Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Watch your step.”

Ekko recalls saying the exact same thing to Powder in the alternate universe, when he surprised her with his mural of Vi. But this time, he had something different to show Jinx, the girl he’s been fighting against all these years, the girl who had once been his closest friend, now fractured and lost, finally stepping foot into his home. 

Jinx was tense, her fingers gripping the edges of her cloak tightly to her chest, as though it could shield her from the unknown. The fabric rustled softly, the only sound besides their quiet footsteps echoing through the dimly lit passage. 

Ekko, always the one to navigate the shadows, gently led her deeper. With his hands covering her eyes, he guides Jinx into the heart of the Firelights base.

“I shouldn’t be here, Ekko.” Jinx already felt out of place, her voice wavering, even though she couldn’t see a thing. She could feel the weight of everything—the guilt, the years spent fighting, the uncertainty of stepping into his world. 

“Where else would I let you go?” Ekko said calmly.

She didn’t answer right away, and he slowly dropped his hands from her face. 

“I don’t need to go anywh-” Jinx stopped, her voice cutting off as her eyes adjusted to the light, blinking in disbelief. Slowly, the world around her came into focus, revealing the living tree in the center of the base. 

Somehow, this beats any other fancy building in Piltover. There were fragments of sunlight filtered through the leaves as well as the cracks in the walls. The glow of bioluminescent plants dotted the space, casting a soft, surreal light across the room. The air was cool, filled with the sweet scent of greenery—something Jinx hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. 

Ekko stood beside her, his gaze shifting to the tree, his expression distant for a moment. “It used to be a lot more…lively and healthy. The Hextech was slowly killing it but…” His voice trailed off as he realized the tree wasn’t perfect; it was still withering from the effects of the Hextech. But somehow, it was still beautiful.

“It’s home,” he finished quietly, almost to himself.

Jinx’s eyes roamed over the tree, tracing its falling leaves and the gentle sway of its branches. She swallowed, unable to find the words for a moment. “It’s beautiful.” 

Ekko chuckled nervously. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she saw a tree in Zaun. There wasn’t much greenery anywhere in Zaun really. This was something magical; a small patch of life amidst the chaos. She could smell the fresh air and the sound of trickling water somewhere near the group of people who had spotted her and Ekko. 

Their eyes, wide with shock and curiosity, glanced toward Jinx. Some tensed into a defensive stance, while others’ gazes didn’t linger too long on her. Their leader has returned. A few of them began talking quietly amongst themselves, others started darting towards Ekko.

Jinx caught movement of a familiar face. Scar. His eyes widened with recognition, and he held up his hand to halt the crowd before he quickly jogged over to Ekko, as though ready to spring into action. 

“Ekko!” Scar exclaimed, the concern in his voice palpable. He had searched endlessly for any sign of their leader, each clue leading to dead ends. Frustration was brewing with every futile investigation into Ekko’s disappearance. The last few days, pushing through tired searches, Scar was beginning to think they’d have to prepare a spot for Ekko on the mural… 

Ekko held up a hand, brushing off the concern with a tired but reassuring smile. 

“Ekko, what happened to you? We thought you were dead!” Scar's voice cracked with a mix of relief and worry, his gaze sweeping over Ekko as he checked for injuries.

“I’m fine, Scar. I uh…I had some trouble with the Hextech and got separated from Heimerdinger. I was looking for him.”

Scar's face shifted from relief to suspicion as he scanned the ground for the small Yordle, his absence becoming deeply concerning. He leaned in slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did he…?”

Ekko’s expression faltered. He remembers the last time he ever saw his mentor. The last words he spoke. Ever since I met you lad, I’ve truly lived . 

His eyes drifted to the ground for a moment, the weight of the words he knew he had to say pressing on him. He knew he had to break the news sooner or later. 

“Yes. He sacrificed himself so I could return home,” Ekko replied quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Will you just tell the kids that he’s away on a long journey? I don’t have the heart to tell them right now.”

Scar’s eyes softened in understanding, a silent agreement passing between them. He nodded, his usual posture softened by the quiet pain in Ekko's voice. “Of course.” 

He then turned his gaze to Jinx, recognizing the familiar face, not just from Stillwater, but from the years fighting her, their common enemy, the posters plastered on every wall and the giant murals of her all over Zaun. 

“She’s not—” Ekko scrambles to explain the situation.

“She rescued us at Stillwater. I’ve already told everyone what happened.”

Scar paused and his gaze on Jinx lingered for a moment. Her once-signature long braids were gone, replaced by an uneven short bob that framed her much smaller face, almost fragile. 

He’d never seen her like this—so diminished, so unlike herself. What happened to her? He did hear of the commotion at Viktor’s village…and the little one, the one he had spotted with Jinx for months—wasn’t at her hip…

“She’s changed, Ekko,” Scar continued, turning back to him. “I’ve seen it. Ever since Silco, she hasn’t done anything violent. She hasn’t joined any protests or rallies. But somehow, she became the symbol of Zaun...” 

“I gathered that much from all the murals I saw,” Ekko replied calmly. With every turn through the alleyways, he’d stop momentarily to stare in awe of her countless murals while Jinx looked away in disgust…or was it shame? Ekko never dreamed that one day, the city that she caused chaos in, would honor her, worship her…

“But how…?” Ekko pressed in disbelief.

Scar cleared his throat before proceeding. “Well to be honest…no one has ever dared to take a stand against Piltover until she attacked the council. Then she took a stand against The Grey…” 

“The Grey? By who?” Ekko asked, disbelief evident in his voice upon hearing that dreaded name—the name of the deadly gas responsible for his people's suffering.

Scar scoffed. “Who else? Those damn enforcers…one of them was Vi.”

Ekko took a step back, stunned. He heard Jinx wince and he already knew. That this was probably just scratching the surface of what she has been facing. Vi—the one who was supposed to fight for Zaun, for their people—gassing their own city. She had grown up witnessing its effects—the very reason those stupid enforcers had to wear gas masks when they ventured into Zaun in the first place. 

She, Ekko, Jinx, Scar… all of them had likely already shortened lifespans, all because of that gas. So how? How could Vi possibly think this was even remotely justifiable? Just to find Jinx? When her sister and their city was already drowning?

The taste of betrayal was bitter, burning through him like acid. 

“Some uprisers were inspired,” Scar continued, disrupting the fire in Ekko’s eyes. “They even called themselves Jinxers, the people with blue hair. And then…the murals just kept appearing…” Scar’s voice trailed off, surprised at himself for this strange feeling of pride for Jinx, of all people. He hated to admit it but the only one who could make a change since Silco’s death was his own daughter. 

He had watched her silently from the shadows as she ran through the city with her little companion, a smile on her face so genuine it was almost impossible to believe she possessed it. 

There was another feeling stirring, perhaps protectiveness now? She looks like she could break apart at any moment and yet, somehow Scar knew that this time, she didn’t deserve this. 

Scar turned to Jinx as he decided to say one last thing. A token of gratitude for the girl who seemed like she had changed. “And they’re right; I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for her. Thank you.”

Ekko looks over at Jinx, surprised by this news of events. He hadn’t fully understood the extent of her involvement. He had no idea she had put herself on the line for the Firelights for the very first time, let alone anyone outside of Silco’s sphere.

Jinx shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the growing discomfort in her chest, the guilt that still lingered. She wasn’t the hero Ekko seemed to think she was. Just someone who had been trying to make sense of a broken world, trying to piece together something that felt like home again. Her friend.

“He just happened to be there. I was just rescuing…” 

Her voice faltered, and her breath caught in her chest as memories from Stillwater surged forward like a wave crashing over her. The little girl’s face—the way Isha had looked up at her, the trust in her eyes as she’d clung to Jinx’s side. The thought of that small face sent a sharp pain through Jinx’s heart, and she felt her chest tighten with an overwhelming sense of loss. 

She quickly averted her gaze, afraid that she was about to start crying again. Don’t cry, don’t cry —the words echoed in her mind, but they didn’t stop the tears that threatened to break through. 

As she looked away, for a split second, the corner of her eye caught something flickering—a little hat moving, just below her line of sight. The brief glimpse of the little girl, so full of life and curiosity, seemed to flutter before her eyes like a ghost. But when she turned her head fully, there was no little girl. 

Jinx was so used to having the little one following her around all the time, sometimes tugging at her hand or her arm. Now when she looks back, there is no one. No palm of a tiny hand. The sharp emptiness gnawed at her, leaving her with nothing but endless grief. 

Scar observed her intently. He knew who she was rescuing. And the fact that the little one wasn't here right now can only mean one thing. He’d pieced it together before Ekko could. 

That was the only time I saw her being…different. Smiling. Happy. Is this world that cruel to her? Scar pondered.

Ekko was quite puzzled. He was curious who she was rescuing. He’s never seen or heard of Jinx rescuing anyone, only causing destruction…

But no. No, it wasn’t Jinx, not truly. It was the circumstances, the brutal hand life had dealt her, that had shaped the person she’d become. After witnessing Powder’s universe, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he misunderstood Jinx. How much everyone misunderstood her. Standing here, he could see it wasn’t her, but the world that had made her this way.

Along the way here, Ekko thought about the times he could’ve done more, could’ve reached out when Silco took her in. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve built the Firelights sooner, offered her a place to belong, a place to run to. A place where she didn’t have to feel like a weapon or prove herself to anyone.

A place to simply exist.

The image of Powder flashes through his mind—innocent, full of life, her laughter echoing in his memories. Her family and her life. The life Jinx could’ve had, all taken away. His heart ached with the memory of her, but also with the realization that the life Jinx had was so far from what she deserved. 

Deep down, he knew what Jinx truly needed—a support system he had failed to provide. But as usual, there was no time for regret. He can’t change the past, at least no more than 4 seconds. But the present was his, and he could still fight for Jinx, still be there for her in the way he should have been all along. She was still the girl he had loved for as long as he can remember—the one Ekko had failed to save and now he is offered a second chance. 

I’ve never seen you give up on anything, Ekko. Powder’s voice rings through his mind once more. That’s right. His world, their world, had failed Jinx at every turn. The injustice that had subjected her to such a cruel life, had to end. Because despite their differences, despite the darkness she carries, it was still her. 

With a deep breath, he turned to her, making his decision. The weight of his resolve settled in his chest. “Let’s…go sit down.” 

He gestured toward a quieter corner of the base, where the hustle and bustle of the Firelights could fade into the background. Ekko and Scar exchanged a brief but knowing look. He trusted Scar. He trusted the Firelights, who watched her carefully while he was gone, watching her change before their eyes. Scar would make sure they were aware, how she had risked herself for them, for him. 

There was no hostility, but hints of confusion and judgment were there, along with curiosity and a cautious respect for their returning leader. 

Years of conflict flooded Scar's mind—the restless nights Ekko had confided in Scar about the turmoil within him—fighting Jinx, their shared adversary, yet still caring deeply for her. Scar’s mind returned to a particular night—the night Ekko came back, days after their clash on the bridge.

—     —     —   

“How many more times will she try to blow us up?!” Ekko shouted, his frustration spilling over as he hurled his hoverboard across the field.

“You need to do something about her, Ekko. She’s too far gone. She’ll do anything for Silco at this point.” Scar had his arms crossed, his voice stern but sincere. He hated seeing Ekko suffer but this wasn’t the first time they spoke about Jinx, his true suffering.

“ I know! I know that…But…”

“It’s not Powder anymore, Ekko. That’s why you painted her on that mural right? She’s gone. You’re going to let countless people die just to try to save one person?”

“Shit, you don’t think I know that?!” Ekko shouted, his arms flailing in the air. He limped back and forth before pausing, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. 

“I look at Powder’s face every day and I wish—I wish I could bring her back…I just…I just can’t do it. Every time I get close, I…It’s like time stops and…”

“How many times have you tried to find her in there? She left you behind, Ekko. She left Powder behind too.”

“...That night, on the bridge…I saw her .”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw…a glimpse of… Powder . Just for a moment …and I couldn’t do it.”

“That’s how you’ll get yourself killed,” Scar said bluntly. “You always say that you’re the one moving forward and she’s stuck in this haunted past. But…it seems like both of you are stuck.”

“Trust me, all I want to do is to talk to her. Just sit down and talk . But every time we meet, it’s like she can’t stand to see me…And then she starts firing that damn gun.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know how it always goes when you two look at each other for even a second. That’s why you always wear that mask around her.”

Ekko let out a ragged sigh and sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

“ How? How did it come to this?”

Scar paused for a moment, weighing his words. “Look…I know you want to save her but…you can’t be The Boy Savior for everyone, Ekko.”

Ekko winced at Scar’s words. The truth he didn’t want to hear, stabbed at his heart. 

“Look around you, Ekko. You’ve built this place, without her. You need to let go. Let go of Powder.” 

But Ekko couldn’t stop thinking about her. His thoughts were consumed by torments of what ifs . What if he had saved her? What if she rebuilt Zaun with him ? He thought about the ways she could make the Firelights base even better. More technology, more innovations, more stability…if only they worked together. If only…they were together. 

“I just…How do you mourn someone who is still walking around causing destruction? Destroying the same city you’re trying to rebuild? She was…my best friend. The best thing I had left.”

Scar hesitated but he knew Ekko needed to hear these words. “She’s also the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”

—     —     —   

Scar moved with heavy steps now, the guilt surfacing in him. For the first time, the girl before him seemed more human than ever. Despite the conflict with Piltover these last few months, he knew Jinx chose to protect what little peace she had left. And even that was taken from her. 

I suppose she can’t be alone right now. Leaving her with her thoughts isn’t even an option…She needs a safe place…That’s why Ekko brought her here, he wondered.

Scar knew the only person—the only person left, who could break through to her, would be Ekko. If Ekko could reach her—the little girl buried deep inside, the last speck of humanity underneath—could she change? 

With a heavy heart, he leaves Ekko and Jinx to find some peace, though his protectiveness kept him close by. He retreats back to his newborn, baby Fang. She bites.

The sounds of the base—laughter, chatter, the hum of the water—seemed distant now. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this fragile chance to be there for Jinx. She needed…a friend. As foreign as that concept sounded for them, there was no denying that she’s been left completely and utterly alone.

Ekko could already see the cracks in her armor, the vulnerability beneath the chaos, and he wasn’t about to let her slip away again. 

They start approaching the mural and Jinx’s steps falter as she looks up, caught off guard by the sight before her. 

There, larger than life, was Vi. Her sister’s face was captured in vibrant hues, a fierce, protective expression frozen in time. 

But it wasn’t just Vi. Alongside her was another face, a child’s face. Powder . The girl she used to be. So young, so innocent. So different . 

Jinx’s heart sank. Who was she now? The girl in the mural, the one full of hope and potential, felt like a stranger. She didn’t know who she was anymore. The identity crisis has always been a struggle, shifting like the smoke from her bombs, but this time, she had no sense of self. Who could she even be? What was left to call herself?

“Ekko…” Her voice cracked, low and trembling, as her eyes moved across the faces in the mural. “I killed half of these people up here…”

Ekko lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze hardening, the weight of her words settling in. “I know…but…your actions were a result of your upbringing. You were raised to be a weapon for an underground chem lord…” his voice trailed off.

“I…I always thought you had a choice. And maybe you did, but…you didn’t have a choice to be anything else.” 

“Don’t…” Jinx’s voice barely broke the silence.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t act like you know me… not after all these years.” Her eyes quivered, as if the mere thought of being understood—of being seen—was unbearable.

Ekko studied her for a moment. “I know… that you didn’t want to be saved.”

Jinx’s fists clenched, her nails pressing so hard into her palms they nearly broke skin. He had struck the heart of it.

“But…Silco was manipulating you. He made you believe that he was the only one you can rely on. Even though he was your father, he isolated you. I don’t blame or judge you for that. Not anymore. Not after seeing how your life could have turned out…” 

That other life—the one Ekko spoke of to convince her to come here. A life full of promise, something Jinx struggled to grasp. Jinx glances at Ekko, checking to see if he really meant every word he was saying. His face looks honest as ever—no trace of judgment, just understanding. “ Was that stupid universe really that untainted?” she contemplated. 

He steals a glance at her too, his eyes softer than she expected. He wasn’t looking at her with disdain. He didn’t see her as the monster she had become. She felt exposed somehow, quickly looking back at the mural, avoiding his gaze. 

She took a deep breath and sank onto one of the moss-covered logs nearby, curling her legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them, like a cat trying to hide from the world. 

“What about…your buddies over there?” Jinx asked as her gaze wandered toward the distant figures of the Firelights, feeling their eyes on her.

Ekko followed her line of sight. He let out another sigh. “I might’ve stopped blaming you but I can’t convince them not to. But…they left you alone while I was gone, right? That means they noticed you’ve changed.”

“Or they were just afraid of me. Like how they are now,” Jinx muttered.

“They just don’t know your story, Jinx,” Ekko said firmly.

“My story, huh? My story is a sick joke. It should’ve ended a long time ago. I don't know why you brought me here. I’ll always be an enemy in their eyes.”

Ekko paused at the word ‘enemy’. “....I thought that too, you know. For so long, I thought we were enemies. But…did you ever feel like…holding back?”

Jinx didn’t answer immediately. She froze, then sunk deeper into her curled up position. Holding…back? Of course I did…I didn’t want to hurt…

“For me…” Ekko continued, “I was so filled with rage. Every time we fought, every time a comrade had fallen…The rage between us kept building. But there was always this nagging thought in my head every time: Why did it have to come to this? Why did we end up on opposing sides?”

Jinx gripped her cloak tighter. Because I jinxed us too…We were always born to be enemies…

He exhaled shakily. “The more we fought, the more I mourned you. I couldn’t recognize you anymore. I thought you wanted to fight…but...fighting was the only way you could prove yourself to Silco. All this time, you were hurting beneath all that.” 

Tch…Reading me like an open book …She didn’t like when people assumed they knew her pain, her past. It was her weakness—one she never let slip. But her body ached and her heart was weak. She was too exhausted, too defeated to even bark back. And Ekko’s words… they unraveled her story almost too perfectly. She couldn’t deny a single thing.

It felt like she was waiting this whole time for him to realize that. To finally see her , not just a crazy girl with a gun. 

Every shot, every punch…she could never aim directly at Ekko. Some nights, she was riddled with worry for him. She wondered if he had any injuries because of her, causing her mind to spiral more, frustrated at what they had become. Frustrated that she couldn’t just walk in and ask how he was doing. 

She missed him. And if she hurt him, she would blame herself even more. Miss him even more. Was that why her shots always missed with him? Was she …holding back all this time? And she just wanted him to realize that? But all he saw…was a chaotic girl. Maybe she thought it’d be better if he saw her that way, instead of the real, broken version of her.

“It wasn’t…me.”

“What?”

“Every time I saw you…I couldn’t be Jinx. The way you looked at me…You pulled me back to… Powder and it hurt like hell. That’s why it was painful to be around you. Because I knew all you could see was Jinx.” 

“You’re right,” Ekko admitted. “There were times where I couldn’t recognize you anymore...”

Jinx winced at the weight of his words. Yep, I knew it. I’m always the jinx. Powder is dead anyways.

“But I could tell, Jinx,” Ekko continued, as if he knew she was struggling over her identity. “That when you turned to violence, it was hurting you.”

Jinx blinked, her breathing growing heavier. Hurting me? I’m the one who hurts people…

“I think…” Ekko carried on. “The past was haunting you from the inside. And fighting was all you’ve ever known. Maybe that’s why…that night on the bridge, I caught a glimpse of her .”  

He looked up, gesturing to the mural on the wall, the one he had painted with his own hands. A younger version of Jinx—Powder—smiled back at him, frozen in time.

“I thought she was buried a long time ago. But when I looked into your eyes that night, I saw her through the cracks. I saw…a girl who was scared to hurt an enemy. A friend.” Ekko paused, the realization hitting him all at once. No matter how hard he tried to view her as an enemy, he just couldn’t. He loved her. He hated her. And he’ll always love her again. 

The worst of all blessings and the best of all curses . It’s like he knew all along but now, a weight was finally lifting. He didn’t need to carry the guilt anymore—at least not for holding onto the hope that she still cared about him. Maybe, after all this time, they still saw each other as friends. There was still affection there, like a time bomb ticking between them. 

“Maybe that’s why I couldn’t do it that night. Because you’re the worst type of enemy—you’re my friend. And I couldn’t kill a friend. I couldn’t lose another friend.”

Jinx sucked in her breath as she pulled herself back to that night on the bridge. She hated every minute of it. Ekko’s body in midair, fully vulnerable for her to shoot. And that shot…the one she knew she couldn’t miss…never came. She couldn’t pull the trigger.

When she looked into his eyes, his expression warmer than the anger and resentment she was so used to, she saw something other than hate in his eyes. She saw him see her . In that moment, she couldn’t help but melt into relief, knowing neither of them wanted this. She thought if this was the end, at least she wouldn’t face it alone. At least she’d go with someone she had once loved most. 

Why did he have to kick that stupid bomb? She could’ve ended their cycle right then and there—ended the relentless pain of trying to kill each other. And if he had just let it happen, she never would have met Isha… never would have led her to her death…

Ekko glanced over at his Firelight crew, still silently judging. He took a deep breath, “If I can see through all of that…they can too. But I won’t force anyone. I don’t care about you fitting in necessarily, I just want you to be alive. Then maybe over time, they can see the real you.”

Jinx was rigid, her head dipping lower, and her eyes remained fixated on the ground. The guilt, the shame—it was all eating her alive. For years, Silco had pressed her for information about the Firelights, about their leader. And every time, she had unknowingly led him further from the truth—the truth that her former best friend was the one leading them.

And Ekko had kept his own truth hidden as well. He had always known exactly where her lair was. From that time he tried to “save” her…

Neither of them had ever wanted to hurt the other. As long as that unspoken promise remained intact, they had been protecting each other all along. 

“We’re…pretty bad at being enemies…”

“We’re the worst.”

Her voice was barely audible when she spoke again. “You think they’ll ever forgive me? The crazy girl with a gun?”

Ekko’s lips pressed into a thin line, his answer careful. “You mean the broken girl who just went down the wrong path?”

Jinx didn’t answer, blinking slowly. 

“Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But you’ve got time to show them who you are now. And I’ll be here for it.”

Jinx didn’t look up, but her hand twitched slightly, the shame still looming.

Ekko sits down beside her, keeping a distance just in case physical touch triggers her. Her presence felt unreal, like he couldn’t believe she was here right now. He let the silence stretch between them, soft but heavy, like a shared grief neither of them could name.

“Jinx…” Ekko said, breaking the silence. He was trying to find the words to use wisely. “Who did you try to save at Stillwater?” He took a big gulp, hoping it wasn’t crossing the line too much. But it was a question he was too curious about, one he was eager to understand. He wanted to catch up on everything that had happened to her since he was gone.

“A friend…” She swallowed hard before continuing, her voice barely a whisper.  “She reminded me of Powder .” It was strange saying her dead name but it didn’t feel wrong around Ekko for some reason. 

“What was her name?”

Jinx’s eyes drifted to the ground, her fingers tracing the edge of the log she sat on. The name came slowly, like it was a part of her that she had to dig deep to find. “....Isha. She didn’t talk much but…she was always trying to protect me.”

“You know her name means, ‘The one who protects’ right?”

Jinx blinked, her thoughts swirling. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and then she noticed her eyes were wet. 

The one who protects, huh? She scoffed. I should’ve been the one protecting Isha. But all I do is jinx everything. I failed to keep Isha safe and it cost her life. I always fail…

Isha’s last smile haunted her mind, like a ghost she couldn’t escape. And she could never get that smile back. 

The weight was so heavy that the crushing realization of what she had caused, threatened to drown her all over again. Her breath hitched in her chest, the ache growing too big for her to handle.

Ekko stood up, concern washing over his face as he watched her struggle. She couldn’t hide from him now. He saw the pain in her eyes, the way her shoulders trembled as the grief overtook her. 

Without saying a word, he walked over to the far corner of the space, where cans of spray paint and buckets of colors rested against the wall. Her eyes followed him as he reached for a brush. He holds it in his hand and slowly turns to Jinx. 

“Jinx…” His voice was soft, but determined. “What did she look like?”

Jinx met his gaze, surprised by the question. She didn’t have to ask why he wanted to know. His eyes didn’t break contact, waiting patiently for her to answer.  

“She looked…”

—     —     —    

One of the younger firelights slowly approached Jinx with a tub of clean water and a towel. Jinx looks down but for just a moment, everything turns blurry, and in the child’s place, she sees the familiar, heartbreaking face of Isha. 

This was her first full hallucination of Isha and it wasn’t like one of her violent flashes. The image was brief, quiet, yet somehow painful. Like a fleeting memory. 

Isha’s eyes, warm and understanding, lingered for a heartbeat before vanishing, leaving Jinx with a hollow ache in her chest. All Jinx wants to do is reach out to her but she knows she’s not real. Isha was gone, and nothing could bring her back. 

She recoiled and her hands grasped at her head, trying to push the pain away, her breathing shallow and erratic. Don't jinx it, she told herself, the words an almost desperate mantra. 

The firelight child didn’t seem fazed by Jinx. For some reason, she wasn’t intimidated at all; she had seen worse in the cruelest parts of the lanes. She simply wanted to help clean off Jinx’s muddy tears. 

“My name is Arielle,” the child said brightly, her voice warm and full of kindness. “Can I help you?”

Jinx blinked and forced herself to look at the child again. No hallucination this time. It’s not her. Just a small girl, no older than ten years old, with a genuine smile, waiting expectantly. She could feel her breath steadying, the panic subsiding, though the weight of everything still pressed heavily on her chest. With a shaky, hesitant movement, she nodded, barely trusting herself to speak. 

The kid smiles and gently wipes off the muddy tears that formed the words “VI” on her cheek. The touch was featherlight, but it might as well be flames—heat curling at the edges of her nerves, warning her to pull away. Jinx stiffens as she keeps her gaze fixed straight ahead, unwilling to meet the child’s eyes, the eyes that remind her too much of... 

Arielle pauses occasionally to stare at Jinx’s Shimmer eyes, their unusual glow catching her attention. She thought they were pretty. Different. She was oblivious to the chaos that Jinx believed was hiding in them.

When the young firelight finished, Jinx released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She murmured in a low but sincere voice, “Thank you.” 

Her eyes met Arielle’s for just a moment, her heart aching with the brief connection before the fear of it all crept back in. Arielle forms a huge smile and eagerly trots off to tell her friends that Jinx isn’t all that bad. She skipped happily away, oblivious to the storm still swirling in Jinx’s chest. 

There was still an unsettling feeling swarming in Jinx. She knows she can’t get too close to anyone here. She’ll jinx it somehow and someone will definitely get hurt. Everyone who gets close to me dies.  

It made her flinch, the relentless voice in her head. It reminded her of the destruction she carried with her. Her thoughts spiraled—what was the point of staying? Why keep intruding if all she was going to do is bring calamity to those who didn’t deserve it?

She sat there for a moment, fingers twitching against her arms, torn between the possibility of something different and the overwhelming urge to run. To keep her distance. To leave before she could cause any more damage. 

Because what good will it do to keep going if you’re just a jinx? 

“I’m almost done!” Ekko shouted, snapping her back to his little project. She looks up and her eyes widened in shock, her body momentarily frozen. Her breath was knocked out at the sight before her. 

Ekko sprayed on the last coat of blue, his fingers working quickly, but with care, to perfect the details. He wiped his brow, looking back at Jinx to tell her he was finished. But to his surprise, she was already standing up, her movements slow, deliberate, as she began walking towards the mural. 

It was his first time seeing her fully looking up—not just glancing over her shoulder or avoiding his gaze. Her body was still tense, but her eyes, those pink Shimmer eyes, were focused now. He watched as she approached, his heart thumping a little faster in his chest. He was simply happy he got her to look up. 

Jinx stopped a few feet away from the mural, her gaze fixed on the image of Isha he had painted. This was the first time Jinx saw Isha’s face since the battle. Not as a hallucination. Not as a haunting, fleeting memory. Just Isha . 

Ekko was able to capture her gap tooth, her golden eyes, her tan skin, the tiny braids she begged Jinx to tie for her. She can still hear Isha’s laugh when she revealed those braids…

Her hair was just like how she described it. Vibrant blue hues with hints of brown peaking through. And that smile…soft, untainted, the little gap between her teeth only making it more endearing. More Isha. 

The details weren’t perfect, but the spirit was there—her face, captured in a moment of quiet strength and kindness.

“I hope I got her features right. Does it look like her?” Ekko turns to look at Jinx again and this time, he sees the glistening of tears streaming down her face. Her lip was trembling as she couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

Jinx feels guilty that she’s creating more muddy tears after Arielle just cleaned them for her. But the tears wouldn’t stop flowing out.

Isha…I’m so sorry…  

Before she knew it, the silent tears were becoming quiet sobs now. Isha had loved Jinx unconditionally, without judgment or hesitation. With her, Jinx didn’t have to worry about her past with Isha, free to be herself. Free to start over again...

I miss you so much, kid…I missed seeing your face…

A part of her was terrified that she would have to live with the memory of Isha on the battlefield and the haunting of her hallucinations. But now it’s just quiet. Just like Isha. She’s able to stand before this mural, allowing herself to remember Isha as the feisty, yet sweet little girl who forever changed her life. The one who reminded her of her inner child. The one who healed her. And now, in some quiet way, even in memory, Isha continues to heal Jinx.

Jinx’s face was pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, with hollowed cheeks and dark circles beneath her eyes, evidence of the sleepless nights that clung to her. But despite the exhaustion, despite the shadow of pain that seemed to follow her wherever she went, there was something in her expression—something that made Ekko’s heart skip. For a brief, fleeting moment, there was a glimmer of life in her once hollow eyes.

It was small but it was there.

Ekko felt a wave of quiet satisfaction. He didn’t need her to smile or say anything. Just the fact that she had looked up—that she was here, standing in front of something he had worked on for her—was enough.

Jinx’s eyes softened as she studied the mural, the faintest tremor in her hand as she reached out, hovering just above the painted face. For a second, it looked like she might touch the mural, like she was afraid that if she did, it would all disappear. 

But she didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled into a fist, and she lowered her hand slowly. The weight of the moment hung thick between them.

Jinx wipes her face but another stream of tears replaces the ones she just wiped. “It’s…it’s really her.” Ekko blinked, surprised at the words. 

Ekko reaches out his hand but stops himself, slowly retreating it back. He wants to give her space to mourn. Jinx is gasping for air at this point as she quietly sobs. It takes everything in his power not to give her a hug. 

This was the only way he knew how to grieve. How to cope with loss. His murals always had one message: Don’t forget. Even if the world tries to break you, keep fighting for the people on this wall. Keep fighting until even time cannot taint them. 

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t save her,” Jinx murmured, the words thick with grief. Her shoulders tensed, and Ekko could see her hands clenched into fists, her entire body holding something back.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. It was a quiet understanding. Jinx stood there, looking at Isha’s face, as though trying to pull something from the image, something she had lost or left behind. 

Her endless search was quietly settling. The more the mural sunk in, the more it seemed to whisper, “It’s okay. Stop searching. Just be. I’m fine the way I am.” 

Jinx sniffed once more, her shoulders slumping as she looked away from the mural and finally met Ekko’s eyes. The sadness was still there, lurking in her expression, but there was something else too—a hint of vulnerability that he didn’t often see.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice breaking the silence. “It feels like everyone forgot about her. I don’t want her to be forgotten.”

“She won’t be…This is how we remember them.” He took a careful step closer, but still kept his distance. “Jinx,” he said gently, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

For a long moment, Jinx didn’t respond, just staring at him with those haunted Shimmer eyes. But then, just when Ekko thought she might retreat again, a soft smile broke through—the faintest smile he’s ever seen. It was so quiet, so fragile, but it was there.

Jinx’s lips curved up, her eyes momentarily clearing. It was the first smile he’d seen from her in what felt like forever. And then, she called him a name that she hadn’t spoken in years. “Thanks, Little Man.”

Chapter Text

Throughout the day, Ekko moved carefully, mindful of the delicate balance he was forcing upon his people while ensuring Jinx didn’t feel cornered by their reluctant aid. The Firelights had spent years cursing Jinx’s name, mourning those lost to her chaos, and now—now, they were helping her. Not because they forgave her, but because Ekko had asked.

The female Firelights had drawn her a bath, but their hands lingered a moment too long on the towels they set down, their footsteps hesitant as they stepped back. A set of fresh clothes was offered, not quite with hostility, but without the warmth they might have shown one of their own. Small, quiet gestures—enough to extend help, but not enough to make her feel welcome.

Jinx could feel it. The uncertainty. The restraint. The silent judgment of eyes that followed without trust.

Still, one of them—an older woman with kind eyes that held their own ghosts—stepped forward, offering the folded clothes. She wore a tattoo with the name “Lou” across her forearm.

“Here.” Her voice was steady, but there was something measured about it, like she was choosing each word carefully. “They should fit well enough.”

Jinx hesitated before taking them, the fabric foreign in her hands, too clean, too soft. She wasn’t used to things like this. It felt like a world she didn’t belong in.

“Thank you… for saving Scar,” the woman continued, her voice quieter now. “A lot of the kids here see him as a father. My son, Felix—nearly ran off to find him himself. I had to hold him back. We… we were getting ready to mourn.” She exhaled, the gravity of that grief slipping into the space between them. “So… thank you.”

Jinx stiffened, gripping the clothes tighter. “I wasn’t trying to save him,” she muttered. “I just saved one person.” 

Lou didn’t flinch, but something flickered in her eyes. A pause. Then, softer, “That’s not true. You saved all those people in those cells. And that means something. They have kids, family, people who love them. One person saved can end up saving so many hearts. Remember that, Jinx.”

Jinx flinched at her name, at the way it was spoken without venom. Without accusation. It felt wrong. Like a name that belonged to a girl long lost. She swallowed hard.

“Sure…”

But she didn’t say anything else. Instead, she would nod or shake her head when someone asked her something, her responses minimal, almost mechanical. Her thoughts were elsewhere, drifting…

Her mind traveled back to just hours ago, to the moment Ekko appeared in her lair. At first, she thought he was a phantom—a cruel trick of her mind. He was supposed to be dead…at least, that’s what she had forced herself to believe. Because if he was gone, then there was no one left. She was convinced she was alone. Completely, utterly alone. 

Yet there he was, moving through the wreckage of her world—real and undeniable, tearing apart the certainty that no one would come for her.

—     —     —   

A few hours ago

Jinx stood at the edge of the abandoned airship’s wing, her fingers twitching around the grenade in her palm—the same grenade she had detonated already. And yet, she was still here. The room was still here.

The space remained unchanged, the static music from her old record player was still echoing, and the cold metal beneath her boots hadn’t crumbled away. 

She should have been gone. She should have been dead—at least four times now.

Each time, she felt the blast rip through her, the deafening silence that should have been her end, only to be dragged back into this suffocating loop. It made no sense.

The grenade reset in her grasp as if the universe itself was mocking her.

Except it wasn’t the universe. It was him.

Ekko.

But…He’s not real . The first time she heard his voice, her mind tried to reject the sight of him, to peel apart reality from hallucination. It had to be a cruel trick. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be alive. She thought she had killed him on that bridge, leaving him behind just like everyone else.

Yet he was still here. Still standing. Still stopping her. 

The static in her head screamed louder, begging her to pull the trigger before he disappeared again, before the illusion shattered—before she woke up to a world where no one came for her, where no one cared and left her alone like she was supposed to be.

There’s no one left. Isha is gone. And I finally left Vi alone…So why would I be saved right now?

She clenched her jaw, grip firm around the grenade. If Ekko really was here, if he really was real, then she was only dragging him into her chaos. Again.

And that was when he spoke again. “Always a dance with you.”

Jinx’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, the noise in her head was faltering, listening intently to his words.

“I think…I’m just gonna…sit here for a minute…You know, catch my breath. See if I can talk an old friend out of blowing us up?”

Suddenly, the fog in her mind wavered.

Her fingers twitched over the grenade’s pin, uncertainty creeping in. Reality pressed forward, forcing her to acknowledge what her mind had tried to deny.

He was real.

Flesh and blood.

And he was getting caught in every single explosion.

Her gaze flickered over him—the mark on his face was melting, fresh burns scorching his arms and blood dripping from his face, evidence of the blunt force he had taken with each rewind. 

He was putting himself through this. For her.

The realization hit and her heart sank. She had never hesitated before—not when it came to pulling the trigger, lighting the fuse, watching it all burn because that’s what she was good at. But this? This was different. Right now, she found her grip faltering.

Stop looking at me like that, Ekko. Stop bleeding for me. Stop trying.

She could end his suffering right now . All it would take was one step and it would all be over. No more watching him burn for the sake of saving someone who wasn’t worth it.

There was one thing she could do, and it would be quick. Easy. Painless for him.

“I’m tired of talking.” 

Her voice was flat, almost hollow. There was no fight left in her, no room for struggling. Just release.

If she ended it now, he wouldn’t have to rewind anymore. She could save him from this endless cycle—save him from her .

And so she jumped. 

The wind tore past her, ripping at her hair, howling in her ears as the ground rushed up to meet her. It would be over in seconds. No more rewinding, no more dragging things back that were meant to be gone.

But then—

“No!”

Ekko’s voice broke through the chaos, raw and panicked, as he yanked at his Z-Drive with everything he had.

Time twisted violently, snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight. The edges of reality flickered, distorting around them. For a moment, everything existed in a fractured blur—her falling, Ekko reaching, time itself rebelling against the strain.

The fall rewound in an instant, yanking her upward, her limbs weightless and numb as the world spun in reverse.

She was back.

Back on the wing. Back at the moment before she jumped.

Ekko’s Z-Drive pulsed softly at his wrist, the weight of time resetting in his own hands.

He had saved her.

Again.

Ekko stumbled, breath ragged, sweat beading at his temple. His fingers trembled over the Z-Drive, his body strung tight from the sheer force of yanking her out of death—again. Every rewind hit harder, each pull of time fraying at the edges, and yet he would do it a hundred times if that’s what it took.

Because losing her was not an option.

Ekko exhaled through his nose, stepping closer—not enough to threaten, but enough to make sure she heard him. 

“You know, I learned from someone…very special…,” he said, his voice quieter now, rough but firm. “That no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new.” 

Her eyes flickered to his Z-Drive, to the tiny mechanical monkeys spinning in its design. Her symbol. Her mark. 

He followed her eyes, glancing at the monkeys and his gaze softened, his next words deliberate. “Someone worth building it for.”

Jinx swallowed hard, something unfamiliar and painful curling in her chest. She tilted her head as she turned to face him fully. “Who made that?”

Ekko didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, his gaze steady but filled with something she couldn’t quite place. Pity? Determination?

Hope?

She hated that.

Ekko hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he answered, “I’ll tell you…If you put the grenade down…Please…”

She held his gaze, fingers twitching over the cold metal in her hand.

“Are you going to keep using it to rewind?” she asked. She had figured out its mechanics, how it worked against time.

“Yes. Even if you jump. We’re staying in this time loop until you put it down.”

She could stop. Right now, she could set the grenade down, let the tension ease from her fingers, and face him. Talk to him. 

Or…she could stop him . 

She could fight him. Rip the Z-Drive from his body, crush it beneath her heel, and make sure he couldn’t rewind again. She could force him to let her go, to stop dragging her back into a life she no longer deserved.

But…did she want to? Did she even have the strength in her to fight? Let alone fight…Ekko?

The ache of exhaustion pressed against her bones, heavier than any battle she’d fought. She had nothing left—no fight, no future, no one.

No one except him.

He was the last piece of her shattered past. The last person who still called her by her name. The boy who had once been her friend and rival. The boy who, despite everything, was still standing here, bruised and burned, refusing to let her slip away.

Was she really going to fight him before forcing him to watch her die?

Her breath shuddered in her throat, something fragile cracking deep within her chest. And then—slowly, hesitantly—she loosened her grip on the grenade. Not fully letting go, but enough.

Enough to say she wasn’t pulling the pin.

Ekko exhaled, the tension in his body easing just slightly. Relief flickered across his face, but he moved carefully, deliberately, as if he was walking on a fragile tightrope. Gently, he reached for the grenade, his fingers brushing against hers as he pried it from her grasp. His movements were precise as he disabled it, removing the Hextech crystal slowly. 

Only then did he look at her, his voice quiet but firm.

“Can we…sit down and talk?”

It was more than a question. It was a plea he’d been holding for years. To just sit down and talk to her.

And finally—finally—she wasn’t slipping through his fingers.

She didn’t fall again.

—     —     —   

Ekko had managed to carefully tuck away the Hextech crystal into his pocket, its glow dim beneath the fabric. They sat side by side on one of the wings of her lair, their feet dangling over the edge. The world below stretched into shadowed ruins, an abyss that seemed to call to her.

Jinx stared down the abyss, unmoving. Contemplating.

Ekko didn’t let his guard down. His Z Drive remained strapped to his side, his fingers twitching near it just in case she decided to jump again. His entire body ached from the rewinds—the searing burns, the blunt force of the explosions—but none of that mattered right now.

