under it, a layer of cold ice too thick to break in one go, but it was a start.

When Ekko smiled, she let out a small giggle. 

“You two are mean.”  

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Jinx smirked, turning to Ekko, “but it’s definitely a first for wonder boy, over here.”

“That’s because I grew up with you.” He snorted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She squawked.

“You know exactly what it means!”

“I’m calling Benzo on you.”

“Stop playing the Benzo card!”

“Make me!”

Unfortunately, before Ekko could retort, their fighting was cut short by Isha’s laughter. Full, earnest laughter this time— unrestrained giggles and little gasps, looking up at them like it was the best thing that had happened all day.

Ekko grinned.

Chapter Text

Jinx was, overall, surprisingly okay with kids. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was fond of them, but she was good with them. Not necessarily as a guardian figure; she never thought she was cut-out for the whole responsible leader bullshit, but she was pretty okay as easy entertainment. 

She and kids — they understood each other. Kids made sense to her; she got them. They were easy: she knew how to make them laugh, how to do all the fun reckless shit other adults hated, and how to get down on their level. She’d been in gymnastics for years ; one flip and they were sold. 

All in all, a great party monkey.

The whole discipline and structure part, however, was a whole different beast, and one she couldn’t even begin to imagine herself tackling. She could barely keep that shit consistent with herself, thrived more on high-energy chaos and the looser routines of living with Ekko, even when he naturally dragged her into his type A madness.

She’d never imagined that would change much.

Sure, Ekko would leave her behind one day, go off with some beautiful man or woman and have beautiful kids and forget all about his overly needy childhood friend. But that was all carefully tucked against a private crevice of her brain where she kept all the thoughts she refused to face.

And even then, Jinx would never have kids of her own. She’d just go on to live a bit of a more chaotic life: leeching off Lux, hounding poor Seraphine into rooming with her while she was still single, probably tagging along on Zoe’s trips when she had time off, and visiting Zeri in their hometown.

It wouldn’t be the same, a bit lonelier than she’d grown used to, but it would be hers, and that was something she had to learn to accept. She’d made up her mind long ago, crying on the floor of her dorm room while Seraphine held her, that she couldn’t take more things from Ekko.

Kids, however, were never in the equation; they didn’t cross her mind once. She wasn’t meant for that kind of responsibility, and she had no interest in the ego trip of pretending otherwise, even if she did have a soft spot for them.

Still, she couldn’t just say no when Mel called. 

Or, well, she could , but she wouldn’t because a lifetime with her own family had made her go soft and gooey around the middle, too easy to coax into things she wasn’t made for. 

Jinx didn’t have whatever it was that Benzo, Vander, and eventually even Silco did; she was loud and reckless and probably the last thing that would come to mind if someone said the words safe and responsible.

Then again, she didn’t trust whatever placements Isha had been in prior, not when Mel’s tone came off as defensive and so goddamn tired . Jinx had no desire to let her go to a different place yet again. Especially not when it would rob her of the opportunity to get looked after by Ekko, who was soft, and gentle, and perfect to take care of a child in every way. 

And doubly not considering he was kin. Not when she remembered the crumpled look on Ekko’s face when he’d said that he had no family of his own to speak of. Not when she remembered Vi’s face when they got told Vander wasn’t able to take them at first.

The kid at least deserved a chance to be placed with family, to meet them and decide for herself how she liked it.

Jinx was cruel and sharp around the edges, liked cutting and mocking more than she did caring, but she had her limits, and that one had been hard-set since she was a kid. A non-verbal child with no family to speak of in the system she’d grown up in would just eat her alive.

There wasn’t a world in which she could turn away Mel’s request.

Despite that, Jinx was nothing if not self-aware. For all her flaws, and she knew there were many, recognizing her shortcomings wasn’t one of them. She was nothing like Ekko, was the point, couldn’t offer the kid the same comforting presence with her rather aloof sense of attachment to children. Not if the girl was anything like Powder, anyway. 

She had no intentions of taking over for Isha’s mother, never had and wouldn’t even think about it, but living in a house with someone who pointedly, clearly, didn’t want you and just tolerated you somewhat could hardly be positive either.

Naturally, she was scared that despite Ekko’s idealistic, romantic view of her, she’d fall short. That Isha would be able to tell, that she’d feel like some sort of toy Jinx had taken in out of a misplaced sense of glory or saviorism— a rescue mutt she could flaunt around to display her own virtue. Something stupid and vile like that.

But Isha seemed to share that same beautiful version of Jinx that only lived in people’s heads and latched onto her like a lifeline. 

And at first, Jinx hadn’t found herself particularly attached to the kid past fond curiosity into the infamous firecracker personality that supposedly resided under her shy exterior.

There had to be one, given her files: Ran away twice. Problems with authority at school. Enjoys climbing and jumping on furniture and other inappropriate behaviors. High tendency for disobedience, and prone to violence if situation escalates. Possible behavioral disorder(s).

Hell, the first time Jinx had met her, she’d practically fallen out of the sky, losing her grip on some half-rusted pipe she’d been clinging to like some clumsy mix of a spider monkey and an adolescent cat.

Jinx felt a certain, distant sense of protectiveness. A familiarity with her position that brought them closer, a sort of camaraderie between them built on Isha’s misguided admiration for Jinx and the fact that, despite the allegations, Jinx did have a heart.

And it was just that, a distant partiality built on circumstance she simply didn’t share with the other children she’d interacted with. 

Jinx wasn't sure when it had all changed, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, whatever split-second decision prompted a switch to flip in her ever-flimsy brain. What, exactly, had happened.

But it was night to day— she woke up and things were just different.

Now, looking at Isha, it wasn't hard to know she'd die for the kid in a heartbeat. 

There was no doubt in her mind about it, no question. Isha was wholly, irrevocably, one of those people she'd always protect, always cover for, always hold close.

Not a lot of people made that list, not really. The whole thing was, overall, pretty short due to the reality that Jinx had been the youngest kid in her household growing up and what she and Ekko had was different. It was equal footing. 

Really, the only person who truly, fully shared the spot in an undoubted, unwavering position was Lux. 

And yet, that was also different— the two of them had met in high school, at peak mental instability, sunshine persona meeting psycho persona and both of them being about the same level of fucked in the head. Estranged from family, in some messed up situation Jinx would only learn about later, causing a rich girl with a bullshit last name like Crownguard to live in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, Oregon.

Truly, it took no time for Jinx to decide Lux was her new best friend, especially because of the rocky times she and Ekko had been facing back then, and consequently develop a rather intense mean streak when it came to defending her. 

It was a good way to get out her anger, and a great way to keep the stupid kids from picking on the clueless new girl. Overall, win-win all around.

But they had been, still were, friends. Besties, as Lux took to calling them. Not-quite-sisters because they got along better than family members should. There was something protective between them, yes, but there was something special about Isha. 

That morning – on the third day of Isha's suspension, right before spring break, which, thankfully, Ekko also had off since they'd agreed only Jinx would ask for a break off work – the knowledge made her heart squeeze at the sight of the little girl.

It was ten am because they'd gotten accustomed to lazy mornings. Or, well, Jinx had. She wasn't sure about Isha— the kid seemed allergic to leaving her room without their permission and neither of them wanted to push. 

Still, on the first day Isha had clearly started getting antsy not leaving her room til noon. Jinx could tell , so she'd decided that ten am would be their new wake-up time. It seemed to be a happy medium, and Isha always sat down for breakfast with a sleepy half-smile, pillow-mussed hair, and the elephant plush she loved so much hugged tight.

It was a private routine between them. 

They ate breakfast together but didn't speak much. Isha hugged her elephant, and though Jinx didn't know its name, she knew it was important. She could tell— the kid looked devastated when Mel had arrived and confirmed the stuffie was lost, and Jinx had no choice but to search the area like a crazy person until she found the poor, worn out thing.

Overall, she thought they'd made the right choice leaving it by the bed, she couldn't imagine Isha's face if she thought they were dangling it over her.

Sometimes, though, she did wonder. 

Wonder why exactly she never took it out in front of Ekko, why she only let Jinx see it despite her decidedly being the not gentle one between the both of them, why she seemed so wary of him in the first place. 

Because Jinx had reassured him, of course she had, but she wasn't fucking blind. She could see perfectly well that the kid, although guarded and skittish around Jinx, seemed to dislike Ekko the most – enough to forego even her closest comfort item around him. 

For what reason, she wasn't completely sure, but she stood by her overall stance: Ekko's neuroticism wouldn't make anything better, and for now, she'd do the one thing she'd never done before and stay out of it.

That morning was one of her worst ones, though, with the beginnings of something clawing at the edges of her mind, making her fuzzy and cranky as she stared at the silly elephant with broken wings and wondered.

They were sitting at the dining room table, both of them blinking blearily and slowly waking up from the night. Mostly because they both had nightmares and woke up in the same half-dead state, desperate for sugar. 

Isha had never told her, but Jinx knew the look in her eyes perfectly. She’d offered to talk about it, but Isha looked like that was the worst thing she’d ever heard in her life, and Jinx had always been good at dropping it.

“Morning, baby,” she smiled, softer than she would at anyone else. Then, carefully, always with ample time to pull away, she ran a hand through Isha's hair, but thankfully, the girl just leaned into it, and Jinx swore she could melt. 

“Good morning.” She signed, hands moving slower than usual, one of them occupied with holding onto her poor plushie's ear, messy but just clear enough that Jinx could still understand.

“Wonder boy made eggs for breakfast,” she yawned, carefully putting a plate in front of Isha. This time, Ekko had fashioned the soft yellow eggs into the shape of a little rubber duck; Jinx couldn’t help but snort. The man was so soft.  

Hers were simpler, just a regular omelette with salt because she didn’t like them scrambled. She was almost tempted to get on his ass about how her plate didn’t have cutesy, cheesy drawings, but just as she pulled out her phone, it lit up with a text. 

“Dammit,” she hissed, leaning back to find herself face-to-face with Isha’s gentle, inquisitive eyes.

So far, their routine had mostly been composed of lounging around the house. Isha did her spring break homework in advance, and Jinx worked on some paperwork she wanted to get out of the way. Then, they’d eat lunch, which was pretty much whatever kept them full, and watched TV on the couch together for most of the day until Ekko arrived and Isha locked herself back in her room until dinner.

Today was supposed to be much the same.

Except Vi had texted her, and Jinx had already turned her away for about five weeks straight.

“Say, kid? How do you feel about annoying big sisters with stuck-up girlfriends and big dogs?” 

Isha blinked, tilted her head.

Jinx waited, kind of hoping she’d say she wanted nothing to do with them, but also kind of wanting her to say she wanted to meet them. Conflicted, to say the least.

She missed the only sister that lived close by, sue her. 

Finally, Isha put her plushie down, and looked up at Jinx, earnest and guileless. “I like dogs.”

“I’ll tell Vi to bring Princess,” she sighed, pulling out her sister’s texts.

With that, before she knew it, she and Isha were in a small clearing about twenty minutes from their place. Cait and Vi liked it because they could let Princess off her leash, and Jinx liked it because she could climb up into the trees and terrorize her sister. 

Soon, it had become a regular place for them to meet.

Now, it became the place where Isha first came face to face with Cait and Vi's gaping faces, and Princess’, bless her dumb heart, excited demeanor. 

Isha's hand tightened around hers, and instinctively, Jinx stepped back ever so slightly. The last thing she wanted was for them to scare the poor kid when they were finally getting her to settle. 

But Caitlyn, for all her flaws (and Jinx thought they were many) , thankfully seemed to get this, and just smiled softly. 

Vi, however, didn't.

“Powder, what the fuck?”

“Language,” she hissed, glancing pointedly towards Isha and nodding her head in her general direction for good measure. 

“Oh, like you don't swear in front of the kid!” Vi retorted, wide-eyed and very clearly pissed . “Who even is the kid?” 

At that, Isha's eyes widened, shyer and more apprehensive, quickly hiding herself behind Jinx's leg; she was scared. Instantly, Jinx felt something flare up inside of her, and while it was her own fault, the familiar rage sizzled with the knowledge that she needed Isha out of there. 

Pleadingly, she turned to Cait, and fight as they may, the woman instantly understood. If she helped out of pity or sheer desire to get the fuck out of the conversation, Jinx didn't know, but she was grateful all the same.

“Hello,” she smiled, crouching down in front of Isha, lean red dog tucked carefully under her arm. “I'm Caitlyn. I'm friends with Jinx. Do you like dogs, sweetheart?” 

Carefully, Isha peeked out, stepping forward and looking up at Jinx for approval. The poor woman felt her heart squeeze. She wondered if that's how Vander felt every time she turned to him for guidance.

She smiled, nodding quickly. 

“She’s mute,” Jinx muttered, not wanting Isha to have to go through the awkward explanation herself with someone who didn’t even know sign language in the first place.

“That’s okay,” Caitlyn hummed, “we’ll figure it out.”

Thankfully, that seemed to be all that Isha needed, and quickly, Caitlyn managed to coax her from behind Jinx with the promise of showing her all of Princess’ tricks.

Again, Vi turned to her, at least having had the decency to not traumatize the kid again. This time, she whispered the “Powder, what the fuck?”. How considerate.

Something snappy and defensive, a seething sort of anger, burned inside of her. Something that only flared up around Vi.

“What?” She snapped. 

“Who the hell is the kid, Powder?”   

“None of your business .” 

“You're my sister, and she's playing with my girlfriend and my dog, so yeah. I think it is my business. What the hell are you doing with some kid, sis?” 

And, well, Jinx never did last long under her sister's glare. Even as a kid, she was always the first to break, come clean, and beg for forgiveness with watery eyes. 

Now, she was much the same, just meaner and angrier. The result of Vi's absence, temporary as it has been. A dog twice abandoned already, aggressive with age and sharper teeth.

“Literally the only reason I’m here and not curled up in the house with my kid is because I missed you,” Jinx growled, lurching forward with a familiar sense of dread creeping up within her – an old feeling of rejection already crawling all over her skin and making her feel sick. “What the fuck , Vi, have you considered maybe I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react exactly like this?”

“What, like a normal person?!” Vi retorted, just as angry; aiming to hurt. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring us? Couldn’t face us after taking in a stray to play hero with?” 

The expression made Jinx’s blood boil with a familiar sense of not caring about herself but wanting to defend someone else. People she didn't want to get roped into her bullshit. Now, when it was Isha, Jinx was half sure she might kill someone. 

“Vi, if you call my kid a stray ever again, I swear to fucking—”

“Your kid?” Vi laughed incredulously. “You can barely take care of yourself, Powder.”

And the thing was that Jinx agreed. She knew this. There was no use denying something so obvious — a worry so valid it had settled under her skin, dug its tendrils into her flesh and gripped her with something uncomfortable, unsettling: the reality that Isha might've been better off without her. 

Except that Isha hadn't found anywhere better. Not yet. Not if her history was anything to go by, and not if Mel's hopeful face when she’d finally dropped her off meant anything. 

So really, it was fucking unfair of Vi to bring this up like it was a fight, to dredge up old concerns and pick at scars that still itched. It was unfair that she did it in front of Isha, who mattered more than Jinx every time, in every gamble. And Jinx – raw and vulnerable and breaking down and going crazy – it was just one thing she couldn't let Isha see. 

So Jinx squared up and ignored the familiar voices creeping up on her, the distorted, glassy expression Vi was starting to take on, and lurched forward, grabbing her sister by the shirt. 

“Well, I don't see you taking care of shit either,” she spat, her anger getting the better of her but keeping her voice low enough that Isha wouldn't overhear so long as Caitlyn distracted her. “Come on sis, face it. You're just jealous that I'm a better sister than you ever were.” 

It wasn't true. 

Jinx loved her sister, and she felt the choking feeling of somehow not being good enough for Isha, of always wanting to do better by her, every day. But she knew her sister, knew her weak spots and knew what to say to make it hurt. 

Vi's eyes widened, watering, hating her a little bit. 

Unfortunately, they’d learned how to hurt together, so she knew what to say too.

“Yeah, I'm sure the girl who blew up her own father is a great guardian.” 

And, yeah. Of course Vi would go for just that. Shoot to kill, and all.

She knew Jinx like the back of her hand and stabbed right in the fleshy parts between her bones, the barely there vulnerability Jinx carried in her ribs. 

It was only fair, because Jinx did exactly the same thing, because they'd fought much more and for much worse, dragged each other through the mud and dug up the worst in each other just to spread it out in a display of everything sickening and unlovable about them. 

But this was different. Isha was different , and Jinx wanted nothing more than for her to be exempt from this fucking family bullshit that she should’ve gotten over once the meds started to kick in.

“Oh my God,” Jinx choked, “you got sent to jail, Vi.”

It really wasn’t a fair argument when Jinx only avoided the same fate because her own crime, against her own father, was pled as a mistake. Especially when that had been the whole reason Vi ended up in juvie in the first place.

And yet Vi’s face twisted exactly the way she’d wanted it to – the kind of sick satisfaction she only got when she fought her sister; almost validation from the fact that Vi cared about her enough to be hurt by her opinions. 

Fucked up shit she shouldn’t be thinking, much less engaging in , when she had a kid now. When that kid was ten feet away with Vi’s girlfriend whom she’d always hated, right up until she’d became her personal rich guardian angel.

That should’ve snapped her out of it. 

Except it didn’t, and it was Vi’s turn to throw things in her sister’s face. “And whose fault was that , Jinx ? ”

That almost did it. 

Almost made Jinx snap, spiraling straight into the kind of episodes she hadn’t really had since she graduated college, making her someone wholly unfit to be a guardian : proving Vi right. Proving she’d earned her moniker: a jinx, hurting her sister just because she could.

Except suddenly, out of nowhere, ringing through the deafening silence like gunshots, Isha’s voice.

A yelp, sudden and startled.

Jinx almost jumped out of her skin, nearly broke her neck from the speed with which she whipped her eyes to her kid. Just like that, there was no Vi, there was no fight, and there weren’t any godforsaken arguments to re-hash in her head.

There was only Isha’s high-pitched voice from across the field and Jinx’s instinct to run towards her and shield her from anything that could possibly be wrong; make sure she was okay.

It took about five seconds for her eyes to finally land on the girl, and while they were the longest of her life, Isha was fine. 

More than fine, really. 

She was happily giggling, Caitlyn’s dog next to her, wagging her tail and whining for Isha to get up. Caitlyn herself was barely a foot away, looking at both of them with a familiar sense of fondness that Jinx had spent years trying to cultivate. She was a smart woman – Isha was perfect. 

Isha looked just as happy about the whole situation, wobbling to her feet while checking her arms and legs only to find no scrapes whatsoever and smiling at Caitlyn like she’d completely won her over.

Jinx would’ve been jealous if Isha didn’t look so happy.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to fight Vi anymore, didn’t have it in her.

“Well, it’s great to know what you really think about me, sis.” She drawled, words coming out defeated and lackluster, almost bordering on bored, shutting down.

Vi must’ve realized they were being stupid too, because she just pursed her lips and looked at her sister guiltily. “Powder, I didn’t—” 

“Save it,” she snapped, “we are gonna chill the fuck out, make up, and not scare my foster child who just barely trusts me.”

Instantly, Vi crumbled, and Jinx couldn't help but think the softness Caitlyn was coaxing her into suited her well. 