Jinx looked utterly exhausted. Her frame was thin, her clothes hanging off her like they barely belonged to her. But it was her eyes that unsettled him most. Heavy-lidded, vacant, like she wasn’t really here. She looked…hollow.

He wanted to ask. To demand to know what had happened to her, what had shattered her to this point. But that wasn’t what she needed right now. Pushing her would only send her further into that abyss. All he could do is tell her. Tell her about Powder and that universe and hopefully…

“There’s no good version of me, Ekko.” Her voice barely carried over the wind. Lifeless. Like she had already given up.

Ekko’s chest tightened. No. I’ve seen it, Jinx. He clenched his fists, willing himself to stay steady. 

“I… ended up in an alternate universe.” He forced himself to take a breath, to ease into it. “It was from an anomaly. And when I arrived, I met… I met Powder there.”

Jinx’s body went rigid at the sound of the name.

“She was… different,” he continued. “Her family… was alive.”

Jinx’s head snapped toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “What? You mean…Vander?”

Ekko met her gaze and nodded slowly.

Jinx swallowed, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wing. There were more names—names she hadn’t dared to speak in years, names that still haunted her.

“…Mylo? Claggor?” Her breath hitched. “…Even Silco?”

Ekko inhaled sharply. “Yes…they were all there. Supporting her.”

“What about Vi?” 

Ekko froze, instantly growing weary. Damn it. He wasn’t ready for this part—not when she was already barely holding on. His silence stretched too long for Jinx. She instantly knew what that look meant, her expression darkening as the realization hit. 

“…Was it me?” 

Ekko closed his eyes in agony, recalling when he once asked that question. Because he had asked that same thing—accusing Powder, demanding answers from her. And now, here Jinx was, turning it on herself.

“No,” he said, his voice barely steady. “It wasn’t you.”

Jinx’s breath was sharp, uneven, waiting for the rest.

Ekko swallowed hard. “I gave them the tip. Or at least… that version of me did. They went on that job because of him. If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have found the Hextech, and it wouldn’t have blown up that stupid building. It was an accident, and Vi… got caught in the middle of it.”

Jinx’s breathing quickened with each sentence. 

Her sister. Gone.

Because of those damn crystals…Was it really an accident? Or did she jinx it in every universe?

Her mind reeled, trying to piece it together, trying to understand how that Powder—the version of herself that never became Jinx —could live with it. How could she not think she was a curse? A walking disaster? 

She wanted to ask. She wanted to demand to know how that girl didn’t end up just like her.

But the words caught in her throat.

And for the first time in a long time, Jinx didn’t know what to say.

Ekko hesitated, watching the tension coil tighter in Jinx’s frame, waiting for the moment she might snap. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t speaking, but her breathing was shifting—sharp inhales, unsteady exhales. He recognized that pattern. Like someone trying to stay afloat while drowning.

He was grateful she was at least sitting and hearing him out but he could sense a storm brewing.

“B-But because of Vi’s death,” he continued carefully, his voice softer now, “Piltover and Zaun did change. They finally came together and there was a peace treaty. Zaun didn’t have to struggle anymore, and there was no Shimmer on the streets. It wasn’t perfect but…it was definitely how I dreamed the Undercity could be one day. A city of what could have been…”

Jinx picked nervously at her nails again, her fingers trembling. She felt numb to the bleeding now.  “So someone had to die for things to change?” Her voice was hollow, yet cutting. “A kid at that? She was only fifteen…”

“I know…” Ekko’s throat tightened. He had asked himself that same question over and over in that universe, cursing the cruel balance of fate. “I couldn’t believe that— that was what it took to open Piltover’s stupid eyes…”

Jinx’s face twisted, her pink-rimmed eyes flickering between emotions. Anger. Pain. Then something deeper—something confused and fragile.

“I still don’t get it, Ekko.” She exhaled, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, but there was nothing amused about it. “How did that Powder not—” She swallowed thickly. “How did she not fall down a well?”

Ekko felt a sharp sting in his chest.

“Because…she had support ,” he answered. His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “She was surrounded by so much love, Jinx. You could feel it everywhere. And most importantly…no one abandoned her.”

Jinx shifted uncomfortably, a tremor running through her fingers as she curled them into a tight fist. “Lucky her…So, what? I’m just… broken , then? Someone always has to die around me right? I just happened to kill my entire family in this universe and…”

And I was abandoned.

“Jinx—”

Jinx continued, with wet pink eyes, “This Powder, she had everything, right? Despite killing Vi, she had a perfect little life while I—while I just messed up everything I touched! Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Jinx, listen—”

“Shut up!” she snapped, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like! You weren’t there when—” She stopped herself, choking on her words, her hands shaking as she clutched her head.

Ekko clenched his fists, his heart pounding. “I’m not saying you’re broken! You’re not.”

She bit her lip hard, her nails digging into her arms. “Then why does it feel like it? Why does it always feel like I’m the one who ruins everything?!”

Ekko inhaled sharply. He could feel the exhaustion radiating from her—the suffocating hopelessness that threatened to swallow her whole. He had to push through it. 

“Listen…” He forced his voice to be stable. “Even though that world was beautiful to see, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted that for you too.”

Jinx flinched, turning her head away, refusing to look at him. 

Ekko continued, pulling a deep memory to the surface. “I realized that…I gave up on you. That day, when I came here, when I tried to get you away from Silco, that was the last time we spoke as friends. I remember…you slapped me and told me you didn’t need to be saved.”

Her eyes flickered back to that memory, her nails scraping against her skin. She thought about how awful she treated him. But she had too many walls, too high for him to climb back then. 

She had pushed him away that day— forced him away, because the face she wanted to shield from who she was becoming, was excruciating to see. She had already lost too much, had already sunk too deep into her shame and grief. And Ekko—Ekko had been the last piece of her family, the last person who still called her… Powder . She couldn’t let him see what she had become. 

She couldn’t let him save her. 

Maybe that’s why she had convinced herself that he became her worst enemy. Because deep down, that slap hurt her just as much.

Ekko watched her expression turn darker, but he continued, “Ever since then, I thought it was hopeless to keep trying…”

Jinx stiffened. That was what I wanted…My last savior…to stop trying…

“But then…Powder told me something. She said, “I’ve never seen you give up on anything, Ekko.” That’s when it clicked for me. That no matter what happens, I should never leave you behind. That you and Powder are the same. Two sides of the same coin. Your life just turned out differently than hers—but that’s not your fault.”

She remained frozen. If not for the tremor in her hands and eyes, she could have been mistaken for a haunted statue, carved from fear. 

Ekko took a slow, steady breath, mustering the courage to move, to reach for her hand. His fingers twitched at his side, doubt creeping in like a shadow. What if she pulled away?

No. Don’t let her slip away. Not this time. Not when you’ve come this far.

She’s right here—breathing, breaking, waiting.

His fingers finally reached for hers, gently curling around her trembling hand.

Keep going. Stay with her.

Jinx’s entire body tensed at the contact, her gaze snapping to his in startled hesitation. She hadn’t even realized how badly her hands were shaking—not until she felt the contrast of his warmth against her fingertips.

She should pull away. She should.

But she didn’t.

Ekko didn’t squeeze, didn’t force. He just let his hand rest against hers, a quiet offering.

“That’s when I decided that I should not and I will not give up on you. Even if you hit me again or scream at me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx’s eyes started pooling, caught between retreating and holding on.

Finally, she lifted her head, looking at him fully. And that’s when he saw it—the raw, open wound of her grief spilling over in vibrant pink. Her tears dripped down her pale skin, unrelenting, her voice cracking under the weight of them.

“There’s no happy ending in this universe, Ekko. You’re chasing after a ghost .”

His heart felt like it could break from her words. He could sense she still couldn’t care less if she hit or screamed anymore, to live anymore. But he had to convince her to keep going. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay grounded in the moment, for her.  

“You don’t have to believe in happy endings right now. Just know that I’m chasing after you . You know, the one who’s still alive and not a floating ghost?” Ekko said in a more lighthearted tone, hoping to break through the heaviness.

“The one who’s already dead! ” she repeated, her voice cracking further, her hands pulling away from his only to clutch her arms tightly. “I don’t…I don’t see it for this version! You can’t…you can’t align this world when it’s already cursed.”

Ekko’s breath caught as he saw it—her armor cracking, crumbling, exposing all the wounds she had spent years hiding beneath manic laughter and explosions. He wanted to reach her, to hold her, but he needed to make her understand. 

“If you believe there’s no good version of you, let me be the one to prove you wrong. I’ve seen it with my own eyes — the good in you exists.”

Jinx took a sharp breath, her emotions churning like a storm. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that maybe, just maybe , she wasn’t beyond saving. But the fear—the unbearable, suffocating fear —was still gripping her throat, still drowning her in doubt.

She felt like she was sinking, like she was slipping through the cracks of reality itself.

And before she could stop herself—before she could push him away like she always did—

She pleaded.

 “Ekko, please…” 

It was the way she said it—like she wasn’t even sure what she was asking for. Like she was grasping at something, but too exhausted to hold on much longer. And maybe she wasn’t asking him for anything at all. Maybe she was just pleading with the universe to finally give her a break.

Ekko swallowed hard, pushing through the ache in his throat. He had to say this right. He had to reach her.

“It’s out there, Jinx, and it’s here too, within you.” He reached out again, this time more eager, squeezing her hand gently, grounding her in the moment. “You deserve it, as much as all the other universes…” 

She trembled under his touch, her sobs growing more uneven, her fingers curling against his. She fought against the flood, but the cracks in her armor were slipping—he could see it, feel it.

His voice wavered, but he steadied himself. “And…most importantly…you’re not alone, Jinx. I’ll make sure you’re not alone in this universe.”

“Please…” she choked, pressing her forehead against their joined hands. “I can’t…These scars…They’re so permanent …” She clenched her eyes shut as though she could will them all away. “I keep trying to change and it doesn’t work. It never works.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t falter. He didn’t let go. “Can you…please try one more time? Can we…just pretend like it’s the first time?” 

Jinx’s breath caught. She looked at him, really looked at him, her pink-rimmed eyes searching his face like she was seeing something new. Or maybe something long forgotten.

The words struck something deep inside her, pulling her through time. It was as if she was back in the Lanes, standing in the alleyway, waiting for him to invite her into his games. Back before everything. Before the world twisted her into something she couldn’t recognize.

It hit her then—Ekko had always been there, hadn’t he? He was the only one who had seen everything . The girl she used to be. Her innocence. Her descent into madness. And now this. And still, here he was, reaching for her, standing in the wreckage with her, not running away.

Ekko’s words…they pulled her back in time. Like it was their first time being friends again. Not fighting and not as enemies, but instead, together again. 

As her core crumbled, so did the walls she built. The fortress she had spent years building, the walls meant to keep her safe, to keep everyone out —it was falling to pieces. 

Only one little girl was able to infiltrate it and remind her of her humanity. 

Crumbling piece by piece, she felt the sharp sting of vulnerability. The ache in her chest swelled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into him.

Ekko caught her without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her as sobs wracked through her small frame. He held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady against her back, grounding her, keeping her here. 

Jinx clung to him like he was the last thing tethering her to the world, her body shaking violently with years of grief. The pain was unbearable. The fear, the shame, the loneliness—she felt like she was drowning in it.

“How can you still be here? After everything? After… me ?”

Her thoughts tangled, her mind reeling with the contradiction of it all. She wasn’t worth saving. She knew that. She was a lost cause. And yet, here he was, proving her wrong with every second that passed.

Deep down, all she ever wanted was for someone to care, to see her. And yet, the voice in her head still whispered that she was beyond saving, that no one could ever mend her. The weight of her trauma felt like a mountain, impossible to move, and she couldn’t fathom how Ekko, or anyone, could shoulder it. 

How could anyone piece me back together when I don’t even know where to begin?

Ekko held her tighter, his hand gently resting against the back of her head. He didn’t need to fix her, he just…wanted to be the constant in her life. No matter how much her world spiraled, he refused to let her be lost forever.

“Because you’re worth saving, Jinx. You’re worth every rewind.”

Worth saving.

She had spent years believing the opposite, drowning in the weight of her mistakes, convinced that she was too far gone for anyone to reach. 

But…No one else in this world— this universe, was here, right now, by her side. Was he really offering a sanctuary? Where the past and future couldn’t touch her? 

Maybe… maybe she didn’t have to carry this alone anymore.

“Let me take you to the Firelights’ base...It’s a first time for everything, right?”

Jinx hesitated, exhaustion washing over her. The lair felt too hollow now, too quiet without Isha’s presence. She didn’t want to face that emptiness alone anymore. 

Alone. She thought she was alone. But maybe…she wasn’t.

With a tired but still beating heart, she gathered the last of her strength and whispered, “...Okay.”

It was soft, fragile, but it was real.

—     —     —     

As soon as Jinx was dressed, Ekko guided her through the winding paths of the Firelight treehouse. The treehouse itself was a marvel, with Firelights flitting like tiny stars and lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. The wood beneath their feet was sturdy yet worn, carved with symbols and marks that spoke of a life built here. 

Jinx couldn’t help but glance around, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as the beauty of the place enveloped her. The distant laughter of Firelights moving about their routines. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

Children peeked out cautiously from behind pillars and railings, their curious eyes following her and their leader. She shrank into herself instinctively, her shoulders drawn in as she followed Ekko’s lead. The feeling of eyes on her prickled at her skin, and she darted her gaze around, spotting a familiar face. Arielle.

The girl was peeking through the railings of the porch, eyes wide, her fingers gripping the wooden edge in barely restrained excitement.

She was tugging on the sleeve of another Firelight, practically vibrating in place.

“Come on, Kiyo!” she hissed under her breath, yanking her friend up closer. “That’s her! The one on the murals!”

Jinx immediately stiffened, instinctively stepping closer behind Ekko. She wasn’t ready for this. Not the stares and whispers, and definitely not the expectation in their tiny eyes. She gripped the edge of his cloak, fingers curling into the fabric like it was her only anchor.

“Where?” Kiyo whispered, barely peeking over the railing. Her voice was still thick with sleep. “I just woke up—this better be real…”

Jinx’s breath caught. Instinct took over, her body moving on its own as she shifted further behind Ekko, using him as a shield against their wide-eyed stares.

Kiyo’s mouth fell open as she processed Jinx’s presence. But then, her brows knitted together in confusion. “Wait… why is her hair short? Where are her braids?”

Ekko turned around, his expression sharp. Before he could even open his mouth, Arielle’s eyes widened in realization.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. Then, in a hurried whisper to Kiyo, “Oh yeah—by the way, Ekko’s back! Let’s go before he makes us wash the dishes again!”

She was gone in an instant, her agile form disappearing with effortless jumps across the platforms.

“Arielle!” Ekko called, exasperated, but she was already out of sight. Kiyo, torn between curiosity and self-preservation, hesitated for a second before quickly following after her.

Jinx stayed rooted behind him, watching them go. A strange feeling settled in her chest—one she didn’t quite know what to do with.

Ekko let out a sigh and turned to Jinx. She was still standing behind him, gripping his cloak tightly. When he met her gaze, his heart quickened.

Her wide, uncertain eyes lifted to his. There was something unmistakably vulnerable in the way she looked at him, like a stray that wasn’t sure if it would be welcomed or turned away. The way her lips parted slightly, hesitation lingering there, made his pulse stutter.

It was just them, standing in this treehouse, the gentle breeze brushing through them, stirring loose strands of her hair. And for a moment, he caught a whiff of her scent—a mix of gunpowder and something else, something sweet yet grounded, like wildflowers blooming in the cracks of stone. It was something uniquely her.

He took a big gulp.

“Sorry…about that…” His gaze flickered downward, drawn to the small hand still clutching his cloak. 

She followed his eyes and immediately realized how tightly she had been holding onto him. Her fingers uncurled in a rush, retreating as if burned. Her palm tingled with the absence of his warmth, and she clenched it into a fist, as if to smother the sensation.

Her eyes darted back and forth, anywhere but his. She forced herself to focus on something—anything—other than him. Other than the way the space between them suddenly felt too small.  

“Um…Can I go inside now?”

Ekko hesitated, the air between them charged, something lingering just beneath the surface. Then, with a slight nod, he stepped back.

“Y-Yeah… Here. Follow me…” His hand twitched at his side, as if fighting the impulse to reach for hers. Instead, he slipped past her, the brush of her shoulder against his sending another jolt through his chest.

He started walking steadily ahead, carrying a steaming bowl of chowder in one hand. He stopped in front of a small, cozy room nestled into the heart of the treehouse and pushed the door open. “This will be your room,” he said softly, stepping aside to let her in.

She took a few cautious steps forward, the door closing behind her. Ekko gently placed the bowl on a nearby table. 

“I’ll set this down for you. Please eat, Jinx. You’ve lost so much weight,” he said gently, his concern obvious. 

Jinx didn’t answer. She simply walked slowly into the room, observing the space and taking it all in. There was a massive desk, perfect for an inventor to scatter their inventions across. On the other side was a bed, and a makeshift cone fireplace with a rug laid neatly in front of it. It was nightfall now and the only soft light was coming from the flickering flames, casting a warm glow on the furniture perfectly. She stood still for a moment, almost swaying. Her gaze was drifting, unfocused, her surroundings barely registering. 

Suddenly, everything felt blurry. 

“Jinx—?!”

Ekko’s heart stopped as he scrambled to catch her, nearly spilling the chowder in the process. He barely managed to steady her before her head could hit the floor. He didn’t need to touch her forehead to know what was wrong. 

She was burning up with a fever. 

—     —     — 

There is nothing but pitch black water, stretching infinitely in every direction. Jinx felt heavy, like her body couldn’t reach the surface no matter how hard she tried. It’s as if the abyss itself was holding her captive. 

She looked down, and in the darkness, she saw them—figures, floating lifelessly in the cold, black depths. It was a graveyard in a black sea. Every face she saw, she could recognize, twisted and haunting. 

Silco. Isha. Mylo. Claggor. Vander. Each one inching closer.

Your victims . The voice was coming from every direction, overwhelming and relentless. 

“No. No… no, no, no…” She whispered desperately, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but the faces wouldn’t disappear.

It was a mistake. It was an accident!

Her words tangled with the weight of her guilt, suffocating her, until the voice came again—louder, sharper, colder.

You’re a jinx!

“No! I was just trying to help!” Jinx screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. Her body was sinking deeper into the water, suffocating her.

Mylo was right! Because you’re a jinx!  

"No! NO!" Her voice echoed in the abyss, but nothing answered. Nothing except the cold, endless darkness surrounding her, the faces staring at her with lifeless eyes.

“NO!”

“JINX!”

Her eyes flew open, her breath coming in quick gasps, and sweat slicked her skin. She squinted as Ekko lit a candle, the soft glow helping her adjust her vision to focus on his face.

“Are you okay?” Ekko asked gently, his voice soft but concerned. “You were having a nightmare. Screaming in your sleep.” 

Jinx exhales heavily before answering, her chest rising and falling with the effort. She stared at him for a long moment before speaking, her voice hoarse. “This is why I don’t sleep much.” 

Ekko pursed his lips, his expression serious but warm. “Well, your fever has gone down, but I stayed just in case. I’m glad I did…”

Jinx hesitated, the silence stretching for a moment. Then, almost reluctantly, she spoke again. “Can you…stay a little bit longer?”

Ekko blinked, caught off guard by the request. “Really?”

“Just until I fall asleep…” Her voice was quieter now, almost uncertain.

“Okay.” Ekko answered without hesitation, but then added, “But you still need to eat something.” Jinx rolled her eyes, clearly irritated, but she pushed herself up anyway. As soon as she did, a sharp pain shot through her head. She quickly grasped her temples, the headrush hitting her like a ton of bricks.

"Slow down," Ekko warned, his hand reaching out to steady her. "It’s fine, I’ll feed you."

She scoffed, looking at him with a mix of defiance and exhaustion. "I don’t need you to feed me, Nurse Boy."

“If I don’t feed you, you’re not going to eat," Ekko replied, his tone firm but not unkind.

She let out an exasperated sigh but the movement made her headache worse somehow, causing her to wince. And at that second, her stomach started rumbling, almost like it was mocking her. Her cheeks flushed, but she knew he was right. She needed to eat something quick. “Ugh, fine. You win.”

Ekko’s lips twitched, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He kept it in check, though—just enough to show he was pleased, but not so much that it might make him look smug. 

He moved to the pot by the fireplace and poured another serving of chowder, this time grabbing an extra piece of toast. With a soft sigh, he broke off a portion and held it out to her. The gesture was simple but the offer was testing the waters. He didn’t know how she would react, but he had to start somewhere.

For a moment, she simply stared at it, as if unsure whether it was even worth the effort. Slowly, she brought it to her lips, chewing cautiously, her eyes darting between the toast and him. “What? Did you poison this? Not that I’d complain…”

With a satisfied exhale, he chuckled. “No. Just testing the waters.” he scooped a spoonful of the chowder, its warm, comforting scent rising as he blew on it four times to cool it down.

"You think I’m afraid of a little tongue burning?" Jinx muttered, still grumbling under her breath.

Ekko huffed in response, his smile widening slightly. "Just shut up and eat, silly."

Jinx glared at him for a moment, but despite herself, she parted her lips, and the rich, steaming chowder met her tongue. The warmth spread through her, comforting and soothing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d tasted something this warm and nourishing. 

She was too lost, too devastated to even look at the food in her prison cell. To think Ekko of all people would be the one force feeding her right now…

But she swallowed it instantly. She closed her eyes, allowing a moment of rare tranquility. As she swallowed, the tension in her head eased just a little, and a gentle warmth radiated through her, chasing away the chill that had settled deep inside.

“Good?”

Jinx glanced at him, licking her lips. “Did you make this?” 

Ekko blinked before answering. “The second batch, yes. There’s a lot of mouths to feed so I’ve memorized the recipe.” 

She hesitated, her eyes dropping to the bowl in front of her. “...It’s good,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, as if she needed to cover up her vulnerability, she added, “But that’s probably just because I’m malnourished or something.”

Ekko chuckled lightly, leaning forward with an easy grin. “Nah, I think it’s because I’m a pretty great cook.” He winked slyly. 

Jinx rolled her eyes, her cheeks faintly flushing. “Sure, Mister Chef.” 

“I’m guessing you’ve never cooked anything?”

Jinx blinked, trying to remember the last time she made any type of food. Not like she ate that much throughout the day, she was used to hunger and simply surviving on snacking. 

“Shut up…I know you still go to Jericho’s.”

Ekko paused, lowering the next spoonful. “You were watching me?”

Jinx shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Don’t act like he doesn’t have the best food in Zaun. Sometimes I just wanted a bite and you happened to be there.”

Ekko blinked and for a moment, his mind went still. There were days when he felt it—the feeling of being watched from the shadows.  It was almost a sixth sense, the way his eyes would dart upward, like someone was lingering just out of view.

He would sometimes glance up, half-expecting to see her, but he never let himself believe it fully. It was easier not to. To think it was just a figment of his imagination. But now, hearing her admit it, the idea of her, somehow still keeping an eye on him, even after everything, settled in his chest like a quiet comfort.

He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in so long. Jinx—her face, her eyes, the way she sat before him now—was both familiar and foreign. So much had changed, yet something about her remained the same. The way she shifted, acting tough, but beneath it all, he could sense the scared girl underneath the cracks.

Ekko couldn’t help it. He had to ask, the curiosity too great to ignore. “And…how long do you usually watch me?”

Her expression was growing annoyed. “What? Who cares? Don’t get ahead of yourself, stupid.” She crossed her arms, refusing to meet his annoying, gleeful gaze. 

Ekko’s disbelief slowly faded into a chuckle, his voice laced with fondness. “Missed you too.” 

His mind raced back to all the years they’ve spent in Zaun. They both carried so much, yet despite walking parallel paths—always just out of reach, always missing each other more than they realized—they kept finding their way back to this space between them, as if some invisible thread refused to let them drift too far apart.

He pursed his lips, remembering a small detail he’s always noticed. 

“You know,” he said softly, a touch of nostalgia in his tone, “sometimes I heard you humming. When the city was dead silent and I just sat outside, I could hear you humming that song from a distance.”

Jinx’s gaze lingered on him. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a quiet longing passing between them—one neither of them could name, yet both knew existed. 

She couldn’t admit it, not even to herself, but she had hummed that song for him. At first, it had been for Vi, a desperate hope that somehow, she could hear it too. But as time passed, the hum became something else—something meant for Ekko. Maybe she didn’t even realize it, but somewhere along the way, she knew that only his ears could catch the melody amidst the city. 

Eventually, maybe unknowingly, she started humming for him. 

Was it their twisted way of saying they missed each other?

Ekko’s soft chuckle broke through the quiet, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. He scooped up another spoonful of chowder, lifting it to her lips. “Never thought you’d be here. I guess we are terrible at being enemies.”

Jinx was parting her lips midway when she paused at his words, her thoughts slipping back into the dark remnants of her nightmare. The images of lifeless bodies, cold and still, flashed in her memory, each one more vivid than the last.

A shiver ran down her spine as the gruesome images clung to her mind like shadows, and she winced, as though she could physically push them away. The nightmare pressed down on her, making her feel small and vulnerable again. 

Telling her she shouldn’t be here.

Ekko’s brows furrowed, concern flickering behind his gaze. “Jinx? What is it?” 

Jinx hesitated, her fingers twitching against her thigh. The words sat heavy on her tongue, tangled in uncertainty. She swallowed hard, her heartbeat thudding a little too fast. 

“Why…Why did you bring me here, Ekko?”

He lowered the bowl in his hands, setting it aside with careful precision. His gaze locked onto hers, searching—always searching. Jinx hated when he looked at her like that. Like she was still Powder. Like there was something worthy in her.

He took a breath, measuring his words. “Because this is where you’d be safe. Where you could actually…try to heal.”

Jinx scoffed lightly, though her tone lacked its usual bite. “You think I’m gonna fit in here? With your little gang of do-gooders?”

Ekko leaned back in his stool, watching her carefully, like she might bolt at any second. Maybe she would. “I told you, I don’t care if you fit in, Jinx. I care that you’re alive.”

She clenched her fists tightly, his words sinking in with an ache she couldn’t name. She hated the way his words landed—so direct, so unwavering. 

No hesitation, no doubt. Like he had already decided she was worth keeping around, no matter how much she pushed back.

"I just... I don’t know, but somehow, I feel like I’m going to ruin everything.” Her words tumbled out, making it harder for herself to stay composed. “Someone here is going to get hurt because of me. What if something happens to them? To those kids? ...To you?” Her voice wavered, fear slipping through the cracks. 

“I can't... I can’t jinx you too."

Ekko’s voice was soft, but firm. “You’re not a jinx.”

Jinx flinched, recoiling at his words. He said it too easily. “Don’t—”

“Do you remember the night on the bridge?”

Jinx paused, the memory hitting her like a bullet. The fire. The smoke. The cold metal under her boots. The look in his eyes—hurt, betrayed, yet still searching for something in her.

“What about it?” she snapped, defensive. “You already told me—”

“We could’ve died that night.”

Jinx stiffened, her eyes wide with tension. 

She was fine with that. That night, the second their eyes met, she knew they were doomed. The realization that caring about each other—caring at all—only led to more suffering. They were caught in an endless cycle, doomed to clash, to keep running in circles until one of them finally fell.

“You had every reason to take me down with you. But you didn’t.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “You let me see the bomb. You gave me that split second to kick it away. And I survived.”

She swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat.

“The fact that I’m still here... aren’t I proof that you didn’t jinx me?”

Panic twisted its way through her ribs. She wanted to fight it, to shove the words back down his throat, to push him away .

The nightmare still clung to her, the ghosts of the people she’d lost clawing at the edges of her mind, whispering— You saved him, but you couldn’t save us.

“You don’t get it!” 

Her heart pounded as the panic clawed at her throat, squeezing tighter with every second he refused to back down.

Ekko wasn’t supposed to still be here.

But he was .

And that terrified her.

“I’m going to jinx you eventually,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. “Sooner or later, I will!”

Ekko exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His patience was fraying, she could tell—but he wasn’t walking away. He wasn’t running . “Then I won’t let you.”

Jinx let out a hollow, bitter laugh, a broken sound. “Like you have a choice.”

She needed him to get it . To understand . She was a ticking time bomb, a walking disaster. A curse waiting to happen. And when she jinxed him, when the cycle repeated itself, when he lay cold and unmoving like all the others— then he’d wish he’d let her go.

But he wasn’t listening.

“You think I don’t?” His voice sharpened. “Do you think I’d still be here if I hadn’t already made that choice?”

She wanted to tell him he was an idiot, to scream that she was trying to protect him. She opened her mouth to argue, but he didn’t let her.

“You missed your shots, Jinx. That night on the bridge. You could’ve hit me. But you didn’t.”

The room felt suffocating. The walls felt like they were closing in—it all felt like it was pressing in on her, trapping her with the truth she didn’t want to hear.

“That means something.”

Jinx shook her head, coiling back, wrapping her arms around herself like she could hold herself together. “It doesn’t mean anything! I really will jinx you—”

Ekko leaned forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “That’s not true, and you know it! You think I’d still be here if I believed that?”

“It will hit you! I will always jinx it!” Jinx erupted, her volume rising, her chest heaving as her breath came in frantic bursts. “Just let me walk away , Ekko! And I’ll never bother anybody again!”

“You think that’s what I want?! For you to disappear?” Ekko’s voice cracked, frustration and something deeper—something aching —laced through it. “You think I fought this hard just to lose you again?”

“I still—” Jinx’s voice wavered, her knees buckling slightly. Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers twitching as if itching to grab at something—her gun, her hair, anything to keep herself from falling apart. “I still ruin everything.”

Ekko’s eyes searched hers, desperation creeping into his expression. “Jinx, please …That’s not—”

“Isha wouldn’t be gone if she hadn’t met me!” Jinx gasped, the words tumbling out like they were being ripped from her throat. “I jinxed her, Ekko—I’m a curse ! I ruin everything! I JINX EVERYBODY! ”

“ THEN I’LL REVERSE IT! ” 

Ekko’s voice rang through the space like a gunshot, sharp and unyielding. Everything was boiling—their years of fighting, the pain—boiled over into those four words. He hadn’t meant to shout, but he couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

Not when she was unraveling in front of him. Not when she was slipping through his fingers all over again.

Jinx froze, her heart stuttering in her chest. She blinked, stunned into silence by his words and as she looked down, she realized that he was now holding her hand tightly. 

“I’ll reverse it every time," Ekko continued, his voice growing more intense. "These things happen because life has been too cruel to you. But you’re not a curse, Jinx.” 

His grip on her tightened, like he could physically hold her together with just his hands. “I know how much the past haunts you, but you can rebuild. You have so much potential—so much. I’ve seen it. ”

Jinx’s chest rose and fell, fast and shallow. How does he know? How does he always seem to know —her fears, her guilt, the voices that crawled through her skull every night, whispering that she was nothing but destruction?

She felt like she was drowning, and his hand was the only thing still keeping her afloat. But what if she dragged him under too? What if she had already started?

Her fingers twitched beneath his, but she didn’t pull away. Why aren’t I pulling away?

His eyes were solid as steel, holding onto hers. "Remember Powder in the other universe? I saw the life you could’ve had, the path you could’ve been on.”

Jinx tensed at the name, but her curiosity flickered, overtaking her fear for just a second. Her throat was dry when she spoke. “What about her? You already told me about her perfect life. What now?”

Ekko exhaled, his grip on her hand loosening just slightly, but he didn’t let go. “I told her…that she was wasting her potential.” 

Jinx’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t what she expected. “What?”

“Because I’ve seen the things you create here—the way your ideas have changed our world. You could be unstoppable.”

Jinx swallowed hard, staring at him like she was trying to find the lie in his words. Why does he believe in me like this? Even in a perfect universe…why me? Why won’t he stop?

Jinx continued to stare at Ekko, too stunned to speak. She scoffed, shaking her head as she wiped at her wet cheeks.

"Why? Why do you care so much ? I don’t get it. I don’t deserve it."

Ekko sighed but he didn’t let her distract him. "Because…I stopped once. I told her…that I gave up on you. I thought I had no choice. I tried but you wouldn’t let me in. Every time I got close, you pushed harder, like you wanted to see how far I’d go before breaking.” 

Jinx swallowed hard, fists clenching. She did. She needed to know how far he’d go before he finally walked away. Before he realized she wasn’t worth it. Before he left her like everyone else.

Ekko shook his head, pressing forward. “You were slipping further and further away, and I told myself I couldn’t save you…But then I realized…that I never stopped caring. And I shouldn’t.”

Jinx scoffed, the sound harsh, defensive. She shoved herself off the bed, the tension in her body making her limbs feel tight, too constricted. She started pacing around the room, biting her lip so hard, it almost bled. 

"It was too hard, Ekko!" she snapped, frustration bubbling over. "I pushed you away because I was scared , okay? Scared you’d see me for what I really am."

Ekko’s expression twisted, something pained flickering across his face. "It wasn’t just about it being hard, Jinx!" His voice finally rose to match hers, his patience fraying. "It was about watching the person I cared about destroy herself while I stood there, useless! It killed me! EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.” 

His words cut into her, sharper than any bullet she’d ever fired. Why won’t he stop? Her body felt too hot, her mind racing, her vision blurring with something she couldn’t control.

But he wasn’t stopping.

He stood up to get closer to her, like his words weren’t reaching far enough, but Jinx was already crumbling, her hands wrapping around herself, her fingers digging into her skin like knives. She had spent so long convincing herself she was past saving—so why was he still here ?

She turned away sharply, nearly stumbling in her haste, her back facing him now. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could block out his presence. To block out the way he always made her feel seen, even when she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“You’re not the only one who gave up, Ekko! I gave up on myself a long time ago. But I didn’t want you to see the monster I was becoming!”

His outstretched hand froze at her words. All they could hear in the silence was Jinx’s heavy breathing, gasping for air.

The seconds dragged, stretching unbearably as she fought for the words—words that had haunted her for so long. They clawed at her ribs, at her throat, at every part of her that had spent years refusing to let them out. 

Her vision blurred with tears, burning behind her eyes, until…

Until the words finally spilled.

“And maybe that’s why I didn’t fight to keep you around,” she finally whispered, tears pouring from her darkened eyes. “Because I knew you deserved better.”

Ekko stared at her frame for a long moment, as if weighing his words against the walls she’d spent years building. The walls he had been trying to break through, piece by piece.

He took a step forward, slowly approaching with softened eyes.

“Then stop fighting it,” he murmured. “Let me help you. Let me be here. I’ve already seen it all, Jinx.” He paused, his eyes watering slowly. 

His own walls were beginning to crack. He took another step, the space between them disappearing inch by inch. He wasn’t reaching for her now—he was waiting . Waiting for her to take the first step, to meet him even halfway.

“I’m tired of giving up on you,” he whispered. His conviction refused to waver.

And Jinx—Jinx didn’t know how much longer she could fight against the one thing she had always wanted. Someone who wouldn’t leave.

“There’s nothing left to—” 

“Maybe there is. From what I can see, you were already starting to move forward—when Isha came into your life…Don’t let that go to waste, Jinx.”

Jinx took a sharp breath at the mention of Isha’s name, a small whimper escaping her lips as her cries turned into quiet sobs. 

“She saw something in you—something good . She looked up to you because she believed you could be redeemed.”

She squeezed her arms tighter around herself, shaking her head, shaking apart. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked breaths. “She was wrong ,” she choked out. “If she never met me, she’d still be alive. She—she should’ve never met me.”

Ekko frowned, stepping closer. “That’s not true, Jinx.”

Jinx let out a shaky laugh, hollow and bitter. “You don’t get it, Ekko! She trusted me. And I let her die .” Her nails clenched tighter at her own arms, like she could hold herself together before she shattered completely. “She—she was just a kid, and I ruined her!”

Ekko shook his head firmly, his gaze never leaving her. “You didn’t ruin her, Jinx. You gave her something. A place where she felt safe. A person she looked up to.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “Isha wouldn’t want this for you. She wouldn’t want you to throw yourself away because of what happened.”

Memories of Isha settled in, but it only made the weight pressing on her chest heavier. She knew . She knew that Isha would want her to keep going, to find a way forward. Yet, deep down, Jinx couldn’t shake the feeling that Isha might have been better off never crossing her path. 

Ekko could see it—how she was pulling away, retreating into the darkest parts of her mind. He couldn’t let her disappear into that void. Not again.

“Jinx,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Isha wasn’t the only one who cared about you. She wasn’t the only one who saw something in you.” He swallowed, his own voice thick with emotion. “There are people who will love you. People who still love you. You don't have to be alone. You never had to.”

Something inside her cracked at those words, something raw and unguarded. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fight against the overwhelming tide threatening to pull her under. 

Don’t. Don’t give me hope. Not for someone like me.

Ekko stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Jinx…Forgive yourself. It’s okay to move forward."

Her fingers twitched against her skin, curling and uncurling as if trying to grasp onto something—anything—to steady herself. Her whole body trembled, her legs locking in place as she fought the urge to turn, to face him, to let go.

But the weight was unbearable.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head frantically. She wanted to run. To disappear. To push him away before he could see just how broken she really was.

But he was already here. Already fighting against the voice in her head.

Her shoulders caved, her body betraying her at last. With a shuddering breath, she turned—slowly, hesitantly—her vision blurred with tears. 

Their eyes finally met. 

And time seemed to stop.

Ekko’s gaze reached into every part of her she wished he wouldn’t see. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was seeing her. The broken girl. The lost child. The wreckage of who she used to be, and the ghost of who she could’ve been.

She saw it all in his eyes, too. The pain. The longing. The grief. The love.

Something inside her cracked, splintered down to its foundation.

And the dam finally broke.

A sob tore through her, raw and gasping, shattering the last of her defenses. And before she could stop herself, her legs gave out.

And for the first time—she let herself fall, knowing someone was there to catch her.

Ekko moved without hesitation, scooping her before she could hit the ground.

The war inside her chest was raging. The weight of her sins, of every mistake, every moment she couldn’t take back, came crashing down at once. 

Her body trembled uncontrollably as she clung to him, her fists curling into the fabric of his shirt, her breathing uneven and desperate. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, and she couldn’t breathe through the raw ache that filled her chest. 

“I—I don’t know how to stop... how to fix this... I keep— I keep losing everyone ,” she gasped, her voice breaking, barely audible. “Why can’t I just be better ...?”

Ekko’s arms tightened around her, holding her close as they both sank to the ground. His emotions caught up to him all at once but despite the crash, his hand still ran through her hair, gentle and careful. 

He needed her to know she wasn’t alone—not anymore. Not ever again.

“Jinx,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to fix everything all at once.”

Her sobs wracked through her body, each one a violent release of everything she’d kept buried for so long. She felt it all, pouring out of her, breaking apart in the safety of his arms. She buried her face against his chest, her fingers gripping his clothes like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

Ekko shut his eyes, resting his chin atop her head, grounding himself in this moment. In the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her trembling against him, the realization that—despite everything—she was still here.

“You’re going to be okay, Jinx.” His voice was low but firm, steady like the heartbeat she pressed against. “You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

She let out a sharp laugh, hollow and bitter. “I barely have it together, Ekko. I’m too broken .”

“No,” he admitted, his hand rubbing over her shoulder in slow, reassuring strokes, “You’re still here. And whether you believe it or not, you’re still fighting.”

Jinx hesitated, her fingers holding onto his shirt tightly. “Fighting for what? For who?”

“For yourself,” Ekko replied softly. 

Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she didn’t pull away. “Ekko… I’m not good at this. At any of this. I break everything I touch.”

“You’re not broken, Jinx,” he said firmly, leaning in until his forehead almost touched hers. “You’re just… bruised. And bruises heal.”

For a moment, she said nothing. She pulled back and her eyes locked onto his, searching for something she wasn’t sure she’d find. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “What if I don’t know how to heal?”

“Then I’ll remind you,” Ekko said simply, his voice steady, like a promise without hesitation.

Her hands gripped him tighter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself be held. Let herself feel safe, even if just for this moment. "I'm scared, Ekko... scared that I’ll hurt more people... that I’ll hurt you.”

There was a long pause. 

For a moment, Jinx froze, a new fear creeping in. Did I jinx it again?

Ekko shut his eyes, his grip tightening around her fragile body, pulling her close to his chest. 

Without hesitation—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he pressed his lips to her hair. The kiss was soft, lingering like a quiet promise. A way to say I'm here. I'm not letting go.

A wave of emotions flooded over him. How many times had he tried to convince himself that if things had gone differently, if he had been faster, smarter, stronger , maybe she wouldn’t have ended up like this?

He had spent so long convincing himself that she was already gone, that the Jinx he knew had been swallowed whole by the chaos. But she wasn’t. She was right here. Fragile, shaking, but here .

And the thought of losing her all over again—of failing her again—was unbearable.

His next words came out broken, raw, but honest.

“Nothing can hurt me more than spending all those years fighting with you.” 

The truth spilled from his tired heart, bringing tears to his eyes. They had always been two worlds apart—until the moment he spoke those words aloud, and something shifted. Something they could rebuild.