“I do think you'll be a good guardian, Pow,” she sighed, pulling her in by the arm, just slightly — Jinx's feet were still firmly nailed in place, refusing to fold. Not yet.

“I could tell,” she hissed, hoping her glare was at least enough to hide the small knot undoing itself in its chest. Vi's approval always meant the world to her. It was unfortunate and annoying. 

“Listen, I was just upset, okay?”

“Why?” She snapped.“‘Cause you think I’m gonna fuck up an innocent kid?”

“Powder, you know that’s not what I meant—”

Jinx’s throat caught on a bitter, half-hearted sort of half-laugh-half-scoff.

“Okay, fine! I was just mad, okay?” Vi grit out, leaning forward and starting to look desperate, starting to make Jinx feel the same way. “You’ve had this kid for what? A month? Two months?”

“Almost seven weeks,” Jinx sighed, begrudgingly admitting, if only to herself, that she probably would’ve reacted even worse than Vi had in this scenario.

“And you didn’t think to tell me? Really?” Vi insisted, louder by the second, looking like she was about to cry.

Fear shot up Jinx’s spine — fear that Isha might hear, fear Vi would start crying in earnest, fear she’d manage to mess the day up before it even started.

“I was scared, Vi, okay? I was scared you’d think it was a horrible idea and hate Isha,” — impossible; Isha was the best kid in the world — “and hate me!”  

“How could I ever hate you?”

“Because you already have!” Jinx pushed, starting to tear up herself, mood spiking in that desperate way that made her feel like a caged animal. “You already picked Caitlyn over me; you ran off when I was being difficult and looked at me like I’d killed your real sister!”

“I thought you and Cait liked each other now,” Vi managed, voice small and shameful. It wasn’t quite what Jinx was aiming for, but at this point, any air would flame the fire that wanted to burn everything around her, and it only made her angrier.

“That’s not the point, Vi,” Jinx mumbled, hugging her arms around herself and trying to put distance between them. “You already left me once.”

“We made up years ago,” Vi insisted, starting to let the desperation reach her eyes, starting to beg with it.

“That’s not the point.” Jinx maintained. “You’re my big sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Vi sniffled, looking like something had finally clicked, and though Jinx didn’t know what exactly it was, it made her want to sob, “I just thought you were hiding things from me.”

“To be fair,” she snorted, wet and nasally and entirely disgusting, “I kinda was.”

“Yeah, but I overreacted. I’m sorry, Pow.”

“Just don’t hold it against Isha.”

“You’ve gotten so responsible,” Vi laughed half-heartedly, apparently still uncomfortable. If Jinx was a kinder sister, she’d reassure her, promise she wasn’t mad and assert that they’d both been shitty.

She didn’t.

“Thanks, it’s disgusting.”

“I really am sorry,” Vi sighed, looked a bit teary-eyed, and just pathetic enough for Jinx herself to deflate.

“Good,” she huffed, feeling the fight leave her for good, “you should be.”

“Dammit, Pow, just give me a hug,” Vi huffed, referring to the stupid childhood tradition Powder had established as a kid to make sure her sister wasn’t mad at her after they fought. The rule was they had to hug; no ifs, ands, or buts.

One time, Powder fell off a tree and broke her arm, and still made Vi hug her because they’d been fighting. Her wrist clicked every time she flicked it to this day.

The petty, spiteful side of her wanted to tell Vi to go fuck herself, turn her away and pout until she was feeling generous about the whole situation, and then rub it in her face.

Except it was looking like Isha was going to stay with them for a while , and the last thing she wanted was for her first outing with Jinx’s family to end up in a fight. 

So, for once, she did the mature thing, and hugged her sister. 

It was rather unfortunate, really, but Vi loved kids and kids loved Vi— there was no reason to deny Isha of that because Jinx was being a brat. Also, she’d probably have to learn what a good example felt like to set it up for Isha.

As it turned out, it felt like her sister’s stupidly big arms around her back and filtered annoyance at losing a fight no one would have won in the first place. There was affection there, too, comfort at the notion Vi didn’t think she was a total screw up, but wanting her sister’s validation that bad when she was nearing thirty just annoyed her more. 

“I love you, Powder.” Vi sighed and, before Jinx could be mean about it, continued: “Say it back.” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” She grumbled, finally pulling apart; the air settled quietly around them as the dynamic returned to being almost-normal again. 

“Does everyone else know?” She asked, face still firmly pressed against Jinx’s hair. When they were little, she used to say the smell was relaxing, but Jinx had long since changed her scent, so she wasn’t sure what the point was anymore.

“Vander and Silco do,” she sighed, “but it didn’t feel right to tell Mylo and Claggor before you. I’ll text them before they come over next month.”

With that, satisfied, Jinx dug her elbow right in the middle of Vi’s gut.

Predictably, her sister bent right in half with a groan, letting go of her instantly. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes, now scram and go meet my angel child.” 

Then, finally, Jinx was alone, and though she wasn’t really sure if that was a good thing, it was at least a moment to breathe. That much, she supposed, was good enough; to get her thoughts in order, to pull herself together, to calm down before Isha could take notice.

It was easier than it used to be thanks to the concoction of antidepressants and antipsychotics she took every morning like clockwork, but it was still harder than Jinx wanted it to be, and her frustration threshold had always, ironically, been frustratingly low. 

So it wasn’t hard for her to lose herself in her own thoughts, wallow and linger when she shouldn’t, stay angry at things that were supposed to be forgiven, and get absorbed by events long forgotten. It was stupid, and it was how she was wired.

She hated it.

She couldn’t allow herself to get sucked in, though, not this time and not ever now that Isha was around. The little girl deserved better than Jinx’s stupid thoughts and fucked up brain; she was too good for Jinx to take that stability away from her. 

She shook her head, snapping out of it, and searching for anything she could do to distract herself, get out of her goddamn head. She watched Vi and Isha running at full speed to wrestle the dog and settled, decidedly, on not that.

With nothing better to do, she walked up to Caitlyn, stood next to her with lips pursed and watched their big red dog chase Isha around, while Vi just laughed, running behind them all the while. 

It would’ve been alarming if Jinx trusted them any less, but she’d seen that dog grow up since it was a puppy, always having been mild-mannered and affectionate; the kind of animal that even she, firmly falling into the cat person camp, could concede was kind of great.

And as much as she hated to admit when Caitlyn was good at anything , she had a grip of steel on her dog. They had the kind of bond where she was always the most interesting thing in the room, and Jinx hadn’t seen it falter once. 

Still, life was no fun if she wasn’t difficult about it.

“Is Clifford over there gonna hurt my kid?” 

“Oh, please, Princess is impeccably trained,” Caitlyn huffed. 

“Her whole thing is hunting raccoons.” Jinx deadpanned.

“And thankfully, children are not raccoons. I'd expect you to know that much.” 

After that, both of them stayed quiet; a tense moment of silence reminiscent of old rivalry, a mocking glare between them as Caitlyn pursed her lips tight and Jinx pretended she didn’t want to laugh in her face. 

It went on for a few seconds before Jinx turned wrapping a hand around Caitlyn, pressing their shoulders together in the closest form of affection Vi could get them to display, even though it had been about a year since they’d finally buried the hatchet and settled into their own contrived brand of peace.

“Long time no see, Scrooge.” Jinx grinned leaning into Caitlyn's side. “Big day of turning away orphans?”

“Likewise, demon, I trust hell has been treating you well,” Caitlyn laughed, pulling Jinx closer into the side hug and tugging at one of her braids just to annoy her. 

“Hi, Caitlyn.” She giggled, pulling at Caitlyn's own ponytail. 

“Hello, Jinx. I will say, I’m shocked you’re hugging me; I thought I had cooties.” 

She didn’t tell Caitlyn that any kind of physical contact from someone close to her, which she now regrettably was, put her at instant ease. She had no desire to see her stupid smirk if she did. Instead, she just squeezed her a bit tighter before letting go.

“Eh, I’m taking my chances.”

“How very gracious of you,” Caitlyn snorted.

“Gracious is my middle name, Cupcake,” Jinx grinned, finally moving towards where Isha was happily playing, supposing it would be at least loosen her up a bit since she’d skipped out on gymnastics for the last couple of weeks.

“Jinx!” Isha gestured happily, finally having given her a sign name barely two days ago, and becoming obsessed with greeting her with it every chance she got. Apparently, she hadn’t given anyone a sign name except her mom, and she found the whole ordeal exciting.

Jinx was entirely okay with it; she loved her sign name, and she loved the way Isha’s fingers curled around it, imitating the affectionate lilt of a spoken voice. 

“Hi, terror,” she smiled, bouncing lightly on her feet to match Isha’s buzzing energy, “you having fun with auntie Vi and her hellhound?”

Quickly, Isha nodded, frantic and excited with her flushed cheeks and unruly hair, like she desperately needed Jinx to know how fun she found the whole ordeal. Jinx could’ve melted.

“Come play with us.” Isha grinned, happily tugging on Jinx’s sleeve and pulling her towards where Vi and Princess were happily wrestling, with the dog playfully pouncing at her sister.

“Fine, fine,” Jinx giggled, instantly feeling her bad mood vanish at Isha’s eagerness to include her, fading into something light and giddy, “but only if I get to fight the damn mutt after Vi.”

“Stop slandering my dog!” Caitlyn called from behind her, scoffing with no real offense. That had always been Jinx’s dynamic with Princess after all, and Vi often compared them to estranged sisters, always on each other’s asses.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a purebred, pedigreed mutt, I get it,” she retorted, turning to tap the dog lightly, making her recognize that it was playtime with Jinx, which she rarely ever got to indulge in. “Wanna play hide and seek?”

Princess barked excitedly, wagging her tail and turning to Caitlyn, who huffed lightly and called her over in a heel while Jinx and Isha found a place to hide. 

“Your sister is getting way too comfortable with my dog.”

“You’re just happy she’s getting all her exercise in for today,” Vi snorted.

“Yes, well, I can’t say no if a little kid wants to play tag with my dog, now can I?”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’ll sleep for the rest of the day if you don’t.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Caitlyn grinned, before turning to look down at Princess. “Search.”

The dog started sniffing around, head low and posture focused, no doubt happy to get to chase people and freely sniff everything around her. 

It only took about five minutes to find Jinx, who’d hidden pretty well, all things considered, and another three to find Isha once Jinx was done with her theatrics of gasping and declaring how smart Princess was. 

She may or may not have had a secret soft spot for the dog. Sue her.

The morning continued much the same, with them playing a couple more rounds before Caitlyn declared the next as the last one. Apparently, running around for over forty minutes with Isha and then roughhousing on the grass with Vi was plenty of exercise already. Jinx just thought Caitlyn was being boring, but she could tell both Isha and the dog were starting to tire, and it was getting late for lunch, anyway.

The final round was, admittedly, much faster, because Isha and Jinx quickly and indiscreetly scrambled up a tree but were not even the whole way through before Caitlyn gave the word – just to spite her, Jinx thought – and they were being playfully chased by the hound, though a bit slower than usual, as she insisted on sniffing their tracks first.

Finally, though, satisfied, Princess broke out into a light sprint behind them and Jinx yelped, watching Isha beeline towards a tree and climb up onto a branch with frankly impressive speed. Maybe she should bring up climbing lessons with Ekko when he got home.

But until then, she had a hound on her heels, and she quickly latched herself onto the tree herself, trying hard not to lose her hold thanks to Isha’s contagious laughter.

“Scoot over,” Jinx cackled, pulling herself up the branches with practiced dexterity. Princess, though clearly holding back on speed, was chasing her adeptly, hot on her heels as Jinx settled onto the thickest branch and crouched down right next to Isha.

Just in time, she turned to watch Princess howl lightly on the base of their tree, standing up on her back legs and wagging her tail as her eyes remained pinned on the both of them. Pettily, Jinx stuck her tongue out, peering right over her. Isha, not one to be left behind, instantly giggled and followed her league, blowing a raspberry down at the dog. 

“Don’t antagonize her, Jinx,” Cailtlyn laughed, watching unconcerned from a few feet away.

“She was antagonizing me!” Jinx retorted, mirthfully, before sitting down and swinging her legs as Princess bounced and jumped around the tree, encouraging Isha to quickly follow suit and imitate her as best as she could.

Once it looked like Princess would end up losing interest and go back to sit with Caitlyn, Jinx hopped down, falling into a kneeling position in front of the dog, and started petting her. 

“Feet up,” she cooed, happily praising her when she jumped onto her shoulders, only for the both of them to end up half-hugging, half-rolling around until they tired and lay face up to stretch out across the soft grass.

Soon after, Isha climbed down, running up in front of them and instantly reinvigorating Princess’ excitement, who then happily pressed herself against Isha. Jinx didn’t even have to bother to get up and supervise because Caitlyn was already moving to stand beside them.

“Feet off,” she trilled softly, watching in fond amusement as Princess kissed Isha’s face in response to her trailing small hands along the sides of the dog’s head. 

Soon after, breaking the soft ambiance that had collected around them, Vi and Cait announced their departure, citing the hour-ish drive back to the house.

Jinx pushed herself up to standing, shooting her sister a look and hoping they still had that eerie unspoken communication they’d relied on as children. Back then, Vi seemed to know every thought in Powder's head like they were her own.

Now, they must've still been at least half as close as Jinx once imagined, because her sister smiled, saying goodbye to Isha and quickly whispering something to Caitlyn before turning back to Jinx.

“Hey, Pow, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Relieved, Jinx nodded, both of them shuffling just slightly to the side, far enough to avoid being heard but close enough that Isha wouldn't lose sight of her.

“What's up?” 

“Do you remember that stupid bunny you got me after ours got blown up?” 

“The one you keep on the side of your bed every night?” She grinned, cocking her eyebrow, apparently remembering that her life's purpose was to antagonize Jinx. “I do.”

“Ugh, yes,” she grumbled. “I cut off the tag when you gave it to me, and I need to know where you got it. We wanna get Isha something nice.”

“Oh,” Vi softened, eyes widening in surprise, “that's so sweet, Pow. Uh, I think it was a chain? Ekko's mom told me about it.”

“I didn't know you talked to Inna,” Jinx blinked, reeling back a bit from shock. She had honestly just thought Vi went to the first semi-decent store she could afford. 

“I… uh– I really wanted you to not hate me,” she sighed, rubbing at her arm awkwardly like hatred wasn't a phase they'd left behind about a decade ago. It almost made Jinx laugh. “Inna said she used to buy Ekko's baby stuff there. I'll send you the website link.”

“Thanks, sis.” She softened, pulling Vi in for a hug, mostly to say goodbye but partly because the idea of Vi asking around and trying so hard for her still tugged at things she thought she'd long ago buried.

Caitlyn and Vi took off, and Jinx and Isha walked home. 

It wasn't too far, but the walk was a good twenty minutes, leaving Isha with just enough time to excitedly tell Jinx about everything she’d missed. Which she would've welcomed, if not for the fact that the universe itself was trying to spite her because apparently her kid loved Caitlyn.

Jinx booed and pulled exaggerated stupid faces the whole way home, just to watch Isha laugh.

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Four days later, about halfway through Isha's spring break, Ekko started getting antsy. 

And, well, Jinx understood. She herself had been going to the trampoline gym more often than she usually did, partially making up for lost time and partially to get the buzzing feeling behind her eyes to settle for a minute. 

Isha, in contrast, despite brightening after meeting Princess, still spent plenty of time in her room, probably making up for her own lost time with Moony, since she still refused to bring the plush out in front of Ekko. Jinx didn't push it.

Ekko, however, mostly had to make do with the walks he dragged the three of them on because ‘Isha needed outside time’ and Jinx's being there was the only way that would happen. It wasn't like he could get out that much in the first place, considering the spike in his workload anticipating the final weeks of the semester. 

Overall, the three of them mostly did their own thing, settling into a nice balance of eating and going on short walks together and mostly working on their own things the rest of the time. Isha and Jinx naturally did spend quite a bit of time watching silly movies and playing with the camera filters on Jinx's phone, but that was pretty much it.

Until Ekko started looking like he was losing it. 

Usually, around that time of year, both of them would be traveling just slightly up north to visit their parents in Oregon along with Caitlyn, Vi, and the rest of the family. It had basically become tradition since the first of the kids had begun moving away. 

As such, it was fairly rowdy, with plenty of time spent mostly outdoors behaving like they were still ten. At least that's what Silco said. Hound and Princess got along fairly well too, and while the old mastiff wasn't, Caitlyn's coonhound was nothing if not demanding, so they always had something to do. Adding the fact that all of the siblings were there to wrestle Vi out of her professional boxer title and always lose, it wasn't exactly dull.

All in all, Jinx understood why Ekko was getting a bit restless. 

Still, she wasn't sure how Isha was going to react when the both of them announced taking a shopping day at dinner, given her lack of proper clothing past her uniform, what little she'd brought with her, and the pajama sets Jinx and Ekko had gotten her. 

She didn't exactly use that many outside clothes, but as the weather got warmer she'd definitely start to need them more, and the date was as good of a day for shopping as any other. 

Thankfully, though, the kid seemed shyly excited, actually happy at the prospect of getting to pick out her own clothes and probably mulling over the outlandish concept of getting pretty much anything else she wanted. A small treat. Jinx kind of wanted to kill everyone that hadn't taken proper care of her.

The next morning was surprisingly calm, all things considered. 

Usually, big shopping trips with Ekko and Jinx had them (mainly Ekko) obsessively checking every possible calendar available to align the exact day with clearance sales and seasonal discounts. It involved a whole lot of comparing and, back when they'd first moved in, a minor breakdown fueled by a huge whiteboard on Ekko's part. 

More eventful seasons even had them waking up early, which Jinx only ever did for work, and walking the stores for hours like they were on a mission. Vi said Black Friday with them must be what hell was like, but Jinx thought Vi had just gotten too comfortable with the cushy rich kid money her girlfriend had. 

Meanwhile, the peasants had to make budgets, the bulk of which Ekko took care of, and Jinx, who'd spent a truly insane amount of time in Silco's office when he worked, smoothed out the finer things like how to get the best tax write offs and where their insurances’ loopholes were. 

The point being: they were a bit intense about shopping. 

But they'd already agreed the previous night, between hushed whispers and careful agreement that they were not stressing Isha out like that, and, somehow, the thought of foregoing their routine was a bit easier when it was for her. 

The next morning, Jinx and Isha woke up around ten, just like she usually did, and by the time they stumbled into the kitchen, Ekko was already typing away on his laptop with three plates of food in front of him.

“Morning,” Isha signed through a yawn, sitting down and blinking blearily at the food in front of her. 

Jinx could see the way Ekko's shoulders tensed as Isha moved the plate. She didn't laugh because she knew how he got about it, but his thing with people liking his food had always been a bit ridiculous – everyone liked Ekko's food. He'd been cooking with Vander since he was ten.  

Still, the poor man was clearly squirming as Isha tilted her head and sniffed the food in front of her, not realizing the poor kid was probably still only half-awake, and Jinx snorted before cutting in. 

“Did it take an entire farm to make these?” She grinned, happily taking a bite of the egg and bacon breakfast burrito in front of her as Ekko made disgusted faces. 

“I can see your food,” He deadpanned, frowning, always having been a bit queasy about stuff like that. 

So of course, she only started chewing with her mouth wide open and in his face. As intended, Ekko pulled a face and looked away just as Isha started giggling.

“So,” she mumbled, trying to at least keep her food in her mouth because even she had her limits now that she was an adult, “what's the occasion?” 

“Long day,” Ekko shrugged.

“We haven’t even left the house yet,” She snorted, scarfing her food down at a speed Silco said came off as “rude” and “uncivilised” while Ekko and Isha slowly nibbled away at theirs. 

At the very least, the kid seemed to enjoy it, judging by her little smile. Really, Jinx understood Ekko’s whole paranoia thing, because really, she was nothing if not paranoid, and, sure, Isha didn’t love him, but sometimes Jinx wondered if he was also just blind. 

Because she was feeling kind, she pointed it out. “Someone’s enjoying their food, huh, baby?”

Isha brightened at the comment, looking up at her with a wide smile and full cheeks. It kind of reminded her of the chipmunks she’d grown up around.

“Gross,” she snorted, crinkling her nose and sticking her tongue out, only making Isha laugh more.

“You act like we were raised in a barn,” Ekko sighed, clicking his tongue but smiling gently at Isha as to reassure her that he was only talking about Jinx. She supposed that was fair, and it was more fun to mess with him, anyway.

“Eh, might as well be,” Jinx shrugged, wholly unapologetic, and still making silly faces Isha’s way.

“I’m telling Silco you said that.”

“Silco’s called it worse,” she snorted, turning to Isha, remembering what it was like to be outside the joke and confused. “Silco’s one of the men that adopted me.”

At that, Isha stopped chewing and looked up at her, startled, like she didn’t quite understand the words coming out of Jinx’s mouth. Then, as if nothing happened, she looked down, silent and stony-faced.

Jinx’s blood ran cold.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Again, Isha looked away, shoulders stiff and shaky like they were about to break. Jinx wanted nothing more than to move forward, reach out, make every problem go away.

Instead, she prodded as gently as she could. “You can tell us; we won’t get mad.”

“I know it sounds like a joke, but you really can’t have done anything worse than us when we were your age,” Ekko smiled, softer than Jinx had ever seen him— born to take care of people.

Finally, Isha lifted her hands, ever so slightly, before clasping them together against her lap again. At the very least, she did lift her head slightly, brows furrowed and lips pursed in hesitation.

“Take your time,” Ekko assured, continuing to nibble at his breakfast patiently, almost as if nothing was wrong.

And maybe that’s what did it, the normalcy of it all, as Jinx continued to take big bites of her own breakfast, that made Isha lift her hands again and, though slowly and through pauses, start signing.

“I didn’t know you were like me.”

“What, that we’re foster brats?” Jinx snorted.

“Powder,” Ekko sighed. It almost made her feel guilty, but when she turned, Isha’s lips were tugging up ever so slightly at the sides and she decided nothing else mattered.

Slowly, she nodded.

“I thought Sparkles would’ve told you.”

Again, Isha just shook her head, still fidgeting with her hands, opening and closing her fists like there was something she wanted to ask but wouldn't. Still, Jinx and Ekko kept eating as normal, giving her space, not pushing. 

Finally, Isha's hands moved again. “I didn't know.”

Taking pity on the poor girl and guessing what she wanted to ask but wouldn't, Jinx softened, glancing quickly at Ekko.

“My sister, Vi, and I were in foster care because our parents died when I was five,” she murmured, somehow finding she could never raise her voice at the mention of them, too scared to speak over a memory or spook a ghost. 

“And then?”

“Vander was fictive kin, but nobody wanted to give two kids to a dirt poor single man when there were plenty of rich couples in the suburbs vying for kids.” She sighed, smile turning sardonic. “That lasted two years before they realized we were too much of a hassle and Vander was suddenly considered good enough.”

Again, Isha tilted her head, looking up with those same guileless eyes that seemed so haunting, like something was perpetually missing, and Jinx felt her heart squeeze.

“Mylo and Claggor came along later. Vander has a bleeding heart and it was impossible to find someone rural,” She snorted. “Silco came along later after an, uh… accident. We needed someone to babysit, and the old man never left after that.”

When Jinx turned again, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that settled over her at the memory to look at Isha, the little girl looked devastated. Wide-eyed and upset, with trembling lips and puffed out cheeks that made Jinx feel like she was dying. 

“Aw, c'mon, kid, it wasn't that bad,” she cooed, bold-faced and guiltless in her lie. 

Unfortunately, Isha was smarter than that, and continued staring at her with that unimpressed look that made everyone squirm.

“Okay, so. It was a total hot mess,” she admitted, “but it's how I met Ekko!”

Isha moved her head at lightning speed, turning to look at Ekko with the same inquisitive eyes she'd used on Jinx, like she somehow knew he would crack even sooner than Jinx had.

Predictably, he barely even hesitated. 

“Vander's best friend became a foster after Pow and Vi settled in. I think I was about your age,” He hummed, looking vacant. “My mom ended up losing custody, but we stayed in touch. She died a few years ago.” 

Again, despite her apparent dislike, Isha shot Ekko the same soft, sad look she'd used on Jinx. Like she was guilty, somehow, for any of it happening. Sometimes Jinx wished the both of them were willing to be more pushy with her. 

Again, she kept her mouth shut.

“Benzo's great, though,” He smiled, softer and more genuine than before, a glint of fondness brightening his eyes. “You'll love him.”

“Mm,” Jinx agreed, jumping on the opportunity to lighten the mood, “they’re gonna spoil you rotten.” 

“Speaking of,” Ekko hummed, gathering the plates off the table and stepping towards the sink, having already been dressed far before the both of them woke up, “get dressed so we can leave. Someone has to do the spoiling until Benzo can.”

“Aw, Ekko,” Jinx cooed, “you're such an old man.” 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

“Any particular quirks, kid?” Jinx asked, hands on her hips as she stood in front of all kinds of shades of pink, frilly, and sparkly children's wear marked by a hanging placard as being size ten. 

They’d finally gotten Isha to concentrate on clothes shopping after she’d made them run around the whole mall and look at every fish in the pet store, only enticed into focus by the promise of ice cream after lunch if she behaved.

As such, Jinx didn't expect much from the question. Isha didn’t seem particularly interested in clothes, and she never tended to be too opinionated around them in the first place. The only thing she showed strong feelings about was hating school and parting with her precious plushie, which she only did if it was left safely in her room while she was out. 

Except, this time, she did have opinions; a lot of very specific, very strong opinions. 

Ekko called them candid.

Jinx thought Ekko was full of shit.

Apparently, Isha liked bright colors. She liked yellow, and purple, and pink, and blue, but she eyed Ekko warily and ended up adding that ‘green was nice too.’ Jinx thought it was sort of adorable how it flew right over his head. 

She thought black was fine – Ekko said she was being generous because Jinx wore it – but didn't seem to be attached to dark colors otherwise. She even went as far as to say ‘she wasn’t dead yet,’ making them both laugh and wonder what kind of people she’d been placed with before.

She also had a thing about patterns: she loved stripes, she loved clouds, and she loved sequins. For some reason, she hated polka dots, and she said brand names were snooty.

It was the most opinionated she'd been since she'd been with them, and, despite the initial shock, Jinx thought it was the best thing ever. 

Ekko, of course, seemed to be making good on his promise to spoil her, because he kept putting a thousand different things in front of her to veto.

Soon, they discovered she liked skirts but only if they were loose, she hated denim except as overalls, which she thought were the greatest thing ever, and wanted colorful leggings and t-shirts with animal illustrations only. Her favorite fabric ended up being cotton because it itched the least.

Soon, they carried a heaping pile of clothes each, and since they'd picked the biggest store in the place, they were blessed with empty dressing rooms. 

“Put on a fashion show!” Jinx cheered, handing Isha the clothes and telling her to go wild. “Ekko and I will wait outside and you can show off your outfits.”

She seemed enthralled by the idea, grinning and bouncing slightly on her feet. 

“I've never done that,” she signed with slow, careful movements, like she was trying to make it seem she was less excited than she was.

“Well, you’ve got the spunk for it.”

Then Jinx was on the other side of the curtain, leaning against Ekko and waiting for Isha to come out. Naturally – thoughtlessly – he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. 

She just hummed, relaxing against his side.

By the time she looked up, he was already gazing down at her with those goddamn doe eyes. He always did look at her with too much affection. She worried: in her experience, too much of a good thing tended to turn it sour . 

It was the kind of good thing Jinx didn't deserve – the kind she didn't know what to do with. 

So instead of confronting it, she slid into bed with him every night and pushed herself into his bubble every day. She teased and she flirted but never quite crossed the line of plausible deniability. She wasn't built for good, so she kept her mouth shut and waited for him to say something first, half-knowing he wouldn't and half-wondering why that was. 

Sometimes she thought about asking. She wondered how it would turn out, if it would be good, sweet under her tongue instead of sharp and sour, if it would lead to his hands on her stomach, on her chest, clasping the back of her neck–

In the end, it was always her fear that won over, and when Ekko looked at her with those eyes, she just smiled, and pretended they were both thinking the same thing, even though she knew Ekko would be a fool, too.

“Isha's really different now,” Jinx sighed. “Spring break's been good for her.” 

“Yeah, it makes me want to pull her out of that damn school.”

“Mm,” She agreed, taking advantage of the brief moment of privacy and pressing her head up against his neck. “Too bad the school system is bullshit. It's not my problem that no one can take a transfer on such short notice.” 

“God bless America,” Ekko snorted.

“Ooh, patriotic.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, and Jinx found herself enjoying the closeness she got with Ekko. Sometimes she couldn't imagine spending her life with anyone else. 

Most times she ignored the feeling and pretended she'd never have to. It was easier, and easy wasn’t sweet but it was a hell of a lot closer to it than sour .

Thankfully, Isha walked out before Jinx could start thinking too much stupid bullshit, and instantly, both their eyes were on her. 

The first outfit already had both Jinx and Ekko cooing and falling over themselves to tell her how pretty she looked and what great taste she had in fashion.

She’d matched loose-fitting denim overalls with a thin long-sleeved sweater that would be perfect for the weather outside. The sweater was striped in bright shades of hot pink and yellow, and Jinx truly did think her kid had the best taste in the world.

“Ugh, you look disgustingly adorable, someone's gonna try and snatch you away,” she lamented, pulling Isha close and patting her head sorrowfully. She just giggled, leaning into Jinx's touch, and tentatively turning to Ekko.

“You look amazing, baby.” He nodded along as she spoke, “Like a real model.”

Isha lit up and hurried back into the changing room, this time with a new skip in her step. They could hear the laughter from the other side of the curtain.

“I'm gonna buy her the whole store,” Ekko declared suddenly, staring at the curtain with a dazed look in his eyes.

“You sound like Silco,” Jinx teased, privately agreeing with him when Isha came out a second time, looking triply as happy as the first.

This time, she was wearing a poofy tulle skirt made from piled layers of blush-colored fabric and little star-shaped glitter that cascaded into a pretty ruffle shape resting just above her knees. The sweater was the same one as before because, as Isha excitedly explained, the skirt felt like a cloud and she just had to show them.

“Give us a twirl.” 

Ekko giggled as Isha did so, probably reminded of being a kid and doing much the same with Jinx and the princess dresses she’d found while digging through Vander’s basement. 

Apparently, he’d gotten them from Goodwill to give to Felicia when Vi grew up, but since she never liked playing dress-up, he’d kept them for Powder, who, as it turned out, thought they were the best thing ever. Silco said she’d always been a little fashionista, that she’d spread it to Ekko too, making them two ‘very-annoying-to-shop-for’ teens.

Now, watching Isha do the same, she thought fashionista was the best label in the world and understood why Vander had pictures upon pictures of her and Ekko, decked out in whatever accessories they could get their hands on to go with the dresses, stacked up in his mother’s old jewelry case.

Isha giggled, spinning around happily as the skirt flew around her in a gauzy cloud of sparkly pink. Jinx didn’t even have to turn to Ekko to know both of their minds were made up.

Apparently, Isha did too, because she bounced happily on the balls of her feet and rushed back into the dressing room to find another outfit to show them.

“You need t-shirts, pants, and sweaters too,” Ekko called out, chuckling. Then he turned to Jinx, taking her hand between loose fingers and lifting it above their heads with a smile. “Remember when we were like that?”

“Mm,” Jinx giggled, happily letting herself be spun, braids swishing around her. “We weren’t that cute.”

“I don’t think any kid is that cute,” Ekko guffawed, pulling her in against him and swiftly stepping up to brace her as she fell backwards. “I forgot how fun this was.”

“What, twirling me around like a puppet?” She giggled, pulling herself back up and wrapping her arms around Ekko. 

For a moment, Ekko was looking right at her and, under the industrial lights, his eyes shone dark, almost black, and adoring, like she was the only thing in the world. Pulling him closer, Jinx tilted her head, smiling sharply, enjoying the way her expression only made him soften further as she preened under the feeling of being observed like she was special. 

For a moment, she almost thought Ekko would kiss her.

But before anything else happened, she heard Isha proudly stomping hdr foot behind them to get their attention, and she spun back around, leaning down to look at her kid’s latest creation.

This time, she seemed to have listened to Ekko’s nagging about items because she was wearing a fuzzy white sweater with a smiling fox embroidered into the center. With it, she’d paired burgundy colored leggings with leaves in lighter shades patterned all around them, pointing happily as she explained her color coordination.

“Oh my God, the fox looks like you!” Jinx cackled, pulling Isha in for a hug, carefully patting one of the arms of the sweater and marveling at how soft the damn thing was. Isha deserved every good thing in the world; if Jinx were to be asked, there could never be too much where she was concerned.

Proudly, Isha nodded, pulling the sweater forward with one hand and showing it off as she signed primarily with the other, “I picked it on purpose.”

Then, she wiggled out of Jinx’s grasp and walked right up to Ekko, who’d since taken his phone camera out and was fondly taking photos of the both of them.

“It looks great,” He assured her, but his smile became confused as Isha stood below him and glared.

The girl just huffed, shaking her head as Ekko looked up to Jinx, eyes pleading for help. She just grinned at him, pulling out her phone to begin filming the interaction. 

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, especially the way Ekko shot her the meanest, dirtiest look he could possibly muster while she let him flounder.

“I have to do everything around here myself,” Isha signed, stomping her foot and glaring at Ekko like he’d personally wronged her. Jinx couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at his shell shocked expression, like he hadn’t been the one Isha had learned to say shit like that from.

Finally, Isha took another step forward, holding her arm out and running one of her hands along it, still staring at him like he was being stupid, until he crouched down in front of her and finally got the hint.

Then, slowly, because he was smarter than he looked, he reached out and softly petted the fabric Isha was offering him with a wide smile.

“I had one like this too.” He grinned. “I absolutely love it, kid. It suits you.”

Satisfied, Isha nodded seriously before skipping back into the changing room and pulling the curtain shut decisively, leaving Ekko blinking at empty space with a dumbfounded look on his face and Jinx cackling, having no desire to explain the situation to him.

Still giggling, Jinx ended the video, sending it to Vi and Cait, while Ekko stood there and processed the whole interaction slowly.

Really, it was kind of funny how he was so hellbent on believing Isha absolutely hated him and how the kid herself consistently refused to warm up to him despite clearly searching for his approval and always wanting to be stood right between the two of her guardians wherever they went. 

Jinx thought the whole thing was kind of stupid, albeit in a hilarious way, but Isha had said she didn’t want to talk about it when she’d asked, and Jinx thought they’d get there when they got there. Frustrating as it was, the only thing that had gotten her to open up and actually go to the goddamn hospital for her psychotic breakdowns was patience. 

The morning continued much the same until just past one pm when the three of them stumbled out of the store with two large bags full of Isha’s selections and another one that Ekko had responsibly filled with necessities like hoodies and socks balanced in their arms. 

Isha herself was carrying a smaller bag with two boxes of shoes in it, having made a deal with Ekko while Jinx encouraged the bargaining, finding it hilarious. They settled on one light-up pair and one comfortable sneaker she could run around and get dirty in. 

In the end, even the second shoe was bright and pretty enough that Isha put up no fuss while choosing it and the three of them were left wandering around the mall until Jinx broke the comfortable silence they’d settled into while wandering around.

“I’m hungry.” She declared, feeling her stomach start to rumble uncomfortably, reminding her of how insufferable she became when she was hungry. At least, Ekko said so, but he became unbearable when he didn’t sleep well so Jinx thought he was just judgy.

“Bet you’re grateful about breakfast now,” Ekko coughed, turning to Jinx with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, but breakfast doesn’t last forever, wonder boy.” 

Predictably, Ekko ignored her in favor of turning to Isha, swinging their joined arms between them. “Any preferences, Ish?”

Jinx, just as Ekko probably did, expected her to shrug and say she didn’t have any preferences. They asked every time, just in case, just to let her know she could ask, but every time they were faced with the same shrug and assurance of not really caring.

This time, however, the girl actually lowered her head a bit, crinkling her brow the way she always did when she was thinking something over, and Jinx lifted her head to meet Ekko’s eyes, finding matching exhilaration in his own expression.

“Burgers,” she decided, dropping their hands to sign and nodding firmly, looking between them a bit suspiciously like she was testing if they’d really say yes.

“We can go to that new place Vi told me about,” Jinx responded immediately, almost scared Isha would take the words back if they took too long to agree. 

“I think it’s on the other side of the mall,” Ekko agreed, “She showed me last time.”

Thankfully, Ekko had a decent memory and a good sense of orientation, and, soon enough, the three of them were comfortably seated in a diner-style joint with overstuffed bright red bar stools and a vintage-American-movie type of theme going on. 

The restaurant ended up being as good as Vi promised, too. There was a young waitress with bright pink bands looping through her braces-clad smile handing them the menus, giving them time to decide, and arriving almost telepathically before Ekko could even call her over. 

She was sweet too, albeit in an awkward, anxiously-chatty way, and Jinx found herself thinking of how Lux had been when they'd first met. It was kind of endearing.

“You make a beautiful family,” The waitress smiled, setting down their food and turning to Isha. “And your daughter is adorable.” 

Isha nodded, smiling a bit uncomfortably but still holding eye contact, probably trying to come off as grateful. 

Jinx but her lip, unsure if she was supposed to answer for her or keep her mouth shut; there was no reason to tell the random waitress she couldn't speak, but she didn't want Isha to be ashamed either. Not the way Jinx was – always keeping quiet and smiling, pretending her head wasn't pounding constantly – like, for lack of a better word, a freak.

Thankfully, Isha made the decision herself, bringing her palm up to her chin and moving it back down towards the woman. Thank you.

The waitress was kind and must have picked up on what was happening quickly because her smile just widened. 

“So polite, too,” she cooed, “you've really done a great job with her.”

Jinx remembered the way her chest used to squeeze, how she’d sit and wait for the inevitable oh no, she's just a foster , how her chest sank as she smiled awkwardly or avoided the person's eyes altogether.

Then, she remembered how she’d light up when Vander just smiled, agreed, said his girls were beautiful, that he loved them. She wasn't the odd one out then – no one knew who she was, nor did they need to. She was just another kid. 

She never wanted Isha to feel like anything less.

Before she could open her mouth, Ekko was speaking.

“Thank you, she's the best.” He beamed, preening. “We’re really proud of her.”