Jinx’s sobs were heavy, staining his shirt with endless tears, but she didn’t pull away from him. In his arms, she found something she hadn’t realized she needed—a place to rest, even if just for a moment. 

And for the first time, they both felt it— hope, or at least the possibility of it. Because maybe, just maybe, she believed him. 

And maybe, for the first time, she let herself believe that she could rebuild.

Chapter Text

“Jinx! Jinx!”

The sound of her name made her muscles tense, stopping Jinx in her tracks. She was so used to hearing it spat like a curse, like she was a mistake.

But for the first time—not even since Isha—someone was calling her with joy and excitement.

“Jinx! Good morning! Did you sleep okay?” a young, snowy-paled Firelight girl chirped, running up to her knees, completely oblivious to personal space.

“Lauri, chill out! It’s only her third day here,” another child countered, a boy with skin as dark as Ekko’s, his expression torn between mild annoyance and barely concealed curiosity.

Jinx’s eyes widened, locked onto the two, still too frozen to react. They were the spitting image of…

“Bry, it’s her fourth day here! Get with the program! Arielle told me she’s cool, remember? You always dragged me along to go see her murals!” Lauri teased, hands on her hips, grinning up at her friend.

“N-No I don’t!” Bry stuttered, his hand pushing Lauri’s shoulder playfully, as if it could stop her relentless laughter.

“Oh! Jinx, has Ekko drawn you yet? I think I heard him say he was getting new brushes for—”

“Lauri!” Ekko hissed behind the two children. 

They both gasped, frozen for a second before slowly turning around. Bry’s expression already looked defeated—he knew they were in big trouble now.

“Oops! Wasn’t me! It was Bry!” Lauri chipped, already running off.

“Why you little—! Get back here!” Bry yelled, bolting after her.

Jinx stood there, watching as the two ran off, their laughter echoing through the base. Something in her chest tightened—not in the way it used to, not in pain. Something else. Something unfamiliar, yet familiar .

Ekko let out a tired sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Sorry…I know you’re still getting used to everything around here.”

Jinx barely heard him. Her eyes lingered on the retreating figures of Lauri and Bry, the way they bickered, how effortlessly they played, almost like a replay of a memory. 

They reminded her of something—no, of someone. Of two reckless kids who once ran through the undercity without a care in the world, chasing the wind and each other’s laughter.

“Jinx? You okay?” Ekko asked, his voice dipping into something softer.

When she finally spoke, her voice was filled with nostalgia, “They remind me of us…”

Ekko followed her gaze, watching Lauri and Bry pretend they were landing punches with each other, both missing terribly—or not so terribly—careful not to hurt each other on purpose. It did look familiar.

He had always been protective of those two, always watching out for them. Telling them stories about him and Powder, about their own reckless games, how they used to be just like this—wild, untouchable, together.

He looked over at Jinx. For so long, he never thought he'd get her back. Now, he could hardly fathom that she was here, standing beside him again.

Maybe, just maybe… it wouldn’t have to be only his stories anymore.

Maybe, one day, she’d tell them too.

“You think so? Which one are you?” Ekko teased, nudging her arm.

Jinx rolled her eyes, a chuckle almost escaping her quivering lips. 

“Let’s hope they don’t end up as enemies,” she said, her humor dry, but laced with something deeper.

Ekko scoffed, shifting his weight as he watched the two spar. “They already are. They hate each other but…they’re kinda inseparable.”

“Good. It’s not like hate kept us…” She paused, her voice softer now, almost unsure.

Ekko tilted his head slightly, searching her face. “Kept us what?”

She hesitated, avoiding his gaze. She exhaled and forced the truth out, barely above a whisper.

“Apart.”

Ekko blinked, his heart kicking in his chest. He wasn’t sure what stunned him more—the word itself, or the fact that she had said it—out loud, unguarded? Was she… letting him in?

It was only her fourth day at the base. 

Ekko knew the first night would be rough—how could it not be? But he hadn’t expected the next day to be so… interesting.

At first, he figured she’d lock herself in her room, refuse to come out, maybe even try sneaking off when no one was looking. 

But Jax and Amia had other plans.

The inseparable Jinxer duo stormed into her space like they owned it, unbothered by the tension she carried. No hesitation. No fear. Just relentless energy and unfiltered curiosity for the symbol of Zaun they admired so much…

They spent the entire day orbiting her, undoubtedly testing her patience—pestering her with questions, poking at her inventions, cracking jokes that, to Ekko’s surprise, actually earned a few smirks from her. 

Annoying? Absolutely. Effective? Without a doubt.

When they weren’t interrogating her, they were dragging her out of her room, giving her the grand tour of the base like she was some honored guest. They pulled her into conversations, threw challenges her way, and—Ekko had to admit—the duo were the first to jump down anyone’s throat if they so much as looked at her sideways.

Slowly, reluctantly, she started engaging back, little pieces of her true self slipping through.

But every night…the nightmares still came.

Jinx would stir, whimper, sometimes wake up screaming—always at 4 o’clock, like clockwork. 

And every time, without fail, Ekko would come running to her.

"Well…" He let a smirk creep in, tilting his head. "Considering you’ve been dragging me into bed every night, I’d say you figured that out already."

Jinx’s face immediately twisted into a scowl. "That is not —"

“Yeah yeah, I get it,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Nightmares, right? That’s the only reason?”

She groaned, shoving his shoulder, but the corners of her lips twitched upward despite herself. "I hate you."

Ekko just chuckled. "Hate you too.”

“Ekko!” Scar’s voice cut through the space, his sharp eyes flicking between him and Jinx. He motioned with a hand, gripping one of their hoverboards.

Ekko exhaled through his nose. He already knew what this was about—Scar wanted to talk about improvements to their hoverboards. 

Annoyance flashed across the members’ faces as they spotted Jinx’s presence, frustration simmering beneath every glare.

Ekko did try. He already heard them out— their relentless animosity towards Jinx—how he could bring her here, how he could forgive her…

The questions never changed. The accusations never stopped.

—   —   —

"She doesn’t belong here, Ekko." 

The words hit like a hammer, blunt and final. A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered Firelights, their expressions ranging from tense to outright furious. 

The second night had settled over the Firelights’ base, the hours dragging into the strained depths of night. Jinx was asleep but Ekko felt a tug of worry, as if counting down the moments before she woke—startled, shaken, trapped in another nightmare.

Another Firelight stepped forward, expression tight with frustration.

"She’s a threat and you know that! After everything she’s done—you really think she deserves this?"

Ekko stood firm, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. He had heard it all before, but this time, it felt heavier. More personal.

"Yes. I do.” She deserves a safe space. To not be alone.

Scoffs broke out. Someone in the back cursed under their breath.

“You don’t know her story,” he continued, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep his voice measured.

A harsh laugh cut through the tension.

“We know that she has killed our comrades! Or did you forget about the people on that mural?!” 

The accusation stung like a slap. Ekko's stomach twisted, but he held his ground.

"I didn’t.” His throat felt tight as he scanned their eyes, full of anger. 

"But I saw… I saw how she could’ve turned out. And now that I finally know how to help her—how do I just turn my back on her?"

His words hung in the air, heavy with conviction. Someone muttered under their breath, “Sounds simple enough…”

Ekko’s nostrils flared, his patience already stretched thin. "Look, if you want to blame someone, blame me ." 

His fists clenched against his crossed arms. "I abandoned her. I left her behind. And if I hadn’t…" His voice wavered for the first time, but he forced it steady. "Things would’ve been different."

The crowd shifted, exchanging faltering looks. Some of the anger had dimmed, but the doubt still lingered, thick and suffocating.

They didn’t like it. Their leader taking the blame for the crimes she’s done.

Ekko exhaled sharply, stabilizing himself before speaking again.

“She’s not some heartless killer. Behind all that chaos, she’s been hurt over and over." 

He met their eyes, one by one, daring them to challenge him. "You see her as a problem. I see her as a person. A person who’s been through hell, who’s been lied to, used, abandoned—"

"And what about us?" a voice snapped, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Ekko turned toward the speaker, but they were no longer alone. More voices joined in, frustration bubbling to the surface again.

"What about the people she’s hurt? The damage she caused?!"

The voice came from somewhere in the middle of the crowd—firm, edged with disbelief. Others nodded, their voices growing louder, their anger feeding off each other.

"Do they get a second chance too?!”

“Or is this because she’s a childhood friend?"

Ekko tightened his jaw, his heart pounding in his ears. He knew Jinx’s mistakes. He knew the blood on her hands. But more than that, he knew her.

He wasn’t going to lose this fight.

Not when it came to her.

"She’s reckless, Ekko. You’re gambling with all of our lives."

"And for what?” Another voice cut in, laced with disbelief. "Some broken girl who doesn’t even want to be saved?"

Frustration rippled through the crowd, the weight of past wounds pressing in from all sides, old anger threatening to resurface.

Before Ekko could respond, a voice burst through the crowd.

“WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE SHE’S SAVING RIGHT NOW?!” 

The interruption came from Amia, a blue-haired Jinxer, shoving their way forward, eyes blazing with frustration.

"DAMN RIGHT!" Jax, another Jinxer chimed in, arms crossed, scowling. "When have you goons ever made real change for Zaun? All this fighting and she’s the only one actually trying to end the damn cycle of violence!"

The Firelights shifted uneasily, some exchanging uncertain glances, others standing their ground.

"Just because she went up against the Grey?" One of them scoffed, voice defensive. "We—we could’ve done that ourselves!"

A bitter laugh rang out from Amia. Jax was holding her arms back with no real effort to actually restrain her. 

"Oh yeah? And nuked the Council too? You got the balls for that? ‘Cause last I checked, she did."

“Doesn’t change her actions before all that!”

Suddenly, the tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

"SHE DIDN’T CHOOSE THIS! "

Ekko’s voice cut through the rising noise, sharp as a blade. The frustration that had been spiraling out of control came to an abrupt halt. Words died on tongues. Arguments froze mid-breath.

His chest rose and fell with steady, controlled breaths, but the fire in his eyes burned hotter than ever.

"None of us did."

The words pressed in, like a physical force, heavy and inescapable.

He shook his head, his voice quieter now, but no less certain. "Yeah, the city’s changing. But you really think she doesn’t want to change too? That she doesn’t want to be something different ?"

Silence. A few exchanged looks, uncertainty flickering across their faces. No one spoke.

He could feel the doubt lingering, thick and suffocating.

But he wasn’t done.

"Isn’t that why you didn’t see her rallying? Instead, she went against The Grey because she cared about the people here." His voice carried through the space, unwavering. "She was already changing right in front of your eyes. Why can’t she continue to change here ?"

The reaction was mixed.

The Jinxers nodded along, some murmuring their agreement, others outright cheering for everything Ekko was saying. They saw it—they believed in her.

But the Firelights? They weren’t as easy to sway.

Some crossed their arms, brows furrowed in deep thought, gazes dropping to the floor as if replaying past memories, past losses. Others stood rigid, their expressions carefully unreadable, but the raw tension in their shoulders had eased—if only slightly.

Ekko let the silence stretch before speaking again, his voice steady.

"She’s misunderstood, yeah. She’s reckless, yeah. But if you just gave her a chance—really gave her a chance—you’d see what I see."

A few still looked at him like he was asking for too much.

Ekko could feel the strain of every unsaid thought pressing against him, the unspoken accusations, the lingering distrust.

Then, finally— a shift.

From the crowd, a single voice cut through the silence—not sharp, not accusing, but searching.

Lou.

She stepped forward gently from the crowd, her words slipping through like a carefully placed thread. 

“And what do you see in her?”

Ekko met her gaze.

She wasn’t challenging him.

She was asking.

Searching, grasping for a reason to believe—because some part of her wanted to.

The gravity of the question pressed against his chest, his pulse hammering in his ears. His lips tightened, words catching in his throat before he finally spoke—low, raw, and filled with an intensity he couldn’t quite name.

“Someone worth building for.”

The words landed like a spark in dry air, quiet but impossible to ignore.

The Firelights knew. Ekko had seen that in them too. He had looked at each of them and believed they were worth saving, worth rebuilding.

That was why the Firelights’ base existed at all—for people like them. For people like her.

A few faces softened, uncertainty flickering behind their eyes. They weren’t convinced, not fully. But they were listening.

Ekko swallowed, steadying himself before continuing. His voice was quieter now, but no less certain.

"She’s more than a weapon. She’s smart. She’s resilient. She’s strong in ways most people never even try to be." 

His throat tightened, but he pressed on. "And most importantly, she’s changing. Not just for Zaun, not just for some cause—but for herself. For the person she’s trying to be."

He exhaled sharply, scanning the room, letting the weight of his words settle over them.

"Can she be given the time to prove it? Can you give her that chance to show you who she really is?"

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Ekko could see the battle playing out across their faces—the anger, the hesitation, the ghosts of lost friends and shattered trust warring against something far more fragile but just as dangerous.

The possibility of believing in her.

Some Firelights shifted uncomfortably, gazing at Ekko with uncertainty. Others still stood firm, their expressions cool, but the raw anger had faded, replaced with something quieter. 

Uncertainty. Reluctance.

Ekko exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He didn’t expect them to change their minds overnight. He wasn’t asking them to forget.

But he needed them to listen.

This wasn’t just about Jinx.

It was about proving to them— to himself —that change was possible. That she could be more than the mistakes they knew her for. That second chances weren’t just for the ones who fit neatly into their ideals.

He lifted his chin, meeting their eyes head-on.

Then, he squared his shoulders, his stance unwavering as he delivered his final words.

"You don’t have to trust her yet." His gaze swept across the room, sharp and resolute. "But you can trust me ."

For everyone, that much was undeniable.

They didn’t all agree. Some still resented the idea, others clung to their bitterness, their pain. But one thing was clear—Ekko had spoken, and his words carried weight.

They would allow her to stay.

Not with open arms. Not with trust.

Not yet.

She would be watched, judged, every step measured. And if she so much as slipped—if she proved them right—there would be no second chances.

“If she tries anything—”

Ekko’s gaze snapped to the speaker, his voice cutting through before they could finish. “Then I’ll handle it.”

The words landed like stone, firm and immovable.

“She’s my responsibility. Hang me after if you want. But I’m telling you now—she deserves the chance to prove that won’t happen.”

A heavy silence followed.

Ekko wasn’t asking them to forgive her.

He was asking them to decide for themselves if she was worth rebuilding.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

—   —   —

Ekko paused, glancing over at Jinx. 

Back then, he had fought to convince them she deserved a chance. But words could only do so much. Now, she had the chance to prove it herself.

More than anything, he saw an opportunity. A moment for Jinx to show what she could do—not just to him, but to all of them.

To show them she wasn’t just a risk.

And this time, the Firelights wouldn’t just have to trust him.

They’d see it with their own eyes.

His fingers curled into his palm, determination settling in his chest.

Show them what you see.

A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned in, eyes gleaming with unshaken confidence. "Come on."

Jinx raised a brow. "What?"

"Just come, genius. You don’t have to do anything. Just listen." He tilted his head toward the board in Scar’s hands. “I know you’re curious about the hoverboards. You’ve been staring at them too.”

Jinx scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t argue. Her eyes darted back to the hoverboard, eyeing its mechanics. She had been watching them—studying, really. The way the Firelights handled their tech, the way they glided through the air, almost effortlessly. Almost.

Fine. I’ll listen. Just listen…

“Madness,” she muttered under her breath but Ekko pretended he didn’t hear it.

As they walked over, the shift in energy was immediate. The Firelights weren’t outright hostile, but their presence stiffened. Their gazes flickered between her and Ekko, like they were waiting for her to make a wrong move. 

Jinx knew those looks. She wasn’t welcomed yet. 

Nice crowd. They should pick up rocks already, she thought to herself.

Scar, at least, didn’t waste time. He barely acknowledged the tension before getting straight to the point. “Ekko, we made new hoverboards since your disappearance but… they’re not like the ones you made. They’re constantly glitching."

Jinx observed quietly, already analyzing the errors from her spot, though she already looked bored. 

Oh, so we’re in the "trial and mostly error" phase. Got it.

Around the table, the Firelights mulled over Scar’s latest blueprints. The group was made up of fighters, scouts, and tinkerers—each with their own strengths, each trying to figure out how to make the hoverboards less of a death wish.

"Already landed on my face with one of these buggers," one of them muttered—Curtis, a wiry fighter with more scars than patience, lifting the edge of his shirt to show a fresh scrape along his ribs. 

He was lean, but his scars—some old, some fresh—spoke for themselves. A fighter. A damn good one.

Across from him, a compact but confident figure leaned against the table. She wasn’t the tallest in the room, but her Vastayan presence made up for it. Large, fluffy ears twitched at the murmurs around her, catching every shift in tone. Her fur, a sleek coat of pale silver and white, painted with faint, ghost-like spots, rippled as she shifted.

And those eyes—big, glowing, golden—burned with an intensity that mirrored Jinx’s own. They could glow in the dark, just like hers. 

Arms crossed, she leaned over with a smirk. "Maybe you should stick to punches. At least you’ll land those."

A few chuckles rippled through the group. Curtis rolled his eyes, dropping his shirt with a smirk of his own. "Real funny, Katrina. Let’s see you stay upright on one of these death traps."

"What kind of glitches?" Ekko interrupted, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Scar flipped the hoverboard in his hands. "Power flickers. Sometimes the stabilizers cut off completely. It’s inconsistent, but it happens when we push speed."

Jinx sighed quietly. Easy. It’s the…

The power routing , Jinx and Ekko both answered in their head.

“Who made them?” Ekko asked, even though he didn’t really need to. His eyes were already moving towards Momo, their youngest, most ambitious engineer.

The Yordle shifted under the attention, his furry ears flicking with nervous energy. Even among the Firelights, he still looked out of place—short, scrappy, his bushy tail twitching behind him like a live wire. 

His silver grey fur was smudged with grease, and his goggles—too large for his small face—were pushed onto his forehead, leaving streaks of oil across his brow.

He was still too young, too naive to the harsher realities of Zaun’s underground tech scene. But Ekko knew talent when he saw it. And so had Heimerdinger.

The old professor had taken Momo under his wing the day he met Ekko, plucking him straight off the streets of Zaun with the same quiet determination he always carried. 

Ekko still remembered that day—the way Heimerdinger had studied Momo’s makeshift gadgets. And now, looking at him—his small stature, his restless hands, the way he muttered calculations under his breath when he thought no one was listening—Ekko saw echoes of his mentor.

That same genius tangled up in doubt.

“Oh, um…” Momo hesitated, ears flattening slightly. “Me…” He scratched the back of his neck, his tail flicking behind him, a nervous tic, as his eyes darted anywhere but Ekko’s.

Ekko exhaled through his nose, studying him for a beat before his gaze flickered to the rest of the group.

“What do you think is missing? Anyone can chime in, by the way.”

It wasn’t just a challenge—it was a lesson.

And Ekko knew he had to take over Heimerdinger’s role.

Momo’s ears twitched at the question, his tail flicking behind him in thought. He adjusted his goggles, buying himself a few extra seconds as his brows furrowed in concentration.

What was missing?

The silence stretched, the Firelights shifting, glancing at one another. No one spoke. Some furrowed their brows like they were deep in thought, but Jinx could tell—they didn’t have a clue. 

They were stalling.

Jinx’s lips pressed together, thoughts already racing. Calculating. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. But this… this was familiar. This, she understood.

They had their ideas. But she had the answer.

Maybe—just maybe—this was something she could do.

She exhaled through her nose, her eyes still tracing the edge of the board.

"It’s the power routing," she said, finally breaking the silence.

The words cut through the air like a shockwave. Heads snapped toward her. Kat and Momo’s ears twitched, angling in her direction. Even Curtis, who had been avoiding eye contact, perked up.

"What?" Scar asked, caught off guard.

Jinx didn’t look at him. Her focus was on the hoverboard, her eyes scanning every detail.

"The stabilizers aren’t failing," she continued. "They’re being overloaded. Your power’s split between propulsion and stabilization, right? But you’re pushing speed too hard—so when the system compensates, it’s forced to prioritize. And guess what it picks?"

She finally looked up, her pink eyes sharp, alive.

"Speed."

Ekko crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching. He knew she had it in her.

Scar frowned. "That…doesn’t sound right. The stabilizers should handle it."

Jinx scoffed. "Think about it. These boards weren’t made for high-speed chases. Not like the ones Ekko built. Yours are good—fast, even—but they’re not optimized. The power distribution isn’t balanced. You need an independent capacitor for the stabilizers, something to stop them from leeching off propulsion.” 

“Otherwise, the second you push max throttle…" Her eyes flicked to the ground, making a mock explosion sound with exaggerated hands.

" Poof . You’re eating pavement."

Silence fell.

Scar’s frown deepened, but it wasn’t irritation—it was realization.

Curtis blinked, his brows knitting together. "Shit…she’s right."

Kat muttered under her breath, piecing it together in real-time. "That actually makes sense."

Momo was already fumbling with his blueprints, flipping between pages as he mentally ran the numbers again.

Ekko glanced around at the others, watching their expressions shift from skepticism to reluctant respect. Jinx had barely even tried, and she’d already left them speechless.

He smirked at Scar. "Told you she was smart."

Jinx rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in a defensive stance. "Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

Scar hesitated before turning the hoverboard in his hands. The tension in the air had changed—still wary, still cautious, but different.

Jinx had made an impression.

Ekko hid his smirk, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. He knew she could stand here now, proving what he had never stopped believing. Her potential. Her genius.

He nudged her lightly. "So… you wanna show ‘em how it’s done?"

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the question. Me? Show them?

Her first instinct was to scoff, to brush it off with some flippant remark—but when she looked at Ekko, really looked, she saw something in his eyes. Not expectation. Not pressure. Just belief.

That old, infuriating, unshakable belief in her.

He was right. Her fingers were itching for the weight of a wrench, the burst of sparks dancing in the air as she brought a creation to life. It wasn’t just about proving them wrong—or right. It was the craving to make something better.

Something I couldn’t mess up.

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders like she was shaking something off. Then, with a smirk creeping onto her lips, she tilted her head at him.

"Hmph. You really think they can keep up?"

—   —   —

Jinx’s fingers moved with practiced ease, twisting a wrench here, adjusting a circuit there. The hoverboard’s internal mechanisms sprawled open before her on her workbench, its exposed wiring and gears a puzzle she was more than happy to solve. 

Around the larger table, the Firelights had already set to work, using her tips and modified blueprints without question.

It was… strange.

She hadn’t expected them to listen. But they had.

Without realizing it, she had slipped into a role she hadn’t held in a long time—someone people looked to for answers. Someone useful.

A grin tugged at her lips as she refocused on the board in front of her, indulging in her little bubble. Every gear, every wire—it all made sense. Unlike people, machines didn’t lie. They had rules, patterns, and logic.

She could trust them.

"Jinx."

She tensed. There it was again—her name, spoken without malice. Without hesitation. That was still taking some getting used to.

Snapping her head around, she found Scar approaching, his expression carrying a hint of quiet pride—approval, even.

"Um… thanks for your help, Jinx," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ekko takes on too much sometimes, trying to rebuild everything."

Jinx narrowed her eyes. "He knew what he was doing. And I just wanted to distract myself… Thank me again, and I’ll cut these hoverboards in half."

Scar exhaled, shaking his head with the ghost of a smirk. He was already learning—this was just how she was. "Noted."

For a moment, he just studied her, like he was still wrapping his head around something. 

“What? Are you waiting for a fireworks show?” Jinx snapped, turning back to her craft.

Scar huffed out a sigh. No wonder he’s in love with you. Your crazy matches his fire. Finally, he spoke again. 

“I didn’t really get what Ekko meant when he said you had…potential. Something other than…fighting, I guess.”

Jinx tightened her hold on her screwdriver. Her eyes stayed glued on her project, her heart quickening. 

“But…I get it now.” He nodded towards her build. 

Jinx groaned, cutting him off. “Scar, I’m this close to shooting you. Stop it.”

Scar smirked. "Fine, fine. Just one last thing." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to share some grand secret.

Jinx’s glare sharpened. “Scar—”

“The kids are watching you.”

Jinx blinked.

Scar tilted his head toward the side, and sure enough, there they were—a small cluster of kids, barely able to contain their fascination. She could name half of them now. Lauri, Bry, Kiyo, Arielle…

But two unnamed kids caught her eye.

Fraternal twins.

They stood close together, almost as if tethered by an invisible thread, mirroring each other’s movements without thinking. Their faces were different enough—one with a sharper jawline, the other softer—but their eyes.

The same shade of blue.

The same as hers and Vi’s.

Before…

Jinx swallowed. Something twisted in her chest, familiar yet distant, a ghost of a memory clawing at the edges of her mind.

They had that same shared understanding, that unspoken connection only siblings had—the kind that didn’t need words.

The kind she used to know.

Their wide, curious eyes locked onto hers, lingering on the unnatural pink hues swirling in them. The kind of eyes she had always assumed would send kids running.

But they didn’t.

Their eyes weren’t wary. They weren’t afraid.

They were sparkling.

Inspired.

Jinx stared at them for a beat, expression unreadable.

Scar, already knowing exactly where to push, nudged her lightly. “Teach them a thing or two. If you want.”

Jinx clicked her tongue, looking back at the hoverboard as if it held all the answers. It didn’t. Not this time.

She could feel their eyes on her—eager, curious, waiting. It was unsettling. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Not…admiration.

Her grip tightened around the wrench. "They’ll just slow me down."

Scar didn’t argue. He just shrugged, voice even. "Maybe. But you didn’t seem to mind when Ekko helped you with a few."

Jinx tensed. That was different. Ekko had always been different.

The kids shuffled closer, just barely. One of them—Bry, she thought—leaned in like he was ready to soak up every little trick she had to offer. 

Jinx let out a slow breath. Then, without looking at them, she slid a screwdriver across the ground, right into Bry’s reach. 

"Well? You just gonna gawk or are you actually gonna help?"

A few of them hesitated. Then, like a floodgate breaking, they moved—gathering around, watching intently, waiting for her next instruction.

Scar’s voice softened, just enough for only her to hear. "You're very brave, Jinx. For standing up and starting over."

Jinx stiffened. The words landed heavier than she wanted them to.

Brave.

She almost laughed.

Her first instinct was to brush it off, maybe threaten to throw a grenade at him…

But before she could, Scar was already turning away, hands in his pockets, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Jinx scowled at his retreating form. Damn it.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the blue strands before she glanced back at the kids.

They were still there.

Wide-eyed. Waiting.

They were watching the tools in her hand, tracking every flick of her wrist like it meant something.

Like she meant something.

Jinx drummed her fingers on the bench before sighing and clapping her hands dramatically. “Alright brats, welcome to Jinx’s Workshop! Who wants to get their hands dirty first?”

A brief pause—then a nudge from one of the twins.

"Via, go first! Ask her!" Danny urged, eyes bright with encouragement as she gently pushed her twin sister forward.

Via hesitated for only a second before stepping up, eager but cautious. "What are you doing?"

Jinx raised a brow. "Fixing a botched stabilizer job, obviously.”

The kid blinked, then nodded quickly. "Yeah, but… how?"

Jinx rolled her shoulders, grabbing a tool and flipping it in her hand. "Alright, listen up. Hoverboards are all about balance—center of gravity, weight distribution, power output. Mess with one, and the whole thing goes to hell. This?" 

She tapped the stabilizer with her wrench. "Right now, it’s a disaster. But I—" She paused momentarily. Then a lopsided grin tugged at her lips. " We can make it better."

Via’s face lit up, an excited smile spreading across her lips, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Jinx felt something stir in her chest—small, unexpected. That smile, so eager, so…familiar. She felt a warmth she knew too well. 

On the side, Kiyo edged closer, fingers twitching like she wanted to reach for something but didn’t dare. Jinx noticed.

"Here," she said, pressing a screwdriver into her hands—not rough, but firm. "Hold this. Tight. And don’t drop it, or we’re both screwed."

Kiyo’s grip locked around the tool like it was the most important thing in the world. The other kids inched forward, curiosity winning over hesitation.

Jinx scanned their sparkling eyes. She could do this. Again. 

It’s okay to try again. 

Scar, watching from a distance, shook his head with a knowing chuckle.

He didn’t say it outright, but they both knew.

Kids were her weakness.

Her and Ekko’s weaknesses.

—   —   —

4 o’clock

Jinx wakes up startled for the fourth night in a row, her breathing ragged and her forehead damp from sweat. It was the same damn nightmare again. 

Her hand instinctively reached out into the darkness—not for the blanket, but for the boy who never left her side since her first nightmare here. 

Ekko stirred, barely awake, but his hand found hers with practiced ease. Half-asleep, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her. 

By her third night at the Firelights’ base, Jinx had stopped asking him to stay.

And Ekko had stopped hesitating.

It had become routine by now. Most nights, they ended up in the same bed, tangled together, a shared response to Jinx’s relentless nightmares. 

She insisted it was just because of the dreams, but deep down, she knew the truth. Without him, she felt cold, hollow. Ekko was warmth itself—like the sun—and she’d grown unable to sleep without her sun now. 

As for Ekko, he couldn't sleep properly even if he tried. Even when exhaustion weighed him down, his mind refused to rest.

What if she slipped away?

He’d toss and turn, his thoughts running wild, his body wired with restless energy—because if he wasn’t there, who was to say she wouldn’t be gone by morning?

His hand slid to her hair, fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes. He always knew how to calm her, how to pull her back from the edge of her nightmares. Jinx let her eyes flutter shut, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

At least Ekko was real. His touch, his warmth—they were her refuge. Her safe place. 

“Another nightmare?” he murmured, half asleep.

She didn’t answer right away, wrapping her arms tightly around him instead and pulling him closer, seeking the comfort of his solid frame.

Somehow, physical touch was as easy as breathing for them. Ever since that first night—the night she broke down in his arms, the same arms that held her, carried her to bed, and never let go. 

The first night his lips found her hair, her forehead—again and again—each press sending a reassuring shock through her as she cried into his chest throughout the night.

And every time, Jinx didn’t pull away. Not anymore.

“Mhm…” she finally mumbled, her face pressed against his chest as she breathed him in, his scent grounding her further. He smelled of fresh earth, with faint traces of axle grease—familiar, nostalgic, a scent that pulled her back to safe, distant memories.

Scents were always her love language. It was how she remembered her loved ones best.

“I’m right here…” he whispered, his voice already trailing off as he drifted back to sleep.

Jinx clung to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know… Don’t leave me… please.”

But Ekko was already unconscious, his soft breathing the only reply. And still, Jinx felt safe. Safe enough to close her eyes again.

—     —     —     

Early morning

When Jinx woke again, Ekko was already halfway dressed, his back to her as he pulled on his jacket. As he shrugged it on, his fingers brushed against the lining—and he caught a glimpse of something.

Faint but unmistakable, scribbled in her signature messy scrawl:

"Jinx was here."

Ekko’s lips twitched into a small, warm smile.

Of course she did. Of course she's here.

Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the old wooden walls, casting long shadows across the room. She blinked drowsily, barely registering the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor as he moved to leave.

The soft rustle of the sheets was the only sound, until he glanced over his shoulder and noticed she was awake.

"Finally awake, sleepyhead?" he teased, adjusting his collar. "C’mon, get up. The kids are already looking for you."

Jinx groaned, burying her face into the pillow for a second longer before dragging herself up with a dramatic sigh. "Ugh. Already? Who gave them that kinda energy this early?"

Ekko just chuckled, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "Dunno. But you better hurry before they start tearing the place apart."

Jinx smirked sleepily to herself as she stretched, knowing she wasn’t getting out of this one. “What’s on your agenda today, Boy Savior? Tinkering the hundredth hoverboard today?”

“No…Um…I actually need to head out…outside of the base.” 

Ekko’s voice wavered just slightly and then he paused, watching her carefully, gauging her reaction.

Her eyes widened, her body going rigid before she caught herself. 

He’s…leaving?

She forced her shoulders to relax, tried to play it cool—but her fingers curled into the sheets, gripping tight.

Calm down, idiot. He’s run errands before.

But something in her gut told her this time was different. It wasn’t just to scavenge food or collect materials. This time, it felt like something more.

“You…You won’t be here today? Why?”

Ekko blinked, momentarily stunned. There it was—that look. Did she even realize how easy it was for her to look so… vulnerable? Like she could drop her guard completely, but only in front of him?

He cleared his throat. “Um…It’s a surprise…hopefully.”

Jinx didn’t look impressed. Her expression shifted from hesitant to annoyed in a heartbeat. “I hate riddles.” 

Ekko smirked, shaking his head. “Trust me, I’ll be back before you finish another hoverboard.”

Jinx exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the pillows. “Or…I could just lock myself in this room.”

Ekko’s brow furrowed. “Huh? What, why?”

She hesitated for a second before muttering, “Because Ekko…I’m pretty sure I’ll get jumped the moment you’re gone…”

Ekko’s smirk faded. “Jinx…”

She looked away, pressing her lips together before letting out a bitter laugh. “I know you’ve seen it, Ekko. The way they still look at me…”

Ekko sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jinx… You’ve made so much progress already."

Jinx scoffed, shifting so she was sitting up fully, her fingers gripping the sheets absentmindedly. "Oh yeah? Did they all collectively decide not to hate me while I was asleep?"

Ekko crossed his arms, tilting his head. "You really think you’re still alone here?"

Jinx opened her mouth to fire back, but she knew who he was referring to. Besides the kids, there were a few faces—too few, but still more than she expected—that had somehow crawled their way into her life. 

It hadn’t been sudden, not some grand, dramatic moment. It was slow, almost imperceptible.

A sarcastic remark thrown her way that didn’t sting. A nod of acknowledgment instead of a wary glance. Hands reaching for the blueprints she made without hesitation. Someone leaving an extra portion of food near her spot at the table, like it was just another routine.

Little things. Small, quiet moments that chipped away at the walls she hadn’t even realized she was still holding up.

“Ekko—”

"If anyone hurts you," he cut in, his voice turning firm, edged with something unmistakably serious.

Jinx watched as he strapped her zapper gun to his own holster effortlessly. Then, his blazing eyes met hers, locking onto her like a promise. “They’ll be limping.”

A slow heat crept up her spine, unexpected and restless. Her fingers twitched against the sheets as the heat reached her cheeks.

Something about Ekko threatening someone on her behalf was… unsettlingly hot.

Ekko just smirked, already heading for the door. "And try not to blow anything up while I’m gone."

Jinx flopped back against the mattress dramatically, groaning into the pillow before peeking up at him through messy blue strands.  "No promises."

Ekko chuckled as he stepped out, leaving her with a lingering thought she wasn’t quite ready to entertain.

—     —     —   

Jinx was slowly adjusting to the familiar faces around the Firelights’ base.

It was strange, being somewhere long enough to recognize people—not as enemies, not as obstacles, but as… something else.

Something closer to…family.

She wasn’t sure when it had started happening. Maybe when Scar stopped eyeing her like she was a ticking time bomb. Maybe when Kat, still wary, still guarded, had offhandedly tossed her a new tool instead of forcing her to ask for one.

Or maybe it was now—walking through the courtyard alone, for the first time, and realizing no one was stopping her.

No suspicious glares trailing her every move. No hushed whispers the second she passed.

She walked by Jax and Amia, the two locked in an exaggerated argument over whose hairstyle looked superior. They barely glanced up before Jax shot her a lazy salute, Amia elbowing her with a smirk.

Further down, Lou and Curtis were huddled over a scavenged device, whispering excitedly. Jinx expected them to stiffen when they noticed her, but instead, Curtis grinned, lifting the gadget slightly like he was showing her something.

They weren’t afraid of her.

That realization sank in, heavy but warm, unsettling but not unpleasant.

She had spent so long expecting rejection that she almost didn’t know how to exist without it.

Jinx exhaled, fingers flexing at her sides, heart hammering against her ribs.

Ekko was gone on a mission. She was alone.

And yet, for the first time in a long time… she didn’t feel like a ghost.

Ana, the curly-haired girl she’d fought more times than she could count, had been one of the first Firelights to surprise her. Maybe it was because Jinx had saved one of her friends from Stillwater, but whatever the reason, Ana had softened. 

Too much, too fast. 

The first time she thanked Jinx, Jinx had just shrugged it off with an awkward “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all weepy on me.” But Ana was persistent.

Maybe too persistent.

Ana never let it go, constantly finding excuses to talk to Jinx, asking questions, cracking jokes, filling the silences that Jinx wasn’t sure she wanted filled. 

Her gratitude didn’t fade, either—every so often, she’d remind Jinx about saving her best friend, "Jinx, you saved Soph at Stillwater remember? She acted tough but she was scared shitless! Oh don’t tell her I said that…”

At first, Jinx had bristled at the attention, wary of the sudden warmth aimed in her direction. But then she remembered Ekko’s words from her first night here.

"You can rebuild, Jinx."

And maybe… this was part of that.

Jax and Amia remained inseparable. And by extension, so had Jinx. Somewhere along the way, their interactions stopped feeling forced. The wariness chipped away, bit by bit, until Jinx realized she wasn’t dreading their presence anymore.

She still wasn’t sure how it happened, but now? Jax and Amia treated her like a younger sister, constantly checking in, dragging her into conversations, pestering her about whether she’d eaten or slept.

It was weird.

Not bad, just—new.

Even Ekko seemed a little jealous. He’d fold his arms and grumble whenever Jax or Amia stole her attention, muttering things like, "Didn’t know you were taking applications for new best friends."

Jinx, of course, ate that up. "Geez, Ekko, didn’t take you for the clingy type," she’d tease, flashing him a smug grin.

She was slowly getting used to the attention. If anything, it was kind of… nice. To have people care so openly. Scary but…nice.

And really, who could blame them? Ekko might roll his eyes, but deep down, he had to understand.

Who wouldn’t want to spend time with Jinx?

“Good morning, Jinx! Did you sleep well?” Jax greeted her with a bright smile, balancing a crate of scavenged parts in her arms as she moved across the base. She set it down on a nearby workbench with a heavy thud, wiping her hands on her pants before turning back to her.

Jinx gave a dry laugh, stretching her arms above her head.  “Hah… if you can count screaming as sleeping, heh…”

Amia, who had been perched on a stack of crates organizing wiring, paused and turned toward her, eyebrows raising. Then, ever so slowly, a mischievous grin spread across her face.

“...Did you and Ekko—?”

“WHAT?! NO!” Jinx practically choked, nearly tripping over a stray gear as she whipped around, cheeks burning.

Jax snorted, pretending to inspect a damaged hoverboard to hide her smirk. Amia let out a small cackle, clearly enjoying herself.

“Oh, haha! We all know that’s practically his room too now,” she teased, nudging Jinx playfully before hopping down from the crates. Stretching her arms behind her head, she scanned the base.

"Speaking of, where is the Little Leader, anyway?" Amia turned on her heel, scanning the crowded space for any sign of Ekko. Jax, now sorting through tools on the workbench, hummed.

“Yeah, kinda weird waking up and not seeing his stressed-out face first thing in the morning.” She tossed a screwdriver between her hands, glancing at Jinx with a knowing smirk. "You’d know best, huh?"

Jinx groaned, flinging a loose bolt at her head. "Shut up before I throw a hammer.”

Jax just laughed, easily dodging the bolt, while Amia smirked at her, clearly entertained. But Jinx had already tuned them out, her gaze flickering around the base.

No sign of him.

She knew how busy he always was leading the Firelights, constantly moving, constantly planning. But his absence never failed to stir her anxiety. 

And this time, he was on an extended mission. Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios. 

What if he got arrested? What if someone hurt him? What if… what if he left me?

She shook her head sharply, forcing the thoughts away. She’d been through this before. Ekko always came back to her. Whether it was a short scavenge for food or meetings with Scar, he always came back. 

Every time she saw him again, a wave of relief would flood her chest, though she never let it show. She hated how much she overthought things, how deeply his presence anchored her. 

God, you have abandonment issues, she thought to herself.

Scar lingered in the background, as usual, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the area. When he wasn’t around, he was off gathering intel from the outside world—a world Jinx was beginning to forget even existed. 

War and chaos raged beyond the safety of these walls, but here, inside this little bubble with Ekko, she felt like she could breathe.

It reminded her too much of the fantasy she’d tried to build with Isha—a small, perfect world she could never seem to keep. Why couldn’t she ever just be left in peace with the people she cared about? Why did something always have to tear it all apart?

"Hey!"

Jax’s voice broke through the noise, loud and easygoing as ever. Jinx blinked, snapping out of her thoughts just as she nudged her shoulder, nodding toward a pile of freshly picked blooms on a nearby table.

“We’re paying respects to our fallen friends today. Pick some flowers for your friend,” Jax said in a softer tone.

Jinx glanced over, spotting Arielle and her group of friends already sorting through the assortment. On the other end of the table, Lauri and Bry were locked in a heated argument, hands swiping at the same cluster of flowers.

“I grabbed these first!” Lauri huffed, yanking a handful of blue flowers toward her.

Bry scoffed, refusing to let go. “Yeah? Well, I saw them first.”

“That’s not how this works, dumbass!”

“It is if you’ve got better reflexes.” Bry smirked, tugging the flowers back just enough to be annoying.