The woman smiled and started taking their orders, pleasantly jotting down what they were saying and commenting on any relevant specials or offers available. 

Soon, it was Isha's turn, and Jinx turned to her. “You made up your mind, baby?”

“I want the extra big cheeseburger,” she grinned, and Jinx couldn't help but wonder if it was because she'd ordered the same. Ekko kept saying Isha looked up to her – imitated her, even. 

“Any special requests?”

“I don’t like pickles.” She signed, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Then, reading the menu again, she turned to Jinx with a mischievous smile, “And I want extra bacon.”  

Turning to translate, Jinx felt like she’d won a million dollars.

After that, lunch was a slow affair, and the three of them spoke more than they ate, happily letting time stretch by as slow or fast as it wanted to, asking Isha about all her new outfits and letting Ekko tell the both of them about his research even if Jinx only understood half of it and Isha understood none of it. 

Jinx herself took the opportunity to talk their ear off about the new bionic arm design she was working on, finding Ekko’s input, as always, helpful, and Isha’s starry eyes made her feel like she actually could figure out all the stupid bugs that were taunting her.

By the time they finally left the diner, it was almost four and the poor staff were starting to clean up in preparation for the dinner rush. 

Jinx had worked as a waitress and remembered several afternoons spent standing and silently glaring at big, rowdy tables that just fucking refused to leave. She had no desire to do the same and Ekko, similarly, hated being rude. 

It was a good chance to get some stuff for Isha's room, anyway, since they'd promised her artistic liberty and she'd already burned through all the books they'd left her. 

Again, they meandered around the stores, let the girl pick basically anything she wanted, and encouraged her to pick out the books she was curious about and any art supplies she wanted to try out. 

The whole thing was a small show and tell, with Jinx and Ekko ooh-ing and ahh-ing at everything she showed them, seriously offering any input they had for brainstorming how it would all fit in her room and where it would look prettiest.

By the time they finished, Isha was begging for ice cream, pointing out how Jinx had promised her she'd get some after lunch, and Jinx, who insisted on never breaking her promises to Isha, grinned sheepishly at Ekko.

In the end, Isha got a big cone with two scoops of chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream, and Jinx, for her part, was sure that her legs would fall right off as soon as they got home, absolutely desperate to throw herself on the couch and die on it.

“It’s almost six, and we’re taking the bus home,” she whined, turning to Ekko, who, for some godforsaken reason, was actually trying to get them to go somewhere else . 

“We have to buy stuff for dinner,” Ekko huffed. “Target’s, like, right there on the bottom floor.”

“Boo, killjoy!” Jinx complained, blowing a raspberry and making Isha giggle from beside her, though she didn’t seem to have any strong feelings about more shopping, content to quietly lick at her ice cream until it was time to go home. 

“Do you really want to eat plain lettuce for dinner?” 

Jinx’s mind was made up, but she refused to look at the smug bastard. “Fine, let's go.” 

The problem was she was as easy to sway as she was to convince in the first place, thanks to her rather fickle and easily distracted nature, and they didn't end up making it to Target because she discovered something else to do approximately three minutes into their walk.

“Wait, the tech store's on clearance,” Jinx pointed out, pulling on Ekko's arm halfway through their walk to the supermarket. 

“You need something?” He frowned, following her easily, while Isha just watched both of them like she couldn't care less. 

“Nah, but Isha might. Don't kids these days have phones at, like, two or something?” .

“We are not getting Isha a phone, she's nine.” 

“Let's just look around,” Jinx huffed, wandering around the small store while Isha tucked herself against one of their sides, watching a video playing on one of the big tablets, too tired to actually look with them.

Really, Jinx didn't expect much. Both she and Ekko had been using the same old phone for about four years, hers with a cracked screen that barely worked unless she smashed her first against it and Ekko with a phone that took over ten hours to charge and only lived for two. And it wasn't like Isha was asking for anything, either. 

Still, Jinx wanted to look around. Isha was their kid now, and she came before them, in broad strokes of wants versus needs. They didn't need new phones, but Isha might want some entertainment, something to make communication easier. 

She might not want to feel left out. Jinx knew the other kids at school were bound to have at least a tablet, just as they were bound not to know how to sign very well, even if Isha could just write stuff out for them. 

And she kind of did need the stupid school to stop complaining about Isha signing behind their back and being impossible to understand, or she might punch a bitch. Paper worked fine, but maybe something in the store would work better.

Sure, they grew up on Goodwill and flea markets, but Vander and Benzo had always prioritized them over everything, and once money started coming in easier, the first thing they'd done was spoil their kids. 

Ekko and Jinx had agreed immediately that they'd spoil Isha too. They didn't want her to feel like a second thought— their thrifted furniture, and gifted-slash-DIY-slash-hand-me-down lifestyle was fine, but they wanted her to know what it was like to get something new. Something just for her, that she could pick out herself and that had only ever gone through her hands. 

This felt a bit different— bigger, more expensive, more high-brow than any of their regular shit. But Isha still spent a lot of time in her room, and even Jinx’s brothers and her had grown up on an old DS. It wouldn't be that bad to get the kid something of her own, especially not since Jinx kept seeing people online say it could even work as a communication aid. 

Because fuck , she was becoming disgustingly parental and she browsed those kinds of pasty pink blogs plastered with giant swirling strokes of you're doing good, mama, and what to do if your child is special needs that kind of made her want to rip her hair out.

So when she landed on a light, decently sized tablet with like a thousand discount stickers slapped over each other, she already knew what they would do.

“Fuck,” she hissed, turning to Ekko and calling him over. 

“Find anything?” 

“Yeah, a tablet for Isha. I read people use it all the time if someone can't talk. Plus it's cheap,” 

“It's only like a hundred bucks, and not everyone knows sign,” Ekko sighed. Jinx wasn’t sure who was trying to convince who that this was a necessary purchase.

“Yeah, Cait and Vi mostly relied on made-up stuff,” Jinx winced. “I just got lucky I roomed with Seraphine.” 

“I read it’s got a good AAC app,” he added.  

Jinx ended up breaking first. 

“Oh my God, Ekko,” she laughed, moving away towards the counter, “let's just get it so the kid can play Roblox.” 

Both of them hated spending money as much as each other, but they had a joint account for apartment expenses and Isha, so it wasn't a hard decision to make. 

Clothes were different – she barely had any and they were raggedy, and kind of stained and sad to look at. And despite them getting her some new stuff in the meantime, this was actually their chance to take her on an outing, let her pick whatever she wanted and show her that she could ask for stuff.

New phones and tablets, though, just made them feel like they were giving into something. They were engineers, and they saw no need to constantly be upgrading, buying something new, throwing shit away for stupid bullshit. Especially not when Ekko's literal job was all about the environment in the first place. 

But things were different when it came to Isha, and it would probably help her in school. It would be good for her. 

In the end, watching Ekko pull out his wallet, Jinx couldn't help but laugh, dreading the possibility of having to wrangle the damn thing out of Isha's hands and convincing her school to allow her to have it in the first place. 

Jinx called the girl over, brightening at the feeling of her girl pressing her back against the front of Jinx’s legs as she watched them speak.

“You know,” she hummed, turning to Ekko while the man behind the counter grabbed something or other, “we're gonna have to convince Principal Hardass this is a good idea.” 

Instantly, Ekko tensed, while Isha choked, burying her lips behind her ice cream, seemingly having a hard time containing her laughter.

“I am not gonna be the one to fight Hoskel,” he sighed, likely already anticipating the old man's disdain for an aid of any kind— much less one invented after the Mesozoic era. 

“If you're okay with me committing homicide,” Jinx shrugged, grabbing the bag the cashier was handing them. 

“Fine,” Ekko grumbled, crossing his arms as they turned to leave, “but we're tag-teaming it.”

“Ooh like psycho cop, sane cop?” Jinx giggled, bouncing slightly, hand in Isha's, arms swinging together. 

Again, the girl tittered happily, looking up at the both of them with her characteristically foreboding eyes, now filled with wry amusement. 

“What are you talking about?” He laughed incredulously.

“It's like good cop, bad cop, except you're there to balance out my crazy.”

“Why do I have to be good cop?”

“Well, someone has to threaten to shoot him, and I doubt it'll be you.”

“No, actually, no one has to threaten to shoot anything. There’s this thing called civility , you’ve probably never–” Then, pausing, as if realizing something he was missing. “ We don't even own a gun.” 

“Yeah, I was wondering when you'd notice,” Jinx giggled. 

“You're both stupid,” Isha signed, having finished the remainder of her ice cream cone. She was smiling big and wide, chocolate and crumbs on display across her teeth and along her lips. 

Strangely, it made Jinx kind of happy to see her kid's awful manners, remembering how, only a few weeks ago, she’d eaten so quietly, always finishing her food cleanly with no complaints or opinions. 

“Aw, come on, I think I'm at least less stupid than Ekko.”  

She expected a fight, turned to him with a wolfish grin, tilting her head – teasing in a way they only did amongst each other. An invite for a squabble, to keep the fight going.

Instead, Ekko's bright laughter tempered and softened into something adoring. “Yeah, you've always been kind of a genius.”

“Um, hello? I thought you were genius, and I was madness,” Jinx blurted out, choking around her shock and floundering for anything better to say. 

Beside her, Isha's shoulders shook with laughter.

“Can you please stop bringing that up?” 

“I could, but why would I?” She giggled, batting her eyelashes in exaggerated innocence.

“You're insufferable,” He sighed, pushing the exit door open for the three of them and shaking his head. “

“Hey, wait, we haven’t gotten the stuff for dinner yet!” 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

“I can't believe this,” Jinx grinned, leaning back against the plush couch and throwing her feet up on the coffee table.”

“Shut up,” Ekko muttered

“You've gone soft,” she chirped, pulling Isha closer for the two of them to face Ekko with the same glee – Jinx's more teasing than Isha's, but close enough. 

“I only said yes because Isha asked,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and setting the newly-arrived pizza boxes onto the small table in front of them. 

“You've gone soft,” she repeated, leaning over and stacking their plates with a couple slices each, while Ekko flipped through their overpriced Netflix account. “Isha likes Ghibli, by the way.”

“We watched To-to-ro,” Isha signed, carefully making her way through the name, when Ekko turned. 

“That's Jinx's favorite,” He hummed, “We can watch mine too if you want.”

“What is it?” She asked, turning to Ekko before lifting a slice of pizza, carefully letting it droop down in the air over her face and into her mouth a bit theatrically.

Jinx was probably supposed to scold her, be a ‘proper role model’ and ‘teach her manners,’ but Isha had been nothing but absolutely clean and perfect up to this point, and she was kind of glad to see her be a little rude for a change.

So, she grinned, and brought her own slice of pizza to her face, letting the strings of melted cheese drip into her mouth and nibbling on the tip of the dough while Ekko spoke.

“It's called Spirited Away . The plot's kinda weird, though…”

“It's trippier than Totoro,” Jinx agreed, talking through the mouthful of food she was chewing. 

“The first time we made My watch it with us, he asked if he was on acid.” 

“You'll love it, kid,” Jinx concluded.

Isha just blinked unsurely, tilting her head like she was trying to discern a lie. Jinx didn't really mind; she had no intention of lying to Isha and the little minx would love the bright, shining colors. 

She just smiled.

Finally, Isha nodded, albeit more focused on the food in front of her than the movie, but Jinx didn't really mind that either.

Nor did Ekko, judging by the way he comfortably settled on the couch and started the movie, watching as a girl on screen slouched into the backseat of a car. 

Predictably, it took about five minutes for Isha's eyes, wide as saucers, to glue themselves to the TV, food wholly discarded until Jinx or Ekko periodically nudged her in reminder.

Jinx, on the other hand, had seen the movie a thousand times and had no problem focusing on carefully peeling the pepperoni off her pizza and setting it aside to eat afterwards, a careful ritual she’d always been convinced tripled her enjoyment, even if she missed what was going on around her.

When she finally looked up, halfway through chewing on her cheese-only pizza slice, Ekko was again coaxing Isha into eating while she watched the TV, and Jinx turned to see what part of the bustling, flashing animations of the movie had her so enthralled, only to find herself face to face with tiny little fairy-esque creatures with huge eyes and colorful stars dangling in their arms.

“Oh my God, the soot sprites look just like you,” Jinx realized, turning to Isha and giggling. 

Isha gaped, turning to Ekko so fast that Jinx thought it would give her whiplash just from looking at it, cheeks flushed red and eyes widened, only working to prove Jinx’s point.

“You both have the same huge eyes,” He confirmed.

“They like, stare into your soul,” Jinx giggled.

“And sprites are tiny fairies of mischief,” Ekko added, probably referencing the folklore book Jinx had been obsessed with when she was like eleven.

“Aw, just like Isha!” She nodded, pulling the girl in and messing up her hair as she whined and squirmed but made no real attempt to pull herself out of Jinx’s grasp, giggling halfway through her scoffs.

“You’re both so mean,” she signed, giggling in the way that made her eyes pull and crinkle at the edges, showing off the light dimples on her cheeks.

“I thought you liked mean,” Ekko tutted lightly, putting another slice on her plate, and turning back to the movie.

Surprised, Isha just blinked, nibbling on her food and turning to Jinx like she wasn’t expecting that. Again, she laughed, finding their whole dynamic incredibly stupid, but knowing Isha didn’t want to be pushed on it, she went back to the toasted pepperoni waiting for her on the plate.

With that, the three of them returned to eating in comfortable silence as Chihiro went on an absolute acid trip in front of them, making small comments or jokes in the weirdest parts and explaining anything Isha missed.

About halfway through the movie, the little girl took the remote and paused it, telling them to wait before running right into her room, leaving the both of them staring at the door in confusion.

“Any idea what that’s about?”

“Hell if I know,” Jinx shrugged, taking the chance to scoot closer to Ekko and stretch out her legs.

“It’s like owning a cat, I swear,” He huffed, tangling a hand in her hair and scratching slightly at her scalp while they waited.

Five minutes later, the kid was back in front of them with flaming red cheeks, and a colorful pile of indiscernible blankets in her arm. 

“Do you know how to sew?” She asked, looking at them firmly with hardened eyes, a type of seriousness Jinx hadn't really seen since she'd arrived. 

“Uh, I do but Ekko's better at it.”

This time, Isha hesitated, looking at Ekko like he'd somehow pounce if she looked away, all of her prior confidence dissolved in a second as she shifted her weight between her feet, playing with the hem of her pajama shirt and biting her lip. Jinx hadn't even realized she'd picked the habit up from her until then, and it just kind of made her worry more. 

Finally, though, before either of them could say anything, she stepped forward and carefully placed her precious elephant on Ekko's lap, blinking up at him shyly. 

“He’s broken,” she explained. “Someone Mommy knew gave it to me.”

Ekko deflated, looking at the poor thing softly, like it was the most precious treasure in the world, gentle in a way he only was with Isha. 

“Go get the sewing kit, sprite. It's in the second cupboard beneath the TV.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Isha repeated, all but sprinting to grab the old tin box where they kept all the needles and thread, and running back to the couch like her life depended on it.

“Of course, Ish,” Ekko smiled, taking the box and searching for the best color match amongst their thread spools.

Meanwhile, Isha tried to push Jinx to the side, just slightly, so she could slither between them and wiggle until she was comfortably, tightly tucked between them, pulling at the largest blanket she had brought out and letting out a small squeal of delight as Jinx huffed, wrapping it tightly around the three of them. 

They turned the TV back on and settled like that, watching the rest of the movie while Ekko sewed quietly.

Jinx wondered if he understood how much that plushie meant to Isha, if he knew what she was asking of him – they might’ve insisted nothing she did before was truly a show of affection, but this, Jinx thought, undeniably was. 

The whole day had felt like milestone after milestone and, finally, feeling Isha’s little legs tuck themselves beneath hers as she slowly leaned back against Ekko, starting to drift off against his arm while she watched the last third of the movie, Jinx thought they had made the best decision of their lives. In that moment, it all tasted sweet.

Chapter Text

Isha made a point of knowing when she wasn't wanted.

It was one of the best things about her. That’s what her previous foster parents had said, anyway. 

Not like that , of course, not with those words, but something more minced and calculated: you know when to give us our space. 

And usually, she would've brushed it off as disingenuous, like every compliment she ever got from people like them; it didn’t have to mean anything. But it was different. It was hard not to notice when all she ever got complimented on was her absence. 

So Isha knew when to make herself scarce. Which was most of the time.

As such, her room became her little hideout, a safe place she'd stuff with snacks in case she ever got hungry and hide in to avoid getting into trouble – again – for getting into something she wasn't supposed to, for being the angry violent kid that couldn't even talk .

But for some reason, Ekko and Jinx had insisted on that changing when she moved in with them. Because they thought she was stupid.

Sure, they were both nice to her, and Ekko made her food look fun and pretty every meal – and she was actually fed every meal, despite her constantly scarfing everything down just in case. 

And sure, Jinx kept treating her with this big, mean protective streak, always checking in on her, soft and never intrusive. Both of them were admittedly good at that last part; even Ekko didn't push, though Isha could clearly tell he was growing tired of her resentment. 

But that didn't mean anything.

She may have been getting… comfortable – starting to like them, even – but that didn't mean much. She always got ahead of herself, showed her hand too soon, let her personality slip out too fast.

This time, though, she thought it might be a good thing. She'd just make them get rid of her before they decided to on their own; the decision would be fully hers to make. That way, it wouldn’t matter if she was attached or not, because the rejection was never theirs to choose in the first place.

It wasn't like testing a foster parent's resolve was hard, anyway. 

It started in the mall, insisting on impractical, glittery, frilly, loud outfits and completely ignoring Ekko's pleas for practical clothes in favor of what she wanted. 

Adults always hated her fashion sense; wrinkled their noses and spat out the word eccentric like it burned. 

Isha had to ask her teacher what the word meant the first time she heard it, spelling it all wrong because she was going off weird sounds that didn't translate on paper, and by the time the teacher realized what she was saying, she looked a bit like she wanted to cry. 

Isha understood. The voice they used when they said it didn’t make it sound like a good thing, even if she liked the definition itself. 

Except Ekko and Jinx had liked her clothes: they said overalls were practically made for her, and asked her to twirl, and complimented how soft her sweater was. 

Ekko even got a whole separate bag of the necessities he insisted she needed without a single complaint, and despite their boring nature, they were still in all her favorite colors. 

It only made Isha get bolder. 

First, it was running around the mall like a crazy person, excited and bouncy and eager to explore everything around her. Suddenly, there was no pretense of politeness or needing to get things done, and Isha was free to look around as much as she wanted. All they did was follow.

Then, it was asking to eat burgers. Copying Jinx’s order in spite  – because – of how it was far from the cheapest thing on the menu, wanting to see if she’d mind being watched like that or if she’d mind the money. Saying she didn't like pickles and asking for extra bacon because it was an extra, being rude and chewing with her mouth open — making demands. 

They almost seemed happy, then, watching her eat greedily, finish the entirety of her plate even if it was more food than she’d ever seen in one place. She really didn’t get what they had to be happy about, but she focused on her burger and hoped they took her out more often before she had to move again.

She was sure the moment they’d snap would be when she insisted that Jinx had promised her ice cream: was fully prepared to throw a tantrum, refuse to budge, and get the whole ordeal over with before they found something actually, truly wrong with her; something she couldn’t fix. The speaking thing was already more than enough. 