Lauri narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even care about flowers! Name three.”

Bry hesitated for half a second—long enough.

Lauri gasped, triumphant. “Ha! Knew it!”

“Shut up, I was thinking!”

Jinx, watching the chaos unfold, turned to Amia, deadpan. “Are they always like this?”

Amia smirked. “Oh, this is tame.”

“Jinx! Jinx!” Arielle called excitedly, tugging Jinx toward the table. “Which flower did Isha like?” 

The mural of Isha had spread her name like wildfire through the base. More people came to know her story—who she was and the sacrifice she made for Zaun. 

Over time, a title emerged: The Protector of Zaun. Jinx’s little protector.

“Jinx, pick a blue one! Just like both of your hair!” Danny chimed in with a grin, her brown hair getting tangled in a bundle of blue roses.

“No, no, a white one!” Via, her twin sister countered enthusiastically, shoving white lillies in the air.

Felix was more introverted and quiet. Jinx couldn’t believe this was the kid that was about to risk his life to go save Scar on his own. He reminded her of Isha, quiet yet fearless. He walked up slowly and held up two small flowers, blue and white.

Jinx smiled at their enthusiasm, her heart softening. “How about we mix blue and white?”

The kids beamed at the suggestion, their excitement palpable as they carefully sifted through the pile of flowers, whispering to each other about which ones looked the prettiest.

Jinx lingered for a moment, watching the kids—so careful, yet so eager. Their hands, small and delicate, reminded her of her Little Protector.

Isha had always been like that—gentle, but fierce in her own way. Jinx could almost hear her soft laughter, picture the way she’d hum while threading the petals together, making something beautiful out of nothing.

She would’ve loved it here.

The thought struck deep, twisting in her chest.

Jinx should’ve brought her here. She should’ve let Isha see this place, feel safe in it, and belong to something bigger. Instead, she had kept her close—too close—wrapped up in a world that was bound to unravel.

Isha should have had this. Not the chaos, not the destruction, not her.

Jinx’s fingers twitched at her sides as she stepped away, approaching the mural. Her gaze traced every familiar feature. She paused, serenity washing over her as she gazed at Isha’s painted face, her features captured with such care and love. 

For a fleeting moment, she could almost convince herself that if she just reached out—if she just tried —she could pull Isha out of the paint and back into the world.

But the world had already taken her.

“What was she like, Jinx?” Via asked cautiously.

“Yeah, was she a good shooter?” Danny pressed more eagerly. 

“Guys…! Please,” Arielle cautioned them. 

Jinx hesitated for a moment. When she talked about Isha, it felt like warm sunlight breaking through a storm. The sunlight was brief, like she was flipping through warm memories of Isha. But the storm always returned, drowning her in waves of guilt and grief once more.

“She was fearless. Never missed a shot.” It was all she could muster to say without breaking down again.

There was only one shot she wished Isha didn’t take. 

Gently, Jinx placed the bouquet at the base of the mural while Kiyo and Arielle helped the younger kids light the candles and began to pray.

Jinx never prayed herself, but as she knelt there, she silently hoped that Isha was somewhere warm and safe—a place far better than Zaun.

They would’ve loved you, kid…I’m sorry I kept you all to myself but…I still miss you.

Suddenly, a commotion broke the stillness.

Not in an obvious way—no alarm bells, no shouting—just a shift. A ripple in the air.

“Ekko’s back!….Hey, he brought someone!” Via whispered loudly. 

“I’ve seen her before…,” Kiyo murmured under her breath.

“Didn’t she work for Silco?” Danny chimed in.

“Isn’t she your friend?” Lauri asked Jinx.

The Firelights around them went still, their conversations dying off mid-sentence. Some stiffened, others exchanged wary glances. It was the kind of reaction you had when someone important—someone dangerous—just walked in.

Jinx felt it before she even turned around.

A presence she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

She turned slowly, and there she was.

Sevika.

She was entering the base blindfolded—alive and very real.

The last time they saw each other, they weren’t enemies. 

If anything, that fragile bubble she managed to build with Isha had always included the three of them. A strange, unspoken rhythm—Jinx, Isha, and Sevika.

She could still picture it, as if they were all in her lair yesterday.

Jinx dragging Sevika along when she didn’t want to be bothered, pestering her until she finally caved and grabbed them food.

Isha sitting cross-legged on the counter, popping snacks into her mouth while Sevika scolded them both for getting into trouble—halfheartedly, of course.

Jinx pulling pranks on her just to get a reaction, only to have Sevika roll her eyes and grumble something about “ damn kids ” while Isha stifled her giggles.

She wasn’t sure when it shifted—when Sevika stopped just tolerating them and started watching out for them. When she started checking in, staying close, stepping in whenever things got too dangerous.

Maybe it was always like that, and Jinx had just never thought about it before.

Before she came here. Before she had left everything behind. Before Isha…

Jinx’s feet felt like they were moving on their own, slow and unsteady.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, barely hearing the murmurs around her, barely registering the Firelights watching with wary curiosity. 

All she could see was Sevika.

Breathing. Standing. Here.

For a split second, she felt like a kid again—like she was back in Zaun, waiting for Sevika to roll her eyes and sigh at her antics.

She hesitated mid-step, as if Sevika might disappear the moment she got too close. Like she wasn’t real.

Then Ekko shifted beside her, his gaze flicking toward Jinx before settling on Sevika.

That's what you were off doing, Boy Savior.

He didn’t speak, but she saw it in his eyes.

He was bracing himself.

Jinx swallowed, her fingers twitching at her sides. Do it.

Ekko exhaled, then reached for the blindfold.

The cloth slipped away, and Sevika blinked hard against the sudden glow of the Firelights' sanctuary.

And for the first time in a long time, Jinx saw her again. The one person who had seen every version of her and was still standing in front of her now.

Jinx’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to smirk, tilting her head. “Huh. Guess they’re letting just about anyone in these days.”

Sevika’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but wasn’t quite a scowl either.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Jinx exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms as she took Sevika in.

Same broad stance. Same unshakable presence. Even now, she had carried herself like she owned the damn room. Like nothing and no one could touch her.

Well, almost nothing.

Jinx’s gaze flickered down, and there it remained—the empty space where her robotic arm used to be. The one Jinx had built for her with care, with precision, with every ounce of genius she had in her. 

Her hard work, all torn apart from those damn Pilties.

Jinx clicked her tongue, tilting her head. “What, finally tracked me down so I could fix it again?”

Sevika’s lips twitched. Not quite a smirk, but close.

“If I wanted junk work, I’d find a rookie,” she muttered.

Jinx gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Oh, ouch. That hurts, you know.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Bet it hurts more when you reach for a drink and forget it ain’t there.”

Sevika huffed through her nose. Same old Jinx.

Jinx narrowed her eyes. Same old Sevika.

But nothing about this moment felt the same. Not without…

Sevika’s gaze softened as she took in Jinx’s disheveled state. “This boy approached me, claiming he had you…I’ve been looking for you so I told him to prove it.”

She lifted a piece of fabric—Jinx’s old crop top, worn and faded, but not without her signature cross. 

Ekko. He must’ve brought it as evidence.

Jinx barely had time to process before Sevika’s eyes flicked over her again, taking her in like she was both familiar and a stranger at the same time.

“Looks like you’re in one piece… though, without your braids, I almost didn’t recognize you.” Her gaze lingered a second longer before she exhaled. “What happened to you after Stillwater? Where’s Ish—”

The name barely left her lips before her eyes landed on the mural.

The words died in her throat. Her body tensed, the realization crashing over her all at once.

The pieces clicked into place.

The little one. The one they had both cared for. Gone.

Jinx dropped her gaze, her shoulders going rigid. The reoccuring shame was welling up inside her. 

Without a word, Ekko shifted closer.

Not intruding, not pushing—just there. A steady, grounding presence. His hand brushed against her arm, slow and deliberate, a silent reassurance rather than a demand.

And somehow, Jinx found herself leaning into it.

Instead of recoiling, instead of flinching, she took a breath. Deep. Steady. Learning, ever so slowly, how to cope.

Sevika watched the exchange, with astonishment. Jinx had always flinched from physical touch. She had never seen her accept it so easily—not since Isha.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Ekko said, his voice calm and understanding. “Call for me if you need anything.” He didn’t need to say more. His presence alone was grounding, an unspoken “I’m still here.”

Jinx met his gaze, a brief but wordless exchange passing between them—a quiet reassurance, a tether. Then, with a small nod, she turned back to Sevika.

The walk felt heavier than it should have.

Each step felt like wading through old memories, like they were peeling back time. The way the Firelights glanced at them—some wary, some curious, others pretending not to look at all—didn’t matter.

Sevika walked beside her, silent, but not in the way that made her absence feel distant.

No, Sevika was present. Right there. Just like she always had been.

And yet, this time, Jinx wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a reminder of everything that had changed.

When they finally stopped in front of the mural, Sevika let out a slow breath, arms crossing over her chest.

A long silence stretched between them before she finally spoke.

“Did he paint this?” 

Jinx swallowed, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "Yeah."

Sevika studied the mural, her expression deep in thought before she gave a small nod.

“Hm. Not a bad kid,” Sevika muttered, folding her arms.

Jinx shrugged, but the faintest smile ghosted across her lips.

Ekko meant something to her now.

But she’d never say it out loud—not even if Sevika pried it out of her.

“I’m not going to ask what happened,” Sevika began, her tone measured, carefully restrained. “But Jinx, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

Jinx let out a weary sigh, her eyes darting. “I’ve already heard this from Ekko.”

Her voice was hollow, tired, like she had repeated the words so many times they had lost all meaning.

“I’ll never forgive myself for failing to protect her. She deserved better. I…” Her breath hitched, her throat tightening against the weight of her own guilt.

“I wanted to join her.”

The confession hung between them, raw and unfiltered.

Sevika’s face hardened. Her breathing came a little too sharp, a little too uneven. She had always known Jinx had little regard for her own life—but hearing those words?

It struck deep.

Jinx refused to look at her, her arms wrapping around herself as if bracing for impact.

“But then… Ekko saved me,” she admitted, her voice softening, like saying it out loud made it more real. “He brought me here, and it helped. A little. But part of me still believes I’ll ruin everything.”

Her nails dug into the fabric of her sleeves. “Every time I bring it up, Ekko shuts me down, saying he’ll make sure nothing happens. But we both know he can only do so much.”

Sevika listened, saying nothing for a long moment.

Jinx had barely spoken about Silco. About Zaun. But Ekko’s name? She had mentioned him over and over.

Sevika had never thought much of the boy—but hearing Jinx now, it was undeniable.

This boy clearly meant the world to her.

“Are you afraid to lose him too?” Sevika asked, her voice quieter now.

Jinx scoffed bitterly. “Ha, I already lost him once… but you can say that I guess.” Her voice trailed off, but she pushed through, shaking her head. “I don’t want to lose anyone. I’m so tired of losing people.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, folding her arms. “It’s the price of war, Jinx.”

The words hit like a dull blade—blunt but deep.

Jinx swallowed hard, the reality settling in her chest like iron. If anyone knew the true cost of war, it was her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Because they both knew—this war wasn’t waiting for anyone.

The price had been paid in blood. In graves. In names carved into walls.

The price was Isha.

She let out a slow, trembling breath. “Where have you been?”

Sevika scoffed, rolling her shoulders. “There was a stupid meeting…in Piltover.”

Jinx whipped her head up, her eyes burning with curiosity and unease. 

Sevika caught the look and sighed. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear. It’s some idiotic call to join the war with the Pilties.” 

Her voice dripped with disdain, annoyance flickering behind her eyes. “Scar and I walked straight out. Couldn’t listen to another word of their self-righteous garbage. 

She hesitated, just for a second. Then, her voice lowered, rougher.

“But…if this war reaches Zaun, we might have to—”

“Like I said, I’m tired of losing people—”

“You’ll lose them anyway if you don’t fight.”

Jinx stilled, her breath catching, her heart thudding against her ribs.

The price was Isha. The price was Isha. 

Jinx’s fists clenched. “I chose to fight already! I never wanted to be a symbol for Zaun, but I did it. For Isha. To keep her safe.”

Her voice cracked, rising with frustration and grief, an open wound bleeding out. 

“And look what happened! She paid the price for my mistakes anyway!” The shame was there again, crushing her chest, suffocating, relentless.

She felt Ekko’s presence before she even turned to look.

He wasn’t in her space, wasn’t reaching for her, but he was there. Standing beneath the tree, unshaken, unmoving—just like him. 

Silent. Just waiting. Just there.

Like he always had been.

She knew that stance—the slight shift of his weight. Prepared to step in the second she needed him.

But for once, she didn’t want comfort. She didn’t want reassurance.

She wanted to be left alone.

The endless cycle of violence, the burden of expectations, the ache of failure—it was all too much. It clawed at her ribs, coiled around her throat.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Jinx,” Sevika said, her voice measured, slow. She had seen those eyes before. Haunted. Trembling. Running from ghosts that never stopped chasing. 

Jinx didn’t respond, her breath remained uneven as she struggled for composure, her eyes clouded with grief and guilt. 

"This could turn into something bigger."

Or turn into a jinxed disaster . 

The thought of stepping onto another battlefield—this time alongside Ekko—felt unbearable. How many more people could she stand to lose?

“Well…” Sevika began after a pause, her voice measured, the remnants of past conversations hanging between them. 

“The Firelights are holding a rally tonight to discuss the war. I’m not easily convinced to side with the Pilties, but if it means protecting my city, I’m willing to fight for it.”

Jinx exhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s not that easy for me.”

Sevika huffed, folding her arms, her patience thinning. She had heard this before. She had tried to make Jinx understand that survival meant picking a side, standing for something, fighting back. 

But Jinx had always been like this—a runaway, a firework ready to go off in any direction but the one set before her.

“Suit yourself.” Sevika's tone was clipped, but there was no real venom in it—just exhaustion. 

“I’m just here for the cause. Stay in your bubble all you like, but I’ve said it before—these fantasies don’t last forever."

Jinx’s hands curled—itching for something to hold, something to break.

The expectations, the choices she had to make, and a war that would take everything whether she was ready or not.

It was a slow, suffocating spiral.

Turning sharply, she started walking away, her voice low and menacing as she threw a final remark over her shoulder, the words leaving her lips before she could stop them.

“Don’t trip on the way out!”

Behind her, she heard Sevika sigh heavily, the sound laced with something frustrated, but not surprised.

"It’s being held in here, knuckle brain."

Jinx didn’t stop walking.

She needed out. Away from the conversation, away from Sevika’s knowing looks, away from the pressure pushing her toward a future she didn’t want to face.

As she passed Ekko, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance, but it said everything.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, muscles tensing, instinct urging him to follow.

But before he could take a step, a voice came from behind—low, quiet, but certain.

“Don’t.”

Scar’s hand rested lightly on Ekko’s shoulder, a small but deliberate gesture. “She needs space.”

Ekko didn’t move. His jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on Jinx’s retreating figure, his chest heavy with unspoken words.

He knew Scar was right.

He knew her well enough to let her go.

Even if every part of him wanted to stop her from unraveling.

—     —     —  

Jinx perched on one of the high branches of the Firelights' treehouse, her silhouette almost blending into the shadows cast by the glowing firelights. She liked being up here, away from the noise, like a crow watching the world below. 

Ekko spotted her a while ago, almost itching to climb up and join her, like how they used to sit on rooftops as kids and overlook the city. 

“Any chance you’ll come down, Little Crow?”

“Fat chance,” Jinx scoffed, rolling her eyes as she settled further into the branches. “Go. They need their Little Leader.”

Ekko lingered, torn between giving her space and the gnawing worry curling in his chest.

She always ran. Climbed higher, disappeared deeper, anything to keep the world at arm’s length. It felt like she could fly away at any moment. 

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before reluctantly stepping back. His gaze flickered back one last time, catching her shadowed silhouette against the lantern-lit canopy. 

Then, with a quiet resolve, he strode toward the forefront of the rally.

From her vantage point, Jinx could see and hear everything——the tense meeting below, voices clipped and controlled. 

Scattered around the base of the treehouse, whispers passed between the children, their wide eyes flickering amongst the crowd.

Some of the kids glimpsed her shadowed figure above, exchanging hushed glances. She could tell—they wanted to climb up too, to join her in the branches, to see the world from where she sat.

Below, the crowd thickened, bodies pressing closer as voices rose in anticipation. Even from her perch, Jinx had no trouble spotting Ekko at the forefront, his presence undeniable. 

Scar flanked his side, steady as ever, while Sevika stood slightly apart, arms crossed, her sharp gaze sweeping the restless gathering.

Something was shifting—and not in a way the Firelights would welcome.

The objective of this rally was clear: to discuss aiding the Pilties in a war that had already taken too much from Zaun.

Jinx could feel it from above—the quiet resistance settling into clenched fists, crossed arms, narrowed eyes. Zaun had bled, had burned, had been discarded time and time again. 

And now, they were being asked to fight for the very people who had turned their backs on them?

The Firelights would not be happy.

“So what?!” someone yelled, their voice thick with resentment. “We’re supposed to help the Pilties?! After everything they’ve done to us?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd before another voice cut in—sharper, angrier.

“Exactly!” Lou’s voice called out. “What have they ever done for Zaun but take and destroy?”

Amia, her wild blue hair shoving forward through the crowd, shouted in anguish, “They murdered my parents! They hunt us like animals ! You said so yourself!” 

The crowd continued to stir, their frustration boiling over.

“We are NOT helping our fucking oppressors!” Curtis’ voice spat. “They got themselves into this mess and now they’re begging for help? Where was our help when Zaun was suffering? When we were starving in the Lanes? When our people were dying in the streets?!”

Shouts and curses erupted around them, voices overlapping in a chaotic storm of outrage.

Jinx, still perched in the tree, watched it unfold, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. This wasn’t just frustration. This was pain. Deep, festering pain that had never been given room to heal.

And now, they were expected to set it aside?

Ekko raised his hand for silence.

It took a moment, but the voices gradually died down, his calm cutting through the noise. 

When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of leadership. The weight of knowing the answer wasn’t as simple as they wanted it to be.

He understood. He felt it too.

“Look, I get it. It’s not fair for them to ask us for help. It’s not! But if we don’t do something, the Noxian army won’t stop at Piltover. They’ll take the city, burn it to the ground—and then they’ll come for Zaun next.”

His gaze swept across the crowd, letting the reality settle in.

“And when that happens, who’s gonna save us ?”

Sevika stepped forward, her presence commanding, her voice steady—but beneath it, there was something else. Something heavy.

She had seen war before.

She had seen what happened to the people who thought they could stay out of it.

Her jaw clenched as she scanned the room, her gaze hard, but not lacking empathy.

“He’s right. Our city isn’t invincible. If we sit this out, this base—everything Ekko’s built—will burn to the ground.”

A beat of silence.

Then Scar stepped in, his voice carrying urgency, conviction, fire.

“We need to decide! Right now, to take a stand! We need to be prepared to fight back.”

His words struck deep.

The leaders' voices held the harsh truth of their situation, an unshakable reality they could no longer ignore.

But the crowd was too clouded with anger.

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder and voices eventually erupted, each person shouting over the other, their fear and anger spiraling out of control. 

A sharp voice cut through—"Bullshit! We’ve been fighting our whole lives, and for what? To defend the people who’ve let us rot?"

Another voice, seething with rage—“They poisoned our air! Slaughtered our people! And now we’re just supposed to help them?!”

The fire spread.

The voices grew louder, angrier. Shouts overlapped, accusations and fears spilling out, raw and untamed.

Jinx’s eyes narrowed as she listened to both sides. 

The chaos below was all too familiar.

It mirrored the storm she had been drowning in not long ago—the same impossible choice, the same fight between staying in her fragile bubble with Isha or facing the truth.

She had clung to Isha like a lifeline, convinced that if they just stayed out of it, they could carve out a small, untouchable world for themselves. A world where war, loss, and betrayal couldn’t reach them.

But danger had come anyway. It always did.

Her fingers curled against the bark beneath her as her mind twisted through the possibilities.

This place, burning.

Everything Ekko had built—this sanctuary, this community—reduced to rubble.

But just as quickly, her thoughts turned to the ones she still had.

Ekko, Sevika, Scar. The Firelights. The people of Zaun.

How many of them wouldn’t make it out of this war alive?

Which loss would gut her more—the home they built or the people she loved?

Her stomach twisted violently. She couldn’t decide which fate was worse.

There’s no right answer, dummy. There never was.

She exhaled shakily, her grip tightening.

She had to decide.

Would she keep retreating, burying herself in the comfort of a world that was too fragile? Or was she ready to face reality, no matter how much it hurt?

A quiet, bitter chuckle left her lips as she muttered under her breath,

“Wish we could just run away.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the weight of it all settle.

“But this is our home.”

Her eyes turned to Isha’s mural, her focus slipping away from the chaos below. The voices, the arguments, the tension—it all faded into the background, quieted by the sight before her. 

If Ekko hadn’t painted Isha, Jinx would be left with fragmented memories—hallucinations of her tiny, terrified face on the battlefield. 

But here, Isha was whole.

And suddenly, she understood why Ekko painted murals.

Zaunites never had the privilege of grieving. Not properly. There was no time, no space for it.

You either buried your dead and moved on, or you spent the rest of your life clawing at the fading edges of their faces, desperate to hold on.

But Ekko had found a different way. A way to make sure they weren’t forgotten.

Jinx huffed softly, the corner of her lip twitching. “Might as well start calling him Boy Painter, huh…”

The thought settled in, clearer now.

Ekko just wanted people to remember.

To look up at these walls and never forget why they were fighting.

Memories flooded back—of Isha’s infectious courage, the fiery determination in her eyes whenever she communicated about Zaun, the way she threw herself into the fight like she was born for it.

Like she truly believed they could win.

Like she truly believed in Jinx.

So much that…it made Jinx want to believe too.

Then, she felt it.

A small hand on her shoulder.

Jinx’s breath caught as she turned sharply—and there she was.

Isha.

Perched beside her, legs dangling off the branch, watching her with that familiar quiet strength, that same knowing gaze.

Isha didn’t say a word; she didn’t need to. 

That was their thing. Their love didn’t need words. 

Jinx swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “Hey, kid.” 

Isha just smiled—that small, quiet smile—before tilting her head toward the children below. 

Jinx followed her gaze.

Their faces grew concerned as the rally’s tension became higher. Fear flickered in their wide eyes, uncertainty twisting in their small frames. 

Jinx looked back at Isha.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

No words, no explanations—just understanding.

Then, slowly, Isha reached out, extending her hand.

Air stalled in her lungs.

It was their thing—their secret handshake.

Hesitation coiled in her limbs, but Jinx lifted her hand anyway, the motion slow, unsteady, like she was afraid Isha might disappear if she moved too fast.

Her fingers trembled as they reached for her—and then, they met.

And the world stilled.

This wasn’t like the others. This time, there was warmth, an undeniable presence, like Isha’s palm and fingers were truly there—solid and grounding, her fingers curling around Jinx’s trembling hand like she had never left.

Pew!  

A gunshot. Their gunshot.

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind only a fleeting warmth. 

A slipping hallucination, maybe, but one Jinx desperately needed. 

Jinx stayed still for a moment, her heart pounding as the vision of Isha faded. The brief warmth of her presence lingered, a quiet echo of the girl who had always urged her to fight—to stand for something greater than herself.

The Firelights kids were still there, scattered near the base of the treehouse.

Some had lost interest in the rally altogether, while others had their eyes fixed on her—watching, waiting, as if expecting her next move.

They were so young, so full of potential. But in their wide-eyed curiosity, Jinx saw something she hadn’t in a long time.

Hope.

A quiet, persistent ember that hadn’t yet been smothered by Zaun’s cruelty. They already know what it means to lose everything, to be swallowed whole by the world’s unforgiving hands. 

Yet, they still believed in something better.

And for the first time in a long while, Jinx felt the gravity of something bigger than her own pain.

These kids deserve a future.

Not one soaked in blood, not one dictated by the same cycle of violence that had stolen so much from her.

Maybe… maybe this wasn’t about choosing a side.

Maybe this was about choosing them.

Jinx let out a breath, something between a scoff and a sigh, as she leaned back slightly.

Maybe you just need to take a leap of faith.

Was that Isha’s message?

“A leap of faith huh, kid?” she whispered. “That’s all it is, right?”

She clenched her fists, the gun still cold in her hand, and a fierce determination flared within her. It wasn’t just about Isha, or Ekko, or the Firelights. 

It was about fighting for a future where they didn’t have to keep losing .

Jinx took a deep breath, her chest rising with the promise of a decision she could no longer put off. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she pushed herself up to stand on the branch. 

The tree swayed ever so slightly beneath her, the wind tugging at her loose strands of hair. For a split second, she stood there, gazing down at the scene below. 

Her fingers brushed against her waist, then tightened around the grip of her gun. With a smooth motion, she unholstered it, the familiar weight grounding her.

Then, with a single decisive breath, she leapt.

Her boots slammed onto the platform, the wooden planks groaning beneath her weight. The sound echoed, cutting through the thick air like a gunshot. 

The rally hushed.

The kids stared up at her, wide-eyed, their gazes flickering between her face and the gun slung casually in her grip. 

Jinx stepped forward, each step carrying an effortless swagger, like she had already made her decision and was simply walking toward it.

Ekko’s head snapped up at the sound, his eyes narrowing as he exchanged a quick look with Scar. Scar tilted his head, his expression a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity. 

Sevika, standing with arms crossed, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smirk as if to say, This should be interesting.

Ekko’s gaze followed Jinx. There was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what she’d do—but whatever it was, it was going to change everything.

Jinx strode down the treehouse without a word, her pace unhurried but unmistakably confident. 

By the time she reached the last few steps, she was just high enough to look over the crowd. The weight of a hundred eyes pressed against her, waiting.

She lifted her chin, a slow, knowing grin spreading across her lips. A clear sign that she was back. That old, untamed fire was back.

“So…”

Her voice sliced through the tension like a well-placed shot, sharp and effortless.

“Where’s the party?”

Chapter Text

“Well, shit. Didn’t see that coming.”

Sevika’s voice still echoed in Ekko’s mind.

No one had expected this.

Not Scar, not the Firelights—not even him.

Jinx had spent years dodging the embers before they could catch in her hair, before the smoke could choke the breath from her lungs. 

And yet—just like that—she had turned around and walked straight back into the fire. 

Just like she always had. Just like the girl he used to know.

Scar’s gaze flicked to him, searching for a reaction, but Ekko couldn’t move. His focus was locked on Jinx—always on Jinx.

She stood there like she had never been lost, like she had never been anything but exactly who she was in this moment. 

And damn it all, she looked just as beautiful as the day he lost her.

Not in some soft, nostalgic way—no, there was nothing fragile about her at this moment. She looked alive, electric, as if she belonged right here, in the eye of the storm.

Ekko had seen Jinx in a hundred different ways—wild-eyed, grinning through destruction, laughing as the city burned around her. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just chaos.

This was purpose.

She stood with unshakable certainty, grinning like she hadn’t just made the whole base stop breathing.

A hush had fallen over.

For a long moment, no one moved.

They just stared.

Ekko forced himself to look away, to tear his gaze from her and scan the room. He needed to see—needed to understand what was happening, what she was becoming.

And then, his eyes landed on Gert.

One of the Jinxers she had freed from Stillwater. Impossible to miss, even in the sea of faces. Of course she’d heard about this rally—of course she was here.

“Looks like our big fat hero is back,” she whispered to herself.

Her eyes shone with something unmistakable—like she had seen this sight before. Like she was seeing exactly what she had been waiting for.

Like Jinx wasn’t just any symbol—she was Zaun’s.

And Ekko saw it.

For the first time, he saw it.

That flicker of belief—the same one Scar and Sevika had seen at Stillwater, the same silent reverence when she freed them, when she fought for them, when she became their hope.

Now, it was happening right in front of him.

Ekko swallowed hard, something twisting in his chest. Because this wasn’t just awe or chaos anymore.

This was belief.

And it was spreading.

Jax. Amia. Gert. Lou.

One by one, their faces told the same story. That fragile, wavering faith, catching in their eyes once more—a slow spark, reigniting.

They weren’t just looking at Jinx. 

They were waiting for her. 

Because somehow, in the quiet spaces between all the chaos, they had started to believe. Not just in the name, not just in the madness, but in the symbol of Zaun itself.

In her.

Ekko’s gaze flicked back to Lou, and suddenly, he remembered the question. The one that had cut through him, when he fought for her to stay at the base.

"And what do you see in her?"

Back then, his answer barely scratched the surface. Lou had asked the question, and here was the answer, unfolding right in front of them.

This fire, this spark that she was able to bring to life, catching in their eyes, in their hearts. 

That’s what he saw in her. 

Jinx had felt it before, in that cold, miserable prison. The first time she realized she wasn’t just another ghost in the dark—she was the spark they were anticipating.

She inhaled, letting the fire settle in her bones. 

And just like that, there was no turning back.

Jinx had stepped into the fight.

And the rest of Zaun just had to follow.

Then—chaos.

Voices rose, a rush of ignition, hope, and disbelief—but it was energy, real energy. And Jinx welcomed it, drinking it in like the only air she had ever known.

"What did I say?! She has the balls that none of you have!" Amia shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through the rising tension.

"If Jinx is fighting, so am I!" Jax roared, her words catching like a spark in dry air.

"Is she fighting for the Pilties, though?!" Curtis snapped, his voice laced with doubt.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Amia turned on him, fury flashing in her eyes.

Then—BANG.

The gunshot split through the chaos like a blade, silencing the room in an instant.

Everything held still. Breathless. Waiting.

Jinx exhaled, slow and steady, letting the weight of the moment settle before she spoke.

"Listen up, you stubborn idiots!" Her voice cut through the thick air like steel, sharp and undeniable. "Instead of wasting your time crying about the Pilties, how ‘bout you redirect that anger?"

She spun the gun once in her palm, the movement lazy, effortless—like she had all the time in the world—before slamming it back into its holster.

Then she lifted her hand, gloved fingers pointing upward.

The treehouse.

The kids.

"We ain’t fighting for those pigs. We’re fighting for them ."

A hush fell over the room, heavier than before.

And there it was—the unspoken hope only kids from Zaun carried.

The ones who still had a chance. The ones who still had a future.

Ekko’s stomach twisted. They were watching. Wide-eyed, silent, clutching the wooden beams like lifelines. 

Just like they had, once. Just like she had.

Jinx’s voice steadied, the manic lilt dipping into something lower, heavier.

“We’re protecting what’s ours. Our city. Our people. Nothing else.”

Then her eyes swept the crowd, sharp and unyielding. There was another feeling stirring in her chest as her next words spilled out. 

“You either fight, or you lose everything.”

Her eyes locked onto Sevika’s, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something quieter. Heavier.

Isha.

Jinx saw it, the way Sevika’s jaw tensed, the way her hands curled into fists at her sides. The loss never truly left, did it? Isha clung to them, like the scent of smoke burned into the fabric of who they were, when they were once a trio.

They both saw what loss could do. 

And both had been too late.

And for the first time in a long time, Sevika saw Jinx differently. Not as a reckless, unstable wildcard. Not as Silco’s loose cannon. But as someone who understood.

Because they both knew what it meant to fight for something real.

Because they both knew what it was like to lose it.

And yet, Isha’s presence still whispered between them, urging them forward, away from the past that had already taken so much.

“It’s a leap of faith.”

Jinx tilted her head just slightly, that grin still there—but something behind it was real.

Then, finally—she took the leap.

“I’m not standing on the sidelines anymore,” she said, looking at Sevika—really looking at her.

Sevika exhaled slowly, meeting something unspoken between them. You’ve got that look in your eyes again.

And just like she always has, Sevika believed in Jinx. 

Not in the reckless, impulsive chaos. She believed in the fire underneath it all—the part of Jinx that wasn’t just burning everything down.

The part that was fighting for something. 

For the kids watching above.

For Isha.

Jinx stepped forward, her resolve tightening in her chest. 

I’m not letting another kid end up on that mural. 

“Trust me,” she murmured, voice laced with something deeper than just conviction. A vow. A warning.

“You don’t want to watch it all burn.”

—   —   —

Jinx flopped onto the couch, her limbs sprawled out dramatically. “Ugh, what a boooring day! I mean, how many supply runs do we need? How many times does Sevika have to bark orders like she’s in charge of everything?”

Across the room, Ekko chuckled, eyes still focused on the gadget in his hands.

She had no idea how much had changed because of her.

The Firelights had always known the inevitable: Zaun was next. And it was only a matter of time before war reached their doorstep, whether they wanted it or not.

And then what? Where would they go when there was nothing left?

Somehow, in just a few words, Jinx had reframed everything. 

She had given them a choice—those unwilling to fight could evacuate, no shame, no judgment. But those who stayed would fight with purpose, with clarity. Because this wasn’t just about surviving the next battle.

It was about ensuring Zaun would still be standing when it was over.

Their objective was clear:

Take down Viktor.

Stop the Noxians.

Save Vi—if necessary.

And ensure there was a home left to come back to.

Extraordinary.

That was the only word Ekko could think of when she descended those stairs. Just a few sharp words and a plan no one could argue with.

She was a force—quick, decisive, brilliant.

And he couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have been if she had been here from the start. If she had chosen to stand by him as a Firelight leader instead of running down a different path. 

Would they have built Zaun’s future together? Would the city have stood taller, stronger, if they had been on the same side all along?

But there was no point in what-ifs.

Now, they were here. And for the first time in a long time, they weren’t just fighting.

They were creating .

The afternoon had passed in a whirlwind of blueprints and scattered tools, notebooks filled with scribbled equations and half-baked ideas. Screws turning against hoverboards, sparks flying from her grenades, the rhythmic clatter of metal against metal filling the room.

And every so often, he would pause.

Just to look at her.

And in those quiet seconds, he was pulled back—to identical moments with Powder. The way she used to hunch over a project, deep in concentration, tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth when she was focused. 

How her mind worked faster than her hands, how she’d ramble ideas at a hundred miles an hour, daring the world to keep up with her.

How similar they were.

Despite their different worlds, their different choices, one thing had never changed—he loved to watch her work. 

Ekko let out a slow breath, a quiet relief settling in his chest every time his eyes landed on her.

He had made it back.

Back to the right universe.

With the right girl.

At the right time.

“It’s called preparation, Jinx. You know, so we don’t all get obliterated?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Save Zaun, save the world, blah blah blah.” She threw an arm over her face dramatically. “But does it have to be so boring? Do this, don’t do that. ‘Jinx, don’t blow that up!’ What’s even the point if we can’t have a little fun?”

Ekko smirked, setting his gadget down.

"Want a little break?" Ekko asked, wiping the grease from his hands.

Jinx peeked out from under her arm, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He grinned. "Let’s go get something from Jericho’s."

For a moment, Ekko thought of the city in the other universe—the one that had felt almost untouched by war, where Jericho’s place was thriving with customers between Zaun and Piltover, laughter spilling onto the streets.

Their Zaun wasn’t like that. Not yet.

But despite the two universes, there was one thing Ekko knew for sure. 

This time, when he walked through the streets, he wouldn’t be alone.

He’d be walking with her .

And Jericho would still be there, ready to indulge them with the best damn food in Zaun.

Jinx sprang up immediately, eyes lighting up like a fuse had just been lit. She didn’t say a word, but her face screamed Yes. This is exactly what I need.

Ekko chuckled, already grabbing his things. “Grab a coat, silly. Let’s go.”

She all but skipped over to their little rack of jackets, fingers hovering as she considered her choices. For a moment, she hesitated.

Then, without a second thought, she reached for his .

Ekko raised a brow, watching her with mild confusion. “You sure you got the right one, Little Crow?”

Jinx grinned, flashing the inside of the jacket like she had been waiting for this moment. “Sure did. Already marked it, see?”

And there it was—colorful little doodles, chaotic scribbles, and, of course, the bold “Jinx was here!” scrawled across the inside pocket like a signature of ownership.

Technically, it was still his jacket.

But… yeah. It was definitely hers now.

Ekko scoffed, shaking his head in amusement as she threw it on like she had won some kind of victory. “Whatever keeps you warm, love.”

—   —   —

The streets of Zaun stretched out before them, a familiar maze of cracked pavement and winding paths they had memorized long before they ever knew what war truly meant.

It was quieter now. Not silent, not abandoned— not yet . But the tension hung thick in the air, an unspoken weight pressing against the city’s spine.

The war hadn’t come knocking just yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.

And still, life went on .

Dim neon flickered in shop windows and stalls still stood at their usual corners, run by those too stubborn—or too desperate—to close up shop. A vendor stacked stale loaves of bread onto a wooden crate, another hunched over a pile of junk, stirring with the same tired determination Zaunites had always carried.

A child laughed, chasing after a makeshift toy down the alleyway. A woman adjusted the straps on a bundle of scrap slung over her shoulder. A couple sat on the edge of a low wall, speaking in hushed voices, sharing a piece of toast between them.

Zaun was still breathing . Worn down, weary—but alive.

Ekko and Jinx walked through it, side by side, their steps unconsciously falling in sync.

They knew every shortcut, every hidden alcove where they used to hide as kids. 

They had raced through these alleys before—running errands for Benzo, sneaking glances into the vendor stalls, stealing scraps of food when they could get away with it.

But now, there was no chase. No gunfire. 

Just two old friends walking the streets they had grown up in.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it—the sheer impossibility of this moment.

For the first time in years, they were simply here .

Together.

Jinx’s gaze swept over the streets, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides.

“You know we have to evacuate half of these people, right?” she murmured, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

Her eyes lingered on a Jinxer spray painting her name across a wall, bright and defiant, as if the city wasn’t standing at the edge of war.

“Scar’s already on it,” he replied evenly. “They know. They all do.”

Zaun wasn’t blind. It never had been. The people here had survived smoke and rubble more times than anyone cared to count. They could handle anything.

Jinx hummed, not entirely reassured, but not arguing either. She stole a glance at Ekko then, about to say something else—

But something caught his attention.

He had stopped in front of a small stall, one that barely stood out among the rest. Its wooden frame looked like it had seen better days, but the items displayed on the cloth-covered surface were carefully arranged, as if whoever ran it still took pride in what little they had left to sell.

Earrings.

There weren’t many to choose from—too few to even bother counting—but something about them caught his eye.

Something about them reminded him.

Of another Ekko.

Another universe, where he had worn earrings without hesitation, where he had liked the way they looked. 

His fingers hovered over the selection, hesitating.

Jinx tilted her head, watching him. “What, you into earrings now?”

Ekko didn’t answer immediately. He just kept staring, contemplating.

Maybe… yeah.

Maybe he was.

"I was… wearing earrings in the other dimension."

Ekko’s voice was hesitant, almost too shy to admit it. His fingers grazed over a simple silver piece, his eyes fixed on it like he was trying to picture himself wearing it again. "They looked… pretty cool."

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interest. "Huh."

She had never thought about earrings much. Never felt the need for them.

Because once upon a time, she had made a promise.

A promise with Vi.

They had sworn to get their ears pierced together. One day. When things were better. When they had the time.

And Jinx had kept her promise. Had waited. Had held onto it like a secret lifeline, believing that when Vi came back, they’d finally do it together.

But when Vi returned, she already had piercings.

Another broken promise. Another thing Vi had moved on from without her.

And now, Ekko was standing here, picking out earrings. Another rift. Another connection she desperately wanted to cling to before it slipped away.

Ekko noticed the way she tensed, how her body went rigid, her usual loose, lazy posture locking up like something had snagged her mid-motion.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t push. He just knew.

And so, carefully, he offered, "Jinx… do you want to get our ears pierced… together?"

Her head turned slowly to face him.

It was like he had reached into the storm inside her head and smoothed it over without even trying.

She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide if this was something she could allow herself to have. If this was another thing that would fall apart the moment she reached for it.

Then, she scoffed, tilting her head back with a smirk. "Pfft. I’d rather get a new tattoo. Those hurt more, so it’s more fun."

Ekko rolled his eyes. "Well… you can get a tattoo and a piercing. They’re not mutually exclusive, y’know."

Jinx snorted, crossing her arms. "Yeah, but tattoos actually mean something."

At least we never promised to get tattoos.

At least the blue smoke could still mean something . A signal. A message. A reminder of what was supposed to happen—that Vi was supposed to come back and find her.

Her fingers unconsciously brushed over the ink swirling along her skin, the trails of blue smoke etched into her arms like a whisper of the past, a symbol she refused to let go of.

But piercings?

Piercings were just a broken promise to her.

Just another thing that could be done without her.

"Piercings on the other hand…They're just for show," Jinx muttered, voice quieter now, her usual bravado dimming as hurt flickered in her eyes.

Promises never meant anything if they were always going to be broken.

Ekko huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Says the girl who scribbles Jinx was here on everything she owns." He nodded toward the earrings on display. "C’mon. Maybe they don’t have to mean anything. Or maybe they can. Maybe it’s just… a new thing. For us."

Jinx rolled her eyes, but she hesitated.

Ekko took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You said tattoos hurt more, right?" He grinned. "Then what are you so scared of?"

Jinx’s eyes snapped to his, her smirk faltering just a little.

"Scared?!" she scoffed, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Listen here, Time Boy, I am not scared of some tiny-ass needle."

Ekko smirked. "Then prove it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical. "What, you trying to match with me now?"

Ekko shrugged, casual. "Maybe. Since I’m in the right timeline now, might as well make it interesting."

Jinx opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then she paused. He was offering her something. 

Something small. Something new. Something that was theirs .

For once, it wasn’t about keeping a promise that had already been broken.

It was about making a new one.

Her smirk faltered just a little, just enough to be real.

Then she exhaled dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But only ‘cause I wanna see what you’ll look like with earrings. If it sucks, I get to laugh at you forever."

Ekko grinned. "Deal."

—   —   —

Ekko and Jinx huddled around the small, smudged mirror, both of them angling their heads to get a better look. The space was barely big enough for the two of them, but neither seemed willing to move, too caught up in admiring their new piercings.

Neither of them so much as flinched at the sting. Jinx’s pain tolerance was ridiculous—almost eager for it, like discomfort barely registered.

“That’s it? This is what you’re so excited for?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at the silent merchant. “Come on, do the next one.”

Ekko had settled on a pair of silver studs—a contrast to the gold hoops he had worn in the other universe. He liked how simple they were, how they felt like his choice this time.

Jinx, on the other hand, had gone for two silver rings, both tucked into the helix of her left ear, standing out against the messy blue of her hair. 

Just like Vi’s.

She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t have to. Despite everything—despite the years, the distance, the pain—she still admired her sister. Still wanted to be like her in small ways, even when she pretended she didn’t.

She turned her head side to side, watching the way the light caught the metal, her fingers brushing over them like she needed to make sure they were real. Her eyes practically sparkled —like this was the first new thing she had gotten for herself in forever.

Ekko couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

"Looks like you made a good choice, Little Blue."

Jinx grinned, her excitement slipping through before she could stop it. "Does it look like Vi’s?"

Ekko paused.

His feelings about Vi were… complicated. He knew what she had done, what she had left behind, and it was hard not to feel protective over Jinx because of it.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, Jinx wasn’t thinking about the past or the war looming over them.

She was just happy .

And so, Ekko exhaled, letting the tension leave his shoulders.

"Yeah… Yeah, it does."

—   —   —

The familiar scent of sizzling oil and spices greeted them before they even stepped forward the stall. Jericho’s place was small, wedged between crumbling brick and flickering neon, but the warmth from the stall made up for the city’s cold. The moment they crossed the threshold, the old man nearly dropped the ladle in his hand.

“Sup, Jericho. Got any room for Genius and Madness?” Jinx flashed a wide, toothy grin, draping an arm over Ekko’s shoulders like they’d been inseparable for years. With her free hand, she flicked a lazy bunny sign against her forehead. 

Oh Powder, how similar you two are, Ekko pondered.

Jericho blinked once. Then twice.

And then came his laugh—deep and booming, filling the air. It was the kind of laugh that shook his whole chest, rumbling up from his core, impossible to ignore—the same familiar sound they’d grown up with, as much a part of Zaun as the pipes and steam itself.

You two? Together? Not trying to kill each other?

Before either of them could respond, Jericho was already pulling them into a crushing hug, his hearty laughter rumbling against their shoulders.

Ah, hell, now this is something I never thought I'd see again! he thought, giving them each a rough pat on the back before shoving them toward the counter. 

Sit, sit! I gotta cook something special for this occasion. Oh, the world must be healing!

Jinx wasted no time sprawling into a seat, her boots kicked up as her eyes locked on the sizzling pans. Jericho moved with practiced ease behind the counter, tossing ingredients together like muscle memory, his hands quick, efficient, never wasting a motion.

The air filled with the rich aroma of spiced fish and thick Zaunite broth—comfort layered in steam and smoke. The kind of comfort neither of them realized they’d been missing until it hit them.

“Glad he’s still kickin’. Half the city would actually starve,” Jinx muttered, watching the pans like they were keeping her grounded.

There was a beat of quiet before Ekko asked, more careful than usual.

“Jericho… are you… evacuating?”

Jericho’s hands slowed, the clang of metal on metal easing as he stirred one of the pots.

He didn’t bother looking up.

Just grunted—a low, gravelly sound that said exactly what they already knew.

No.

He wasn’t leaving.

But he sure as hell wasn’t fighting.

He would defend this stall til his very last breath. 

Jinx and Ekko exchanged a look—the kind that said don’t push it .

Don’t ruin the meal.

For now, they’d let Jericho do what he did best. Let him lose himself in the rhythm of the kitchen, serving up something warm like it was just another day.

Even if, deep down, they all knew it might be the last one.

When the food was finally set in front of them, Jinx wasted no time digging in. No hesitation. No restraint. She practically inhaled the first bite, shoveling it into her mouth so fast that she nearly choked. 

Ekko rolled his eyes, nudging a glass of water toward her as she coughed and waved him off.

“Ugh, Jericho! Better than I remember!” Jinx exclaimed, waving one of the sloppy fish with her hand.

Jericho let out that deep, bellowing laugh, the kind that rumbled through his chest and filled the entire shop.

Ekko watched her eat, his gaze settling on her—not just in passing, but really taking her in for the first time in a long while.

She wasn’t the same.

She was still slim, still quick and restless, but no longer just skin and bones.

There was a new vitality in her frame, a healthy plumpness that hadn’t been there before. And after days of him dragging her into morning workouts—accompanied by endless whining, of course—her limbs had changed, too. Her arms and legs became more toned, gaining lean muscles that sculpted her once-frail form. 

Ekko quickly discovered that Jinx had a natural talent for push-ups, effortlessly surpassing his records every time. No matter how many he managed, she would crank out more with that same infuriating smirk, like it wasn’t even a challenge.

But for all her physical energy, she had a bad habit of forgetting to eat.

She would get lost in her tinkering, hyper-focused on the smallest details, working herself to exhaustion without a second thought. More than once, he caught her going an entire day without a meal, her hands still grease-stained, eyes glassy from hours of uninterrupted work.

So, he started reminding her. Every day. Like clockwork.

At first, she complained—loudly. Said he was interrupting her flow , that his constant nagging was killing her momentum. She groaned, rolled her eyes, waved him off like an annoying fly.

But Ekko never let up.

He knew how easy it was for her to disappear into her projects. But if she wouldn’t stop for herself, he’d make sure she stopped for him .

Because it was his way of showing he cared. Even if it meant being the one to pull her out of her head. 

And over time, the complaints faded.

Eventually, she started appreciating the interruptions—silent reminders that there was more to life than the next invention. 

That someone was looking out for her.

Ekko’s gaze lingered on her now, briefly but proudly.

She was eating more. Working out with him more.

Taking care of herself, even in the smallest ways.

And for that, he was grateful.

Ekko smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Guess working out with me wasn’t completely pointless, huh?"

Jinx barely spared him a glance, too focused on her food. "Ekko, if you don’t shut up and eat, I’m stealing yours too."

He chuckled, shaking his head before finally taking a bite.

Jinx set her bowl down, gulping slowly as she stole a glance at him.

Ekko caught it. "What? Got food on my face?"

"Actually, yeah." She muttered, motioning vaguely toward his mouth.

Before he could react, she leaned in, her movements as lazy and unbothered as ever.

And then—a touch.

Just the briefest brush of her thumb against the corner of his mouth. Soft. Barely there.

But it sent a shock straight through him.

And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Jinx flicked her thumb away, wiping it against her pants with an easy smirk. "Can’t take you anywhere, Time Boy."

Ekko barely heard her. He forced out a breath, reaching for his drink, if only to do something with his hands.

Just a touch. That’s all it was.

So why the hell was his heart still racing?

"You good?" Jinx asked, a nervous grin tugging at her lips.

"Y-Yeah…" he muttered, too quick, too stiff.

Ekko barely managed a nod, quickly bringing the bowl to his lips, letting the last of the broth wash down the sudden tightness in his throat.

Jinx’s eyes lingered on him for a second longer, her smirk faltering ever so slightly. But then, with a shrug and an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she turned back to her food as if nothing had happened.

Jericho, however, didn’t miss a thing.

From behind the counter, he watched them with a knowing grin—the kind that only surfaced when he saw something interesting .

Oh, Genius and Madness. Will they? Won’t they?

He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

And then— BANG.

The peaceful hum of Jericho’s stall was shattered by a distant commotion. The sound of overturned crates and raised voices echoed through the narrow streets. Ekko paused mid-bite, his senses sharpening instantly.

Jinx looked up from her bowl, licking the last fish bone. “Great. What now?”

The commotion grew closer. Louder.

Sharp shouts echoed down the alleyways, the crash of metal and hurried footsteps rippling through the streets like a warning.

Jinx sighed, shoving her empty bowl aside as Jericho swiftly closed up his stall. “Can’t even have one peaceful meal without someone losing their mind.”

She and Ekko moved fast, slipping through the scattering crowd as citizens ducked out of the way. Another fight. Another threat. Just another day in Zaun.

By the time they reached the square near Vander’s statue, the crowd had thickened, keeping a cautious distance from the scene unfolding at its center.

There, pacing like a caged animal, was one of Smeech’s men.

His coat was stained, his face twisted in frustration as he shoved a merchant aside, knocking over a cart of scrap parts. He stormed back and forth in front of Vander’s statue, his voice cracking from overuse as he barked accusations into the gathering crowd.

“I KNOW SHE’S HERE!” he spat, scanning the faces around him. “JINX! BLUE HAIR, CRAZY EYES!”

Jinx's jaw tightened, her fingers twitching toward the small pistol strapped to her thigh.

“Funny,” she muttered under her breath, “I don’t remember setting anything on fire lately.”

Ekko shot her a glance. “Stay cool.”

“No promises.”

Citizens kept their heads down, unwilling to get involved, shuffling away like shadows.

“I’LL GET YOU BACK FOR SMEECH!” the man bellowed, his voice tearing through the air, sharp enough to make the crowd flinch. His wild eyes darted around before landing on Vander’s statue. A cruel grin twisted his mouth.

“Maybe I should burn something precious of hers too…” he sneered, stepping toward the memorial, fingers dragging along the worn metal as if testing how easily it would crumble.

Jinx’s blood ran hot.

Without hesitation, she and Ekko moved faster, shoving through the mass of onlookers, parting the crowd with their urgency. Jinx’s hand hovered over her holster.

Not Vander.

Not him .

The man turned at the sound of their footsteps, mid-sentence, the sneer already curling on his lips. But the second his gaze landed on her, his expression shifted from arrogance to glee.

“Ah… Little Blue! ” His voice dripped with mockery as he sauntered toward her, slow and heavy with menace. “I knew you’d show up sooner or later. Burned down The Last Drop, did you? Torched your own damn home? You really are full of surprises.”

Ah. That’s what I set on fire.

He stopped a few paces from her, eyes dragging over her like he was already planning his next move, his next threat.

Ekko shifted beside her, his stance ready, fingers tightening around the handle of his mace. But the man barely spared him a glance.

Jinx tilted her head to the side, that slow, lazy smile curling like a fuse about to catch. Then, with exaggerated flair, she shifted her weight back, one foot sliding behind the other as her fingers drummed against the grip of her pistol.

Ekko recognized it instantly.

The stance.

The same one she’d taken on the bridge.

The same one from their old shooting game—the one they'd played as kids, back when the stakes were nothing more than pride and bragging rights. Jinx would fire. Ekko would dodge. Over and over until one of them called it.

Except that night on the bridge, she hadn’t been aiming to kill. 

And he knew it. They both knew it.

Ekko felt the corner of his mouth lift, his smirk mirroring the one tugging at Jinx’s lips. And now, as their eyes met across the space between them, there was no doubt.

It was time for another game.

Except this time, they were about to fight together —no chasing, no running, no clashing on opposite sides. Just the two of them, locked in perfect synchrony, like they always should’ve been.

She wouldn’t miss.

Not this time.

And best of all, these shots were once again, not meant for Ekko.

He would be safe. She would keep him safe. 

And together, they were about to remind Zaun exactly who they were.

Ekko smirked to himself, already stepping into motion.

“Let’s play,” he muttered under his breath.

The street, the crowd, the air itself—frozen, waiting to see who would move first.

Then the man lunged.

And the game began.

Ekko stepped into his path without hesitation. His mace swung upward in a sharp, fluid arc, the blunt end slamming into the man’s ribs with a solid crack . 

The grunt that tore from the man’s throat was ugly, but Ekko wasn’t done. He spun the weapon low, knocking his legs out from under him. 

Bang.

The shot snapped through the air, clean and sharp, cutting so close past Ekko’s shoulder he felt the breeze of it.

The bullet struck true, slamming into the thug’s knife hand just as Ekko’s mace landed, disarming him in an instant.

Ekko didn’t flinch. Didn’t even hesitate.

He knew she wouldn’t miss.

Suddenly, another thug lunged from the side, charging with a snarl and a heavy swing aimed straight for her head.

Jinx didn’t flinch.

She dipped low, just enough for the blow to whip harmlessly over her. She didn’t need to move. Didn’t need to chase.

From her firing position, she smirked, tilting her head as if the whole thing bored her.

“Missed me!”

Ekko spun around and darted forward, his mace colliding with the second attacker’s shoulder, sending him staggering sideways.

Bang.

Jinx’s first shot fired past Ekko's ear, nailing the man in the thigh before he could recover.

She stayed locked in her stance like she was back on the bridge, calm and unbothered, firing with surgical precision, each shot placed perfectly between Ekko’s strikes.

Not a single bullet near him.

Each shot landing on them .

Ekko didn’t stop. He spun, slamming the handle of his mace into the thug’s stomach.

Bang. Bang.

Two more shots rang out—clean, perfect. One knocked the weapon out of a thug’s hand mid-swing. The next clipped another right in the kneecap, dropping him on the spot.

Jinx stayed cool and steady, firing off rounds like she had all the time in the world, her smirk growing with every perfect hit.

"Try harder!" she laughed, planting a kick into the nearest thug’s stomach as he stumbled too close, sending him sprawling into a pile of crates.

“Go ahead,” Ekko called over his shoulder with a smirk. “They’re lined up for you.”

Jinx didn’t need to be told twice.

Before the first man could crawl to his knees, she drew her pistol in one smooth motion.

One shot.

Then another.

Both precise, both blindingly fast.

The first bullet shattered the thug’s blade just as he raised it, the second sent the hilt flying from his hands.

“Hahaha!” Jinx cackled as the man scrambled back, wide-eyed and panicked.

The other thug barely had time to react before Jinx’s third shot ricocheted off the metal wall beside his head. He dropped his weapon on instinct, holding up his hands in surrender.

Ekko planted the end of his mace on the ground, leaning against it as if bored.

“You done?”

Jinx holstered her pistol with a flourish, spinning it once before snapping it into place. She blew a wild strand of hair from her face, eyes still electric with adrenaline.

“For now,” she chirped, her grin sharp and unhinged. “Unless someone else wants to lose a limb!”

Silence settled over the street as the crowd stared, no one daring to speak as the two thugs scrambled away, dragging their wounded pride with them.

“Fuck! We’ll get you! And your little boyfriend too!”

The thugs stumbled off, disappearing into the dark, muttering threats neither of them took seriously.

Jinx watched them go with a grin, tilting her head toward Ekko.

“Aww, hear that, babe? We’re famous .”

Ekko snorted, resting his mace over his shoulder.

“Better get used to the spotlight, huh?”

And for a moment, as Ekko and Jinx stood side by side in the middle of the street, weapons glinting under Zaun’s flickering lights, the thought hung unspoken in the air.

Zaun’s Royalty.

Not because they wanted the title.

But because there wasn’t a soul left who could deny it.

—   —   —

The Firelights base buzzed with life by the time they returned.

The once-quiet hum of the hideout was now a full-blown stir of excitement. Kids darted between workbenches and hammocks, retelling the same story over and over like it was already legend—Zaun’s Royalty, side by side, taking down Smeech’s men without breaking a sweat.

Laughter echoed from the upper levels. One of the kids had already spray-painted a small cartoonish mural of Jinx and Ekko on the far wall, their names scribbled underneath in bright green and blue. 

Near the center of the chaos, Sevika leaned against a table, flexing the fingers of her newly upgraded mechanical arm. Sleek, efficient, and as subtle as a brick wall.

“Wish I was there,” she said, smirking as she raised her arm, rolling her wrist to show off the hidden compartment Jinx had snuck into the design—a gambling feature she’d insisted she definitely didn’t want , but Jinx had built anyway. 

“Would’ve put this new arm to good use.”

Jinx flopped down into a nearby chair, stretching out with a grin. “Would’ve taken a lot longer.”

Sevika scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well... some of us don’t need flashy entrance music to get the job done.”

Jinx snorted. “Please. You’re welcome for the upgrades.”

Scar crossed his arms, his tone sharpening. “They were really about to mess with Vander’s statue?”

Sevika scoffed, something between annoyance and grim amusement flickering across her face.

“Surprised they made it out alive with you two there.”

Ekko shook his head, barely holding back a grin as he slid his mace off his shoulders. He could feel the energy in the air, the way everyone was feeding off the high of the news, but exhaustion was finally starting to creep in.

“Alright, that’s enough glory for one night,” Ekko said as he leaned against one of the railings, watching the others filter through the base, “Go get some rest. We’ve got more long days ahead.”

Jinx groaned dramatically, draping an arm over her eyes. “Five more minutes of fame, please.”

“Nope,” Ekko said, already walking toward the treehouse. “You can dream about it.”

—   —   —

“Your earrings still intact?” Ekko asked, kicking off his boots with a tired sigh.

“’Course they are. Not a scratch on me... You?” Jinx replied, her usual bravado slipping just enough for a flicker of concern to show.

Ekko caught it. And smiled.

“Perfectly safe. Thanks to you.”

Jinx huffed, flopping back onto their bed. “Ugh, it’s like we can’t catch a break.”

“Yeah... but it was fun, though.” Ekko leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Playing our game again. For once, I wasn’t dodging you .”

“Yeah, because you know my shots already,” Jinx said, flashing him a crooked grin.

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Think you’re predictable now?”

Before she could reply, he moved—quick and unexpected.

One second he was lounging. The next, he pounced, fingers digging into her sides with practiced precision.

“Ekko—wait! Don’t you—”

Her words dissolved into shrieks of laughter as she twisted beneath his grip, trying—and failing—to escape.

“You asshole! Stop!” she gasped between fits of laughter, kicking at the blanket tangled around her feet.

“Not until you admit you needed this,” he teased, his grin as relentless as his hands.

Jinx twisted and flailed, kicking at the air. “Okay, okay! I needed it! Happy now?!”

Ekko finally let up, sitting back with a smug look as Jinx glared at him, still gasping for air.

“You’re the worst, Little Bug” she muttered, brushing her wild hair out of her face.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, “but at least I made you laugh, Little Lady.”

Her glare softened into a mischievous smile. Without a word, she lunged forward, fingers aiming straight for his sides.

“Whoa—hey!” Ekko yelped, leaping out of her reach.

She laughed, her voice ringing with glee. “Ha! You think you can tickle me and get away with it? Not a chance!”

Ekko smirked, already backing away. “Good luck catching me first, babe.”

Jinx’s grin widened as she launched after him, the tension of the day melting into playful chaos. Their laughter filled the room, until they couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Her quick hands finally caught his sides, digging in without mercy.

“Alright! Alright! Stop tickling m-me! Jinx!” Ekko gasped between laughs, twisting and squirming as he tried—and failed—to break free.

“Haha! You better adapt to my Shimmer speed!” she cackled, her grin wide and wild as she kept going until he finally tapped out, breathless and defeated.

“Okay, okay! You win!” 

Eventually, they both collapsed back onto the bed, limbs tangled and chests rising and falling as they caught their breath. 

Ekko dragged a hand through his hair, still grinning.

“You are one dangerous creature,” he muttered between breaths.

Jinx snorted, rolling onto her side to face him.

“You’re the one who started this dangerous game,” she shot back, smirking—until her eyes actually met his.

Shit.

Why did I turn to look at him?

The last hints of sunlight spilled through the cracks in the walls, painting the room in streaks of gold and fading blue.

She meant it to be playful, meant to keep the wall up, but now, with the way the light hit his face, the closeness between them, the weight of everything unsaid… it felt different.

Quieter.

Softer.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Just the sound of their breathing and the distant hum of the base winding down for the night.

“You tired out yet?” Ekko teased, turning his head just enough to smirk at her.

Jinx shot up, already sensing the trouble brewing behind his grin. “Don’t you dare—”

“Relax. No more tickling. Come here.”

Ekko sat up and crossed the room, crouching beside an old record player tucked into the corner. It was dented, patched together with scrap parts. Knowing Ekko, it was something he'd stolen years ago and quietly repaired whenever he found the time.

Jinx propped herself up on her elbows, watching curiously as he fiddled with the worn dials.

A soft crackle filled the air as the needle met the vinyl.

Then, the familiar tune drifted through the room.

The song.

Her heart skipped.

The same one Vander always played in The Last Drop . The one Vi would pull her to the floor for, spinning her in lazy circles while the bar glowed warm around them.

Lighthearted. Nostalgic.

Jinx blinked, staring at Ekko like he’d just pulled the sun out of his pocket.

“How... How do you have that?” she asked quietly, the playfulness from moments ago dissolving into something softer.

Ekko shrugged, not looking back at her. “Guess I knew you’d want to hear it again someday.”

The song drifted through the speaker, a bit muffled from the old machine, but the melody was clear enough to pull Jinx straight back into those long-forgotten, carefree memories.

Usually, memories dragged her into the past kicking and screaming—reminding her of everything she'd lost. But somehow, with Ekko here, it felt different. Softer. Safer.

For once, the memory wasn’t painful.

There's a girl in town and word's gone around she's just fine

So I don't worry my head 'cause I know her heart is tied to mine

Ekko turned to her, warmth flickering in his eyes as he held out his hand.

“Care for a dance?” 

Jinx blinked, her gaze darting between his outstretched hand and the quiet invitation on his face.

She hadn’t danced with anyone since Isha.

And for a beat, the thought of saying no almost crossed her mind.

But instead, slowly, almost cautiously, she extended her hand, slipping her fingers into his. A silent trust exchanged between them.

They hadn’t danced together in years.

It felt unfamiliar. Strange.

But maybe it could feel new again.

“Just follow my lead,” Ekko said softly, curling his fingers around hers as he gently pulled her to her feet.

Jinx scoffed, trying to hide the nerves flickering behind her grin. “I’m definitely tripping and landing on you. Say goodbye to your toes.”

Ekko just smiled, squeezing her hand with that same steady confidence he’d always carried—like no matter what happened, it would be fine.

“It’s okay if you mess up,” he said. “Just go with the flow. Like we used to.”

They had danced as kids.

One of the few memories that still felt untouched, unspoiled. One of the rare times she could remember feeling nothing but pure, uncomplicated fun.

And now, somehow, Ekko was pulling her right back to that moment—like no time had passed at all. 

Like it was the first time.

Just two silly kids, swaying to music that didn’t care how broken the world had become.

As the song played, Ekko guided her into an easy rhythm, his hands steady and sure as they shifted side to side.

At first, Jinx moved stiffly, her steps awkward and unsure, like her body had forgotten how to loosen up. But Ekko's relaxed confidence—the gentle pull of his hand, the quiet ease of his smile—started to melt the tension from her shoulders.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging.

Jinx felt the heat creep up her neck, her lips twitching into the smallest of smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, Dance Boy,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, but there was no bite behind it.

As the record spun on, Ekko led her into slightly more playful steps, his grin widening each time she stumbled.

And each time, without missing a beat, he pulled her back in—catching her effortlessly, like he always had.

Jinx laughed, really laughed, the sound bubbling up before she could stop it.

The fear of messing up, of looking ridiculous, of somehow ruining this moment—was fading with every second.

For once, she didn’t have to be perfect.

For once, she just had to be .

He chuckled, suddenly twirling her without warning.

Jinx let out a sharp gasp, followed by laughter that spilled out light and carefree, unguarded in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She spun back toward him, slightly off-balance, her body colliding softly into his as he caught her with ease.

Slowly but surely, their eyes met.

And just like that, the air shifted.

The space between them hummed with something unspoken, something neither of them dared name.

Jinx’s chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath. “I-I’m messing up, huh?”

Ekko shook his head, his grin softening into something more real.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice barely rising over the crackling melody. “Be messy. Be free! Forget everything else!”

And for a moment, she did.

They moved together, easy and weightless, as if the world outside the base didn’t exist—just the two of them, wrapped in a song older than most of the memories they still carried.

As the record slowed and the final notes drifted out, Ekko spun her once more, slower this time, guiding her into one last, smooth turn.

Our love

Our love

Our love

Our love

She landed softly against his chest, his arms closing around her without hesitation.

Close.

Closer than they’d ever been.

Their faces hovered just inches apart, breaths mingling in the quiet.

And Ekko, in that moment, ached to close the gap.

To say something.

To do something.

Jinx stared into his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself stop pretending.

She didn’t have to hide the chaos clawing beneath her skin, didn’t have to mask the quiet, gnawing fear of how much she wanted this—how much she wanted him .

Something real. Something in their universe.

Her eyes shimmered with a vulnerability she rarely allowed to show—a raw, unspoken longing that pushed dangerously close to the surface.

A craving for more .

She was practically pinned against him, his steady pulse matching the rhythm of her own as they breathed the same air, the rise and fall of their chests syncing without thought.

Ekko’s gaze dropped briefly, lingering on the curve of her lips, before shifting to the hand resting at her hip. His fingers flexed, pulling her closer like gravity had finally made the decision for him.

Their noses nearly brushed, the distance between them dissolving inch by inch until there was barely anything left to close.

“Where’d you learn those moves?” she asked with a small smirk, her breath mingling onto his. If she leaned in just an inch closer…

Ekko grinned, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’m just following your lead now…”

The words felt natural, easy—maybe too familiar. They tugged him back to another time, another world. To moments in the other universe, where The Last Drop was still standing. Where they’d danced under soft lights and laughter, and she —well, a version of her—had smiled at him in the same way.

Before he could stop himself, the memory slipped out.

“But I, uh...I might’ve learned a bit from Powder.”

Jinx’s head snapped up, blinking hard. “You…what?”

Shit.

Ekko scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding it very difficult to look at her. “There was, um… a little party at The Last Drop. And we danced for a bit.”

The shift was immediate.

Jinx’s posture stiffened, the warmth in her expression cooling in an instant.

Her eyes narrowed, studying him like he was a puzzle that suddenly didn’t fit together the way she thought it did.

I wasn’t his first dance.

“You were having a real good time, huh, lover boy?”

Jinx’s words came out sharp, laced with a feeling that twisted her chest.

Something unsettling.

Because somehow, the thought of Ekko dancing with Powder first —even if it wasn’t her —gnawed at her in ways she couldn’t explain.

Like once again, she was just a step behind someone else.

Even if that someone was… her.

Jinx tilted her head, her smile sharp and humorless. “What else did you two do, huh? Just danced? Or landed a kiss or two?”

Shit.

Big trouble.

Ekko felt the blood drain from his face. He had dodged that detail until now, carefully avoiding it like stepping over shattered glass. But Jinx was too quick, too sharp, cutting right through the silence before he could bury it.

“Um… Listen—”

“Heard enough, Ekko.”

Her hands dropped from his, fast and final, like the whole moment between them hadn’t even happened.

“Maybe you should go back. Sounds like she’s waiting for you, huh?” Jinx snapped, turning away with a sneer that couldn’t quite hide the hurt beneath it.

“JINX!”

He grabbed her wrist before she could storm off, his grip firm, desperate.

The words left him quieter than he expected, but honest.

“I… I kissed her. Yeah.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and sharp between them.

“But it wasn’t what you think.”

Jinx’s gaze darkened, her eyes narrowing as her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line.

“ What I think? ” she echoed bitterly. “I’m not thinking anything. I don’t even know what this is. ”

She yanked her hand free, shaking her head as if she could toss the whole conversation from her mind.

“Just… Just forget it!”

“I just—I wanted to say goodbye to that, to savor the memory before coming back here. To you.”

Oh, so he wants to make this worse.

Jinx barked a laugh, sharp and cutting. “Bullshit. Don’t give me that crap. Want me to grab my grenade again?” she asked, flashing him a grin as hard as steel, daring him to push her any further.

Ekko’s jaw tightened, irritation flickering across his face as his patience wore thin.

“I’ll just grab my Z-drive,” he shot back coolly, arms crossing over his chest.

Jinx's eyes flicked toward the corner of the room. She knew exactly where he kept it. But Ekko also knew where her grenades were.

Her grin faded into something sharper. “I won’t let you, asshole.”

And there it was—the standoff.

The two of them locked in an absurd, silent battle of wills. Neither one moving. Neither one blinking.

The tension buzzed between them, thick and hot like a wire about to snap.

But Ekko wasn’t stupid.

For all her teasing, he could see it—the way her body shifted, just slightly. Poised. Ready.

She wasn’t bluffing. She would lunge.

And maybe—just maybe—he could keep up with her.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

The last thing he wanted—the thing he couldn’t stomach—was hurting her. Not after everything.

Not after years of fighting on opposite sides, of missing her, of wondering if there’d ever be a day they’d stand in the same room without trying to kill each other.

And now that they were here?

The thought of ruining it over this ...

He slowly loosened his arms, his posture relaxing, though his gaze stayed locked on hers, steady and calm.

“Jinx.”

Just her name. No heat, no bite. Just her name. A reminder. A truce.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Ekko sighed, his voice calm but edged with exhaustion. The kind of tired that didn’t come from battle, but from years of the same wounds reopening.

Jinx scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Pfft. Like how you didn’t fight the urge to kiss her ?”

Ekko’s jaw clenched. “Because I’ve been fighting with you for years. I’m not repeating that. Especially not over this.”

Jinx’s eyes narrowed. Cold. Distant.

“Too fucking late.”

She turned on her heel, stalking toward the door, her gaze fixed straight ahead like if she didn’t look at him, none of this could touch her.

“Where are you going?!” Ekko called after her, his voice breaking just enough to betray the panic creeping in.

Jinx’s hand froze on the handle.

Without turning back, she spoke, her words icy and precise—designed to cut.

“Don’t. Follow me.”

A beat.

And then, even colder:

“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

The door slammed behind her, the sound reverberating through the room, leaving only silence in its wake.

Ekko sat there, frozen.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How did he mess this up... again?

He stared blankly at the door, knowing better than to chase her. Not now. Not when her fuse was already lit.

If he pushed her, she wouldn’t just leave—she’d make damn sure the whole place came down with her.

Groaning, he dragged his hands through his hair, dropping his head into his palms.

How the hell was he supposed to fix this?

—    —    —

The hours dragged by, each one heavier than the last.

Jinx wandered the streets of Zaun as her thoughts spiraled into a storm of self-doubt and betrayal. Every rusted pipe, every flickering light felt like a reminder of how broken everything was—how broken she was.

And no matter how far she walked, she couldn’t outrun it.

The city felt different now. Still familiar in the way old scars are, but distant. Duller. 

Even though her feet moved on instinct, tracing every winding path she’d known since childhood, she didn’t let herself grow too comfortable. She knew better than to walk too confidently. 

The city still breathed violence in the dark corners. There were still eyes watching from the shadows, knives tucked behind whispers. The lingering violence in the shadows reminded her to stay alert, yet keep her head down. 

Eventually, she slowed, her gaze drifting upward.

Somehow, without meaning to, she’d ended up here.

A place that felt like another ghost.

Her eyes scanned the area, looking for a higher vantage point to scale until they landed on a ledge above—a rusted metal platform jutting out just high enough to give her a better view.

Perfect.

With practiced ease, she scaled the wall, boots scraping against the coarse surface, her fingers curling into the cracks and seams of the old structure. The wind picked up as she climbed, tugging at the loose strands of her hair, biting at her skin as if trying to remind her what it felt like to feel something .

With a grunt, she hauled herself over the edge, crouching low as her gaze swept the horizon.

And there it was.

The bridge.

Twisted metal and flickering lights, suspended over the chasm like an open wound.

The place where it all started.

Where everything ended.

Where she’d last seen Ekko before she was taken, before the world split itself into two people who didn’t know how to find their way back.

She stared down at the expanse of it, the hum of the city below, and wondered if he still saw her the same way now.

With these haunted, pink eyes, she knew she became different. Eyes that glowed like a warning, a monster's mark.

She’d been so certain the next time he looked at her, he'd flinch. That he’d finally see her for what she’d become.

But he never did.

Some nights, when sleep tangled them together back at the base, she’d catch him just...looking into her eyes.

Not with fear.

But like he could drown in her eyes if he let himself.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why that scared her even more.

“Ugh,” Jinx muttered under her breath, dragging her hands through her hair as frustration boiled beneath her skin. “Why am I thinking about this right now?” She was supposed to be angry at him—at what he'd done. 

He’s so fucking annoying. 

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop. Her chest felt tight, like she’d been holding her breath without realizing it.

She straightened, her hands brushing against her thighs, and began pacing along the narrow ledge. Her thoughts spiraled, fast and frenzied, like firecrackers exploding in her mind.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Her boots scraped against the metal in frantic, uneven beats, the sound nearly drowned out by the firecrackers going off in her head.

A stolen first kiss. And he kept it from you.  

Without warning, Jinx yanked the gun free and fired a shot straight into the air, the crack of it tearing through the night like she could shatter the noise inside her head.

“Shut. Up!” 

Her teeth clenched, eyes wide and wild as the echo of the gunfire faded into the dark.

But silence was never what stayed.

Instead, her pacing quickened, her mind tumbling faster with every step.

Why did she care?

What was this feeling clawing its way through her?

Anger?

Jealousy?

Her head jerked up, eyes wide like she’d just heard someone else say it out loud.

“Jealous?!” she hissed, nearly choking on the word.

“W-Why would I be jealous?! Ekko’s not my... he’s not my anything! And that Powder—why the hell would I feel threatened by her ?!”

She threw her hands up, laughing, sharp and breathless.

“She’s just some goody two-shoes who bats her lashes and makes out with some boy who plops into her universe! Big deal! Haha…! ”

But the laugh felt hollow, echoing off the metal and fading into the night, leaving only the tightness in her chest.

And the ache she couldn’t seem to shake.

What was Powder to him?

Sure, she was technically a version of Jinx—but is that what he really wanted?

Some softer, cleaner version. A version that didn’t come with all the broken pieces, the scars, the chaos.

Was that the only way he could ever accept her?

The thought festered.

“I knew it,” Jinx muttered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I knew he couldn’t accept me. Just plain old me . Always the usual jinx to him. To everybody.”

She leaned forward, gripping the rusted edge of the ledge, knuckles white, her glare fixed on the bridge below as if the twisted metal might untangle the mess in her head.

But the view didn’t help.

It just reflected everything back at her—her past, her mistakes, the memories that clung like smoke she couldn’t cough out.

Her heart was pounding, her breathing uneven, lost in the storm unraveling in her mind.

And then—

“Geez, lady. You crazy?”

Jinx whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing as she followed the sound of that voice she always recognized. 

Down below, leaning lazily against a railing with her arms crossed, Sevika looked up at her like Jinx dangling off rooftops in the middle of the night was just another regular night.

“Talkin’ to dead people?” Sevika called, smirking like she couldn’t decide if she was amused or just impressed.

Jinx rolled her eyes and turned her back to Sevika, knowing full well that the woman could scale anything if she wanted to. Somehow, she always managed to show up exactly when Jinx’s thoughts spiraled too far—right when she was least in the mood to be saved from herself.

And sure enough, the familiar sound of boots scraping against metal followed, the faintest grunt of effort as Sevika scaled the wall with ease. Even with one arm, she moved like she’d been built for it.

Jinx’s fingers tapped anxiously against her thigh, her mind racing to outpace the inevitable confrontation.

“Figures,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “She always knows when to show up and ruin a perfectly good brooding session.”

She didn’t turn around, continuing to glare out at the empty night. Her lips tightened as Sevika’s boots landed heavily on the ledge behind her.

“If you’re here to talk about Ekko, I am. Not. In the. Mood,” Jinx snapped, her voice a mix of frustration and something else—something she did not want to name.

Then, with an exaggerated groan, she dropped to the floor in a messy heap, legs crossed like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sevika shrugged, entirely unfazed.

“Seems like you’re talking about him already,” Sevika pointed out. 

“....Fuck off. I said I’m not in the mood.”

Sevika just shrugged, unfazed. “Whatever. Just making sure you’re not running off with a bomb again.” 

Jinx’s fingers curled tighter. “Who the fuck cares? Why do any of you care if-”

“Don’t start that crap again. You still really think you’re not important? To him? …To me?”

Jinx’s brow furrowed, and her heart skipped a beat. 

They never talked about this—feelings, of all things. Not with Sevika. 

It felt… uncomfortable. 

Sevika was supposed to mock her, roll her eyes, tell her to quit whining. But instead, she’d said it like it was obvious. 

Like Jinx mattered.

Jinx scoffed, rolling her shoulders and quickly looking away, pretending to focus on the distant lights of Zaun below.

“Yep. What about it? He just proved it too. I’m an afterthought.”

That protective edge crept back into Sevika’s voice before Jinx could even finish the sentence.

“What? What did that brat do?”

Jinx sighed, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated show of indifference, but it didn’t quite reach the hurt lingering behind them.

She had wanted space. Wanted to be alone to sort through the mess in her head.

But maybe being alone with her thoughts was just making it worse.

And Sevika… well, maybe it couldn’t hurt to talk to someone .

“Idiot didn’t care to mention that he went to some alternate timeline and kissed my alternate self there,” Jinx muttered, arms folded tight across her chest.

Sevika blinked, genuinely taken aback, her brow lifting as her eyes widened. 

“That’s what his little device does?”

Jinx scoffed. “How fucked up is that? Does that... Does that happen to anyone else? Just me? Great. Fucked-up shit always happens to me .”

Sevika sighed heavily, dragging a hand down her face, the lines of quiet concern slipping into her expression—though, as always, she'd pretend it wasn’t there.

Because if anyone knew how low Jinx could sink in her own mind, it was Sevika.

“Listen, kid…”

“Stop calling me that,” Jinx shot back, sharp and fast, though her voice was barely above a murmur.

Sevika shrugged. “Fine. You prefer crazy?”

Jinx smirked faintly, though it didn’t last. “Yeah, actually. I do.”

She crossed her arms tighter, like she could physically block out the creeping emotions, as if folding in on herself would stop them from bleeding through her skin. 

Sevika shook her head, scoffing under her breath.

“Listen, crazy... I don’t know what the hell was going through his head when he did that. But I’m pretty sure everything he’s been doing for you outweighs that one stupid kiss.”

Jinx’s laughter was short and bitter. “He still wishes it was her. If he had a chance to stay, he would.”

“He did have a chance. He could’ve just stayed there, you know. But guess which brat he came back home to?”

Jinx scoffed quietly, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, chin resting atop the mess of blue strands falling over her face.

Her glare dropped to the ground below, voice barely a mumble.

“Didn’t come home to much.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, long and tired.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Jinx shrugged. “Then why are you here?”

Sevika leaned against the rail, arms crossed, watching the city lights flicker below them.

“Honestly? After Stillwater, you can’t blame me for keeping an eye on you. Feels like you always find yourself in dangerous waters.”

Jinx smirked faintly, her voice dry. “More like it finds me.”

“Hmm…” Sevika mused, tilting her head. “Don’t let it find you, then.”

Jinx squinted at her. “What?”

Sevika shrugged, gaze distant.

“You can always leave Zaun, you know. Maybe this place is jinxed. Not you.”

For once, Jinx didn’t have a comeback.

She just stared ahead, chewing on the thought like it might taste different if she gave it time.

Jinx stayed quiet, the thought curling its way around her like smoke—slow, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

Zaun was all she’d ever known.

It built her. Broke her. Scarred her.

Its streets raised her as much as Vander had, its chaos stitched into her bones. The very air felt like it owned her, like leaving would mean leaving behind the only proof she ever existed at all.

She’d never thought about leaving. Not really.

Her trauma had made sure of that, keeping her locked in place like rusted chains. Just like her hair—grown long and tangled, a silent tribute to the girl she used to be. 

The girl from a time before everything shattered. Before Vi left. Before the world started looking at her like a problem that couldn’t be fixed.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe she stayed because she couldn’t let go of the idea that Zaun was supposed to stay the same. That if she held on long enough, everything would somehow rewind. 

That the old days might crawl back to her—the days when her family was still breathing, when Vi was still reaching for her hand instead of pulling away.

But now, staring out over the city that felt more like a graveyard than a home, another thought crept in.

What if she could leave?

What if she didn’t owe Zaun anything anymore?

What if freedom wasn’t surviving here, but finally getting the hell out?

Her mind drifted, uninvited, back to Ekko.

Back to that night they rescued Vander.

If he’d stayed by her side—if she hadn’t run ahead, if they had just... stuck together—would things have been different?

Would they have held the city together?