Somehow, all of that was okay too, and instead of a fight she got a huff and two scoops of chocolate and vanilla swirl.

Ekko didn't even try to deny she was their daughter. He didn't get twitchy and weird and feel the need to explain that Isha was basically a stranger; didn't divulge things she dreaded explaining. Instead, he told the waitress that she was great , and Jinx grinned like she'd won the lottery. 

Ekko and Jinx were weird. 

Everything about them was weird, down to the way Ekko always kept Jinx close and how she was always touching him in return. 

It reminded her, a little bit, of her science lessons about how the sun pulled the Earth towards it and made it spin. She couldn't settle on who the sun was, though. 

Still, when she asked, Mel said they were just friends. 

Again, Isha thought they were weird. 

Maybe she’d ask Jinx about it; maybe that would be the final nail in the coffin. And Isha knew that sensation: she’d stared at her mother’s for what felt like hours before someone dragged her away. It was wholly depressing. Her social worker at the time was mean but smart, and he’d called it a pauper’s funeral.

Isha was glad to see him go. She’d started acting out even more after her mom’s death, and Mel was much kinder about it.

But there was no real use in thinking about any of that, not really. It wouldn’t bring her mom back, and it wouldn’t erase the reality that Isha was attached and wanted to keep Ekko and Jinx close. She was still figuring out her feelings about him, but Jinx… the way she looked at Isha almost made her feel like her mom was alive again.

The whole thing just made her feel like she was drowning, and she didn’t want to replace her mother, so she didn’t think about it much. Especially not since she didn’t know for how long she’d actually stay.

Another place she knew to make herself scarce, but rarely succeeded since she technically had to go, was school.

Nobody really liked her there, and she didn’t like them either, but there was no way out of it. Isha knew not going was against the law, which she couldn’t just break , apparently. 

Every day was mostly the same, so she at least knew what to expect. It was better that way than being surprised and going haywire. 

At least, this way, even if she sat silently in every class and didn't try to write, only ever got ignored or huffed at when she tried to sign or met with that weird stare when she pulled out her iPad, she knew how to get into the least amount of trouble. 

The other kids didn't like her because they found her weird and off-putting, but that didn't matter all that much either because she had Moony and that was all she needed, no matter how childish it made her. It wasn't like she had anyone to judge her for it, anyway. 

So: she didn't like school, but she dealt with it. Kind of. 

The problem was, school didn't really like her, either. 

Ekko and Jinx always tried to avoid her hearing too much, but Isha knew they'd already gotten a couple of calls from the principal about her behaving badly, being too difficult and disobedient. Quietly, she didn't really think it was her fault that the other kids whispered when they thought she couldn't hear and that the teachers looked away, finding her the slightest bit annoying. 

Maybe it was her fault that she had a short temper, but she never took it too far. And it didn't even matter if she did, since moving schools was common for her, anyway. 

That was what she had thought, at least.

Once again, she thought that she knew where she stood, understood her position and was doing okay on the whole “staying-out-of–the-way-and-not-being-a-problem” front. 

Once again, she was wrong. 

That's what she was told in the counselor's office, at least. 

It was starting to become a pattern. That was something she'd learned in math — patterns. They happened in numbers, and because Isha was smarter than she looked, it didn't take long for her to realize they happened in life. 

“We think you might have Oppositional Defiant Disorder,” the man in front of her, wiry and neutral, explained. Isha recognized him as Counselor Bolbok already. It wasn't the first time he'd given her bad news. 

Most of it just meant calling her parents, though, so this was completely new. 

She just blinked, not moving to grab her iPad from her bag or shift her hands. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she didn't really want to know either. 

Unfortunately, he continued talking. 

“We will have to alert your… guardians about this,” he continued, and Isha wondered how he could sound so bothered by the word while looking so neutral. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

She didn't try to do anything about the bored look on her face, but the man didn't seem particularly bothered by it. Isha kind of wondered what his thought process even was when calling her in.

Still, internally, she knew what his diagnosis meant. She’d met kids like that before, heard what was said about them, knew it only made social workers’ lives harder. Adults didn’t like those kinds of kids; they said something was wrong with them, had to be broken, to make them so terrible so young.

She’d heard people say that no one wanted a kid who couldn’t even follow simple instructions, but Isha swore she heard their tongues curl around orders instead. If they caused so much trouble that young, they said, the kids were no good. Bad news. Troubled . 

She’d lived in a foster house with a kid like that once. He was older than Isha and stronger than her, too, but he was always nice to her. His hair was a little like hers, thick and curly and what people sometimes called a ‘difficult texture.’ She wasn’t sure what they were trying to say, but he used to tell her not to listen and taught her how to braid her hair into cornrows like the ones he wore, so she never asked him. She noticed those kinds of comments made him look sad.

Except he had the disorder too, and he didn’t last long in the house after it. The foster parents said they couldn’t handle him anymore, that he was challenging and violent and impossible to keep up with, and while Isha had kept her mouth shut, she didn’t think it was true at all. But she knew what they meant loud and clear.

“Now, you need a licensed therapist to diagnose you, but this is relevant and tells us a lot about your rather, er, disagreeable behavior.” 

Isha thought there wasn’t anything disagreeable about telling people what she thought, but she’d never been good at telling and apparently it was bad enough to be some kind of deeper issue with her. That inextricable something that made her so terrible. 

Maybe, she thought, looking down at her lap and wringing her hands nervously, she really was bad.

“We understand this is hard for you,” he said, sounding like he didn’t, not really. “We have called your guardian Jinx to pick you up for the day. Besides, with so little left of the term, it would be better to end it without any trouble. ” 

Distantly, all Isha registered was that she didn’t want Jinx to know. She didn’t care about the stupid jab or the fact that he was saying she was too much trouble; she just didn’t want Jinx to see it, too. It was different when someone else pointed it out, when it wasn’t something Isha could act out but rather was to her very core. 

But complaining all the time was probably one of the things they thought made her so bad, so she kept quiet and didn’t say she didn’t want Jinx to come.

She just kept staring at her hands and tried not to cry until Jinx arrived. 

/)/)

(  .  .) 

When Jinx finally took her home, Isha did the absolute worst thing she possibly could have. 

She freaked out. 

She didn't know what to do with herself; there was a strange buzz under her skin and it wouldn't go away. It made her feel like she was trapped in her own body and Isha wanted nothing more than to get out of it, to feel normal again. 

This: this was that something she couldn't change, exactly what she was so scared of Jinx and Ekko seeing; the reason they'd give her back. It wasn't something she could act against or even push down, and it always made her feel small and afraid. Some part of her wondered if it was why bad things kept happening. 

She didn't know how to get it out but she wanted it out, and it was consuming her every sense and thought until she was crying so loud she sounded like the day she was told her mom died all over again, stomping her feet on the floor and shoving at anything that came too close to her. 

Soon, it had devolved into a whole fit, the kind she only had occasionally but always led to her being locked in her room for the rest of the day at least. But Isha prepared for situations like these and she had nothing to do with the energy building up inside of her; all she knew was that everything was so unfair . 

She hadn't asked to be like this, she hadn't asked her mom to die, and sometimes she wondered what was so bad about her, and if she could get it out . It had to be something. There had to be a way.

Adults always said there was a reason for everything. Furiously kicking the kitchen table, Isha thought that whatever she had done, it must have been horrible. 

In the end, she reasoned while throwing the few magazines and pillows they had across the house, a little bit more wouldn't make a difference. She couldn't make it that much worse, but maybe if she hit something hard enough, if she pulled her hair for long enough or screamed herself hoarse, she'd manage to get the itching feeling out from under her skin.

It wasn't like she was loud anyway, so it probably didn't matter. She'd been born practically voiceless, and she'd die trying to scream like a real person. 

Of course, she couldn't do it.

It just made her feel worse, hitting her own head and kicking her legs against the ground like that would somehow fix everything. All it did was make her heave and sob until she tripped over one of the books she'd thrown, causing her to fall backwards with a loud thump. 

That, she thought, was the moment everyone went quiet. 

It was supposed to bring relief, despite her aching limbs and the phantom pains along her face. 

Instead, she finally registered someone's voice, Jinx's voice , and all she could feel was a slamming wave of fear.

There was no way she'd want her now. Not at all. Isha had ruined it. 

Except the woman looked calm enough: a bit distant, a bit flushed and tense like she'd been crying too, and tight-lipped as she asked Isha if she could finally hear her. 

Isha just blinked, wondering what she possibly could say. 

Jinx just stared, crouched down from a couple of feet away, holding a glass of water out to her and smiling kindly through her tired eyes, all the spark having left her at once. 

And Isha, because she knew it was a trick – she knew something bad would happen, that the glass was just stalling before the bad news that she couldn't handle her or the scolding – did something even worse. 

She grabbed it and smashed it against the floor, glaring at it like all her anger could somehow disappear like that. Maybe it would be fixed, magically, somehow. 

That was when the other shoe should've dropped.

However, despite the undeniable flush of Jinx’s cheeks, the way her hands were balled into fists, and the haunted look in her eyes (the one Isha had seen on her mother a thousand times before she died), she just shuffled closer and ruffled Isha's hair. 

“Still got all your insides?” Jinx smiled softly, crouching down to look up at Isha. 

She nodded in response, kind of embarrassed and kind of wishing she didn't. 

“Are you gonna call Mel now?” She asked, keeping her face carefully blank, trying to hold her breath and not blink too much, lest she cried again. 

She already knew the answer, but Jinx looked like she didn't and even if Isha loved her, probably more than anyone else in her life, she thought it was just cruel to make her say it. 

“So you can give me away.” She clarified, hating the way her hands shook, fingers sticking around the words, refusing to move like they were supposed to.

The whole thing was just embarrassing. Isha felt smaller than ever. 

“Baby, you could punch me in the face, and I wouldn’t even think of giving you back,” Jinx murmured, pulling her in and wrapping her arms around her waist with the familiar warmth that made Isha melt. 

It almost felt like she was telling the truth as she cradled her so gently she was half-sure she was dreaming. Isha almost believed her, leaned into the touch, and gave up the fight, stopped panicking, calmed down, remembered where she was. Almost.

For a second, some switch in her brain that sat tethered to the edge between two extremes, right in the middle, was waiting to be flipped. 

But because she was stupid and irrational and so very angry at being lied to so often, suddenly the touch was constricting and suffocating and the switch had flipped decisively. 

She yelped, trying to wriggle out of Jinx’s grip, barely processing anything around her but panic and lies and how she always did the wrong thing, and now she was going to be punished for it, and she just couldn't do it : she needed to hurt something just as much as everyone else had hurt her. 

She turned quickly, looking around, desperately trying to find something, trying to convince herself she was important. Maybe trying to breathe, or wondering why the hell she couldn't have just calmed down when she'd teetered along the edge, fallen to the right side for once. 

If Jinx wasn't mad before, she definitely was now. 

It was obvious; Isha knew the sweet look was all fake. It was made of the kind of sugar that melted into water, leaving nothing but a sweet aftertaste that stuck to her tongue but did nothing for her rumbling stomach. 

It was obvious when she reached forward, arms extended to grab her. Suddenly, cold hands were against her wrist.

Isha’s breath hitched.

Instinctively, she threw her fist forward and punched Jinx as hard as she could. 

Her knuckles caught up before her brain, something firm against her bones reeling back, leaving Isha with nothing but her anger and nothing to take it out on. She probably didn't have anything without it, either.

Just like that, the look was gone, replaced by wide-eyed, gaping shock, almost neutral; something unreadable, eyes glossed over like she wasn’t truly there. 

Jinx’s arms were no longer reaching for her. Isha felt her heart sink. Maybe it was supposed to be just comfort. Maybe this time, it wasn't violent. 

But Jinx hadn't meant what she said – she couldn’t have – and Isha thought she had really, truly done it now.

Jinx just blinked. 

Once. 

Then twice.

Then she brought her fingers to her cheek. She was shaking awfully hard. “Wow, you really are a little terror.”

Isha just whimpered, crawling off her lap as fast as she could, not even bothering to think where she was landing or how close the broken glass was. Right then, all Isha saw was Jinx's absent eyes and the bruise on her cheek that she had created. 

She thought: she might be the worst kid in the world. She thought: she didn't blame her mother for leaving her.

Jinx was still talking. 

“Jeez, you pack a mean punch,” she laughed, though it sounded far more breathless and skittish than Isha was used to hearing; more like crying, “I should start training you under Vi. The pro boxer thing seems to be going well. I mean, sure, Caitlyn’s loaded, but still.” 

Isha just wished she'd get it over with and yell at her, send her to her room without dinner, kick her out; anything. 

As soon as it was over, she knew she'd get what she deserved, but she’d thought – hoped – Jinx would be merciful enough to get it over with fast. 

Jinx was clearly mad or disappointed or scared or something. Isha knew that when adults talked that fast, sounded that high-pitched and desperate, it only meant bad things. Jinx looked like she was about to lose it. 

Still, she kept talking, kept her tone light despite how clearly tense and fake it was, kept trying to pretend nothing was wrong despite looking so pale Isha thought she might be getting sick. 

“Come on, kid. Work with me here, will ya?” She finally sighed, biting her lip in a more familiar motion, but still with that scary, faraway look that made it seem like she was only half-there. 

Distantly, she registered that tears had started to gather around Jinx’s lower lashes.

Something pulled sharply in her gut at the sight and Isha started sobbing, crawling even further away from her as fast as she could, desperate to get herself out of there. The floor was spotted in red, and an unfamiliar screeching sound grated at her ears, making her feel even worse. Her hands were hot, and her head was spinning. 

She didn’t even notice the fact that it was her spreading red blood all over the wooden panels until she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the middle of her right palm and screamed.

Loudly. 

Loud enough, at least, for Jinx to start crying in earnest. Isha thought she looked a bit like her mother had before she died. She wanted to get to her and get as far away as she could at the same time. She wanted the pain to stop. 

She wanted to know why she couldn’t breathe.

Maybe she was dying, she thought hazily, starting to sob so hard her chest hurt and her face burned. 

She wanted her mother. 

She wanted Jinx.

She whimpered, trying to reach forward, to make grabby hands the way the other kids did, hoping Jinx would still be willing to hold her even after the horrible little scene she’d caused – even after she’d hit her, even after Jinx had found out all Isha did was hurt the people around her. 

It was the wrong move. Moving her hands at all left her gasping, wide-eyed and shocked at the sensation of her skin peeling off, at sharp shards digging into it and making her gasp, bringing her back to reality in a horrible, unreal slam of emotions she wanted nothing to do with.

When she looked up, Jinx was still crying, heaving almost, but she was wiping her tears off quickly with the back of her hand and carefully walking towards Isha. She looked a bit less faded than she had minutes prior, but Isha still felt like the worst person in the world. Jinx kept wincing when she wiped at her left cheek. 

But before Isha could do anything worse, she felt a hand hovering over her shoulder, a hoarse voice whispering near her, saying soft, nice things through its choked little breaths, and she couldn’t help but desperately latch onto it, begging to be held. 

Next thing she knew – crying harder than ever before, so hard she swore her lungs were hitting her ribs and her chest was becoming smaller, about to explode – she was wrapped in a strong embrace and, suddenly, she could hear Jinx’s voice again.

“Baby,” it cooed, only trembling a little, “it’s okay. It’s okay just, just, uh, follow my breathing, okay? See how my chest moves; follow that. Come on.” 

Gasping Isha buried her face into Jinx’s shoulder, feeling her own rapid breathing move against her, but it was still calmer than Isha’s, slow enough that she could follow it into a rhythm that was almost normal. 

She tried hard not to focus on her hands, but the dull, stabbing feeling of glass poking into her skin felt a bit like the universe punishing her since Jinx hadn’t yet. It clung to her skin like Velcro, except it was all wrong, and Isha wanted nothing more than for Jinx to fix it.  

Except she couldn’t ask. She had no way to. 

That feeling was even worse than the pain: the reality that she had no way to communicate, to be understood. She’d been living with it for her whole life, and yet, somehow, now it felt worse than ever. Only now did it feel like something was being ripped away from her.

Because Jinx did understand.

She already knew ASL when Isha arrived, and even if it was good enough, she still insisted on learning more, on actually talking to Isha like she deserved; said it wasn’t a bother, that Ekko was delighted to start and she’d be delighted to continue. That learning was more fun knowing they did it for Isha.

But now she couldn’t ask Jinx for help either, and she was truly alone, and it felt like a taste of life after Ekko and Jinx called Mel to give her back because she wasn’t just a bad kid that didn’t talk anymore, she was violent, too. 

Again, her breathing hitched, and she found herself starting to heave, all past panic crashing back on her no matter how much Jinx had reassured and guided her because she hadn’t said anything about not giving Isha away again, and that was as good as a promise that she was.

She really did start to feel a bit like the world was ending.

Until, thankfully, by some miracle, Jinx was talking again, and Isha could mostly make out what she was saying despite her breathy gasps, and it almost sounded like relief. Confirmation that, maybe, Jinx did understand her in ways she didn’t have to ask for.

Or maybe she just cared. That’s what her mommy used to say in situations like these— that it was about caring. But maybe Isha hadn’t been cared for in a long time because it felt novel and special when Jinx let out a low curse and promised she’d get her cleaned right up. She even apologized for not realizing sooner.

Isha’s head was spinning by the time she finally tuned a little bit back into reality, almost hearing what Jinx was saying through the thin veil covering everything around them.

“Sorry,” she muttered, voice cracking halfway through the apology as she carefully sat Isha down on one of the kitchen chairs, “I run my mouth when I’m scared. And I shouldn’t have tried to grab you when you were upset.”

Isha whimpered, trying to make herself smaller, wishing she could sign, wishing she could ask, but her hands were sparkling red and white with bloodied shards of glass, and all she could do was try not to cry again.

Except Jinx, true to her initial assessment, really must have been an angel because she lifted her eyes and looked at her softly. 

“Baby, no, I wasn’t scared of you. Remember how I told you I'm a little screwed in the head? These things just make it more obvious. I meant what I said. I have no intention of letting you go.” 

Still, her chest was rising and falling erratically, and Isha wasn't sure what to make of it.

In the end, she just nodded, a barely-there shift of her head, and tried to sit still until Jinx continued speaking. She'd do anything she asked, at that moment. 

“I’m gonna play nurse now.” Jinx announced, standing up to grab the first-aid kit Isha already knew they stored in their bathroom cupboard and pulling out a little pair of black tweezers that she was dreading having anywhere near her.

She kept still, even as Jinx flinched while reaching for her hands, like they burned. 

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be that much of the glass that actually pierced her skin, and Isha was kind of relieved by the way Jinx sighed and blinked away tears every time she put a little bloodied piece on the napkin she’d set down on the table. 

It took somewhere between twenty minutes and forever, which she only knew because they kept a clock in the kitchen that she stared at, trying not to start choking again, and thought must be broken because it felt like an eternity by the time Jinx finally set the torture instruments down.

Isha didn’t complain; it was her own fault. 

“I think I got all the glass out, but tell me if you can feel anything,” she muttered, waiting for Isha to shake her head before she continued. “I need to disinfect it, but that’ll hurt a crap ton. Do you want Moony with you?”

Isha, for a second, considered it, almost nodded, desperately wanting the comfort of something soft and familiar. It would probably make everything easier, and she was about to freak out, anyway. 