They’d both been alone after that night. Two kids left behind by the same broken streets. And yet somehow, Ekko had built something from the wreckage. He’d turned the same grief, the same loss, into hope—while she...

She’d let it swallow her whole.

Jinx shook the thought away, forcing herself back into the present before it pulled her under.

No. Not without Vi.

There was no leaving, not yet. Not while her sister was still here, somewhere tangled in the mess of Zaun, unresolved and unfinished.

She smirked to herself, the thought curling bitterly on her tongue.

“Pfft. Look who’s talking crazy now.”

“Just a thought, Jinx. Don’t tie yourself to one place. You keep blaming yourself, your past, whatever, but maybe the danger always finds you because you let it. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s Zaun... the corruptive shit that keeps us all locked here.”

Her words trailed off, hanging in the air.

And then, softer—almost too soft to believe it was coming from Sevika:

“Isn’t your story worth rewriting?”

Jinx felt the words slip through her defenses before she could block them out, like a crack letting the light in.

Just like with Ekko, there was a flicker of something.

A possibility.

A life she hadn’t dared to picture in a long, long time.

And then, like a ghost, Ekko’s voice drifted through her mind.

You’re worth every rewind.

The words lodged themselves deep, pulling at wounds that never quite healed—old scars and fresh ones alike.

“Pfft. You’re starting to sound like Ekko.”

“There’s a reason why we all believe in you, Jinx. Your story is worth rewriting.”

Was she?

Was she really worth it?

The time. The effort. The hope.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, calloused and stained. The thought gnawed at her, sharp and relentless.

But what if Ekko was wrong?

What if the girl he remembered—the one who laughed too loud, who dreamed too big—was already gone, buried beneath the wreckage she'd made of herself?

What if all that was left was someone unworthy of that kind of hope?

Her fingers twitched as doubt crept in, whispering its cruel truths. Broken. Replaceable. A mistake. A jinx. 

But…is that all I am?

Relentlessly, the question clawed its way past the noise.

Not if she could destroy. Not if she could tear it all down again.

But if she could be more .

That small, stubborn flame in her wouldn’t die.

Small. Stubborn. Persistent.

Could I still be someone worth coming back to?

Jinx smirked, feeling the familiar sting of her walls closing back up. “You’re getting crazier than me. You and Ekko—”

“Trust me, we’re all a little crazy. But…it’s not crazy to believe in you.”

Jinx scoffed, kicking a loose bolt off the ledge and watching it disappear into the dark. “Yeah, well…believing gets you killed around here.”

Sevika tilted her head, exhaling sharply through her nose, her patience wearing thin, like she was already tired of Jinx’s self-pity.

“Alright,” Sevika muttered, shrugging lazily. “Enough of that.”

She pushed off the railing, dusting her hands together as if physically brushing off the traces of Jinx’s sulking.

“Let’s talk about something actually entertaining,” Sevika said, turning the conversation without missing a beat. “Like your boyfriend.”

Jinx groaned loudly, shooting her a glare. “Oh, shut up .”

But Sevika just smirked, unfazed.

“No, really. What’s your plan? You gonna keep freezing him out because of some kiss that happened in a different timeline with a version of you that doesn’t even exist here?”

She gave Jinx a pointed look.

“C’mon, crazy. That boy’s been through hell to be standing here with you. Give him a break. Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed—”

“Say another word and I’ll shoot you.”

Sevika snorted. “Sure, okay. But…you see the way he looks at you right? Just hear him out, Jinx.” 

Jinx groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ugh. Why does he always look at me like that?” 

It was constant. His gaze was always on her, soft and steady, like he saw something in her she couldn't quite find herself.

But did he really see her ?

Or just the version of her he wanted to believe in?

“How 'bout you figure out why life insists on fucking me over first,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Sevika shrugged, a grin tugging at her lips. “Stop waiting for the city to do it. Take control yourself.”

Jinx gave her a sidelong glance, a wicked grin forming. “Fine. But only if it means I get to blow something up first.”

—    —    —

Ekko’s eyes were heavy, the dark circles beneath them stark against his skin. He hadn’t slept—not really. His body had given up on resting hours ago, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. 

He tried to sleep, he really did. But every time his eyes closed, the image of her storming out replayed in his head. 

Like a timeloop he couldn’t escape. 

And the guilt was eating at him, sharper with each passing hour.

For years, Jinx had been tearing through Zaun without a care, disappearing for hours—days even—and Ekko never thought twice about it. That was just Jinx. That was just how she was.

But now?

Now, every second without knowing where she was clawed at him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, hollowing him out from the inside.

He’d worked straight through the night, pouring every bit of his guilt, frustration, and apology into the project in front of him—letting his hands speak for him where his words kept falling short. 

Maybe if he built her something real, something lasting, it would be enough to patch the damage he'd done.

Maybe.

But even knowing Sevika had gone after her didn’t settle the storm churning in his gut.

He caught himself pacing, again and again, wearing the same path into the floor. His head snapped up every time footsteps echoed near the entrance, hope spiking only to fizzle when it wasn’t her.

And still, like a fool, his eyes drifted back to the doorway, gaze heavy, pleading silently for her to finally come back through.

Get a grip, Ekko.

All he could do was try to fix it. Make it right. Patch up the wreckage between them with whatever scraps he had left to give.

But the waiting—the not knowing —was driving him to the edge.

Why isn’t she back yet? I should’ve chased after her.

What if I lost her again?

Stupid, stupid, stupid...

The thought looped until it felt like it might split him open. His pacing had picked up again, his hands fidgeting, his mind spinning through every worst-case scenario like a clock wound too tight.

And then—

“Hey.”

The voice cut through him like a jolt.

Ekko froze mid-step, his breath catching as he spun around.

There she was.

Just standing there, quiet and still, like she hadn’t just torn the night out from under him. Her expression was guarded, unreadable, but calm—too calm, like she’d already worked through something he hadn’t even started to untangle yet.

Had he really been so far gone that he didn’t even hear her come in?

For a second, all he could do was stare, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out every word he thought he’d been ready to say.

“Jinx…” Ekko breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it, raw and uneven. Her sudden presence knocked the air right out of him.

She tilted her head, her gaze drifting over him, unimpressed.

“You look like shit,” she muttered, her gaze flicking over his disheveled appearance.

“So do you,” he replied softly, the words more a statement of concern than a retort.

She shrugged, brushing off the remark. “Could use a nap or two.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ekko admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper, like saying it louder might unravel him.

Truth was, he wasn’t even sure if she’d stay.

If she’d even want to sleep in the same bed with him again after all this.

The thought twisted in his chest, but he pushed it down, forcing himself to keep going.

“But first... I wanted to show you something.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering behind them, but curiosity tugged at the corners of her mouth before she could stop it.

“What, you painted ‘I’m sorry’ on the wall or something?”

Ekko sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s more than that. Come on.”

She hesitated for just a second, her feet stubbornly planted as if to make a point.

But she followed anyway.

Her steps were light, casual on the surface, but measured—like she was trying not to reveal how much she actually wanted to know what this was about.

This is dumb. We should just forget it. Who even cares?

But her feet kept moving.

And somehow, part of her hoped whatever it was he wanted to show her might make this ache in her chest a little easier to ignore.

Ekko led her to a wider wall near the back of the tree, his steps slow, careful, like he was giving her time to prepare without saying as much.

As they approached, the sunlight pushed through the low clouds, casting a soft, golden glow across the space. The light hit just right, warm and gentle, stretching over the wall like it was meant to spotlight what waited there.

And when Jinx saw it, she stopped cold.

Her breath caught, sharp and sudden, lodged somewhere between shock and disbelief.

Because there, painted in vibrant, meticulous detail—

Was her .

But not just one version.

All of her.

Powder, with those impossibly bright, hopeful eyes, staring out like she hadn’t yet learned what it meant to lose everything. Her hair was wild and playful, the way it used to be when life was still simple and soft.

Then, beside her, teenage Jinx. Caught mid-transition—trapped between the girl she used to be and the chaos that would come. Her expression was the hardest to look at: conflicted, restless, like she was standing at the edge of some invisible line, unsure whether to cross it.

Ekko had painted her with such impossible care. Every detail. Every shadow.

Her chest-length hair swirled around her, as if stirred by some unseen wind, strands caught mid-motion—restless, untamed, just like her.

And then there was the Jinx she was now—a haunting, impossible mix of strength and fragility.

Older. Weathered by pain. Sharpened by survival.

But still standing.

Ekko had painted her with Shimmer-pink eyes, bright and unflinching. He didn’t soften them. Didn’t hide them in shadow or brush them aside like something to be ashamed of. No, he’d left them vivid and unmistakable—like he wanted her to see what he accepted.

That those eyes, those changes, the parts of her she thought made her monstrous...

They were just part of her story. And they belonged.

And yet, as Jinx stared at the final version of herself on the wall, something unexpected caught her eye.

Blue.

Subtle, almost hidden, but there—faint hues of blue flickering through the pink of her Shimmer eyes.

She blinked, as if that might make them disappear, but they stayed, woven into the color like a secret only she was meant to find.

For a moment, confusion washed over her, pooling low in her stomach.

Why would he paint them like that?

But she swallowed it down, pushing the question aside before it could settle too deep.

Maybe she didn’t want the answer.

Or maybe... some part of her hoped he saw something left in her she thought was long gone.

Her throat tightened as she took in the scene before her.

Of course.

He’d seen her grow up—even from the distance she thought she'd put between them. He’d witnessed it all. Every version. Every fracture. Every transformation.

And yet, somehow, he painted her like she was still whole.

Like every part of her mattered.

Somehow, through his hands, she’d been captured and preserved with a kind of love and care she hadn’t believed anyone could still hold for her.

It wasn’t just a reflection of who she was.

It was proof of how deeply he knew her.

All of her.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotions at bay. “No wonder you look like a zombie, Painter Boy. This took you all night?”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders slumping. “I couldn’t sleep even if I tried. I was too worried about you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, arms crossing over her chest like armor, but the gesture lacked its usual bite. There was something quieter behind her gaze, something that softened—just a little. She knew this was his apology, even if he wasn’t saying the words outright.

Jinx shifted her weight, eyes narrowing as they lingered on the mural.

“Why… why’d you add blue to my eyes?” she asked, her voice sharp but thin around the edges, like she was trying too hard to sound unbothered. “Can’t accept the new look?”

She smirked, but it didn’t quite land. The hurt was still there, bleeding through the cracks. Was that it? He couldn’t accept the monstrous glow of Shimmer? Even though she never asked for his acceptance.

Ekko’s head snapped up.

“No…! It’s not that, it’s…”

He trailed off, searching for the right words as her brow lifted, waiting, silently daring him to finish.

“Your eyes… they’ve still got swirls of blue sometimes,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s faint, but… it happens when you’re relaxed. Or smiling. I’ve just… noticed.”

There was more he wanted to say, things he could feel pressing against his ribs, but they tangled on his tongue.

How he wanted to give her more of those moments.

More blue waves.

More days where she forgot to guard herself.

“But it’s not because I don’t accept the Shimmer, Jinx. I do. It’s part of you now... and that’s okay. I just can’t forgive myself for not being there. For leaving you on that bridge…”

He paused, his gaze flicking from the mural back to her.

“But I like seeing the blue, because…when it’s there… It means you feel comfortable. It means you feel safe. And that’s what I want more than anything.”

Jinx stayed quiet, still sulking as if she wasn’t about to let him off that easily, but the tightness in her shoulders eased just a little.

Ekko stood there, hands twitching nervously at his sides, his eyes flicking between her face and the mural. He knew better than to expect this would fix everything.

Her trust was fragile—a shattered, splintered thing—and he wasn’t foolish enough to think a painting could piece it back together.

But still... he had to try.

After a long pause, he shifted on his feet, clearing his throat.

“Also... I know this might not be enough... so... here.”

From behind his back, he pulled out a small, handmade doll.

It was stitched from old yarn, purple buttons for eyes, the thread fraying at the seams in that imperfect, charming way that said he’d redone it a dozen times just to get it right.

The smile was wide and crooked, stitched too tight like it had something to hide.

And the hat.

Topped with two familiar bunny ears, flopping slightly to one side.

Jinx stared.

It was unmistakably Isha—a tiny, worn replica of her fallen friend, brought back to life through scraps and thread and whatever steady hands Ekko had left to give.

“You mentioned her bunny ears…I thought…maybe you could keep her close. You know, attach her to your hip or something… like she always was,” Ekko murmured, the words stumbling out awkwardly, but his sincerity anchored them.

Jinx’s gaze dropped to the doll, then back to him.

For a long moment, she just stood there, silent.

Ekko could see it—the storm brewing just beneath the surface, the way her fingers twitched like they weren’t sure if they should reach or retreat.

But slowly, carefully, her hand lifted.

She took the doll, trembling fingers curling around the yarn like it might dissolve if she wasn’t gentle enough.

Ekko watched the struggle play out on her face—the tight pull of her chest, the way her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but nothing made it out.

He held his breath. Waiting.

Would she throw it back at me? Would she walk away again?

But she didn’t. 

Instead, she held the doll close to her chest, her grip firm, protective, like the idea of letting go wasn’t even an option. 

And when her voice finally broke the quiet, it was softer than he’d heard in a long time, frayed around the edges, full of something that almost sounded like longing.

“…Thanks, Ekko.”

The words hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was a crack.

Small. Fragile. Barely there.

And still, it felt like breathing again.

Ekko exhaled slowly, running a hand over the back of his neck as the weight of the moment pressed down on him.

“Jinx... I know you’re upset. You have every right to be,” he said quietly, his voice worn thin with exhaustion. “But... can I ask you something?”

She arched a brow, clutching the doll a little tighter, her lips pressed into that sharp, familiar line.

“What now?”

Ekko met her gaze, steady and unflinching, even if the question already felt too heavy in his chest.

“If you met another me—an Ekko from some alternate universe, where we didn’t have to fight or hurt each other... where things were simple, where we were whole …”

He paused, swallowing hard.

“Would you take a moment to hold on to that? To just…savor it? Even if you knew you’d have to come back here…to this reality? Where you might even fail?” 

That’s all he kept turning over in his mind.

What if he hadn’t made it back in time?

What if he’d failed to save her?

Couldn’t he have one moment?

Just a single, stolen moment to remember what it felt like...to be by her side?

Even if it wasn’t her. Even if it didn’t last.

Jinx held her breath, her posture going rigid. She opened her mouth, ready with some sharp retort—but it never came.

The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

“That’s different,” she muttered, quieter now, the edge in her voice dulled.

“Is it?” Ekko pressed gently, stepping closer. “You’d take the chance, wouldn’t you? Just for a moment. To remember how things could’ve been…even if it couldn’t last forever.” 

She crossed her arms tight across her chest, trying to shield herself from the weight of the question, from how much she felt it.

“Maybe I would,” she mumbled, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond him. “But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.”

Ekko nodded slowly.

“And I get that,” he said, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “It hurt me too, Jinx. Being handed everything I wanted... and walking away from it.”

He paused, watching her face, searching for something in the way she avoided his eyes.

“But I knew I was walking back to you.”

She glanced at him, just barely.

And that’s when he said it.

“You’re the one I left heaven for. That made it easy .”

Jinx froze.

And for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

Didn’t know how to move or what mask to wear or what joke to make to push it away.

Ekko stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, his gaze steady, patient, looking at her like she was still worth believing in.

Like she was still worth coming back for .

“I just…needed to remind myself why I had to come back…to this.”

He gestured towards the mural again, this time with more conviction in his voice. 

“If I need to be reminded, so do you. That there are more people than just Vi and Isha that care about you.”

“This isn’t like that universe, Ekko,” she muttered, shaking her head as if that might make it all less real. “It’s not easy to accept all of me. Look at you and Vi. You couldn’t accept me without Powder.”

“That’s the thing… you tried to drown Powder,” Ekko said quietly, his gaze steady on her. “But Jinx and Powder... they’re the same. You can’t bury her. You never did.”

He glanced toward the mural, then back at her.

“We still see glimpses of her in you. I saw her on the bridge. Vi saw her in you the moment she returned. And Isha…”

His voice softened, the sheer heaviness of the name settling between them.

“She probably saw Powder the most.”

Jinx’s grip tightened around the little doll, the silence stretching as the truth of it sank in—how no matter how far she ran, how loud the chaos got, that girl was still there, still visible to the people who mattered most.

Still worth seeing .

“…Then why didn’t you come for me after that night on the bridge?”

The words barely left Jinx’s lips, so quiet she almost hoped he wouldn’t hear them. She hated this question. Hated how it exposed her fear of being left behind.

Ekko hesitated, his lips quirking in the faintest attempt at humor.

“Well… technically, you broke my leg,” he said lightly, trying to cut the tension—but the second her gaze darkened, he moved on fast.

“But... maybe I just didn’t have the time with you. Or I’m just a slow idiot who didn’t realize what you needed back then.”

He shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair, the words careful and honest as they slipped out.

“Either way, that’s why I had to see her. Powder…I’m sorry I couldn’t see you on my own...I’m sorry it took an alternate version of you to remind me but…”

He looked at her then, really looked at her.

“Seeing Powder, dancing with her—it wasn’t about leaving you behind. It was about honoring what we’ve been through. What you’ve been through.”

He gestured toward her, like the real her was standing there in full, all the broken and brilliant pieces she thought no one wanted to see.

“It was never about finding someone else. It was always about finding you again.”

There was a long pause before Jinx spoke, his words sinking in slowly. “Even after everything I’ve put you through?”

Ekko didn’t hesitate.

He was done letting the past define them. All he wanted now was to look forward. To build a better dimension. A better future with her.

The truth was already there, waiting for him in his own universe, and this time, he didn’t bother holding it back.

“You’re who I want in every universe.” 

The words slipped out before Ekko could stop them, leaving him stunned by his own confession. It felt inevitable, like breaking free from a spell that had held him captive for too long.

Her defenses cracked, and she glanced away, biting her lip. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”

Ekko smiled softly.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d never trade you, not for anyone—not even for the chance to live in some perfect, alternate universe. I came back. For you. In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you…could show me this. Only you.” 

Jinx stayed silent for a long moment, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her Isha doll. 

Ugh. Fine. I guess I’ll forgive Lover Boy . 

She hated how his words settled so easily into the places she thought were still too broken to reach.

Finally, she let out a sigh, heavy but laced with something that sounded dangerously close to acceptance.

“No more reminders, got it? I’ll... I’ll remind you. But if you pull this crap again, I’m strapping you to a bomb and sending you straight into the Piltie Council chamber. Got it?”

Ekko snorted, shaking his head as a smile crept across his face. “Got it.”

Jinx crossed her arms with a big huff, pouting like a child.

“Still sulking?” Ekko teased amusingly.

“Don’t push it, Time Boy.” she shot back, her glare sharp enough to cut.

Ekko chuckled lightly while Jinx glared at him. 

I really need a grenade right now , she thought. 

He took a step forward, holding out his hand. “One more dance, please?” he asked, his tone softer now. “Slower this time? I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. No more secrets.”

Jinx scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, like how you enjoyed it? I really don’t want to hear about her anymore,” she bit back, though the heat in her words was already cooling.

Ekko sighed, shaking his head as he gently grabbed her arm, guiding her toward him before she could protest. “Not her. Just us. Please shut up and listen.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly against his chest, not letting her pull away this time.

Jinx blinked up at him, momentarily startled, but before she could decide whether or not to fight it, his hands settled at her back, swaying them side to side in slow, steady movements.

“There’s no music. Some dance…,” Jinx muttered.

“Just let me hold you…please?,” Ekko whispered against her hair. 

She rolled her eyes, scowl still firmly in place, but the fight was already slipping. His scent pulled her in—something familiar, something steady—and slowly, almost reluctantly, her shoulders eased and she rested her head against his chest. 

She wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but after everything... after the chaos, the silence, the hurt...

She’d missed his arms more than she cared to understand.

Their breathing slowed, falling into rhythm. Her pout stayed, stubborn as ever, but the edge of it softened as the quiet stretched on.

After a long, quiet moment, his lips pressed gently against her blue hair, the smallest touch, but it sent her heart spiraling.

And when he spoke again, his voice was softer than before.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d make it back in time. To you,” Ekko admitted, his eyes glancing down, searching her face, looking for something—maybe a sign she’d let him in.

Jinx’s pulse pounded in her ears, loud and relentless, but even with the heat rising in her cheeks, she forced herself to lift her head and meet his gaze.

And when he looked at her—really looked—there it was.

Those faint waves of ocean blue, swirling softly beneath the shimmer.

Before he realized it, his hand moved on instinct, fingers brushing a loose strand of blue hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. But his hand lingered, his fingertips grazing her cheek as his eyes stayed locked on hers.

The blue pulled him in—deep and endless in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Like the ocean, calm yet chaotic.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, drowning in it, lost in those flickers of who she’d been and who she still was. 

He pulled himself back to the surface, to utter out the words that have been locked away for far too long.

“I’m glad…time was on my side. And I found you again.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the truth, the only truth he could no longer contain. 

“Because no version of my life works without you in it.”

Jinx blinked, her mind tripping over the words like they didn’t belong. She could piece together the most impossible machines, rewire bombs in her sleep—but this?

This was something else entirely.

There was something deeper threaded beneath the surface, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why it made her chest feel too tight.

She had to ask.

Had to be sure he wasn’t just losing it.

“What...does that mean?”

Ekko let out a quiet laugh, the kind that softened the air between them. Slowly, he lifted both hands, cupping her face and brushing his thumbs lightly against her cheeks, making her heart stutter. 

“It means…Love brought me back to you.”

For a moment, Jinx couldn’t speak.

No one ever said that to her. Not even Vi.

Not after everything.

Not after knowing exactly who she was.

And yet… here he was.

She stood frozen, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding herself in something real.

And maybe, for the first time, this was real.

The word slowly sank in.

Love?

The way he said it... the way he meant it...

It wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t conditional.

It was solid, steady, as if his love had always been there, quietly waiting for her to notice. 

He loved her enough to… oh .

That’s what it had always been. Love .

Ekko had always cared for her—he knew that much. But now, standing here, with those words hanging between them like a fragile thread, it felt different.

It felt like more .

Like she wasn’t just someone from his past to protect out of loyalty or guilt.

She was someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

“My love will always stay by you. I'll keep it safe, so don't you worry.”

He said it like it was the easiest truth in the world, but she could see the bittersweet weight behind his eyes—the years of nearly losing her over and over again.

He meant every word, and it terrified him just as much as it freed him.

Still, he kept going, his gaze locked on her like nothing else in the world mattered.

“I’ll trust the universe will always bring me to you.”

And even as he said it, he knew the universe had done everything it could to rip them apart. 

But somehow, they were here. And if he had to trust in anything—anything at all—it was her .

Her chaos. Her brilliance. Her everything .

And he wanted her to finally believe that she wasn’t alone in the wreckage. 

Just like that, the breath she didn’t know she was holding slipped out in a sharp gasp, and the tears came before she could stop them—falling fast, hot, and messy down her cheeks.

Because Jinx wasn’t built to accept love easily.

Or maybe… maybe she was.

Maybe, after hearing those words spill out like promises made just for her, all she wanted was to believe.

Believe that he loved her.

No strings attached.

No need to build something destructive to earn his attention.

No broken promise. 

Could it really be that simple?

Was love really allowed to be this terrifying?

This easy?

This real ?

Jinx shook her head slowly, his words were too impossible to comprehend.

“I don’t…believe you,” she said, her voice cracking with uncertainty. “You shouldn’t love me, Ekko. I’m a mess.”

Ekko’s smile was small but steady, like he’d already accepted every jagged, fractured part of her—and decided to stay anyway.

“Then I'll tell you I love you more. I’ll remind you until it’s stuck with you. But you don’t have to do anything with it. Just know that you are loved, Jinx.”

And finally, without thinking, Jinx turned her face and buried it in his shirt, hot tears spilling freely as her arms locked tightly around his torso. She pressed her nose into the fabric, breathing him in like maybe that could anchor her long enough to survive this feeling.

“You sure you want this mess?” she mumbled into his chest.

Ekko’s hands slid carefully across her back, holding her like she was something precious, not fragile.

“All of it,” he murmured, “the messiest.”

Jinx’s hand crept up, clutching the front of his shirt like if she let go, the whole moment might disappear. The fear of being left behind still flickered deep in her chest, a quiet, familiar ache.

And yet, she couldn’t let go. 

“You better,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

She stayed in his arms, letting herself sway with him, letting herself believe—in this universe—that maybe love really could be this simple.

And somehow, exactly what she’d been waiting for.

Chapter Text

For the first time in so long, Jinx wasn’t waking up from a nightmare.

No jolting upright, no lingering echoes of the past clawing at her mind.

Just the gentle warmth of sunlight creeping through the worn curtains, painting soft patterns across the room.

Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, her breath slow, stable. As her vision adjusted, the first thing she saw was him.

Ekko.

Sitting near the foot of the bed, quiet and focused.

A canvas was propped up in his lap, his hand moving with effortless precision, the brush gliding in smooth, deliberate strokes. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, but there was no tension—just a steady rhythm, a quiet patience.

And then she noticed it.

The way his gaze flickered to her, not realizing she was awake. His eyes would linger for just a second before he returned to his work.

Soft. Thoughtful. Admiring in a way that made something unfamiliar flutter inside her chest.

It took her a moment to fully register— he was painting her .

He looked up again and ever so softly, his eyes locked on hers.

Heat crept up her neck, spreading to her cheeks before she could stop it. Jinx quickly averted her gaze, pretending to focus on anything else, but the warmth in her face betrayed her.

There was no hiding it—her shyness, rare and unguarded, was impossible to ignore.

Ever since Ekko had said that word.

Love.

A word she had never accepted in her world, one that felt like it belonged to someone else’s story. Someone softer. Someone not her.

And yet, ever since he’d said it, it had followed her like a stubborn whisper, creeping into every quiet moment, lingering in between their glances, when they touched, or in his voice.

It annoyed her.

How her cheeks flushed at the smallest things. How her pulse picked up when he looked at her for too long. How meeting his eyes wasn’t as easy as it used to be.

What is happening to me?

Is this what… love does to you?

The thought rattled her.

She had known love before—Vi’s protective, unwavering love. Isha’s quiet, unconditional warmth. 

But that was different.

That love felt fleeting, like something she had clung to and lost. Something she tried to reciprocate over and over.

But this love…

This love felt new .

New and yet… timeless .

She could feel something foreign pressing against the edges of her heart, trying to carve out a space inside her.

Was it already there? Stirring, waiting against time?

Was it reaching for him just as much as he was reaching for her?

Jinx took a gulp, trying to seem indifferent. But the deep flush in her usual pale skin was betraying her.

She could feel it, could sense how obvious it was, and that only made it worse.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Ekko uttered, lowering his hand from the canvas.

“Enjoying the view, Painter Boy?” she finally quipped, her voice groggy but laced with her usual bite. 

Ekko chuckled, “I couldn’t resist.”

“No kidding,” Jinx replied, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes glanced toward the canvas, curiosity burning. 

“So, what’s the verdict? Do I look like an unhinged lunatic, or did you make me pretty?”

Ekko chuckled, relaxing again as he leaned back in his chair. “Neither. I just… painted what I saw.”

His gaze drifted over the canvas, fingers twitching to show her how he saw her.

Something worth preserving. Something worth showing off.

“Well, next time, give a girl a heads-up,” she muttered, trying to mask her flustered state.

Ekko’s smile widened as he lifted his brush again, his confidence returning. “If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have stayed still. Besides,” he added, his voice quieter now, “it’s not every day I get to see you this peaceful.”

He paused, staring at his work again. Even though her eyes were his favorite thing to look at, seeing her sleeping like this—in serenity, untouched by nightmares—was something he couldn’t let slip away.

“...Wait what?” she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t have a nightmare?”

“Nope, no nightmares. You were sound asleep. Maybe keeping you occupied tires you out enough for a deeper sleep.”

She huffed, brushing off the sentiment. “That’s why you started painting me?”

His smirk softened into something warmer, something unbearably tender.

“Mmm… my little lady is peacefully sleeping for once? How could I not savor it?”

My little lady.

His.

Jinx felt the heat rush to her face so fast it was infuriating.

She scoffed, flopping back onto her pillow and yanking the blanket up over half her face, as if hiding beneath it might keep her from completely combusting.

“Haven’t you painted me enough?” she mumbled through the fabric, her voice muffled but teasing. “Three different versions of my face on a big-ass wall wasn’t enough for you?” 

The mural had quickly become a quiet phenomenon around the base, even though it was tucked away behind the tree.

The kids crowded around it, some admiring her younger features while others marveled at her matured beauty. 

And every time she passed by, she had to pretend she didn’t hear their hushed whispers of admiration.

Like she was something worth looking at.

It had only been a few weeks, but everyone knew Ekko’s murals.

Everyone knew the story now—hers and Isha’s.

The girl who had once been feared… and the one who had stood beside her, fearless.

Their story wasn’t just a tragedy anymore.

It was a legacy.

Zaun’s Protectors.

“I’ve been wanting to paint you for a long time…,” Ekko murmured, his voice pulling her mind back to this moment.

Ekko paused, his brush hovering mid-stroke as his gaze lifted to meet hers.

His eyes traced over every detail of her face—the way her hair splayed across the pillow, the soft freckles still dusting her cheeks, the way she looked at him like she was trying to figure out what exactly he saw in her.

And then, with quiet certainty, he murmured—

"Now I have time. To do it as much as I want."

A slow smile tugged at his lips, the kind that carried both relief and quiet triumph. He had fought against time itself—and somehow, this time , he had enough.

"So stay still."

Jinx raised a brow. “You’re not done?”

“Hmm… almost. Missing your freckles.” His lips quirked slightly. 

She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight as if that could shake off the strange, lingering feeling creeping into her chest.

“You’re putting way too much effort into this. There’s nothing much to paint, weirdo.”

Still, she curled deeper into the blanket, the fabric swallowing her up as she let her head sink further into the pillow.

Ekko just chuckled, shaking his head as he added the tiny constellations across her cheeks, like he’d memorized every single one.

But then, he paused.

His brush hovered just above the canvas, caught mid-stroke, as he noticed something new—something he hadn’t painted yet.

That soft pink that wasn’t usually there.

His lips curled into a teasing smirk. “Are you… blushing?”

Jinx stiffened, her pulse jumping before she could stop it. She immediately turned her head away, pretending to inspect the ceiling. 

“...Don’t make me punch the painting.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a lighter shade and dabbing the pale pink across the drawing of her cheeks on the canvas. 

“You know…” his voice softened, almost absentminded as he focused on the details. “Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Jinx’s heart quickened.

“...What do you see?” 

She didn’t want to ask.

Didn’t want to care.

But she did.

Deep down, she had always been sensitive to how others saw her—more than she’d ever admit. She constantly searched for validation—always asking Vi if her shots were sharp enough, always pushing herself further under Silco’s watchful eye.

Always proving herself, always earning her place.

Then, Ekko said something that stunned Jinx—an answer that felt so effortless, like it was the simplest truth in the world. 

“Mmm…Soft as gunpowder…” 

Jinx blinked, her teasing reply dying in her throat. 

The way he said it—so casual—made her heart do something stupid, something she wasn’t used to.

Ekko’s brush hovered just above the canvas as he paused again.

This time, he understood.

She was hiding .

A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he held onto his tools, standing up with deliberate ease, watching as her gaze followed him—trailing his every movement, whether she realized it or not.

The bed was still warm, still inviting enough to lull her back to sleep. But her pounding heart made that impossible now.

She burrowed deeper into the blankets, cheeks burning, her eyes refusing to meet his gaze.

Each step he took sent a slow, creeping buzz through her chest, an unfamiliar heat curling beneath her skin, growing louder and louder until—

He was there.

Ekko set his palette and brushes down with quiet precision, then leaned in, propping himself on the edge of the bed.

The only thing between them now was the canvas.

Thin. Unfinished. A fragile barrier between the artist and his muse.

And Jinx had never felt more seen .

Her voice dipped lower, breathing through the fabric.

“Soft as… gunpowder, huh? So what, I’m a walking explosion now?”

Jinx smirked, trying to mask the way her chest tightened, the way her pulse stuttered.

Ekko only shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“You act like you don’t care, like nothing gets to you. But I see it.”

His gaze was unwavering, like he was peeling back layers she didn’t want to admit existed.

“The way your hands twitch when you think no one’s looking. How you laugh too loud, too hard—like you’re trying to drown something out.”

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly—not in frustration, but in understanding.

“You’re fire, you’re chaos, sure. But you’re also… delicate.”

Jinx stiffened, fingers curling tighter around the blanket.

“Like powder—soft when you let your walls down, but dangerous in the wrong hands.”

She swallowed hard, dropping her gaze and then looking back up at him.

“And…am I in the wrong hands now?”

Ekko held her eyes for a moment, the silence stretching like a breath he didn’t want to let go.

“No…But I am handling with care.”

She blinked, and just like that, her throat tightened again. She tried to bury her reaction in the folds of the blanket like it might smother the way his words made her feel—

Like maybe… she really was the fragile one after all. Fragile and soft…like powder .

“Jinx…”

When she looked up, he was already closer—close enough that she could see the warmth in his eyes, the careful way he moved the blanket from her face.

His gaze flickered over her face, and he murmured, barely above a whisper—

“Can’t see you properly…”

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out for her.

His fingers barely grazed her skin, brushing a stray strand of blue from her face—so light, so impossibly gentle , she found herself closing her eyes and leaning into his palm. 

Like his skin wasn’t close enough. 

His touch lingered for just a second too long, like he wasn’t ready to pull away, like he needed to commit the feeling to memory.

Every inch between them felt like too much now, like even the air was conspiring to keep them apart.

“You stopped painting…” Jinx whispered, her eyes opening to meet his gaze again. 

Ekko didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto hers like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Stay still,” he murmured, almost pleading— but not for the painting anymore.

With a featherlight touch, his thumb traced over her bottom lip and every nerve in her body lit up. 

Including her eyes.

A soft pink glow, flickering—warm, unguarded, mesmerizing.

Before she could even admit it, the way his fingers were lighting every spark in her veins, Ekko closed the space between them.

Soft. Careful. Certain.

To her surprise, his lips drifted higher. And then—

A kiss.

Pressed against her forehead like a quiet promise. Light as air. Weightless. 

Jinx forgot to breathe for a second. A strange, aching warmth spread through her chest, twisting into something unfamiliar.

Something that made her fingers twitch with the urge to hold onto him .

To keep him there .

Then, before she could ruin the moment with a snarky remark, he tilted his head slightly and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

Her heart was hammering so hard she swore he could hear it.

The space between them shrank, his lips hovering just inches from hers, the warmth of him close enough to set her nerves on fire.

And their eyes never left each other.

Like waves, the blue began to stir in her eyes, like a siren calling for him.

Ekko hesitated, searching her waves, his gaze holding a silent question.

For a second, just a second, Jinx almost— almost —let herself fall into it.

But panic crashed through her like a flood, raw and overwhelming.

Her fingers clenched against the blanket, and before she knew what she was doing, she pulled back slightly, retreating into herself.

“S-Sorry…” The word stumbled out of her lips, shaky and unsure.

Ekko’s eyes widened, and he instantly pulled back, his hands lifting slightly as if to reassure her.

“No, no… it’s fine, Jinx. I—I’m sorry…”

Jinx stole a glance at Ekko, her stomach twisting with unease. Had she hurt him?

His eyes flickered back and forth, restless, his hands fidgeting in the heavy silence between them. He wasn’t angry—just uncertain. Maybe even nervous.

And that realization gnawed at her, burrowing deep in her chest.

She knew this wasn’t his first kiss.

But it was hers .

The thought ached in a way she hadn’t expected….

But this —whatever love meant, whatever was happening between them— this had to be different.

How can I make this ours?

Jinx hesitated for only a moment before she swallowed, forcing herself to speak through the vulnerability tightening in her throat. Without looking up, she reached for his restless hand, her fingers curling around his, steadying them both.

“Ekko…”

His head lifted at the sound of his name, the quiet call pulling him back, drawing him toward her like gravity.

Like home.

Her voice softened, barely above a whisper as she spoke the only question that made sense in her racing mind.

“Can we… pretend like it’s the first time?”

Her voice cracked at the end, raw, unguarded in a way that terrified her.

Her gaze fell almost instantly, afraid to see rejection in his eyes, afraid that she had already ruined something fragile before it even had the chance to exist.

But when she dared to look up again—

Ekko was smiling.

Soft. Relieved.

Like she had freed him from some quiet torment, like she had given him the only answer he had been hoping for.

He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing against her cheek with a tenderness so familiar, so achingly gentle, her eyes had no choice but to stay with him. 

And when she did—when she really looked at those deep brown eyes—she saw something steady, like the earth trying to ground her. 

Like he was trying to see past the walls she had spent so long keeping intact.

And this time…she let him.

For once, she let herself stay.

To exist in this moment, in their universe, where nothing else mattered but the way his gaze flickered between her eyes...and her lips.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, a rhythm only he could hear as Ekko slowly leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin.

And then, finally—

His lips brushed against hers.

Soft. Tentative. A slow, deliberate warmth that set her nerves alight.

Like igniting soft gunpowder.

The gentle curve of his lower lip pressed into hers, lingering, savoring, like he wanted her to feel every second of it—like he wanted this to be theirs.

Her lips responded instinctively, molding to his in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each movement unhurried yet….quietly hungry.

Ekko moved with purpose, teasingly dragging his lips along the corner of her mouth before returning to the center of her cupid’s bow, his breath mingling with hers in the smallest of hesitations—like he wanted to savor every second, every inch of her.

Then, with a gentle pull, he caught her bottom lip between his, tasting, testing, inviting.

A quiet gasp escaped her as his tongue traced lightly against the seam of her lips, coaxing her closer, melting the last of her resistance.

And Jinx—Jinx let him.

She sank into it, drinking in a part of him she once thought was lost to her forever. A part she never let herself dream of having.

Yet here he was. Here they were.

No space left for hesitation, for doubt, for anything beyond this —beyond them. Their world, finally just as they wanted it.

The kiss was softer, deeper than she ever imagined—less wild, less frantic than she thought it might be.

It was a pull.

A quiet, aching pull of his heart against hers, threading through every brush of their lips, every tilt of their heads, every lingering touch.

And with each passing second, with each deepening breath, Jinx realized—

They had wasted so much time.

And they weren’t going to waste another second.

Their lips parted, breaths mingling in the small space between them, both gasping— dazed —but neither willing to pull away.

When their eyes met, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

They both knew.

This was the beginning of something they should have claimed long ago. Something they had waited for, without even realizing it.

“Ekko…”

There it was again.

His name.

From her lips.

Calling him home.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, grounding herself in the warmth of his skin as she whispered, her voice barely a breath against his lips—

“Let me love you too…”

And just like that, a deep, aching warmth spread through him, settling in his ribs.

Maybe, ever since their paths crossed, his heart—the one he thought had been so carefully guarded, so carefully placed in hands that wouldn’t drop it —

It was already hers.

And maybe, he had always known.

It has always belonged to her. All of it. Hers to keep.

No other universe, no tragedy, no war could change that.

He would crawl home to her.

“Just… don’t let me jinx it,” she murmured, her eyes shaking with a fear too old and too familiar.

This love—it was new, fragile, terrifying.

Because every time she gave herself a new chance, it ended in ruin.

And yet… here she was, whispering her heart into the hands of someone who’d never stopped holding it.

Ekko felt it—all of it. The way she was handing him something fragile, terrified it would shatter in his grip.

Even now, after everything, she was afraid.

Afraid of ruining it. Afraid of losing him.

His chest tightened—not just with love, but with years of quiet longing, of waiting, of holding onto a dream he never let himself fully believe could come true.

And suddenly, none of the fear mattered.

None of the waiting. None of the what-ifs.

Because right now, in this moment, every second of longing felt worth it.

And if time ever dared to steal her peace again, he’d fight it—bend it, break it—just to keep the hurt from reaching her.

He’d defy the clock itself if it meant she wouldn’t suffer another second.

Ekko cupped her face, his thumbs brushing lightly over her cheeks as he whispered, steady and sure—

“You won’t. We won’t. I’ll take on the world before I let that happen.”

The words hung between them, wrapping around her like a promise—unyielding, unwavering.

Then, softer this time, with all the certainty in the world—

“You’re so easy to love, Jinx. It’s not hard. It’s like breathing for me.”

Jinx sucked in a quiet gasp, as if his words stole the air from her lungs.

To be loved like this —so raw, so unshaken—felt unreal.

She had never allowed herself to believe she deserved it.

That someone could see her exactly as she was—every fractured, jagged piece—and still choose her.

Still stayed.

Was love really this achingly pure?

Could she hold it, even for a moment, without it slipping through her fingers like everything else?

Would it be taken from her, leaving her emptier than before?

The thought both terrified and tempted her, pulling her between fear and longing, past and present, until she wasn’t sure which side would win.

But love always wins.

And no matter how much she tried to fight it, she couldn’t deny it anymore—

She wanted this.

She craved this.

She wanted him.