Except her hands were still bloody and her nose snotty, and the thought of getting Moony dirty like that only made her feel even worse.

She shook her head. 

Jinx just smiled again, clearly trying to keep up a tough form for Isha – she knew what that looked like – and blinking away her tears through heavy breaths as she carefully cleaned up her palms. 

True to her word, the process hurt. A lot. 

But Isha didn't move or squirm or whine like she wanted to. She did nothing at all but sit perfectly still and try not to react to the fact that she was clearly upset. That never helped. 

Still, Jinx seemed good at reading her and took ample breaks with the excuse of needing to find clean pieces of gauze to tape her sensitive skin with, and while Isha could've pointed it out, she didn't. It was kind of nice how Jinx was always looking out for her, even when she clearly had bigger problems. 

Isha was probably the smallest problem in the world. Some kind of pest to be passed around once the adults trying for a kid realized how difficult she was, realized she came with a mom and a temper. 

But Jinx wasn't like that, and she read Isha like a book, always gentle and sweet with her. Again, Isha felt like the worst person alive. 

Jinx, however, didn't seem to mind, continuing to inspect Isha's hands meticulously until she looked back up at her, satisfied. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” she sighed, slumping against the chair. Isha just peered down at her curiously, waiting for the explanation she knew would come because Jinx was far kinder than she deserved. “The cuts aren’t deep enough for stitches, so we don’t have to go to the hospital.”

She just blinked, staring down at Jinx until she elaborated, still feeling her skin pull and sting when she tried to sign.

“Trust me, between me and my sister, we got stitches like twice a year,” Jinx snorted, now carefully bandaging Isha’s hand with a clean roll of gauze, despite how clearly her hands were shaking.

And Isha, because she did trust her, just nodded and waited for whatever would happen next.

There was blood and glass all over the living room floor, and Jinx still looked like she wasn’t breathing quite right. Isha wasn’t sure when they were going to address either of those, but she expected they’d come with punishment, so she kept her mouth shut and hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

Worst case scenario, she had the half-eaten food stash in her room to keep her fed if something really bad happened.

“Okay, kid, I have bad news,” Jinx announced solemnly, finally seeming to get her breathing in order, though Isha didn’t miss how she winced right after she talked. Guilt ate at her at the darkening red across her face. She should’ve been madder than she was. 

There it was.

She started to shake before Jinx was even halfway through the sentence. Surely that could only mean Isha was getting punished or kicked out. It wasn’t fair for her to cry since it had been what she wanted in the first place, though, so she held her tears back and pretended the words didn’t make her want to throw up.

“Ekko and I talked about how we were gonna, I don’t know, parent you or whatever? And we came to the conclusion that we’re using natural consequences,” Jinx sighed, so tense Isha was sure her shoulders were going to touch her ears. It looked like it hurt to even speak.

And Isha – she caught on immediately. She knew what that meant.

She closed her eyes quickly, bracing herself and hoping that, at least, Jinx wouldn’t hit her too hard. She looked gentle enough, but Isha had realized soon enough that she was surprisingly strong, and considering one of her hands was the size of half of Isha’s face, she kind of just wanted it over with.

Except, for some reason, no matter how much she held herself back and waited, the blow never came.

When she finally opened them again, feeling herself shake so hard she was sure she’d fall off the chair, Jinx was staring at her, pale and wide-eyed. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Isha, baby,” she gasped, immediately scooting even closer, hands hovering around her but not touching. She sounded like she was about to cry all over again. “I would never.” 

At that, Isha really did start crying all over again, unable to even rub the tears off because the gauze was scratchy, and she didn’t want Jinx’s work to get ruined because of her. Not when that was all she ever did.

Somehow, though, the woman didn’t seem to mind, just tilted her head, still looking at her with those soft, sympathetic eyes. 

“I would never hit you, I promise. Never ever,” she insisted, almost desperate, like she needed Isha to believe her. Then, biting her lip, she added, “Can I touch you?” 

Isha just nodded, finding she craved it as much as she was scared of it.

But Jinx was gentle, she always had been when it came to her, and she wrapped her arms around Isha carefully, pulling her in slowly, letting her get comfortable. Once she finally settled against Jinx, the woman stood up, carrying her to the living room and settling on the sofa, as far from the mess as she could manage.

From there, Isha found that instead of screaming or insulting her or even scolding her, she just rubbed small circles against her back and kept whispering the same soft assurances as before. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t explain this earlier, kid,” she sighed, now tangling one hand in her scalp, knowing Isha liked the feeling of her long nails scratching against it. “You just gotta help me clean up this shitshow. We’ll talk about what happened later.”

Again, Isha nodded, relaxing into the warm embrace and thinking that if Jinx could still treat her so carefully, with so much reverent affection, after the absolute meltdown she’d witnessed, maybe she wouldn’t leave her after all. She just hoped Ekko wouldn’t hate her too much either.

“Unfortunately, therapy is kind of non-negotiable now,” she sighed, pulling Isha’s head against her chest. They curled into each other on the sofa as Isha tried to relax into the touch, tried to remember it was okay. 

And really, Isha didn’t want therapy. Isha wanted to say no, was worried she’d be told she had a behavioral disorder again. Some kind of weird diagnosis she couldn’t quite grasp, but she knew meant she was bad. The kind of kid who was hard to work with and harder to keep around. 

She wondered what Jinx and Ekko would think of her then. They were already being far kinder than she’d ever expected of them.

Still, she didn’t want Jinx to change her mind on her after her tantrum, not when she’d been so kind about it, and Isha understood no one else would ever be again. She wanted to get into a fight with the woman even less; that just sounded like her worst nightmare.

So instead of saying anything, she curled closer into Jinx, tightened her hold on the woman’s top, and nodded mutely. By the way she hummed lightly, continuing to rub circles against Isha’s back, it was good enough for now.

Distantly, finally getting herself to truly relax, she registered that Jinx, though she’d started to sniffle, finally seemed to breathe right again, falling limp against the cushioned couch. 

/)/)

(  .  .)

That evening, as soon as Ekko walked through the door, Isha, sitting on the couch in the middle of the newly cleaned living room, flinched. Hard. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed, and his eyebrows immediately shot up as he turned to her. Only then did she notice he was carrying a medium-sized cardboard box and a smaller, red box with golden letters on top.

Any other day, though hesitantly, she’d be excited to see it, maybe even dare to run up to him and ask what he was carrying, and if it had anything to do with why he was home late. This time, however, she shrank against the couch and tried not to look too guilty. 

At the very least, despite Isha hearing Jinx on the phone with Ekko, talking about how she’d told Mylo and Claggor not to come until June, she’d more than filled him in, too. Isha was expecting him to look much more like he hated her, given how much he loved Jinx, but distantly, she realized it might be a trick.

Shockingly, he just put the boxes down and smiled, taking off his shoes and walking up to her in a swift motion. This time, she lowered her eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face. 

“Hi, Sprite. You okay?” He asked, sounding way too soft for her liking, only making the ringing in her ears get louder with the knowledge that no matter how sweetly he talked and how much she was starting to realize she actually really liked him, he definitely hated her now.

She nodded jerkily, still refusing to look up until he sighed and left, saying he’d make something quick for dinner so they could all eat when Jinx got out of the shower. She didn’t answer that.

Dinner was similarly quiet, and Isha hadn't realized just how much Ekko and Jinx had come to include her in their chatter, bouncing off what she said and complaining about school and work with her. 

Suddenly, the silence felt incriminating. Like they were waiting for her to say something, to defend herself, to get out of the room so they could talk between themselves. Probably about her, about calling Mel. 

Except they didn't say any of that, and instead, the three of them picked at their food in perfect silence until finally, almost at the end of their awkward meal, Jinx spoke. 

“What’s with the box?”

“Benzo sent it,” Ekko shrugged. “Said I might find it useful.”

“Wow, reassuring,” she snorted.

“I swear we’ve told them to stop saying cryptic shit a thousand times now,” he agreed, shaking his head with a fond shrug. 

“And the one currently sitting in the middle of my dinner table?”

“Oh, that’s for Ish. Thought I’d get us something sweet.” He smiled, turning to her, “Long day.”

“Yeah, I swear I can't wait for her to start a new school next year,” Jinx grumbled. 

Isha felt like she might start crying all over again. She didn’t understand why they could possibly be so sweet to her when all she’d done all day was mess up, when Jinx had to leave work early and pick her up, especially when all the counselor had said was that she needed a therapist and sent her on her way. None of it made any sense at all, and Isha didn’t deserve it. 

They should hate her.

Yet somehow, instead of hating her, Ekko was offering her pastries after dinner. Chocolate and butter because they were specifically picked out to cater to her and ‘Jinx would eat anything with enough sugar in it.’ Isha thought they might have been saying that for her benefit, so she would know not to feel bad.

She looked down, feeling tears welling up in her eyes again, and signed a small thank you , hunching in on herself as they both looked at her kindly. 

“Any time, Sprite. Pow and I used to do this all the time after we flunked an exam in college.” 

That , Isha wanted to point out, was different. She had something wrong with her, something inarguably bad , and she didn't deserve any of their kindness. 

But in the end, the pastries were good and Isha nibbled on them gratefully, quickly apologizing and kicking herself in her room right after, hearing their distant voices from the other side of the door. She thought maybe they were whispering so she couldn't hear. 

She shook her head, grabbed Moony and climbed into the big princess bed they'd bought just for her, hugging him close and curling her body around him. 

She considered, for a second, that maybe she should pack her things, but Jinx had already told her she wasn't going anywhere, and she didn't want to upset them again, so she stayed put. 

It turned out to be a good decision in the end, because though she didn't move from her place, too tired to even try to play on her iPad or really do anything except try to fall asleep, Jinx knocked on the door.

It was a habit now, between the two of them, for Jinx to tuck Isha in, and while the woman always backed off if Isha asked, this time she found herself craving the closeness more than ever. She wasn't fully convinced it wouldn't be the last time, after all. 

They had a system for this, and Isha knocked twice against the wall, giving Jinx the go-ahead and wondering why she would still want to talk to Isha. 

But Jinx pranced in, same as always, carrying herself like she owned the space she occupied, and smiled brightly. 

“Hey, baby, you okay? Ekko and I were worried.” 

She frowned, confused. “Ekko doesn't hate me?”

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger,” she snorted. “Why would he hate you?”

Her frown only deepened, and she buried herself more against Moony, finding little place to hide in her thin summer sheets. “I hit you.” 

“And you apologized and agreed to therapy,” Jinx nodded. “I was a menace as a kid too. We'll figure it out.” 

Isha just sniffled, nodding even if she wasn't sure if Jinx was telling the truth.

“But Ekko loves you, and I hurt you.” 

“He loves you too, terror.” 

She shook her head. “He loves you like Mommy loved my dad. ”

“Nah, we're just friends,” she smiled, though Isha thought she looked a little sad. “You know how it went: I attached myself to him when we were kids and now it's impossible to get rid of me.”

Isha did know that – secretly, it was one of those things she found stupid. 

She decided that, things already having gone as badly as they did, her curiosity could win over her fear this once. 

“Why?” 

At that, Jinx looked away, picking at the skin surrounding her nails with a frown. She had that faraway look again, and it made Isha's stomach drop. All she seemed to be doing lately was upsetting her. 

Still, before she could take it back, Jinx was speaking again in the same low voice she recognized from her mother. 

“I wouldn't be good for him,” she sighed, looking pained to even admit it, glaring at her bloodied skin like she was mad at her own hands instead of Isha's big mouth. 

She shouldn't have pushed, she really should have nodded and kept her mouth shut and gone to bed. 

“That's not true.” 

“You just have too high of an opinion of me,” Jinx huffed, looking at her with the same fond smile that always made her feel protected from the world. “I usually end up hurting the people I get too close to. Ekko's too good for that.” 

“You should get married,” she insisted, “you love each other.”

“We'll see, kid,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss Isha's forehead like she did every night and telling her to wake them up if she needed anything. 

She just nodded, brows furrowed, watching her leave before curling into herself and trying to fall asleep. She didn't want to risk a fight after what had happened – lest Jinx realize whatever she saw in Isha that was worth keeping around wasn't enough for all the trouble she caused – no matter how much she thought they were being stupid.  

More than anything, she found herself wanting to take Jinx up on her offer for the first time; she wanted to kick the sheets off herself and run into their bed, have them promise they were family and sleep with a warm presence that wasn't Moony absorbing her own body heat for once. 

She didn't move.

Still, she thought that Jinx had no idea what she was talking about— Isha had never met someone it hurt to be around less. 

Chapter Text

Ekko had not known a single moment of peace since the tender age of eight. 

Naturally, this fully fell on his childhood best friend and her family, which she'd, for some reason, dragged into their relationship, claiming they'd like each other, and Ekko, too meek to argue, would've readily agreed to anything that made her smile big enough to show the gap in her front teeth.

Unfortunately, they did end up liking each other so much that Ekko's life had been split in a firm line: before and after , and only one side was lined in the blue strokes of Powder's eyes. Silver linings, Benzo had called them, in light of the brutal reality they'd come about in the first place. 

So basically he was screwed from the second she invited him to family dinner. 

Except maybe, even in absence of Powder's friendship, things would've ended up the same considering Vander was Benzo's best friend too, and Ekko had been taken into a built-in two-family unit. 

That was to say, Ekko was irrecoverably, inevitably attached to a group of hooligans that pulled crap like showing up to his house unannounced on a Sunday morning a week after his kid’s school ended and a day after he finally, finally got his vacation. 

“Good morning, America!” A loud voice howled, slamming open the front door, followed by a resounding smack and a low whine, waking him up with the sinking feeling that Mylo and Vi were prancing around his home before he was even out of bed. 

“Can you shut up!” A second voice hissed, distinctly feminine, and undoubtedly Vi’s.

Disgruntled, he turned, reaching for his phone, trying to at least reason with himself that it couldn't be that outrageous of a time if they felt like it would be okay to wail around the house like crazy people. 

But of course, he sorely underestimated their capacity to be a pain in his ass and the clock only confirmed that this nightmare was taking place at eight forty nine in the morning. 

Which he found rather ironic considering that Vi, like her sister, had inherited a knack for never being out of bed eleven if it could be helped.

For a second, that thought was almost enlightening enough that it made him think it clearly had to be much later and there was no way they'd risk waking up his sleeping kid before noon on a Sunday— not with how they were raised, anyway. Clearly, his vision must be failing him and he'd gotten a comfortable nine hours in. 

With this in mind, he turned his phone back on and blinked, once, twice, begging the number to change.

And yet, no matter how much he glared at the damn screen, it was still barely nine am and Ekko was still being woken up the single day he decided to sleep in on account of the kid in the room next to theirs having spent the better part of last night in hysterics.

Really, it was his mistake for expecting any semblance of peace from his family knowing they were all driving up to their parents’ on Monday.

Fact he was only reminded of when he heard Mylo's voice call out through his living room again followed by some kind of bang that made him astutely aware of two things: Isha's room was the closest to the source of the noise, and Ekko was not above murder. 

“I’m killing your siblings in cold blood,” he hissed, nudging Jinx until finally, she stirred, sparing him only a short glare before turning.

“You've basically been part of the family since you were eight,” she groaned, curling further into herself, probably already asleep again by the time Ekko opened his mouth.

“They're your family when they're like this,” he grumbled, pulling himself out of bed while Jinx, the absolute traitor she was, pulled the sheets over her head and sank deeper into the little nest of cushions she slept in. 

Had he not been so worried about the woman actually getting enough rest, which had always been a struggle, he would've pulled her out with him.

Alas, his life fucking sucked and he had to be the one to get out of bed while Jinx slept. Because he cared about her health and the new pills were finally working. Or whatever. 

Still, he at least had the right to be annoyed. Isha had woken them up crying because of nightmares, too hysterical to ‘calm herself down like she usually did’— remark that made Ekko feel like he was losing years off his life— and entirely convinced that despite it being weeks since the infamous meltdown, they would still somehow change their minds and kick her out. 

They'd spent the better half of the night trying to get her to calm down enough to fall asleep, and it didn't work until almost three am and the promise of the new plushie they'd been putting off buying. She hadn't known about it until then, but Jinx had promised her one sometime in the past, and it had been the intention from the start.

The fact Ekko still avoided places his mother used to frequent like her ghost would haunt him was entirely his own problem, and not one he wished to push onto her. They'd decided the store a long time ago, and it would stay that way, even if it had made them put off the trip.

The whole ordeal was undeniably progress, but despite the relief they'd felt when Isha reached for both of them, it had been exhausting, and he wanted nothing more than for the girl to sleep through the morning, even if he couldn't.

Meaning when he finally got out of bed and shot through the living room, he was about three seconds away from bloody murder. 

“Didn't Jinx tell you to come tomorrow so we can all drive up together?” He muttered, rubbing a hand against his face in hopes he'd somehow wipe away the exhaustion with it. 

Of course, it didn't, and when he opened his eyes again they still burned like hell, and his family was still gathered in his living room trying to look innocent.

“Aw, but we missed our baby sister,” Mylo grinned, only to be met with Ekko's glare and falling back with a dramatic sigh. “Clag and I wanted to meet our niece.” 

“Your niece ,” he spat, almost feeling bad for his harsh tone but unable to let go of the memory of Isha's red eyes, “is asleep, and I swear if you wake her, you won't be meeting anyone but the Grim Reaper.” 

“Wow, someone's in a bad mood,” he grinned, leaning back with an infuriatingly smug smile, but still lowering his voice instantly. 

Despite himself, he relaxed, turning to the most favorable one of the siblings and sagging against him on the couch. 

“Morning, Clag,” he yawned, letting the older man wrap an arm around his shoulder, resting for the few minutes he still could, “surprised you agreed to this.” 

“I actually did miss my baby siblings,” he chuckled, squeezing Ekko's shoulders in a notion so reminiscent of Vander he had half a mind to pack everything and load Caitlyn's car right then and there. She was a smooth driver and Isha could sleep on the way.

“Yeah, well, Powder's dead to the world until future notice, you know how it is.” 

Right on cue, Vi started grumbling, wrapping herself around her girlfriend, who had stayed graciously silent, and closing her eyes. 

“Can't believe Pow gets to sleep after you woke me up at seven am.” 

Finally, Caitlyn giggled, pressing a gentle kiss against her girlfriend's head, clearly having no regard to the fact that it was just nine and Ekko didn't deserve this considering he was getting nowhere with Jinx. “Well, darling, you were rather impatient to see Isha again.” 

“She has been kept from me for ages ,” Vi complained, sinking further into her girlfriend's embrace and kicking her legs on her brothers’ laps, fully intending to fall asleep on Ekko's couch. 

“You saw her last week,” he huffed, pulling himself up and deciding that he may as well make breakfast for his girls before they woke up.

“Okay so Pow has been kept from me for ages.” 

“You saw her three weeks ago,” Ekko snorted, making his way to the kitchen, deciding there was no use in trying to get Vi off his couch before Jinx and Isha were out of bed.

Thankfully, Vi's girlfriend, despite the wealthy background rendering their bond taut with tension, was an actual angel, and followed after him while Vi fell asleep on his couch. 

Minutes later, Claggor followed and he could only assume Mylo, who'd always taken more after Vi and Powder, had flopped down on his sister's lap to nap, himself.

“What are we making, then?” Caitlyn smiled, small and gentle, like she was sorry for the ruckus she didn't cause, and Ekko almost wondered why he'd found her so stuck up back in college. 

“Chocolate pancakes,” he yawned, reaching around the kitchen to gather all the ingredients as they both peered at him curiously. 

“Why chocolate?” She asked curiously, reaching for the big bowl she knew they kept in the cupboards above the counter while Claggor cleared the area. 

“Well, she has Pow's sweet tooth, for starters,” he snorted. “And we do this thing where I cut her food into shapes to try and make things easier for her.”

“Like Vander and Benzo had to do for you and Pow?” 

“Nah, I'm pretty sure the kid would eat dirt if we let her, but I think she's kind of stressed about it,” he sighed. “I want her to actually enjoy meals, is all.”  

It was true, and really, Ekko wasn't sure when exactly he'd gotten the idea to get creative with Isha's food— when he'd picked up on her grimace every time a plate was set in front of her, looking at it like it would bite only to scarf it down like it would get taken away no matter how many times they assured her she could have something else. 

Except every time they tried to bring it up, she denied every problem ever existing and Ekko and Jinx were left to guess and make whatever changes they could. They mainly manifested into bowls of snacks on the pantry, and fun designs on her plates. 

Thankfully, it made Isha at least a bit more focused on the art than the food itself, and Ekko found himself feeling like he'd won a prize every time her shoulders sagged after she sat down.

“Vander used to buy curly straws,” Claggor nodded, not prodding but still looking like he knew all the answers. Ekko wanted to shake him and beg for them. “I saw a brand that made them cleanable too. You know, so you can reuse them.” 

“That might be a good idea,” he agreed, “I'll ask when we visit.”

“I used to have engraved utensils,” Caitlyn added, carefully cracking the eggs while Claggor washed a bowl of strawberries he'd set out.

“What, like, ‘ property of Caitlyn Kiramman’ on your spoons?” He grinned, imitating a terrible British accent, while he measured the milk and the butter. He may not hate the idea of her anymore, but Ekko wasn't above teasing.

“No, you hooligan,” she huffed, going on to mix in the milk, while he cackled. Really, speaking like that, she made it easy. “I meant my parents bought me a set with the handles shaped like giraffes. They used to make me quite happy when I was younger.”

“Honestly, that sounds like it would get Powder to eat now ,” Ekko giggled, handing over the butter, and moving onto the dry ingredients. 

Beside him, Claggor had taken to washing an assortment of other colorful berries together. He'd always been much quieter than the rest of them and just listened contentedly, but still snorted at the mention of his sister. “It would.”

With that, the three of them fell into a content silence, with Ekko mixing the dry ingredients together, adding a hefty amount of sugar to make up for the cocoa powder, and handing it over to Caitlyn, who swiftly baked the batter together.

“Mm, private chefs teach you how to cook?” Ekko snorted.

Caitlyn, of course, shoved him but by the way she went bright red and muttered about how they only had them on week nights , he knew he was right. 

“Aw, it's okay, I think it's cute,” he laughed.

“Jinx is a horrible influence on you,” Caitlyn retorted, sticking her nose up haughtily and mixing with a newfound ferocity. 

Eventually, Ekko turned on Isha’s playlist on his phone, finding his kid's taste oddly comforting, despite knowing it was an overall unpopular sentiment.

Really, he supposed he was lucky because her latest obsession was beabadoobee and soon, a soft voice started wringing out through the apartment just as Claggor set the pan to sizzle. 

Peacefully, as the tune of the guitar wrung out through the kitchen, following the flow of a sweet summer tune, Cait swayed while she cooked the pancakes, heeding Ekko's warning that Jinx, and secretly Isha who was always so hesitant about expressing opinions, liked them fluffy. 

Meanwhile, Claggor started washing the dishes and Ekko settled on the table, cutting the strawberries into neat, heart shaped slices, humming under his breath. 

Swaying to it, time passed until they found themselves with several stacks of pancakes and no new family members in the kitchen.

Thankfully, Caitlyn had cooked them small enough for several to fit onto a single plate, and Ekko took to carefully arranging them as the smell of chocolate carried over with the music. 

“It’s already past eleven,” Caitlyn hummed, “should we wake them?” 

“I don't think Vi or Mylo will move until Isha wakes up,” Claggor snorted, presumably finishing up the cleaning while Caitlyn put everything away. 

“She usually starts getting restless by now, but she had a rough night. You can cut those banana pieces into stars, though,,” Ekko grinned, carefully decorating several pancakes for Isha. 

Blessedly, he found a plate that could fit several stacks and started by spreading dark chocolate sprinkles all over them. Then, much more carefully, he drew thin syrupy lines, in the shape of little arms holding up a carefully placed piece of fruit each. 

Finally, he took a step back, grinning, and started spreading several berries all over the plate, creating a bed to place scarcer pieces of banana and strawberry shapes until the whole thing was so colorful he could barely see the plate apart from the careful gaps around the pancakes and the arms.

Satisfied, he grabbed the whipped cream they'd bought for special occasions and started forming big circles on each of them, generously topping the center with syrup in the shape of eyes. 

By then, Caitlyn and Claggor had already arranged several plates of normal pancakes and thrown all the fruit into a big bowl on the center of the table, waiting for Ekko's next instruction. 

Luckily, he'd been doing this every morning for months now, and he had the timing down to a science. 

“Help me set the table. Pow's probably waking up Isha by now.” 

Predictably, like clockwork, the last utensils were set beside the plates, and Jinx was walking into the room with a lazy grin, stretching her arms and immediately flopping onto Ekko’s side. 

“Went all out for our dear guests, huh?” 

“Isha had a long night,” he snorted, pulling her in by the waist, watching the rest of their family file in with similarly tired expressions. 

Annoying as they were, he thought he would always revel in these moments when he could hold Jinx close and watch the people they grew up with surround them with warm smiles. 

Vi, of course, wasted no time in settling next to Caitlyn, and, when Jinx hid her face against the crook of his neck, Ekko found he didn't mind the sappiness so much. 

“Mm,” Jinx nodded, pulling them both to sit down, “our demon's still in her room.”

“She okay?” 

“Oh, yeah,” she grinned, “but with the circus in town and all, she needs a minute. I mean, I would too if I had to meet Mylo.”

“Fuck off,” the man grumbled across from her, though there was no heat behind it— nothing like when they were kids. “We brought presents.” 

Still, Jinx shot up, clearly ready to get into a fight with him, both of them never truly letting go of their teasing, but before she could argue, the soft pitter patter of tiny steps filled the room, and all of them fell silent at once.

Soon, all that could be heard was a woman's gentle singing voice, and a child's excited hum, clearly enticed by the music, only to freeze in the doorway, like she'd forgotten where she was and who was expecting her.

Predictably, Jinx was the first to speak, always quick to put her at ease, “morning, terror. You feeling okay?” 

Isha smiled, having always been fond of the nickname, and nodded before taking the seat between the two of them, only to find herself face to face with the plate Ekko had meticulously put together for her. 

Instantly, she froze, looking at it with wide eyes, unmoving, and Ekko swore his heart stopped right there and then. If he could've, he would've packed everything up, sent everyone away and had a normal morning with normal pancakes and no novelty to throw her off. 

He was pretty sure he was the worst person alive right then.

Unfortunately though, time travel was yet to be invented and Ekko was left agonizingly counting the seconds until Isha moved, knowing it was the first time she'd reacted this way since the beginning. He wondered if he'd finally taken it too far and the whole thing was a charade to keep him happy.

The wait was excruciating, and once again he found himself face to face with the knowledge that he tended to go all out far too often and with far too little regard— he was sure this would be the time that he finally screwed up for good. 

Once Isha finally moved, it was to do nothing but stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, making Ekko distinctly aware that while he always took care to make her food fun, he'd never gone this overboard with it. 

The feeling of crowding her buzzed under his skin like a swarm of bees.

He wished for nothing more than to fix everything, make her not hate him, go back and be the person she wanted to see when he first walked through the door months ago.

He was sure Isha hated him even more, somehow.

Until, all at once, he felt a slamming weight against him, and Jinx's loud laughter beside him— she always claimed he found his obliviousness hilarious. 

Instinctively, his arms curled around Isha's back, who was now firmly clinging to his waist, holding onto his shirt like there was anything in the world that could make Ekko let go. 

Gingerly, he moved a hand to her hair, let it settle on the back of her head, and traced it in soft, soothing motions. 

“Morning, sprite,” he smiled, unable to stop himself from laughing at his own little joke, and feeling Isha's own giggles shake her against him. Then, lowering his voice, “are pancakes okay? They're chocolate, but we can always make something else.” 

Hurriedly, Isha shook her head, settling back down on her seat as her fingers wrapped around the rim of her plate protectively. 

“You're so cheesy,” she declared, turning her nose and grabbing her fork haughtily. Clearly, she'd been spending too much time with Caitlyn.

Still, Ekko didn't miss the way she started to eat each piece with extra care, wiggling a little every time, and he felt his heart warm at the sight. 

With that, like a spell had been broken, the tension was gone and everyone else started eating too, Vi and Mylo especially enthusiastically, saying Ekko's food was just like Vander's and Jinx didn't know what she had. He snorted, knowing they were just flattering him, but still preening at the praise. 

Eventually, Isha did start talking to them, having brought her iPad with her and feeling comfortable trying to exchange short pleasantries. Ekko made a mental note of thanking them for not crowding her later and soon, breakfast was the rowdy, messy affair he remembered growing up with. 

Until, inevitably, someone saw the ugly bruise still refusing to fade on Jinx's cheek, because the girl had always been slow to heal. 

“What's with the shiner?” Mylo hummed, finally slowing down on the food and turning to his sister. 

Instantly, Isha tensed up beside him, and Ekko wanted nothing more than to reach out for her and assure her for the thousandth time that it was okay, that they'd talked about it, that they knew she didn't mean any harm. 

She'd apologized about a hundred times every time, promising again and again she wouldn't do it again and the guilt in her eyes alone was enough to make them believe her. Anything else just felt like unfair punishment. 

It wasn't like the whole thing was consequence free, anyway: she was going to therapy as soon as they got back, she had to clean everything up, and they already had a serious talk about violence and burning bridges. 

“Oh, Isha was going on a little rampage, you know, like when we were kids. Anyway, I tried to grab her,” Jinx shrugged. “Little terror punched me right in the face.” 

“Yeah, that'll do it,” Claggor sighed, almost making Ekko laugh at the sympathetic resignation to his features. 

He'd always been the peacekeeper out of the siblings, and it wouldn't be the first time someone had hit him in a panic. Looking back, Ekko thought they really should've called him when it happened, but they were too ashamed to reach out— it was clearly a mistake, seeing how sadly he smiled now. 

“Kid has a solid hook,” Vi nodded, and ever the big sister, she lifted Jinx's chin and inspected her face gently, zooming in on the light purple standing out against her pale skin.

At that, Isha squirmed turning to Ekko with wide pleading eyes, half-lifting her hands like she was about to say something and then looking back down like she couldn't, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pouted. It made him wish he could read her mind if it would make her stop looking so upset. 

“That's what I said,” Jinx agreed, scooping up the remainder of the syrup on her plate without a care in the world. 

The sight almost made Ekko laugh, overcome by a fond sense of nostalgia, of breakfasts with Powder and Mylo sulking about and the adults laughing at their pettiness. It always felt like the world was ending back then, but it just looked like a fond memory now. 

But he was still laser focused on Isha, remembering how it used to be, watching her breathe deeply as she inspected everyone carefully. 

His heart swelled with pride, recognizing the coping skills they'd taught her, and finally, he relaxed himself, joining in on the conversation, finding he missed all of them more than he liked to admit, and revelling in the feeling of being together again. 

“Blocking with your face runs in the family,” he grinned, making Vi stick her middle finger out at him, while everyone laughed and jab her for her aggressive career as they liked to call it. 

“Fuck off, Little Man, not all of us can be boring.” She grumbled. “Plus, I won my last match.”

But before he could retort again, he felt a tug on his shirt, and looking down, he found Isha's big puppy eyes staring up at him so intensely he just knew she was asking for something. 

Thankfully, Jinx, always honed in to how the little girl was doing, took notice and steered the conversation away enough so he could talk to her directly. 

“You okay?” He signed, smiling at her encouragingly, happy that she reached out to him at all. 

Carefully, Isha nodded, almost as if considering what she was going to do next before moving her hands in small, hesitant little motions. “I want a hug.”

Suddenly, the way she was looking at Jinx and Vi clicked into place and Ekko was pretty sure his heart would crack open. 

“C’mere, sprite,” he smiled, reaching out to plop Isha against his lap and letting her settle, happily leaning back against him with a hum.

And with that, breakfast continued in a quiet lull, with Isha interjecting from her seat in Ekko's lap, and Jinx looking at them with that horribly kind expression that almost made him think things would work out between them even if he never quite grew enough of a spine to ask why they weren't together. 

“I have presents!” Mylo announced, standing up once everyone was done eating, grinning so wide Ekko was sure his face had to hurt with it. It was almost endearing enough that he wanted to forgive him. 

“He means both of us,” Claggor snorted, as Mylo left into the living room to grab the colorful bags they'd arrived with.

“For Isha,” Mylo added, like it wasn't obvious.

Except maybe, Ekko thought, watching her still and turning to Jinx like she was waiting for her verdict, maybe it wasn't. 

Thankfully, all Mylo and Claggor did was soften, lower their voices into something calmer, probably remembering what the first year with Vander was like, and smile kindly. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he'd called them down sooner— it was clearly a mistake to pull away.

He made a mental note to call Scar and Eve too, along with the rest of their group. They'd see Lux and Ez soon but he missed everyone more than he'd realized.

“We asked Pow for advice on what to get,” they added proudly. 

“Honestly, what would we do without her?” 

With that, the gift bag was unceremoniously put forward as Isha stared at it like a deer caught in headlights. 

Except, fortunately, Jinx had some kind of deep, instinctual knowing in her bones and always seemed to understand when to speak up. “Just remember that if you love it, I gave them the idea, and if you hate it, I had nothing to do with that crap.” 

As expected, Isha giggled, probably a pavlovian response to Jinx's voice at that point, suddenly feeling a lot braver about the whole situation and peering into the bag curiously. Rummaging through it, she gasped in delight, pulling out an assortment of brand-new art supplies with a bright smile. 

First, it was a big sketchbook with a bright blue cover, full of small rainbow bubbles and smaller coral-colored creatures lying on them. 

Instantly, Isha turned to Jinx, who just shrugged. 

“I told them you liked Ghibli. We haven't seen Ponyo yet, though.”

For a second the girl drooped, looking at the sketchbook again almost like she was disappointed— more in herself than she was her present, and horrifyingly, Ekko felt her pill away. 

“We can all watch it together when we're in Oregon,” Caitlyn amended, smiling kindly like the guardian angel of his mental sanity, making Isha grin, eyes practically sparkling with the joy of it. 

Next, she pulled out a set of soft pastels so big she could barely hold it up; ‘75 wax crayons’, it read, in bold letters across the box, right above a picture of a stack of vivid colors. 

Ekko instantly recognized the brand as what he'd grown up using, painting murals across the large paper scrolls Benzo bought for him, as Jinx took to colored pencils and doodles, instead. Secretly, he wished Isha would ask him to teach her. 

Finally, she pulled out a medium-sized piece of paper, more fragile and unassuming than the rest of the presents, but upon reading, her eyes instantly widened as she whipped her head between Ekko and Jinx before gaping at Mylo and Claggor like a fish. 

10 rock climbing classes for beginners were written across the flimsy paper that Ekko knew belonged to their local gym. He'd never been happier to live right outside a big city as he was when he saw the way his girl’s eyes started to water, looking at the damn coupon like it meant the world. 

Finally, she moved, looking up at him, then at Jinx, then turning to type away at her little iPad: “Can I really go?”

“I meant it when I told you there's plenty of things for you to climb and give us a heart attack, kid.” 

“Now, what do we say?” Ekko grinned, feeling entirely too much like the forty year old man that raised him instead of his very much twenty-seven year old self.

Immediately, Isha stood up, nodding brightly, and practically sprinted to the other side of the table, all but tackling Mylo in a hug, looking up at him with an excited grin before moving to hug Claggor less emphatically but equally as tightly.

“Thank you.”

Really, he didn't expect nor intend for anything more than a polite thanks because teaching her manners was now a thing he was supposed to do. But clearly, neither did Mylo and Claggor by the way they looked up at him and Jinx, clearly stunned and almost too scared to move. 

Unfortunately, they forgot who their sister was because she just pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh at them too hard.

(She failed, almost doubling over at their dumbfounded expressions.) 

Vi, however, had no such qualms and instantly declared they were stealing away Isha's hard-earned affections, which was, apparently, unacceptable, and demanded they give them back.

Except Isha was already far too used to Vi's antics and doubly as tired of them because she just rolled her eyes and stood up to hug her as well. Though judging by the way she nuzzled against her, it was mostly just an excuse to be close to her aunt.  

The effect was almost instant and Vi smirked at Mylo with a pleased smirk, resting her hand against the back of Isha's head.

That was, of course, until Isha moved again, finally tugging gently on Caitlyn's skirt while the two of them clumsily tried to communicate with ASL, half-made up signs, and guessing games Jinx refused to help or let him help with because “she enjoyed watching Caitlyn squirm”. 

Eventually, of course, they figured it out, and Isha ended up settling on one of Caitlyn's legs, leaning comfortably against her stomach. 

“I fear I win, love,” she grinned, turning to her girlfriend with a competitive smirk as Isha giggled happily, looking up at her openly favorite aunt with a wide grin. 

Isha just smiled, clearly pleased and unused to all the affection, turning again to Ekko and Jinx for their approval, like she wanted to make sure it was all okay— and because the both of them thought she deserved the world, they just smiled. 

“That's just because you're her favorite,” Vi scoffed, looking away with a moody pout that almost reminded Ekko of being teenagers again. It was immature in a way Vi had never allowed herself to be when they were younger and he found himself grateful that Caitlyn was so good to her. 

“Not if I win over the title,” Mylo declared, slamming his hand down against the table as Claggor leaned back with an amused huff. 

“Ooh, and how are you gonna do that?” Jinx giggled, leaning forward. “Because I know it's kinda old-fashioned or whatever, but I think a fight to the death is a good option. Worst case scenario, we get rid of Miss Monopoly over here.”

“Oh, please ,” Caitlyn scoffed, “like I'd lose to your brother.” 

“Would it be with weapons or hand to-hand?” 

“I wouldn't lose either way so it hardly matters, does it?”

“Oh, I don't know, I think if we let you both loose in the woods like some Lord of the Flies situation, Mylo would probably best you—”

“Best present wins!” Vi declared instead, completely bulldozing over both of them, clearly taking it far more seriously than either of them.

“No asking Isha what she wants!” Mylo called back, grinning with equal determination, clearly not offended at the implication he'd somehow lose against Caitlyn, at least having that amount of sense.

“Winner is announced at seven pm today,” Vi concluded. 

“You are not eating dinner with us tonight—”

“Yes, we are.”

“Mylo, I swear—”

“I'll cook,” Claggor cut in appeasingly. “Caitlyn wanted to show me some British recipe, anyway.” 