Jinx swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs as she reached up, cupping Ekko’s hand against her cheek.

Her fingers brushed his skin, hesitant but deliberate, a silent answer before she even spoke.

“Then keep breathing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, trailing off like she was afraid of how much she meant it.

Like she was afraid of how much she wanted him to stay.

To stay loving her.

Her words cut through him, unraveling the restraint he’d been tied to. He couldn’t tell whether his heart or his lips ached for her more. To show her how much he needed this. 

Without waiting another second, his lips found hers again—desperate, pleading, devoted.  

A small whimper escaped Jinx’s lips as she tasted the warmth of him, the sweetness of his breath, the way their mouths met over and over, each kiss deepening, lingering, craving.

But this time, there was something different.

His lips returned with a newfound intensity, as if he was memorizing her, as if he refused to let a single second slip through his fingers.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a plea. A shout that this body alone will never be enough—

That no kiss, no touch, no word could ever come close to the meaning of them finding each other again.

And still, he tried.

Tried to pour it all into this moment.

Because if all he had was now—he would give her everything.

And Jinx surrendered to it. To him.

The fear, the doubt, the part of her that still whispered she would lose this, lose him —it all melted away in his embrace.

She sank deeper into him, into the pure, untainted feeling of being held , of being loved.

Ekko’s arms tightened around her, his mouth parting, pulling her closer—more of her, more time, more of everything they’d wasted.

Their lips parted once more, catching their breaths as their foreheads pressed against each other. 

This time, everything felt weightless . 

Like the world outside didn’t matter. It was only their universe.

His lips lifted again to brush against her hair, pressing a lingering kiss into the familiar strands of blue.

“Ekko…,” Jinx whispered, remembering the words she had murmured into the dark the last time he fell asleep beside her. 

This time, she let herself say them aloud.

“Please…Don’t—”

“Not leaving you. Ever.” 

His answer was immediate. Certain.

Like he had always heard it before falling asleep.

Ekko paused, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand, letting it linger there like another promise.

Then, with a soft smirk, he added—

“I still have a painting to finish, don’t I?”

—     —     —  

The Firelights base buzzed with life, laughter, and the low whir of hoverboards zipping through the open air.

Groups of children were scattered across the base. Some sat on the ledges, others leaned over the rails, their faces lit by the glow of neon graffiti and flickering light fixtures. 

A few zoomed past each other on their own boards, trailing streams of colored smoke, laughing as they darted around in effortless loops.

But Jinx and Ekko weren’t soaring through the air like the others.

They were grounded—hovering just a few inches above the safe, packed dirt floor of the base. The hum of the board buzzed beneath her boots, unstable but holding. Jinx’s knees were bent in a nervous crouch, arms rigid as she tried to maintain balance.

She clung tightly to Ekko’s hand, her grip firm as she wobbled precariously atop the hoverboard, trying to steady herself.

“This is so lame,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at the paltry distance between her and the ground.

"Steady… steady… You’ve got it, just find your balance…," Ekko coached, his voice patient yet laced with amusement.

Jinx narrowed her eyes in concentration. "Balance, right, easy peasy—WHOA!"

The board suddenly lurched backward, and before she could react, gravity yanked her down.

Ekko moved fast, catching her just before she hit the ground, his arms wrapping securely around her as a chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Okay, okay—maybe don’t lean so far forward next time," he teased, grinning down at her.

Jinx swiftly elbowed him, her pout deepening. “These shitty hoverboards are a pain in the ass.”

Ekko bit back a laugh, but his grin gave him away. “Come on, try again. We’ll go slower this time.”

She huffed dramatically but stepped back onto the board anyway, gripping onto his biceps as she wobbled, trying to find her balance.

Ekko guided her forward, this time moving at an even steadier pace, his hands pulling her forward, slower than before. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone light but encouraging. “Can I let go now?”

Jinx hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Wait… okay, I guess… But if I fall again, it’s your fault!”

Ekko rolled his eyes as he carefully let go, stepping back while Jinx hovered a few feet forward.

For a brief moment, she was actually doing it —until she attempted a turn, wobbled violently, and went crashing face-first into the dirt.

Ekko rushed over, biting his lip to keep from laughing but utterly failing. “I think I’ve finally found something you’re terrible at.”

Jinx pushed herself up, shooting him a withering glare before swatting away his outstretched hand. “I am not riding one of these stupid things!”

As if on cue, someone zipped past them with effortless ease.

Sevika.

She weaved through the branches like she was born for it, her hoverboard gliding smoothly through the air, no hesitation, no missteps.

“Come on, pipsqueak! The air feels great up here!” she called out gleefully.

The kids watching erupted into cheers as Sevika performed a loop in the air.

“She’s so badass!”

“I wanna be like Sevika!” 

Jinx groaned, rolling her eyes, but the flicker of jealousy in her face was undeniable.

Flying just wasn’t her thing.

At least, not on a hoverboard.

Then, an idea sparked in her mind—something else that could fly.

Something hidden deep in the heart of Zaun, waiting.

A wicked grin crept across her face. "Hey, Ekko…"

"Hmm?" He glanced at her, still amused. "What, wanna land on your ass again?"

"Shut up." She promptly kicked him in the backside.

"Ow! Okay, okay—sorry! What is it?" he asked, rubbing his hip with a smirk.

Jinx took a deep breath, the buzzing in her head turning into something electric, yet wary.

"I want to go back to my lair."

 —     —     —     

Jinx hesitated as she stepped into the cold, stagnant air of her old home. The place was hers —her sanctuary, her battleground, her graveyard of memories. Yet, as she stood there now, it felt like something else entirely.

It pressed down on her like a ghost, wrapping around her chest, tightening.

This was where she had spent countless nights crafting makeshift dolls of Mylo and Claggor, trying to piece them back together with thread and desperation.

Where she had nearly killed herself. Over and over again.

Where she had once laughed until her sides ached, tangled in games and wild ideas with Isha.

But now, it felt different.

Hollow.

A haunting echo of what it used to be.

“Jinx.”

Ekko’s voice cut through the silence, calm and steady. A lifeline.

“Your plan sounds solid, but if being here is too much for you, we can figure something else out.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on the faded scribbles across the cold, metal wings of the airship.

The colors were still there—bright, chaotic, childlike. A drawing of Isha and Jinx holding hands, etched in shaky lines, frozen in time. But the laughter that once echoed in this space was gone.

She could almost hear the memories.

Isha’s little giggles. The scrape of chalk against rusted steel.

All gone. 

Just scribbles—left behind like echoes.

And then, her eyes landed on something untouched by time.

Isha’s tent.

A wave of memory crashed over her, swallowing her whole.

 —     —     —  

Isha was fast asleep beneath the dim glow of her makeshift tent, the soft flicker of colorful lanterns casting warmth over their tiny sanctuary. Jinx reached over, pulling the blanket back over Isha’s shoulder, careful not to wake her. 

That’s when Sevika spoke.

“Never seen this side of you, Jinx.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Jinx muttered, keeping her voice low.

“Your soft side…this kid…she brings out the good in you.”

“What good? Are you drunk?”

“Probably.” Sevika smirked, leaning back. “But I mean…The way you are with her—patient, careful. You never scold her either. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Jinx hesitated, staring at Isha’s peaceful face. “She just reminds me of… Powder . I’m just trying to…”

“Yeah yeah, trying not to jinx it right? Or…not letting her feel like a jinx either.” Sevika exhaled, her voice quieter now. “I get it. Just saying… She's changing you. For the better.”

Jinx didn’t answer. She just watched Isha breathe, small and safe in the quiet. Her freckles looked just like hers.

The world outside was full of gunfire and explosives, but here—just for now—her heart softened.

Like powder.

 —     —     —  

“Jinx?”

Ekko’s voice felt distant—like it was echoing from a world she could no longer reach.

The voices in her head surged louder with every shaky breath she fought to take, crowding in until they pressed against her skull like static.

She’s gone. Isha’s dead.

Dead because of you.

“Shut up…No…! Shut up!” she hissed through clenched teeth, her hands gripping her hair as if she could rip the voices out by force.

It was a desperate, useless plea—just a second of silence, a pause long enough to breathe. But it wouldn’t let her.

Wouldn’t let her forget .

Dead because of you. Dead because of you.

The phrase looped, over and over, relentless.

And she couldn’t tell whose voice it was anymore.

Was it Mylo’s? Silco’s? Her own? 

Did it even matter?

Her body trembled, a violent quake radiating from her bleeding heart. Her small hands clawed at herself, clutching at the ache in her chest as if she could stop the suffocation building there.

If this was a nightmare, it wasn’t one she could wake from.

It was real.

Cold. Hollow. Suffocating. Drowning.

Then—

There was warmth.

A warmth that didn’t just touch her skin, but folded around her heart like a constant vow.

She felt it before she saw him. Ekko’s hand slipped gently over hers, his touch light but unwavering as he held onto her trembling fingers.

And then came his arms—wrapping around her like a shield, a soft barrier between her and the world that wouldn’t stop spinning.

No words.

Just the silence that slowly swallowed the noise in her head, the voices dulling to a distant hum.

His presence was drawing her back to earth.

Back to him.

And then—

A memory, sudden but gentle, crept in.

She was Powder again. Young and brilliant. Waiting in the dusty streets of Zaun, heart pounding in that anxious, hopeful way.

She’d always known when he was coming.

Even when he tried to sneak up, his footsteps gave him away. 

And just when she expected it—

There’d be that hug. Familiar and warm. Just like this one.

And he’d grin and say,

“Powder!! Let’s build something!”

And she’d nod, heart full, already bubbling with ideas and laughter. 

The memory echoed like it was reliving this exact moment. 

And now—now, he was holding her again.

Not in a memory. Not in a dream. 

But here.

Telling her to build something again. 

Something worth building for.

And somewhere, beneath the quiet, a deeper truth settled in her chest—

How many times did he rewind just for them to be here?

To hold her like this?

To calm the storm with nothing but his hands? 

To mend a heart that trembled only when he touched it?

But she didn’t need to ask.

She could feel the answer in the way he held her—like every version of him had been fighting to get to this one.

Slowly but surely, her shoulders began to ease, the tension unraveling thread by thread. And then, like the final echo of the voices slipping into silence, she slumped against him.

Into his frame.

Into his arms.

Because she knew—he would be there to catch her.

And he wasn’t going to let her fall again.

With her eyes closed, the faintest quiver touched her lips, curling into a quiet, tired smile as the chaos inside her finally dulled.

His lips brushed her shoulder, a gentle kiss against her skin—light and warm.

Jinx exhaled a long, trembling sigh, as if he were drawing the pain out of her and carrying it for a while.

"I got you," Ekko whispered.

Jinx’s eyes fluttered open slowly, hesitant, and turned toward Isha’s tent once more.

This time, the ache didn’t scream.

But the guilt…

It still settled heavily in her chest.

“She was so young, Ekko… She had so much ahead of her. So much potential.”

Ekko stayed quiet, listening— really listening—as she leaned into him, she could feel his heartbeat thudding hard against his chest, matching her rhythm. 

“And I failed her.”

Her voice cracked, raw and aching. How could she ever touch this place?

His arms tightened around her as her body trembled again. And somehow, that pressure felt like safety.

“You didn’t fail her, Jinx,” Ekko said, softly but with conviction, his voice a steady whisper against her ear.

“The world did. And Isha knew that.”

He paused, stealing a glance at her face. The emotions were quieter now—guilt, pain, and fear tucked behind her eyes, not screaming, but still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

“She still chose you, Jinx. Not because she had to—but because she believed in you.”

Jinx’s voice cracked, barely more than a breath. 

“And what did I even give her? A shortened life span?”

Ekko pulled her in a little closer, his arms unwavering.

“You loved her. You protected her. You gave her something real to hold on to when everything else was falling apart.”

His voice dipped lower, warm and certain.

“And that mattered. To her. To me. It always will.”

After a moment, a soft scoff escaped her—faint and brittle around the edges. It barely masked the tremble in her lips, the wave of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. 

This time, she couldn’t laugh it off.

But then, in one swift, unguarded motion, she turned and threw her arms around him.

She held him tight .

Tighter than before.

Like letting go might mean losing him too.

Her voice was muffled, raw and trembling against his chest.

“I miss her… so much .”

Ekko didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her again, stronger this time, his cheek pressing firmly against her hair, breathing in the scent of oil, metal, and something that was unmistakably her.

“I know you do.”

There was silence between them, heavy but shared.

And then, her voice, barely more than a whisper:

“I… I need to do this right. I need to transform this place. For her.”

There was a quiet pause before Ekko finally spoke, his voice gentle but warm.

“I would’ve loved to meet her.”

He glanced down at Jinx, his arm still around her.

“Can you tell me more about her while we work?”

Jinx hesitated, her expression softening, eyes glassy. “It just…It feels so empty without her.”

Ekko tilted his head, a playful edge creeping into his tone. “Hmm…Who said it had to stay empty?”

Jinx lifted her head, brows furrowed in confusion.

That’s when he grinned—and with two fingers, signaled a sharp whistle toward the entrance.

Almost on cue, the door burst open.

A team of Firelight members poured in, arms full of tools, wood, coils of wire, and paint cans sloshing in their hands.

Scar strode in confidently with a metal panel slung over his shoulder, while Sevika followed behind, cracking her knuckles and smirking like this was her kind of mission.

Kat’s eyes glowed faintly underneath the dimly lit passageway, already itching to get to work. 

Lou was scanning the room with that familiar softness in her gaze—like she could feel the weight in the walls, like she already understood the kind of heaviness that lingered here.

The empty lair wasn’t going to stay empty for long.

Jinx quickly wiped at her tears, swift and instinctive. She never let anyone see this side of her.

No one but Ekko.

Sevika stepped forward, her usual smirk tugging at her lips—but there was something behind it. A flicker of pain, quickly buried beneath hardened resolve.

This place was her home too. 

"Well," she said, voice steady but thick with meaning, "Are we gonna let Zaun’s Little Protector fly or not?"

And in that quiet moment, Jinx met her eyes.

That look again.

The unspoken exchange between two souls, forever altered by the same small girl who had softened them both, cracked their armor in different ways.

Grief lingered in their gaze. But beneath it, a shared fire.

A promise.

To carry her forward.

And just like that, a rush of light flickered behind Jinx’s eyes—sparks of memory, of ideas, of possibility.

All those times they played pretend, turning broken scraps into a pirate ship.

All the times Sevika had barked at them not to dangle off the edge, even as she smirked behind a puff of her cigar.

Piece by piece, Isha returned to her—not like a nightmare this time, but like inspiration.

Not haunting.

Guiding.

Like she was still here, tucked inside the bones of this old lair, nudging Jinx to turn something sorrow into something alive.

Something to take flight once again.

And this time, she didn’t have to face it alone.

For the first time, she truly realized —she would never have to carry the weight by herself again.

For so long, she believed all she needed was Vi to feel safe, to feel whole. She just needed family.

But maybe family didn’t always come in the shape you remembered.

Maybe it could be built—piece by piece, moment by moment—found in the people who chose to stay.

Jinx scoffed softly, her shaky grin beginning to peek through the storm.

“The point is to transform this place.”

Her voice wavered at first, but she straightened, tossing her short hair with a flick of attitude.

“We’re gonna spruce it up for the grand show! Plus, I can use it to fly with you guys instead of using those stupid hoverboards.” Her voice carried a forced excitement as she strode forward.

Her steps, though still heavy with grief, were steadier than before—like purpose was slowly stitching her back together.

She made her way to the old workstation, pausing before the cracked mirror that always seemed to land on her heart.

Carefully, her fingers reached for the pair of bunny ears hanging off the corner—frayed, bent, but still whole.

She flexed them gently in her hand. A familiar weight. A thousand memories stirred in her chest, wavering just beneath the surface.

“You’re late for Stink Maw’s great comeuppance!” 

Jinx smiled—the kind of smile born from real longing, not pain. The kind reserved for memories she actually missed. Not the ones filled with gunfire or smoke, but the rare ones that felt warm. 

The kind she had created with Isha—moments that let her heal a piece of the childhood stolen from her and Vi.

These were memories she had to honor. 

And then, she looked up.

There it was again.

That fire in her eyes.

Sevika recognized it instantly—the same defiant spark her Little Protector used to wear when they were both up to no good.

Jinx turned, a crooked grin curling at her lips.

“We’re goin’ to give her the best damn show.”

—   —   —

Ekko stayed close to Jinx, his presence orbiting hers with an instinctive protectiveness—like some invisible magnet kept pulling him toward her. 

Even though she was barking orders, placing each Firelight member in their section to work, he couldn’t help but anticipate another episode. 

She was composed—commanding, even—but this place held too many ghosts. Too many memories tucked in corners and shadows.

He stayed close, just in case.

“Let’s get to work!” Jinx clapped her hands, the sharp sound cutting clean through the cavernous space.

The Firelights continued to spring into motion, scattering in every direction as she moved with purpose—pointing to old panels to dismantle, corners to reinforce, and stretches of wings begging for new color.

Since the rally, something in her had shifted. She wore command well—not as a mask, but as something she’d earned.

With each passing day, surrounded by people who believed in her, Jinx wasn’t just surviving.

She was leading.

"Where do you want this, boss?" Kat called out, hefting a box of tools in her arms.

"Outside! Clear the whole area—we’re turning this thing into a pirate air balloon!" Jinx shouted, her voice sharp with purpose.

The Firelights scattered, falling into rhythm around her.

"Everything goes," she added, spinning her pistol lazily on one finger.

Her steps slowed as she reached closer to Isha’s tent. She pointed her pistol directly at it—hands steady, but her heart anything but. 

“Except that tent. Do not touch it unless you want your arms chopped off.” 

The warning came light and casual—but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

No one asked why.

No one had to.

Scar set down his tools, approaching Ekko with measured steps.

“So this is her lair…” Scar murmured, his gaze sweeping over the space with a mix of curiosity and something almost reverent.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough that Jinx wouldn’t catch it from across the room.

“You knew didn’t you? You knew her hideout all these years and never told us huh?” 

Ekko didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on Jinx in the distance—focused, commanding, alive.

“I couldn’t.” His voice was quiet, but resolute.

“It was her safe space…I can bet you she knew our location too. She knew I was the leader but she never once snitched to Silco about it. Not once. I owe her that much.”

Scar gave him a sidelong glance.

“You two are hopelessly tethered…Couldn’t fight it, huh? Actually caring about each other?”

Ekko scoffed.

“Shut up. I just told myself… if she didn’t infiltrate us, I wouldn’t infiltrate her. That’s all.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the act.

“Sure, Lover Boy. An unspoken promise. You’re practically soulmates.” 

Ekko didn’t take the bait. His eyes followed Jinx as she spun in place, barking orders like a chaotic general.

“We’re using the lair anyway,” he said, more to himself than anyone.

“For the battle. She hates those damn hoverboards, but there’s no way she’s missing out on a grand entrance.”

"What about that tent? We’ll need to move it eventually," Scar asked, eyeing the weathered fabric with hesitation.

Ekko paused.

“Hmm…”

His gaze lingered on it.

Something about the way it sat—tucked quietly in the corner like a sacred memory—pulled at something deeper.

It reminded him of another universe. A different world where Powder had a spot just like this. A quiet place she visited to remember her sister.

A place made for grief… but also for love.

“I might have an idea,” he said softly, already picturing what it could become.

Ekko made his way toward Jinx, his stride steady but hesitant.

Before he could speak, she turned, her eyes already locked on his.

“Hey Boy Savior… thank you.”

He froze mid-step, blinking as though he hadn’t heard her right. The words hit harder than he expected.

Did he say something out loud? Did she hear the idea in his thoughts?

“For…For what?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Jinx glanced away for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of the bunny ears still clutched in her hands.

“For making sure I’m not alone.”

She paused, then looked up again.

“I haven’t felt alone since you saved me.”

Ekko’s breath caught in his chest. She had no idea how long he’d waited to hear something like that.

“It felt weird at first. Scary. I wanted to push it away. I didn’t think I deserved to feel... safe. To feel like someone would stay.”

She laughed under her breath, bitter but soft. 

“Guess I kept waiting for you to vanish too.”

Ekko clenched his hands into fists.

How many times did he watch her tear through Zaun—laughing, fighting, spiraling—so loud on the outside, but so devastatingly alone.

And how many times…did he leave her behind?

If all he had was now—he would give her everything. 

Just to never vanish again.

He stepped closer, his voice low but certain.

“I guess I’ll never get over this Savior complex…”

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over hers.

“…Because I’ll always come find you.”

Her eyes lingered on his, uncertain but soft.

And there it was—quiet waves of blue, flickering beneath the shimmer.

His new favorite color, blooming just for him.

Jinx’s fingers tightened around his, her grip small but firm. She gave him a faint, assured smile—one that tugged at the corners of her lips like it still wasn’t used to being there, but wanted to be.

Ekko smiled back, soft and full. The sight of her smile—no matter how fleeting—always made his heart skip. Always.

“Jinx…” he started gently, “I was wondering…Can I bring Isha’s tent back to the base?”

Her smile faltered. She followed his gaze to the tent, the memories still swirling beneath her skin, refusing to be tainted. 

“I…I don’t know…”

Ekko stepped a little closer. His voice dropped, softer now.

“I promise I’ll be careful. I won’t throw anything away. I’ll keep the bunny ears with it too. It’s just… it can’t stay here forever, love. I want to keep it safe. Maybe near her mural. Somewhere it can still matter.”

Jinx’s brows furrowed, her gaze still locked on the tent like it was a fragile heart beating on its own. The only tent that ever mattered.

She was quiet for a long moment. Then—

“Only you.”

Her grip tightened around his hand.

“Only you can touch it. Nobody else. Got it?”

Ekko squeezed her hand back and nodded, something proud and protective gleaming in his eyes.

“Got it, boss.”

Jinx stared at him warily for a moment, eyes flicking between his face and the tent—like she was still measuring how much of her past she was willing to hand over. 

Then, with a small sigh, she held up the bunny ears with her free hand—faded but still holding the shape of something sacred.

“We’re painting the bunny ears on the balloon, by the way.”

Ekko blinked, surprised—but smiled.

“Yeah? She’d love that. What else do you have up your sleeve?”

Jinx tapped her chin, her mind already moving.

“Mmm... the wings—I’m adding the Firelights symbol and my clouds. I want to find a way to add her goggles and her hat, too. You know... so she’s flying with us.”

Ekko nodded, his heart full.

“Firelights caught your heart too, didn’t they?”

Jinx scoffed, rolling her eyes. “They’re annoying as ever. You just made a cool symbol is all…”

“Mhmmm…What about the colors? Why did you choose blue and yellow?”

“Blue is me.” She said it without pause. Then, a softer smile.

“Yellow is Isha.”

A beat passed before he asked, “And the green?”

Jinx hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the bunny ears as if avoiding the answer.

“....You, dummy.”

It was suddenly hard to meet his gaze. And just like that, the flush bloomed across her cheeks again, that familiar pink creeping in as her gaze darted anywhere but him.

Ekko couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Well, it’s already looking ten times better,” Ekko said, his eyes scanning the progress around them. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Ekko,” Jinx replied, brushing her fingers along a streak of blue paint. “I just…I might have to go find my chair.”

“Your chair?”

“I made it a while back. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty badass. Wrote my name on it and everything. It’s got these kickass feathers too. I want it at the front—center stage.”

Ekko smirked. “Hmm we can look for it together.”

Jinx grinned. “Oh, I’m already dragging you with me.”

Ekko chuckled again. “I already had no choice huh? Honestly Jinx…This is going to be the best air balloon to ride into battle.”

Jinx glanced up, her eyes wide and glittering with a childish sort of pride—like someone had just given her a gold star.

“Really?”

Without missing a beat, Ekko leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek—casual, warm, and completely disarming.

The moment stunned her. It also stunned half the room. Somewhere in the background, Sevika groaned audibly.

Ekko grinned. 

“Really.”

—   —   —

The war was looming closer, heavier by the day. It was no longer a question of if , but when . When will the war come knocking on their doorstep?

Zaun felt quieter now. Too quiet. Half its people gone, the empty streets abandoned to memories and ghosts, leaving behind the bones of a city.

And yet, in just four days, Jinx’s lair had been transformed. What was once a cavern of ghosts was now a beacon of remembrance and hope. 

Her chair stood proud and strong, claiming the center of attention. It didn’t just invite her presence; it demanded it. Every time she sank into it, it felt like claiming a throne, a declaration that she belonged here, scars and all.

Jinx had woven pieces of Isha into every corner, every edge—her bunny ears displayed loud and wide across the balloon, along with minor details only she would recognize. The Firelights' symbol was etched along the wings, the paint layered with care. 

Like she was leaving no one behind. Because she knew how that felt.

Their stories weren’t separate anymore.

They were everywhere—etched into steel, sealed in color.

If this space insisted on haunting her, she was determined to reclaim it—on her own terms.

Thus, a quiet realization settled over her. She could never stop carrying what she once lost. Isha would always live in the quiet corners of her heart. But the memories no longer held power to break her. Not now.

Not when she was finally building something to take flight.

The sun was setting but Ekko was caught in a wave of déjà vu. The scattered but vivid memories of his time with Powder were practically reenacting in front of him. 

Jinx sat at her desk, surrounded by organized chaos—gadgets and tools strewn across every surface. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a comforting scent she’d come to associate with focus. Her hair, finally long enough, was pulled back into a small, uneven ponytail—messy but functional, much like everything else in the room. 

But this was her domain. This was where she thrived.

Her slight smile as she tinkered, the blasting of her music fueling her focus, pumping her up for the next project. 

Ekko could sit there for hours, just admiring the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the swift precision of her fingers, the way she bit her lip when something clicked into place.

And every now and then, she’d glance up at him—just for a second, their eyes meeting—and it felt like he could see her. Here. Now. Brilliant and alive.

Jinx was merging two worlds into a single weapon today—her biggest project yet. She already had a name in mind, etched into the blueprints.

“How’s Rhino holding up?” Ekko asked, leaning over to inspect the workstation cluttered with gears, coils, and reinforced plating.

“Flawless,” Jinx replied, tapping her wrench against the hoverboard clamped to the table. “Just need to add this .”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “Borrowing tech from my genius now?”

“Just a component,” she shot back, grinning. “Don’t get cocky, Time Boy.”

Ekko smirked. “Well, which part?”

She pointed to the disassembled propulsion unit. “The fan system. Your air circulation design? It’s clean. Low noise, high thrust. Perfect for cooling the internal core and stabilizing the recoil.”

She took one look at the hoverboard and started dismantling the fan. Her slight smile grew, examining the hoverboard, her fingers nimbly adjusting its components. 

"This thing’s too rigid by the way,” she muttered to herself. “Needs more versatility.”

Ekko’s voice broke her concentration. “What’re you thinking this time?”

“Extendable base,” Jinx replied without looking up, her hands already working. “So two people can ride if needed. I have a feeling Vi's gonna crash-land on yours.”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Most likely. If you’re in danger, she’ll jump on any one of ours to get to you.” 

“Pfft, like I’d need rescuing,” Jinx scoffed, rolling her eyes. “They’re the ones who should be panicking. Zaun doesn’t play by their stiff, Piltover rules.” She flung her arms wide in a grand, theatrical gesture. 

“Chaos! Unpredictability! That’s our edge!” Her voice lifted like she was delivering a monologue, grinning like the chaos itself lived behind her teeth.

Ekko chuckled, watching her quirks come alive in full color. “You’re not wrong,” he said, reaching for the hoverboard. “But you still need a break.”

“Ehhh?! I can multitask! Besides, I still have to cut my hair like Vi’s before the big show!”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re always faster than me—and ten times more impatient. Tell you what, I’ll fix the hoverboard while you work on Rhino. But once I’m done, we switch to your hair. Deal?”

Jinx twirled the wrench in her hand, an obvious pout forming on her lips. She rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair.

“Fiiine,” she drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Bet I’ll finish Rhino before you even patch up that hoverboard.”

“Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?” Ekko smirked.

“Wanna bet?” Jinx shot back, twirling her wrench faster.

Ekko narrowed his eyes. “Alright then. What do you want if you win?”

“If I win, I get to design your outfit for the battle.”

Ekko raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“Yep. Can’t let you charge into war in those tragic overalls. Sorry, love.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Fine. But if I win…”

“I get to cut your hair.”

Jinx blinked, caught off guard. “Why do you wanna do that?”

“You said you want it like Vi’s, right? You’re gonna need a little help.” He paused, his voice softening.

“Plus… I want to be part of your final look too.”

As much as she loved to win, Jinx’s curiosity was piqued. Deep down, she wondered how it would turn out—what it would feel like, letting him be the one to cut her hair. Maybe it would mean something more.

Something shared. Something remembered. Like their earrings.

Instead, a competitive smile tugged at her lips. Twirling her wrench once more, she leaned forward with a glint in her eye.

“It’s a dance, then.”

—     —     —    

The final minutes ticked away, and it was clear who the winner would be.

Ekko was nearly finished—just a few final tweaks stood between him and victory. With practiced precision, he tightened the last screw, then shot upright with a triumphant grin.

“Done!” he shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “Hands up, I win!”

Jinx froze, and a second later, her wrench went flying across the bed. “Ugh! I was so close!”

With a dramatic groan, she clutched her head and collapsed toward the half-finished weapon like it had betrayed her. Reaching out, she gently touched it with a sigh, as if mourning a fallen comrade in the theater of defeat.

“Rhino…! I failed you…” Jinx groaned dramatically.

Ekko rolled his eyes, amusement dancing in his expression. “You’ll finish him tomorrow, love.”

With a defeated huff, Jinx flopped the rest of her body to the ground, sinking like a shipwrecked pirate. 

Her limbs sprawled, her head hung low, and—like clockwork—that unmistakable pout returned, tugging at her lips as she stared at the floor.

“It’s not fair!” she whined. “Rhino is more complicated than a stupid, simple hoverboard.”

Ekko couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish outburst. 

She really wanted to win. 

Badly. And he loved that about her.

As he laughed, her pout deepened into a full-on scowl. Ekko quickly sank down on the floor beside her, and without warning, looped an arm around her in a gentle headlock, pulling her close as he nuzzled into her already-messy hair.

Her cheeks puffed up against his arm, pout unwavering, her glare fixed firmly on the floor like it had personally wronged her.

Her hand clutched onto his arm as he swayed her gently. 

“Tell you what, Little Blue,” Ekko murmured, swaying her side to side with a teasing lilt in his voice, “You can still redesign my outfit for the battle, alright?”

He leaned back slightly, flashing her a grin. “I mean… I could use something a little less restrictive.”

Jinx’s eyes lit up instantly as she spun around to face him, her nose nearly brushing against his. That flicker of blue shimmered in her eyes, wide with excitement.

“Really?! You sure?!” she gasped, her voice bubbling with glee.

Ekko chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Your dramatics really sold it. You looked devastated. Just… make me look good, alright?”

“Oh, I have so many ideas! Wanna see mine first? Wait right here!” 

Just as he predicted, Jinx’s impatience kicked in. She started sifting through the pile of outfit options they had, muttering to herself about making a “grand entrance.” 

Ekko glanced up just as she snatched a set of garments and spun around with a gleam in her eye.

“Back in a flash!” she chirped, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before darting off to change.

He blinked, frozen in place, her kiss still lingering. His heart stuttered in his chest. 

She’s so cute…

—     —     —     

Jinx reemerged a few moments later with a triumphant grin stretching from ear to ear. “Ta-da! What do you think? I cut everything myself!”

Ekko turned around—then froze.

His jaw nearly hit the floor.

Jinx was standing there proudly, wearing what could barely be called an outfit. A belt—yes, a belt —was fastened across her chest like a makeshift top, paired with a pair of new, jagged shorts that clung to her hips, exposing the skin of her thighs in all the wrong—or right—places. 

Her grin only widened when she saw his stunned expression. 

“Uh… erm…” Ekko stammered, eyes darting everywhere except directly at her. His face flushed instantly, red traveling across his cheeks like a warning flare.

“What?” Jinx teased, placing a hand on her hip and striking a pose. “Is it that bad?” She spun around, the hem of her shorts flicking up ever so slightly with the motion. 

Without another word, Ekko lunged for the closest thing within reach—a jacket. He stepped over and gently draped it over her shoulders, pulling it tight.

“You’re gonna get cold dressed like that,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact as his blush deepened. “Go change into something...battle-ready. Please.”

“Ehhh? You’re no fun! I thought this looked pretty cool,” Jinx huffed, puffing out her cheeks in protest.

Ekko’s expression shifted—his features softening as he looked at her. She was so damn cute when she whined. Even her defiance had charm. 

Without a word, he stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, right between her furrowed brows.

Her pout faltered for a second, surprised by the gesture.

“You do look cool,” he murmured, his voice warm but firm. “But it’s not suitable for battle.”

His tone dropped, a subtle edge sharpening the playful calm in his eyes. “Go change before I get mad.”

Jinx’s eyes widened slightly. For a second, she thought he was going to tickle her again, and her body tensed instinctively—but this time, Ekko wasn’t thinking about tickling.

He was thinking about how unfair it was that she could fluster him so easily.

And Jinx? She was already turning away, grinning to herself like she’d just won something. 

She snatched up some more fabric and her old crop top. “Fine,” she huffed, throwing him a sideways glare that didn’t quite hide the tiny smirk creeping onto her face.

“Don’t get your gears in a twist, Little Man.”

As soon as she disappeared behind the curtain again, Ekko slumped back down in his chair, dragging a hand over his face. 

One minute she’s adorable. The next… she’s way too hot for her own good.

The image of her outfit wouldn’t leave his mind—the belt being the only thing holding her chest together…

—     —     —     

The minutes stretched longer this time.

After the final touches, her outfit was complete—stitched together with scraps and memory. She had improvised a top from the leftover fabric, cleverly intertwined with parts of her old crop top. 

Only her bellybutton peeked through now. Over it, she wore a hoodie made from deep violet cloth, the hem lined with jagged, tooth-like designs. The details were unmistakable—an homage to the sharp teeth on Isha’s old hat.

She glanced down at herself, brushing her hand over the stitched hem with softened eyes..

“Looks like this is our last battle together, Isha,” she whispered.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward and gave Ekko a quick spin, her voice returning to its usual cocky lilt. “Ta-da! Better?”

Ekko let out a slow breath, like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. Relief and admiration washed over his face.

“Much better,” he said, his lips curling into a warm grin. “You look badass, love.”

“Hehe!” she flashed a cheesy smile, squinting her face. 

“Here,” Ekko said gently, reaching into his pocket for something small. He stepped forward, holding it in both hands like it was fragile—precious. 

It was Isha, stitched with care and clipped to a small clasp.

With delicate fingers, he clipped it to the side of her hip, where it dangled proudly, close to Jinx. 

“Don’t forget your Little Protector,” he added with a soft smile.

Jinx glanced down, her eyes lingering on the tiny doll. That familiar crooked smile stitched into its face, those droopy bunny ears, slightly frayed but present. 

The tiny thing didn’t weigh much, but what it meant—who it represented—pressed right into her chest. 

Isha would always be with her. And Ekko would make sure of that.

Her cheeks flushed, but she smirked through it, trying to hide the heat rising to her face.

“Alright,” she said, the teasing tone creeping back into her voice as she pointed a playful finger at him. “Let’s work on yours next. You need a little pizzazz if you’re going to call yourself the Boy Savior.”

“Never called myself that,” Ekko said, arms folded, shooting her a sideways glance.

“You gave me that name, remember?”

“Yeah, and I picked a great nickname,” Jinx quipped, already circling him like a vulture eyeing fabric. “Which means you gotta trust my fashion sense too.”

“And what exactly does that mean for ol’ Boy Savior?”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she dove toward the heap of clothing they had piled earlier. She yanked three different shirts free—all different, but somehow all became her puzzle pieces. Then she snatched up her sewing kit, a pair of mismatched scissors, and dragged it all to her desk.

“Sit still. I’m making art.”

Within minutes, she was working in a frenzy, cutting into the fabric with erratic but oddly precise movements. She pieced the shirts together—patching the colors, mixing textures, keeping one long sleeve intact while cropping the rest to show off his midsection. She stitched a band of dark leather at the bottom to anchor it all and kept his signature red scarf, sewing it right into the neckline.

“Gotta keep the classic touch,” she muttered to herself.

When she finished the top, she didn’t stop there. She grabbed a pair of pants next, dragging them across her lap as she added a patch of darker fabric to one leg and stitched on a knee pad shaped like his signature owl mask—rough around the edges but unmistakably him.

Ekko watched her from a distance, arms crossed but a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Finally, she stood and held it all up with a triumphant grin. “Ta-da! Scarf stays, some skin showing, mystery remains. And I even gave your boring pants a personality.”

He blinked at the wild crop top and custom additions, eyebrows rising slightly. “This looks…short.”

“Good,” she said. “You’ll need to breathe easy when you’re showing off and saving the world. Now, try it on. No peeking till it’s on. ”

“This is kinda—”

“Trust me!” Jinx interrupted, waving her hands with exaggerated flair. “You’ll need to feel the air while fighting. You’re always so covered up, it looks suffocating, honestly. Go, go!”

Ekko raised a skeptical brow but didn’t argue.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Jinx’s heart did a quick flip in her chest, heat rushing to her face. But instead of letting it show, she shoved him toward the curtain with a playful scowl.

“Go already, before I change my mind and make you wear feathers too.”

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he disappeared behind the curtain to change, the smile lingering on his lips.

The moment he was out of sight, Jinx’s restless energy kicked in. She bounced on her heels, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on her stash of hair dyes—tucked beside her workstation, practically winking at her.

“Hmph… why not?”

She strode over, snatched up a few buckets—deep blue, electric pink, and a hint of violet—and twisted the lids open with a devilish grin.

“I’m just gonna start mixing these colors,” she muttered to herself, grabbing a few colors at random. She poured small amounts into a bowl, blending them with quick, careless strokes until a vivid hue began to take shape.

Her eyes widened as she held the color up to the light. “This one!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with childlike glee. 

Without hesitation, she quickly grabs the paintbrush and starts slathering the dye onto the longest parts of her bangs, with wild, excited strokes. 

She leaned closer to the mirror, grinning at her reflection as streaks of the vibrant hue transformed her hair. 

“Now this ,” she murmured, “this is more like it.”

After a few minutes of rustling and quiet muttering behind the curtain, Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor, twirling pieces of her hair, impatiently waiting for the dye to set in.

But her mind kept drifting—wondering how it would look on him. Wondering if he’d smirk when he saw her reaction.

Then she heard the curtain slide.

Her eyes lifted—and froze.

Ekko stepped out.

The patchwork crop top clung in all the right ways, each stitched-together fabric somehow amplifying his silhouette. His toned abs were now fully visible for the first time, the defined lines framed perfectly by the cut she designed. 

The red scarf remained wrapped around his neck like a signature flame, while her handiwork on his pants—with the owl-shaped kneepad—tied the whole thing together.

Her mouth parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping before she could stop it.

Ekko caught her expression and tilted his head, grinning. “Too much?” he teased, half-turning as if to head back behind the curtain.

“Um…no…” Jinx said a little too quickly, blinking hard. 

She knew her design would expose his abs, but seeing it in motion—on him —was something else entirely. If anything, she wished there was less fabric.

“I can change if—”

“No!” she blurted, louder than intended. Her heart was practically vibrating out of her chest. “You look… hot.”

The word slipped out before her brain could catch it, and as soon as it did, her eyes widened in horror. She turned around so fast she almost knocked over a stool.

Ekko’s grin widened, smug and warm all at once, as he stepped closer, arms folding casually.

“Oh, really? That’s all it takes to make you blush? A crop top?” he teased, voice low and amused.

Jinx panicked, her face already burning. Without thinking, she shoved a pair of scissors into his hand with unnecessary force. “H-haircut time! Chop chop!”

Ekko laughed, catching the scissors with ease. “Alright, alright.” He motioned toward the chair and kissed the top of her head as she passed by him.

“Welcome to Ekko’s Barbershop,” he said with a grin, settling behind her.

As she settled into the chair, he stepped around her, brushing a hand through the ends of her freshly dyed hair. The colors—blue and soft violet—glistened under the low lights.

“You just dyed it, huh?” he mused, lifting a few strands. “Still fresh.”

He hesitated a beat, then leaned in slightly. “I’m gonna wash it out first, okay?”

Jinx blinked, surprised for a moment, then gave a quick, excited nod. “Okay.”

His touch was careful as he guided her toward a nearby basin. Warm water ran over her hair as his fingers worked gently through the strands, rinsing the dye with a softness that made her chest flutter. He didn’t rush—every motion was deliberate, soothing.

She closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy it. Letting herself feel cared for.

“You sure are taking this seriously,”  Ekko muttered softly. 

Jinx let herself relax beneath his touch, her muscles softening as the warm water hovered near her ear. She ignored his question, focusing instead on the one thing she wanted.

“I want it like Vi’s.”

Ekko paused for only a second, his eyes softening as his fingers brushed through her vibrant hair. 

“I know,” he said gently. “Trust me.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before she replied, barely above a whisper.

“…I trust you.”