And with that promise, the morning was settled and Jinx, Isha, Mylo, and Vi went on to clean up breakfast and wash the remaining dishes while Caitlyn and Claggor announced they were heading to the grocery store, having no intention to join in on their little competition.

Meanwhile, Ekko sighed, searching for the following bus departures, deciding that if everyone was going to be out all day, they might as well go get the plushie they'd been wanting to buy Isha. 

There was no use putting it off anymore, anyway, not with Benzo's box sitting underneath their bed, and not with the upcoming trip being bound to include a visit to her grave.

Initially, putting it off had been nothing more than a slip-up, but once they eventually found out where Vi got the original plushie— or rather, who she'd got it from— the whole trip suddenly felt far too daunting to actually make. Especially after he read through old correspondence and downloaded pictures from an old bright green flip phone. 

Really, there was no doubt about where Moony had come from anymore, and finally visiting the same chain his mother had years ago felt uncomfortably full-circle in a way nobody really wanted to face. 

But they were driving up to see Vander and Benzo the next morning, and they'd been promising Isha to get a plush for weeks. It was mostly their mistake— she knew how much the bunny meant to Jinx, and the intent behind getting her something similar wasn't lost on her. All in all, the poor girl was remarkably patient and they'd promised. 

Isha, of course, was delighted at both her wish being fulfilled and the chance to both go and eat at the mall again. 

Apparently, the chain had opened a pop-up in one of the million ever-changing storefronts and, while it was small, it would be enough to keep their promise. 

The store itself was quaint, decorated with pastel pink walls and overflowing shelves full of plushies of all kinds, all of them having a signature brand of strangeness that made them distinctive. 

Predictably, Isha flocked to those of them that had wings, claiming Moony needed a buddy, only to light up when she recognized the same signature wings and soft, patterned fabric on the rest of the plushies, whipping around to them like they'd somehow figured it all out. 

Secretly, Ekko felt kind of guilty to admit that they kind of had . That he knew exactly who got her Moony and exactly how she and him were actually connected, why they didn't know about each other. That, in some strange way, Moony was a family heirloom of a family she was never truly meant to join. 

Still, he just smiled and let her enjoy the store, allowing her to feel close to her mother. He knew, better than most, how it felt and, if it was for Isha, he was pretty sure he'd do just about anything. 

“We'll explain when we get home.”

“Just focus on getting the ugliest, most expensive creature you can find,” Jinx agreed.

The both of them just followed her around the store happily, enjoying the way she gasped and ooh-ed at every plushie that caught her attention, holding them up against Moony and swearing up and down that when she found the one it would somehow speak to her. 

That was, of course, until she found herself face to face with a bunny rabbit identical to Jinx's, only set apart by the fact that while hers was pink, this one was a light shade of baby blue in perfect contrast with the elephant she was always clutching.

Ekko swore his whole life snapped into place. 

Instantly, she turned to Jinx, bouncing on her heels with stars in her eyes, almost as if asking for permission, looking at her like it was the best thing that had ever happened. 

Even if Jinx wanted to, Ekko knew she couldn't say no to that look. 

“You wanna match?” She grinned, gingerly grabbing the plushie by one of its ears and dropping it into Isha's arms.

Ekko, meanwhile, just remembered what Jinx had said: that Inna had recommended the store, that she was the only reason Vi bought the bunny at all, that his mom was, distantly, still with him. 

He wondered what Isha would think if he told her. He wondered if she would hate him even more once he laid it all out: a box full of old words, oversaturated digital memories, and the idea that in a perfect world, they'd always been tied together. 

In the end, though, he shook his head and smiled down at her, deciding that there was no need to ruin the mood bringing up ghosts looming over his shoulder or similar depressing nonsense when they had all night for such fitting melancholy. 

“Come on, let's go pay and then you can pick a restaurant for lunch.” 

Except things were truly never that easy nor that peaceful for Ekko because next thing he knew he was face to face with a middle-aged woman with a tight smile and that look in her eyes that told him she couldn't be thinking anything good. 

For the thousandth time, he wished his mother was there to shut her up with that quick glare he'd never quite perfected. He missed her double at times like these, when he had a small kid looking up to him and yet he felt one looking up for his mother himself. 

“Is this your daughter?” She asked, taking the plush Isha was so carefully presenting and pulling off the alarm tag attached to its ear, all while levelling them with suspicious looks. Truly, Ekko wondered why it would be any of her business. 

“Yes,” he sighed, trying to keep his voice level, trying to sound as proud as he was despite the weird look on her face. 

“She's very pretty,” she hummed, looking Isha up and down in a way that made Ekko tense and the little girl squirm— it felt more like an inspection than flattery, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to back off at the sight of Isha's discomfort. 

But because Isha was an angel of a girl she still smiled and signed a polite thanks. 

“Yeah,” Ekko amended, cutting in before the woman could say anything about the lack of words, “she's a great kid.” 

“So you're her parents then?” She insisted, looking warier by the second.

Still, before any kind of annoyance could get to him, Jinx, who'd always been more impatient than he was, snapped. “What did we just say, lady?”

Judging by the way Isha ducked her head with a little smile, it was the right move. They'd try to teach her about rudeness later. 

Somehow, though, the woman found something even more passive aggressive to respond with. 

“Well, you sure had her… young.”

Ah, he thought, there it was. 

Beside them, Isha tensed, clutching Moony closer to her chest like it would somehow get taken away from her while Jinx stilled, shoulders rolled back and arms stiff against her sides. He wondered what the hell would possess someone to say something like that and what she expected them to respond. 

But before Ekko could say anything, Jinx was already smiling, wide and guileless, all puppy eyes and dumb confusion. 

“Yeah, I used to be a massive slut.”

Isha hunched forward, starting to shake with silent laughter. Ekko himself looked down and tried to hide his smirk, reminding himself he was supposed to be setting a good example. 

Jinx, however, firmly held eye contact, joining her fingers and leaning over the counter, watching the woman carefully punch something onto the computer and put Isha's new toy in a bright pink paper bag. 

Then, because Jinx had decided to torture the woman, “gave it out for a dime, if you know what I mean.”

Ekko choked, starting to wonder if he was supposed to cover Isha's ears, but she didn't speak again, and the whole situation just got funnier the more they stood in silence, with Jinx refusing to budge and the woman looking equal parts offended and shell-shocked. 

By the time they finally got out of the store, the first thing Isha did was burst out laughing, squeezing both of her plushies close to her chest in a gesture so freely childish that Ekko wished he could snap a picture and send it to Inna and Ivy.

He'd since given up on the desire to lose his grief— he'd long for the both of them, a life where they grew up together and Isha was his little cousin and nothing more, until he died. That was just the fact of it; he never stopped needing his mother and he'd never stop wishing Isha had hers. 

It was okay because it had to be, and it was okay until he searched his phone and found he didn't have his mother's contact. 

But with Isha laughing, Jinx was quick to follow, grinning and preening proudly, and Ekko found that a fantasy of a life well-lived did nothing but take him away from an actual life. 

“So, you had a baby without me, huh?” He huffed, turning to Jinx in faux offense, trying to keep his face straight but finding he could do nothing but grin when her big eyes focused on his. 

Maybe he'd never quite stop grieving his fantasy, but every time Jinx turned to him, rosy-cheeked with the evidence of a bearing heart, he thought he was the luckiest man alive for being born in the reality where she'd survived their childhood. 

“It’s like I said,” she grinned, looking up at him through her long eyelashes, “ total slut.”

Then, because she was turning into a mini-Jinx in the best way possible, Isha's expression turned somber. 

“You're not my real dad?” 

“Well, we'd have to take a paternity test to be sure,” Jinx sighed, putting a hand on Isha's shoulder, “I mean, I got around, you know—”

“I did not get you pregnant when we were seventeen—” 

“That you know of—”

“But I look more like Mamma,” Isha interjected, making Ekko feel like his brain was shutting down and rebooting, while Jinx looked like she was about to pass out on the spot. 

Still, she was biting her lip, wide-eyed at what she'd said and clearly nervous, even if it was all just a little elaborate joke. He couldn't have that— not when the day had been going so well, and not when Isha was finally opening up.

“Untrue,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and suddenly feeling oddly competitive, “you have my hair pattern.”

Instantly, Jinx's expression flared up, snapping out of it herself, “she has my big eyes.” 

“She’s literally black—”

“But her skin tone is closer to mine,” Jinx grinned, throwing her arms up triumphantly.

“Well, you eyes are blue—” 

“Yeah, and who got me pregnant as a teenager, huh? The color is clearly like your mom's.” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

For a second, Isha blinked, expression shifting, and Ekko softened, knowing that both Ivy and Inna had the same eye color, clearly in display in their kid pictures. 

Finally, he broke, “literally nobody. You're such a liar.” 

“Aw, you're just no fun,” she huffed, leaning against his shoulder, making him want to pull her in by the waist, but refraining on the stance of public decency and refusing to be like Cait and Vi.

Instead, they both turned to Isha, who’d since lost interest in the conversation and made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in their “weird lovey eyes” and a lot of interest in the new Italian place. Both of them graciously ignored her comment, and half the time Ekko wasn't even sure that Jinx looked back. 

“Yeah, yeah, we're coming, hold your horses, terror,” she snorted, watching Isha bounce and shuffle on her feet as she pointed towards the food court.

In the end, if Ekko had to summarize the day, he'd divide it in meals: the anxious lull of a sweet breakfast, the rude way Isha and Jinx stuffed their faces with pasta, and the constant chatter of a homemade dinner with family.

Caitlyn and Claggor had made shepherd's pie on account of her loving it as a kid and wanting to share it with Isha, who'd consequently decided to sit next to her instead of in her usual seat by Jinx and, though they joked about betrayal, he swore watching his kid loosen up felt like winning a million dollars. 

A thoguht he promptly regretted a few minutes into dinner when he realized who she was loosening up with. 

“Gifts contest!” Vi announced, grinning far too excitedly for Ekko's comfort while Mylo nodded solemnly, like this was the event of the year and not some stupid excuse for them to compete over nothing. 

Really, Ekko thought, watching the way the siblings glared at each other, he should just be grateful it hadn't been Jinx. Vi was more reasonable, after all; she'd always been protective and careful with them, taking her role as the big sister so seriously, Jinx almost slipped up and called her mom. 

It couldn't be that bad. 

At least that's what he thought until they pulled out a small bag each with self-satisfied grins and Ekko remembered that his family's competitive streak was bigger than their brains. 

Mylo went first and by Vi’s wolfish grin, he knew that this was all a terrible mistake.

“A little birdie told me you want to look more like Pow,” Mylo smiled, setting aside his plate and taking out a little round container in a truly neon shade of blue. “I mean God knows why , but I figured, eh, what the hell?”

With that, he pushed it forward with an innocent grin, leaving Isha with bright blue hair dye in her hands and Ekko with her begging expression boring holes into the side of his face.

“You know what,” he sighed, digging his fork back into his plate, deciding he truly didn't care that much this time, “this is Jinx's call.” 

“Hey!” She squawked, previously having been silent, mouth open in shock and glare unwaveringly fixed on Mylo.

“They're your family when they act like this,” Ekko reminded, happily stuffing his face because Caitlyn was a shockingly good cook and he wasn't the one getting his hair color copied.

“Ugh,” she groaned, wrinkling her nose and turning to Isha with a disgruntled expression, clearly ready to say no. 

Until she found herself face to face with the same reality Ekko did, and promptly realized why he'd relegated the issue to her. 

Judging by the way she dug her elbow into his side, she understood their predicament just as well as he did: their kid was the most adorable thing in the world and it was impossible to say no to her. 

Still, Jinx made a valiant attempt of about five seconds and one pout.  

“No. No way, that's stupid.” 

“Please? I wanna look cool like you.” 

And just like that, Ekko knew they'd be dying a nine year old’s hair all night. 

At least, he reasoned, feeling premature exhaustion settle on his bones, she'd be knocked out for the road trip. 

“Okay fine,” Jinx sighed, still looking far too annoyed, mouth pulled into a line and eyebrows furrowed in a way that made Ekko want to kiss the little wrinkle between them. 

Sometimes, though, he wondered if they were too soft on her by the way Isha squeaked triumphantly, clutching to the blue hair dye with a satisfied smirk. 

But of course, it was still Jinx and she was stubborn as all hell. 

“ If Vi's present is somehow worse than Mylo's, you can dye your hair. Promise.” 

For about half a second, Ekko thought they were pretty much saved— Mylo had always been the one that stirred up the most trouble between the two, and Isha liked when people stayed true to their word so really, the problem had resolved itself. 

Except Vi had a competitive streak a mile wide and, of course, she just had to be the cool aunt that got Isha bright pink shoes with wheels on them. 

Isha loved them. 

Ekko, decidedly, did not.

Beside the squealing girl, Caitlyn's jaw dropped in a wonderful show of camaraderie, “Violet!”

“What?!”

“That's so unsafe!” 

“Why would you do that?!” Jinx agreed. “You're making me side with Cupcake!”

“Oh my God,” Ekko groaned.

“You're acting like I gave the kid a bomb,” she squawked, caught between offended and proud, smirking at their misery.

“I would've preferred if you gave her a damn bomb,” Jinx whined, “I know how to diffuse those.” 

“Honestly, Violet, maybe it would've been less dangerous at this point.” 

“She could crack her skull open!” Ekko agreed. “Do you know how easy it is to fall on those? I can't have her wear a helmet walking down the street!”

“Oh come on, it's not that big of a deal. Pow and I spent more time in urgent care than in school, and we're fine.”

“Not when CPS takes Isha away and gives me a stroke we won't be!” Jinx hissed, catching herself halfway, mouth open wide, falling back and screwing it back shut. By the way Claggor pulled her against him, she knew she'd gone too far.

Ekko, however, had no problem continuing their tirade, keeping it light as he could, trying not to spiral about what Jinx had said— hoping she could call Lux later, lest he start crying too.

“They aren't even real skates, she could twist her ankle! Or her knee. Or some third ligament I know nothing about!”

“None of that is gonna happen,” Vi huffed. 

“But now I have to dye her hair blue!” Jinx lamented. 

“It builds character?” Vi offered.

“It's no bleach,” Mylo added sheepishly.

“You are both banned from my house.”

/)/)

(  .  .) 

Naturally, the night ended with Jinx and Ekko washing the dishes side by side while Isha cleared out the table and bickered with her about whether or not blue hair was stupid. 

“You have blue hair!” 

“Exactly!” Jinx squawked. “This is a dumb idea!”

Isha just stared, unrelenting. 

“Are you sure?” 

She blinked, crossing her arms with a pout.

The staring match went on for an impressive five minutes during which Ekko entertained himself scrubbing the dishes and humming under his breath until Jinx finally conceded defeat. 

“Ugh, fine. For the record, I still think it's stupid but a promise is a promise, I guess.”  

Which, of course, meant Ekko ended up dying Isha's hair because Jinx gave up halfway. 

But maybe, he reasoned, maybe it was a good thing. The damn mail Benzo had sent had actually been much more important than he'd thought, and Isha didn't know about him as much as he didn't know about her. 

And if he remembered anything about his own childhood, it was the distinct, crushing feeling of not knowing. 

Ekko was raised on the unavoidable reality that he was a black kid being raised by white people who tried their best but lived in a white town where his first black friend was Scar when he was thirteen and his starter locs were made by Jinx following a YouTube tutorial before they left for college. 

And it was entirely different except it was exactly the same. 

Because he also remembered, with that same dark, nightmarish hue, being told that he had no family but his mom, that no one but a complete stranger could possibly take him. 

Every time he was reminded of it, he looked at Isha and felt the unrelenting sense of utter betrayal crawling on his skin. The reality that he did have a family, one his mother has lost contact with so long ago she didn't even remember them and one that Ekko hadn't found out about until he found their obituaries— maybe one that would've taken him in.

It almost made him wonder what would've happened had he had a social worker like Mel. 

In another world, he grew up with people who looked like him and knew his mom since childhood; there was no brown box in his room telling stories of a life he never knew of, and there was no small child looking at him like he'd betrayed her. 

In another world, Ekko met Jinx in college, and it wasn't Powder but he loved every version of her, and they ended up right where they were regardless; he knew his mother's cousin, the one that she grew up with almost like sisters, and he held Isha as a baby but never in his house. 

He was young in a way he never had been and he didn't have to grieve his current life because he didn't know it existed.

Except none of that was real and Ekko was pushing thirty with a child sitting in the chair in front of him, trusting him with her hair, with herself, and Ekko owed her certainty and honesty at the very least. Really, he probably owed her the world. 

Whatever fantasy he had just made his stomach twist, knowing he loved his current family more than anything but still grieving the one he could've had. 

It was a harrowing feeling and one he, at the very least, wanted to guide Isha through: maybe proof that his hardship was more than senseless pain or maybe unconditional love. 

“Ish, I have something to tell you,” he began, spreading the dye over her curls as carefully and meticulously as possible, kind of understanding why Jinx was having none of it when it stuck and clumped against her scalp more than it did her ends.

The little girl, having grown trusting in her stay, just hummed, leaning back to meet Ekko's eyes with loose shoulders in a way she never would've even a month ago. His heart ached with lives they could've led.

“I know how we're related.”

She just blinked, keeping her eyes firmly on him, though shutting off ever so slightly, shifting her eyes away, pulling back. “We're fake cousins, remember?” 

“We're third cousins, not fake, ” Ekko snorted. “And no, I meant I finally know who your mom is.”

“It says it in my file,” she answered, looking at him like he was stupid. He honestly felt kind of like he was.

“Are you making this hard for me on purpose or are you actually confused?” 

Then, because Isha was going to respond far too quickly and far too innocently, he snorted, remembering who was raising her. 

“Remember lying is bad.”

Predictably, Isha huffed, rolling her eyes in a gesture so reminiscent of Jinx, he almost did believe she was her biological daughter. 

“Both.”

“I did read your file, but I never knew about your mom before Mel called,” Ekko started softly, combing through the last of her curls and feeling her go stiff, immediately ducking her head away for good. 

He blinked, finishing the last of the dye, which he'd probably used way too much of in hindsight, and stepped back, giving her space. She looked more like a cornered animal than a child and the guilt of the sight loomed over him like a hand against his throat. 

“You didn't know?”

Ekko almost hated himself for asking as much as Isha did for taking her in.

Quickly, she shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes and keeping her hands firmly clutched against her pajama pants, now ruined with bright blue spots hiding the formerly purple flowers.

“Oh,” he sighed out, unsure of what more he could possibly say. 

Because what answer could he even have to something like that— how could he explain away a one-sided absence to a motherless child that had been told again and again that all her mom needed was a bit of help, only to be found with adults that wanted a kid more than they wanted for her to be happy.

Isha didn't know.

Ekko was exactly like every other one of them: he'd only stepped in when it was just Isha, no strings attached. 

Her mother had died alone.

No one wrote an obituary; it was a pauper's funeral.

Everything clicked into place. 

“I'd hate me too, sprite,” he smiled bitterly, leaning back to sit against the tub while he waited for the dye to sit. “I wish I explained sooner.”

Isha just shrugged.

It stung more than it probably should.

He'd be upset too. Really, he would've run away and hid, away from Benzo, away from the world and away from reality. It was brave of her to sit so still, so immobile.