—     —     —    

“Make sure it has that messy look,” Jinx reminded him for the tenth time, her legs swinging off the chair like an impatient child. Her anticipation radiated from every inch of her face.

Ekko arched a brow, scissors in hand. “Stay still, Little Blue,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he trimmed the last strands with practiced precision.

She huffed but obeyed, her toes tapping softly against the floor as she tried to contain her excitement.

Ekko finally set the scissors down and stepped back, tilting his head as he studied her with a focused eye. The undercut was uneven in the way she liked it—purposefully chaotic. The sides and back were shaved close to the scalp, while the top had been left longer, her new bangs sweeping across her forehead in jagged, untamed layers that framed her face with effortless rebellion.

It was wild. It was bold. It was her.

And Ekko couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

It had the same bold, rebellious edge as Vi’s hair—the kind that wasn’t afraid to stand out.

He handed her the mirror with a quiet smile, waiting for her reaction. Jinx’s eyes widened as she took in the reflection. Her fingers instinctively ran through the newly chopped layers, amazed at the transformation. 

It reminded her of how cool her sister is. The sister she’d always looked up to, the one she wanted to share toughness and energy with.

“It’s perfect! Just like Vi’s! And you kept the parts I just dyed!” she gasped, her voice a mix of joy and disbelief.

Before Ekko could get a word in, she launched herself at him, arms flinging around his neck and legs wrapping around his waist in one fluid motion. Her laughter burst out, bright and unrestrained, echoing through the room like music.

“I love it! Thank you! You know, you could totally be a barber one day, haha!”

Ekko caught her with ease, his hands steady at her back and thighs, grounding her even as her joy spun like a whirlwind. Her laughter spilled over into his chest, and for a moment, he just held her, soaking it in.

“Hahaha!” 

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that sound.

“I just cut the kids’ hairs sometimes,” Ekko replied quietly, his smile softening. “But I think you already had that same rebellious energy Vi has. This just makes it a little more obvious.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes were glittering now, full of life and mischief and something softer, deeper.

“That’s the point,” she said with a crooked grin. “So… do you like it?”

Ekko could taste her scent on his tongue. A mix of gunpowder and wildflowers—a contradiction, just like her. Danger and something softer, sweeter, that kept pulling him in no matter how hard he tried to resist. 

And it was that blend that wrecked him. He wasn’t even sure which part of her he craved more—the fury or the fragility—but he knew one thing for certain.

He wanted all of her.

Every unfiltered, unapologetic inch.

He couldn’t remember the witty response he was about to make. He couldn’t remember his own damn name. 

His gaze lingered there too long, and when it snapped back up to meet her eyes, he knew he was already too far gone. 

“I like it... more than I should,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

Jinx’s lips tugged into a slow, knowing smile. That sharp, teasing curve he’d memorized a hundred times before. 

Her head tilted, just enough to close the last sliver of distance between them. Their foreheads nearly touched, her breath ghosting over his mouth.

“More than you should, huh?” she whispered.

Her breath mingled with his. 

A challenge. A lure. A dare.

Ekko’s heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out, like it already knew the truth.

Shit. I’m hers. 

Slowly, Ekko lifted his hand, cradling her chin like she might vanish if he wasn’t gentle. His thumb traced over her bottom lip—soft, careful, reverent—sending sparks through every nerve in her body.

His lips parted as he leaned in, pressing forward just enough for the curve of his cupid’s bow to brush against hers, featherlight but deliberate. 

A promise waiting to happen.

“I’d like… more of you,” he murmured, his voice low, aching with restraint.

So close. So maddeningly close.

That stupid thumb of his—so sure, so patient—kept tracing her lip like it wasn’t setting her whole chest on fire. She could feel every beat of her heart crashing against her ribs, begging her to close the distance.

She didn’t do soft. Didn’t do close. Not like this.

Not with anyone.

But goddamn it.

I want him. I need him.

Their eyes locked for a split second—just enough for instinct to take over.

In a breath, they collided, their lips crashing together with a desperation that had been simmering for far too long. 

Ekko groaned softly into her mouth, the sound muffled and raw. His hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer.

Jinx let out a small whimper, her chest pressed against his, their hearts racing in tandem. Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight as she pulled slightly, tilting his head back. It exposed the long line of his neck, smooth and waiting.

She wasted no time.

Her lips left his with a gasp, trailing down to his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. She bit and sucked softly, marking her path down to his collarbone—claiming him in inkless bruises. 

Each kiss a silent declaration.

“Fuck, Jinx,” Ekko hissed, his voice rough, guttural—like the sound had been dragged from the depths of his chest.

The sound sent a jolt through her. It was addictive.

She smirked against his skin, the taste of him lingering on her lips.

I want more.

I want all of him.

He tightened his hold around her, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. She barely had time to react before he was moving—steady, certain—his footsteps echoing softly against the floor.

In a few strides, he reached her cluttered work desk and set her down gently, his hands lingering at her waist to steady her as she perched on the edge. The cool metal beneath her contrasted the growing warmth between them. 

Her breath caught when she felt the gentle pressure of his knee slide between her thighs, anchoring her in place.

For a moment, everything stilled.

Ekko’s gaze roamed over her—slow, reverent—as if memorizing every detail. The way her hair framed her flushed cheeks, the soft part of her lips, the flicker of want in her eyes. 

She looked wild and radiant, like something untamed and irreplaceable. Like someone who belonged to no one, and yet—right now—was entirely his.

Her lips parted, and in a trembling whisper, she breathed, “Please… don’t stop.”

A slow smirk curved Ekko’s lips as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing her cheek with a touch so soft it made her shiver.

“...I can’t.”

Chapter Text

“Ekko…” 

His name no longer felt like a denial. It felt more like a surrender. 

Jinx couldn’t even recall how it happened—how her legs ended up wrapped tightly around his waist, or how her hips instinctively arched to pull that damn knee deeper between her thighs. The air escaped through her lips as he lifted and held her like she weighed nothing, chest to chest as he carried her towards her desk.

Each step sent a thrill up her spine, her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to the warmth of his skin.  And then, without breaking eye contact, he set her down on the edge of the desk with a controlled urgency that made them quietly giggle.

Tools clattered to the floor, paint smudging against her thigh as her body hit the surface. Her legs tightened around his waist again, pulling him closer with a desperation she didn’t bother to hide anymore. His hands landed on either side of her, bracing against the desk as their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hearts racing.

It was reckless. Messy. Real.

And neither of them wanted to stop.

Ekko’s weight shifted onto his hands, his palms pressing to the table by her flushed ears. The moment their eyes locked, something in him gave—his arms lowered, forearms bracketing her head, his body folding down like he was bowing to her. 

Not in defeat, but in devotion. Worshipping her.

Her lips curved, but it wasn’t her usual grin. No, this one was slower—calculated. Dangerous in an entirely different way.

She tilted her head just enough for her breath to brush against his skin, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

"Like what?" he asked, his head tilting slightly, curiosity flickering behind his eyes.

“Like you want something dangerous…” Her grin widened, lazy and intoxicating. And the way her eyes held his—unblinking, unyielding—made the hairs on his neck rise.

The question sent his pulse into overdrive, but Ekko didn’t flinch. Not with her looking at him like that.

He leaned in, matching her tone with a smirk of his own, low and laced with challenge.

“It’s always been dangerous with you.”

—  —  —

“Come here,” Ekko said softly. 

Jinx cocked her head to the side for a moment before she leaned in, her whole body pressing against his now. 

Like clockwork, those warm arms wrapped protectively around her small frame. 

Ekko placed one hand gently on her back while the other brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gazing at her with warmth. She rested her head on his chest, her eyes gazing up at him with contentment. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he teased.

Jinx giggled, her voice light. “You didn’t take it very well. You’re louder than me.”

"Because you’re a tease," he smirked, his fingers slipping to her side in a sudden tickle. Jinx squealed, laughter bubbling out of her in uncontrollable waves, her giggles filling the air.

“And you’re not?” she challenged, still grinning as she narrowed her eyes. “I almost bit your hand off.”

“To be fair,” he said with a crooked smirk, “That kind of turned me on.”

“Oh yeah?” Her brow arched, mischief dancing behind her lashes. “Careful, lover boy. Next time, I might actually take a finger.”

His laughter lingered, but as the quiet stretched between them, his smile gently faded. His gaze searched hers, softer now, more intent as his thumb brushed faintly against her bare shoulder.

“Are you okay, Jinx? Did I hurt you?”

“Hm? I’m not some fragile bunny, Ekko,” she replied with a smirk, though her voice softened as his fingers began tracing the lines of her tattoos—slow, careful, like he already knew every curve by heart. 

He moved his fingers as if he was reading her, not just the ink, but everything beneath it. 

“Hmmm…” Ekko continued to stare into her eyes, as if trying to memorize the moment.

“What? Did I mess up?” Jinx asked, concern filling her voice. 

What did I jinx this time?

“No, love.” His arms pulled her in closer, like he didn’t want to let go. His face buried in her hair, breathing her in like the scent of her alone could steady his pulse.

“You ever wish you could just stay in one moment?” His thumb caressed her head, like she was a memory he didn’t want to lose.

Jinx blinked, startled by the question—but not confused. She knew exactly what he meant.

If she could, she’d freeze time here. Right now. With him. Let the world fade into static. Let the noise fall away until all that was left was this—his warmth, their shared breath, the quiet rhythm of two hearts finally in sync.

Once, they’d been worlds apart, separated by grief, by time, by everything.

But now, piece by piece, those years were melting away.

—  —  —

“My love, is this really necessary?”

Ekko stood in the doorway, arms crossed, as the scent of fresh paint saturated the air. Buckets were scattered across the floor in a chaotic arrangement of colors, each one splattered with proof of Jinx’s manic energy. 

She didn’t answer right away—her brow furrowed in deep concentration, eyes flicking between shades like this was the most important decision she’d ever make. Her face was absolutely serious for what she deemed their "final project."

“Yes!” she interrupted, her eyes lighting up with determination. “Our outfits are missing so much color. We look too bland! How are they going to know it’s us?!”

“Well,” Ekko replied, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a knowing smirk, “We are rolling up in a hot air balloon…”

“Exactly! We’ll be so far and high up!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up dramatically. “These bright ass colors will make it impossible to miss our grand entrance.”

Ekko’s grin lingered, but his thoughts briefly drifted. He remembered Benzo—the version of him from the alternate timeline. The old man’s laugh echoing in his ears, that teasing voice laced with warmth: “She does love a spectacle, eh?”

His gaze returned to Jinx, where she now crouched in front of the paint buckets, already mixing bold streaks of pink and neon green with manic precision. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were dusted in a soft, unintentional blush. It was hard to believe this vibrant, relentless girl was the same hollow, defeated shell he brought here just a few weeks ago—shaking, breaking, clinging to the edge.

Yeah, Benzo, he thought with a soft, bittersweet smile. 

She sure does. In every universe.

“Well, what has your brilliant mind thought of this time?” Ekko asked, arms crossed, eyebrows raised with a playful tilt in his voice.

He was wearing the crop top she’d fashioned for him—stitched together from scraps, and just enough attitude to scream Jinx . At the time, it had been something lighthearted and fun she tossed his way. Something to change up his look.

But now? Every time she looked at that damn crop top, her face burned.

She’d already gone to town on everything else. The air balloon was coated in neon streaks and personal touches. Jinx made sure there were traces of Isha and the Firelights everywhere—bold and prominent. Hell, even her weapons had her trademark colors and doodles.

All that was left was their actual bodies. 

Blank canvases, just waiting.

“Pink! And…” Her eyes swept over Ekko, searching for the right color to represent him.

“Green.” They both said in unison. They both paused—then smirked.

Jinx always saw green when she thought of Ekko. Not just any green— his green. The glowing hue of the Firelights. The pulse of bioluminescent leaves hanging from the tree at the center of their base. 

The kind of green that felt alive, like home. Like him.

“Pink and green! I’m going to paint on you first. So you get the vision,” she declared, already reaching for a brush. “But first, we need some music!”

She strolled over to the record player, letting the needle drop onto the vinyl. A soft crackle gave way to music that drifted through the room, rich and full of life.

With a toss over her shoulder, she flung him a brush and dipped hers into the brightest pink she could find, twirling back around with a grin that promised chaos. 

Ekko caught the brush with ease, his smirk widening as he dipped it into the same pot of pink. Without missing a beat, he caught her hand and spun her in one smooth motion, pulling a laugh straight from her chest.

And then—a colorful dance.

Messy strokes of pink and green landed on bare arms, across legs, a streak over a cheek. They painted without rhyme or reason, laughing as they danced, twirled, and bumped into each other like the music had made them weightless.

For a moment, time folded in on itself—

They weren’t warriors.

They were just two kids again.

Messy. Loud. Alive.

And together.

“Okay, hold still,” she giggled as she painted across his shoulder like it was a blank wall.

Ekko chuckled, not even trying to stop her. “You’re just making stuff up.”

“I’m inventing fashion, Boy Savior,” she corrected, tongue peeking out in concentration.

Then suddenly, she froze. Her eyes widened like a forgotten thought had crash-landed in her brain. With a quick gasp, she sprang away. 

“Wait! Don’t move! ”

“What is it?” Ekko asked, watching her spin around to rummage through a nearby pile of supplies. His brows lifted slightly as he caught a flash of something small in her hand—just before she quickly tucked it behind her back.

“I um…I made something for us to wear…to match.”

Ekko tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Other than paint?”

Jinx hesitated for a beat, then slowly revealed the items from behind her back.

Two masks.

One was smaller, shaped like a sleek crow, painted in deep grays with two undeniable X’s carved out where the eyes should be—her unmistakable signature. The other was larger, an owl mask with bold, green streaks running across the edges, its design a unique twist on Ekko’s traditional Firelight mask.

“Masks,” she muttered, eyes flicking down and then back up. “You know… to protect our skulls or whatever. More of a fashion statement, really.”

Her voice turned softer as she continued, “A crow for me… and an owl for you.”

Ekko stared at them in silence for a moment, his gaze shifting between her face and the masks resting in her hands. He gently took the owl mask in his hands, his fingers brushing over the painted streaks and subtle etchings. 

There was something personal in every line, every curve—something that felt like her. Aside from the crop top, this was the first thing she had crafted just for him. A quiet smile tugged at his lips—touched, impressed, and undeniably endeared.

“You know both owls and crows mate for life, right?” Ekko said casually, turning the mask in his hands.

Jinx blinked. Her heart fluttered, light and sudden.

“W-What?” she asked, her voice coming out higher than she intended.

That wasn’t her intention… was it?

Her cheeks burned as her brain scrambled for an explanation. She picked the crow because it followed her like a curse. Because it was a symbol of death and chaos—just like her. And the owl? Well, Ekko was the observer. Always watching. Always knowing. It made sense… right?

“I—I just thought it looked cool,” she muttered, far too quickly, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Don’t read into it, weirdo.”

But Ekko’s grin only widened, like he could see straight through her.

Then, without a word, he slipped the mask over his face in one smooth motion.

It fit perfectly. Like it was made for him. Because it was.

“How does it fit perfectly?” Ekko asked, adjusting the mask slightly.

“I measured you while you were sleeping,” Jinx shrugged casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Of course, you did,” he muttered with a smirk, rolling his eyes. “…Try yours on.”

Jinx slid the crow mask over her face with practiced ease, the glow of her Shimmer eyes peering through the carved-out X’s, glinting in the light. Her grin was smug, proud—satisfied with her handiwork and its flair.

“You’re officially a Firelight,” Ekko said, his voice softer now. “Though… you’ve been one for a while now.”

A flicker of pride flashed in her eyes. “Yeah? You’ll wear it?”

“Hell yeah, I’ll wear it. We’ll look badass.”

Her cheeks flushed with satisfaction as she adjusted his owl mask. “Good. 'Cause I already told the kids we were doing a duo reveal. No backing out now.”

Ekko smirked beneath the mask, his voice teasing but warm.

“Figures. Should’ve known you’d drag me into a dramatic entrance. Do I need to practice my pose?”

“Not with our empty, boring outfits. Hmm…” She tapped a finger against her chin, brows furrowing in concentration. The real challenge was his chest—the centerpiece, the focal point. 

Whatever she painted there had to mean something. It had to be just right.

Ekko raised a brow, noticing the change in her tone. “What?”

“Just need to… draw on your chest…”

Her voice had dipped, quieter now, and her eyes suddenly couldn’t seem to land on his. Then, she reached for a nearby brush, fidgeting with it slowly, as if buying herself time.

And then—subtle, but unmistakable—the air shifted. That bright, chaotic energy they’d been dancing in just moments before softened, slowed. Something heavier settled between them.

Before he could say anything—before he could offer a witty remark or tease her nerves away—she stepped in close and pressed the brush to his skin. 

One stroke. Then another.

A bold X streaked across his chest—pink, imperfect, hers.

He glanced down, then raised an eyebrow. “An X? Making a target outta me already?”

Jinx let out a nervous chuckle. “No... I’m marking you…” 

She hesitated, then peeked up through her lashes. 

“As mine.”

Ekko tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he played dumb. “Yours?”

In the softest breath—barely a whisper, like she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear it—came the word:

“Mine.”

Her lips barely moved but the word struck like sparks. It was small, yet enough to set something ablaze. A claim. A confession. A truth she might not even realize she had spoken aloud.

But damn if it didn’t make his heart slam against his ribs. 

And he didn’t give her time to backpedal.

Before she could retreat into that wild, frantic brain of hers, Ekko leaned forward and stole a quick kiss on the forehead of her mask—soft and sure, catching her off guard.

The blush hit her instantly, even though there was no skin contact. And she was grateful for the mask—at least it could hide the storm of red giving her away.

She blinked up at him, stunned, her mouth slightly parted—speechless for once. Her hands dropped to her sides like her defenses had just short-circuited.

She was flustered.

And for a girl who’d kissed him senseless, crashed hoverboards, and wielded explosives like candy—Ekko had never seen her like this.

She’s so…adorable.

He reached for her brush, their fingers grazing for just a second—just enough to send a jolt through her. 

“I need to mark my girl too,” he said, dipping the brush into hot pink paint. With careful intent, he brushed the tip across her chest, painting an X right over her heart. 

“So everyone knows you’re mine .”

Jinx looked down at the bold streak of pink. The matching X. 

Her eyes widened—just a fraction—and then something flickered behind them. This was supposed to be fun. Just a silly moment. Just the two of them being ridiculous and reckless before they walked into a war.

So why was her heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the music? Why was her throat tight? Why couldn’t she meet his damn eyes?

She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her smirk from slipping.

Ekko caught it all, of course.

“We’re... totally not possessive, right?” he quipped, arching a brow.

That did it.

The tension cracked, then broke completely as Jinx burst out laughing through her mask—unapologetically loud, her shoulders shaking. 

“Hahaha! Doodle on me—go ahead. It’s not obvious enough yet!”

Ekko’s grin softened. “Oh, I plan to.” 

He rummaged through their scattered supplies and picked out a stick of green chalk. Kneeling slightly, he began sketching carefully on her upper arm.

She stilled, watching him work—her breath catching when she realized where he was drawing.

Right over the faint scars that still remained from that night on the bridge.

She didn’t stop him. Didn’t make a joke.

He wasn’t erasing them. He was reclaiming them.

Her eyes shifted back to his hand as the new shape formed.

“A crown?” she asked quietly, one brow lifting in surprise.

Ekko didn’t look up right away, just gave the chalk a final stroke on her skin before answering. 

“Because I want you to remember how important you are.”

When he met her eyes, they were full of something raw, as if daring her to argue. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Jinx blinked hard. Her gaze dropped to the crown etched into her skin, lingering a moment too long before she tore it away, her lips curling into a slight pout to mask the emotion pooling in her eyes. 

“You want one too, Boy Savior? Do we need a throne?” she teased with a nervous smile.

Ekko chuckled, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “No but…we were called Zaun’s Royalty in the other universe.”

“Wow. We really are insufferable in every universe,” she retorted, making Ekko laugh uncontrollably.

He leaned in again, dipping his brush and continuing without a word—tracing stars, X’s, swirls of color across her arms and legs. She stayed quiet, watching the way he worked, how his touch seemed to know just how to navigate every faded scar. 

He was honoring them. Turning them into something beautiful. Loud. Proud.

“I tried to draw over your scars,” he said gently, though the grin tugging at his lips gave him away. Then, tapping a few of the smaller X’s along her thighs and collarbone, he added in a low murmur,

“But these…”

 He looked up and locked eyes with her.

“Are the places my lips have been.”

Her breath stuttered. A sharp, fluttery thing in her chest.

Fuck. My heart’s doing that stupid thing again.

She tried to scoff, tried to tease, but the heat rising to her face betrayed her.

I literally can’t look at him right now.

Jinx could feel her entire face go hot, the flush creeping up from her chest to the tips of her ears. Without lifting her eyes, she managed to mutter through the fluster,

“Don’t make me mark you permanently with something sharper.”

Ekko chuckled, the sound warm and low in his throat. Then, wordlessly, he lifted his fingers to his own face, removing his own owl mask, setting it aside without a word.

He reached for the pink paint again.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

Jinx hesitated—just for a second. Her fingers twitched at her sides, like her body wanted to obey but her mind wasn’t ready to be seen so fully, so honestly.

Still, her eyes lifted.

Slowly.

The moment their gazes locked, it was like a current ran between them—pulling, quiet, inevitable.

His hand moved to her face, letting his fingertips graze the sides of her crow mask, brushing lightly against the curve of her cheek and the edge of her temple.

And slowly, ever so slowly, he began to lift it—inch by inch—watching her the whole time. As the mask slipped free from her face, her eyes came into full view, and he swore time stuttered around them.

The mask finally cleared her head, and he set it down carefully. Ekko cupped her jaw, tilting her face toward his. The closeness made her pulse skip. 

He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at her—really looked—like he hadn’t seen her in years, and now that he had, he didn’t dare blink.

Then he dipped his fingers into the pink paint and with the same tenderness, he swiped two soft lines beneath her eyes.

“There,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

His gaze was steady and deep, and suddenly the air between them changed, buzzing with an intensity that neither of them could ignore.

“Now you look like how I see you. Brave. Brilliant. Mine .”

Jinx blinked slowly, the words sinking deep into the spaces she didn’t let anyone touch. Her heart beat too loud, too fast. She wasn’t used to feeling this…known. 

Then, her voice came out quieter than she intended. “You’re staring...”

“You make it hard not to,” he replied, his voice low, his gaze unwavering.

The brush in her hand wobbled slightly, then slipped from her fingers to the table with a faint clatter. She didn’t notice. Not really.

Instead, her fingertips drifted forward—tentative, unsure—and grazed the painted skin of his chest, right where her own mark lay. 

His breath hitched. Hers did too.

“Ekko…” she murmured, her Shimmer eyes glowing faintly in the dim room, not just from the light—but from everything she was holding back.

He didn’t let her finish.

In one fluid motion, he cupped her face with paint-smudged fingers, his hands steady even if everything else was spinning.

And then, his lips were crashing into hers. The kiss was fiery and consuming, a collision of paint-streaked bodies and pent-up emotions.

Jinx groaned against his mouth but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in deeper, her hands sliding up to grip his paint-smeared shoulders, pulling him closer as their world narrowed to just the two of them. 

Ekko kissed her like he meant every second they’d lost. His lips were hungry, searching, and she matched his urgency with everything in her—every quiet ache, every firestorm of feeling she’d never dared to name.

His hands, slick with paint and desperation, found her waist and gripped it tightly, fingers pressing into her like he was afraid she’d vanish into the air between them.

Jinx broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, her voice barely above a whisper as her lips brushed his.

“You’re gonna ruin the outfit.”

Ekko’s breath was hot against her skin, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he leaned back in, eyes burning with affection and mischief.

“Worth it,” he growled, and then he claimed her mouth again.

The world outside their room faded into nothingness. All that remained was the warmth between them, their mingled breaths, and the occasional clatter of a forgotten paintbrush hitting the floor.

Ekko’s hands gripped her waist like he was about to lift her—but then he paused. His eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. Without a word, he let her go.

Jinx’s face fell instantly into a pout, lips parting as confusion flickered in her eyes. 

Did I do something wrong?

But before she could voice the question, Ekko had already darted to the side. He rummaged through their scattered supplies and returned with a distinct blue chalk in hand, flashing a mischievous grin that made her stomach flutter.

She tilted her head, suspicious. “What? You’d rather draw some more?”

Grinning wider, he twirled the chalk between his fingers.

“We’re going to tally.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes. “Tally what?”

Ekko smirked.

“Rounds.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, her breath catching as the crayon twirled in his fingers. Then, as if matching his energy instantly, a sly grin spread across her face. 

“Alright, hotshot,” she teased, grabbing another crayon and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Let’s see if you can even keep count after round one.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. The real question is whether we’ll need a second chalk,” he responded, effortlessly scooping her up before she could fire back. 

She let out a squeal, her laughter spilling into the room as a few paintbrushes clattered to the floor in their wake. Ekko had swept her up without warning, his arms strong and sure around her.

He carried her toward the bed, and with a teasing grin, dropped her onto the mattress. She bounced slightly, giggling as she landed, her hair fanned out beneath her like a crown of chaos.

“Just don’t forget—tallies only count if I actually lose control.”

Ekko leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Oh, you’ll lose count long before I do.”

—     —     —     

“That’s three…” he murmured, his voice a soft, teasing whisper against her ear. He drew one last tally mark on her scattered pants.

Jinx let out a shaky, breathless laugh, her fingers weakly brushing against the arm he had draped over her waist. 

“Mmm…lost count…,” she whispered, her words slurred with exhaustion.

Ekko chuckled, low and soothing, as he shifted beside her, careful not to move too quickly. 

“Guess I have to remind you later,” he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her neck.

Her body gave a soft shudder, the aftershocks of pleasure still humming through her limbs. She let out a breathy, contented sigh, her voice muffled against the pillow. 

“Later… like… after a nap,” she mumbled, curling into him as sleep tugged at her.

Ekko gently slipped out of her, her quiet whimper making his chest ache with a protective tenderness. 

“Hey… I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down her spine. 

He reached for the blanket and drew it over them, then shifted close, molding himself to her back. Her smaller frame tucked naturally into his, their bodies fitting like a memory they were always meant to return to. 

One hand settled against her hip, tracing her tattoos slowly, while the other combed through her damp hair, brushing it gently away from her face as her breathing slowed.

“Still keeping score?” she murmured sleepily, her voice laced with teasing.

“Nah,” Ekko replied, his lips brushing her hair. “Just keeping you.”

Jinx smiled faintly, her body melting against his as she drifted off.

Keeping him all to herself.

—     —     —     

Time didn’t stop. It never did. But for the first time in years, it slowed down—just enough for Jinx to breathe.

It had been just over a month since Ekko brought Jinx to the Firelights base, and in that time, everything had changed—quietly, steadily, like a wound finally starting to heal.

And Jinx was no longer alone.

She had found something she didn’t realize she’d been aching for: a family. One that had always existed here in Zaun, hidden in the shadows, waiting for her. People who didn’t just tolerate her chaos—but believed in her potential, in who she could be, not just who she’d been.

And in the center of it all… she found love.

A love that shook her to her core, yet somehow steadied her heart. It wasn’t the kind of love that demanded she fix herself first. It came as she was—messy, unpredictable, flawed—and held her anyway. That scared her more than any weapon ever could.

But maybe…It also saved her more than any weapon ever had.

Amongst the chaos, a banquet was quietly suggested.

It began with a simple idea passed between the Firelights—shared in glances, muttered in doorways.

A final dinner.

One last night before the world tilted again.

The base buzzed with a different kind of energy. They scrounged for forgotten spices, hung old lights between crumbling beams, unearthed every battered plate and chair they could find. 

Even the youngest ones helped, sweeping corners and stringing up decorations like it was the most important mission they’d ever been given.

By the end of the day, everyone was pitching in.

It wasn’t planned like a farewell. Not out loud.

But they all knew. The tension in Zaun was thick enough to choke on. The war looming just outside the walls.

Still, the Firelights stayed—not because they had to, but because they wanted this.

One last moment. One last taste of joy.

Their last chance to feel like a family—before the city possibly burned.

Zaun still looked the same—graffiti-covered walls, glowing signage, metal piping curling around buildings like veins—but it felt different now. The air was thick with the kind of quiet you only hear before a storm. 

It wasn’t silence. It was anticipation . 

The people who remained were fighters, or those who had already made their peace with dying on familiar ground.

No one spoke of fear aloud. But it was there, lingering in the shadows. And when no one was looking, Jinx casted her eyes across Zaun, wondering how much of this world would still be here when the dust settled.

Jinx and Ekko made their way back through the quiet, hollow streets of Zaun, their footsteps echoing softly against the cracked pavement. The wind whispered through alleyways and broken rails, carrying a kind of stillness that only a city holding its breath could possess.

They had spent the day gathering supplies—candles, incense, trinkets, pillows, and soft blankets—for something neither of them could quite put into words yet. 

The idea had come from Ekko, gentle but bittersweet. 

He’d told her about the other universe—about Powder’s tent. A place built in memory of her sister. Not a shrine of sorrow, but a space of beauty and stillness. A haven carved out of grief, yes, but also out of love.

It made Jinx’s chest ache, but she didn’t argue.

She didn’t want to throw Isha’s things away. She wanted to preserve the pieces of her—not just the memories, but the moments. The laughter. The light.

And this was the best way.

They found a small, weathered altar tucked in an old district shop window, and when Jinx saw it, she didn’t say a word. She just nodded once, firmly, like her heart had recognized it before her mind did. They salvaged what they could, including the string of hanging lights Isha had adored—tiny lanterns that flickered warm against the cold.

“We should head back before it gets dark,” Ekko said gently, adjusting the box in his hands.

“Roger that,” Jinx replied with a casual salute, lifting her own crate of supplies.

But just as she turned to follow him, her steps faltered.

There—caught on the frayed power lines above the alley—hung something unmistakable. Something from another life.

Vi’s bunny.

Faded, weather-worn, and barely clinging to a single thread, it swayed lightly in the wind. It was still there. After all these years. 

Still intact. Still waiting to be saved.

Her breath caught in between past and present.

Jinx’s eyes trailed upward to the ledge nearby—the one she and Vi used to sit on, legs dangling over the city like they owned it. The same place where she had nervously pulled out the Hextech crystals she stole, asking to show Vander.

The same ledge where Vi had thrown an arm around her shoulders and told her they were going to make Zaun proud. That one day, the whole city would respect them.

That everything was going to be okay.

Now, the bunny stared back at her, hollow-eyed and silent. A relic of a promise that was never kept.

Jinx stood there, frozen. Not quite sure if she wanted to climb up and take it down—or leave it right where it was, untouched. 

A ghost of the sisters they used to be.

“Jinx? Are you okay?” 

Ekko had already turned back, concern written across his face the moment he saw her stop in her tracks. His footsteps quickened as he returned to her side, his voice gentler now.

Jinx didn’t answer right away. Her throat tightened as memories surged forward, sharp and suffocating. She gripped the box in her arms tighter—so tight she almost dropped it.

“Hey…” Ekko set down the supplies and his hand came to rest on her shoulder, firm and grounding. “Look at me, love.”

She hesitated, then slowly turned to face him, her gaze already brimming with something she didn’t have words for. Her lips parted, a breath hitching as she fought to stay present.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Talk to me.”

Jinx exhaled shakily and finally set the box down at her feet. Her fingers lingered on the edge of it before she looked up—eyes locking onto the small, weathered plush still dangling from the power line.

“That’s Vi’s bunny,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “She never got to save it. It’s been sitting here…all this time…forgotten.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on the plush figure swaying gently above them, the weight of years pressing into her chest.

“…Even before…before everything fell apart.”

Her voice cracked, and Ekko stayed silent, watching her closely. Letting her speak. Letting her feel.

“I always avoided this alley,” she admitted, her gaze distant. “I knew I could reach it now, but… it was too much. Too much to remember.”

Without a word, Ekko reached for her hand and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze. A silent reminder that he was still here. That she didn’t have to carry this alone anymore.

“But something feels wrong now,” she continued, blinking rapidly. “To leave it behind. Like… if I walk away this time, I’ll never see it again.”

Her fingers curled tighter around his, her hand small and unsteady—but honest. Vulnerable.

Without a word, Ekko stepped back and mounted his hoverboard, the metal humming softly beneath his feet. In one fluid motion, he launched into the air, his body weightless against the dusk-lit sky. He twisted around the tangle of power lines with ease—agile, focused, his eyes locked onto the faded bunny dangling from above.

With a precise reach and a midair twist, he snatched the plush from its threadbare perch.

One clean loop through the air and he landed beside her again—smooth, quiet, like it had taken no effort at all.

He held the bunny out to her, his fingers curled around its worn fabric with surprising gentleness.

“Here,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “You should take her with us.”

Jinx blinked, hard. Her fingers hovered for a moment before she finally accepted it, cradling the plush in her hands. The fabric was rough, the stuffing uneven, but it felt heavy—like it carried every memory she’d buried deep and tried to outrun.

She clutched it tighter, her voice caught somewhere between grief and something that almost sounded like relief.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

Ekko didn’t say anything back—he just stayed beside her, close enough for her to lean into if she needed to.

“I know you two have been through hell but…we’re doing this for Vi too.” 

Ekko couldn’t shake the truth. No matter how tangled the past had become, Vi would always be family to him. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her fate happen in another universe. In their universe.

Jinx’s gaze lingered between Ekko and the worn bunny in her hands. Of all people, he was the only one who could understand how complex her love for Vi really was. Because he felt it too—that knot of loyalty and grief and hope that never quite untangled itself.

“She can ride the air balloon with us,” Jinx murmured, her fingers caressing the long, floppy ears. “I know just the spot.”

Ekko smiled faintly, content that she felt steady enough to say that. To include Vi. To carry her with them, in her own way.

As they continued walking through the empty streets, the weight of the day slowly settling into their bones, Jinx glanced back—one last look at the alleyway that had once held laughter, promise, and the beginning of everything.

Her sister had stood there once, shoulder to shoulder with her.

Now, it was coming down to them again—two sisters, caught on opposite ends of a war. 

A war that threatened to tear them apart… all over again.

—     —     —     

The morning was busy and chaotic, bustling with energy. A whirlwind of activity that somehow maintained structure as Scar, Ekko, and Sevika led each group to their coordinated tasks. Everyone was where they needed to be, moving with precision and lingering anxiety. 

It was hardly the time to prepare for a banquet. The last few waves of evacuations were looming, and everyone knew it. But it was a quiet agreement to carve out one last moment together—just them, just home. 

A memory to hold onto. Something warm to leave with the kids before everything changed.

“Come on,” Lou had said with a crooked grin, trying to mask the heaviness beneath her voice. “Who doesn’t want one last meal before everything turns to shit? Who knows when we’ll all see each other again?”

But that didn’t stop them from preparing for the war either. 

Ekko was immersed in working on his signature weapon, the rhythmic clank of metal against metal filling the air. He and Scar always preferred their blunt, powerful maces—tools designed for delivering devastating strikes against their enemies. 

They had limited time, but they were moving quickly with urgency, the dawn of war looming forward. They already witnessed the reality in their city.

Mothers and children held each other tightly with quiet fear, saying goodbye to husbands and fathers staying behind to fight. The elderly, who had spent decades running their small shops, stood at the doorways, closing up for what could be the last time, their faces etched with grief, bidding a farewell they never expected to make.

Nearby, Jinx was adding the final touches to Rhino—the towering machine gun with the brutal, angular shape of a rhino’s face. Steam hissed softly from the open vents as she tightened a final bolt. 

A small whirr echoed from the belly of the weapon as she tested the charging mechanism. It purred like a beast awakening—low, rumbling, and menacing.

“Atta boy,” she whispered with a grin, running a hand along the cooled steel like it was a living thing. 

It was her final gift to the battlefield. Brutal. Heavy. Beautiful.

Something that would scream Jinx across the sky.

The younger kids constantly flocked around her, their wide eyes gleaming with admiration. Some eagerly volunteered to help bring her tools, while others simply observed her work in awe, mesmerized by her nimble hands and the sparks that flew from her inventions.

Jinx had inspired a new special wave in them—a curiosity for invention and the realization that they too could create something extraordinary. 

Ekko was right, she did have the potential to change the world, one step at a time. In these small moments, she was making a difference.

“Jinx, what about you? You’re staying right?” Arielle asked, her voice laced with innocent hope. She was growing too attached, clinging to a bond Jinx wasn’t sure she could keep.

“She can fight!” Ana chimed in, pretending to punch the air with exaggerated motions. “Land a punch on those bad guys for us, Jinx!” 

Jinx found it hard to answer honestly. The words didn’t come easily, her chest tightening with her inner turmoil. Of course she needed to fight—for Zaun, for Ekko, for these kids who believed in her. 

But deep inside, a quiet mourning had already begun. She was grieving the safety and simplicity she’d found here, a sanctuary she’d never thought she’d deserve.

Her lips curved into a shaky grin. “I can’t leave without blowing a few things up, can I?” Her voice wavered, betraying the anxiety knotting itself tighter in her chest.

“Our girl savior, right guys?” Arielle said brightly, and the others chimed in with hopeful smiles.

Jinx forced a weak smile, standing abruptly. 

“I need to check on something. Don’t hang around too long, okay? You guys still need to evacuate soon,” she mumbled, stepping away before the aching feeling of seeing their hopeful faces overwhelmed her.

As she walked away, a wave of unease washed over her. The thought of stepping back into the outside world again—of facing the unknown horrors of war—clawed at her. 

She hadn’t realized how much the Firelights base felt like home to her now. 

Home. Friendship. Love. Protect. Everything she ever could’ve wanted, all fleeting from her eyes.

She looked around her, spotting Scar playing with Fang one last time, Lou and Kat preparing rations, the kids attempting to invent their last makeshift weapons…and Ekko, sitting underneath the tree, taking a small break, almost drifting into sleep. 

Drawn by the restless thoughts, she wandered toward the mural. Not Isha’s this time, but the one of Vi and Powder. 

She stopped in front of it, the hush of the evening pressing in around her. For a long moment, she said nothing, did nothing, just stood there—her gaze fixed on the faded paint, as if it held the answers her heart couldn’t voice. Her thoughts swirled in quiet chaos, each one louder than the last.

So…this is who I’m doing it for, huh? City of Zaun, past and present. And a future worth fighting for…

She stood in front of the mural, eyes locked on the painted version of herself and Vi—just kids in that memory. A quiet ache settled in her chest. And then, as if pulled from deep within, a heavy weight pressed down on her:

The responsibility to break the cycle. To protect what they once had. To give those two girls—no, the ones who came after—a chance at something better.

A lump formed in her throat as she wondered, How will I protect her this time?  

Vi had always been the fearless one, charging ahead, taking the hits so Jinx didn’t have to. Even when Jinx pushed her away. Even when she broke her heart.

The thought snagged at her insides like barbed wire. All that pain she caused—and still, Vi never stopped trying.

Jinx’s fingers tightened around her wrench, the weight of it grounding her. She took a gulp, forcing down the ache in her chest.

Alright…let’s show 'em how we do it in Zaun … Right, sis?

Her words carried strength but they were fragile beneath the storm that was already swirling in her mind. 

Turning back toward the group of Firelights, her gaze inadvertently met Ekko’s, who was now awake but with drowsy eyes. He smiled warmly at her, his expression full of quiet encouragement. 

She forced a small smile, the kind that masked the turmoil brewing underneath. But Jinx’s eyes betrayed her—they held a fleeting sense of worry and doubt she couldn’t quite shake.

—     —     —     

Jinx stared at the reflection in the mirror from where she sat curled up, her eyes hazy as she stared at the short, uneven cut she had asked for—one meant to resemble Vi’s. But now, staring at her reflection, it didn’t feel like a connection at all. 

Instead, it made her feel more distant, a reminder that she and Vi are so different, almost strangers. And maybe…they never truly belonged to be together. 

Just ghosts of who they used to be—sisters in name, strangers in spirit.

The rest of the day bled into one long, forgotten stretch. Jinx had lost the will to finish preparations, her fire dimming as the storm pressed in her mind. 

Instead, she retreated back to her room, curling up on the mattress, the edges of the world blurring around her. Her body coiled tight as though her limbs prevented the world from closing in. 

And maybe if she made herself small enough, the ache wouldn’t find her. Maybe becoming invisible could keep the past from reaching back in.

Her lips were raw, blood dotting the cracked skin from too many anxious bites. She chewed until it stung—until the sharpness gave her something real to feel. Eventually, her fingers found their way to the back of her hand, scratching absentmindedly at the skin, leaving red marks in their wake. 

It was the only way she could feel something, anything, amidst the numbness.

The walls around her became a blur as she stared at them, unblinking, not seeing, not feeling anything. Everything was too much, yet too little at the same time. Even her energy, the spark that had once driven her, felt distant now.

Her sister’s image clung to her thoughts like smoke—persistent and choking. Every time Vi reached for her, every time she tried to pull Jinx back into her life, it always ended with Vi getting hurt.

The memories came flooding in. Breaking out of her prison cell. Leaving Vi behind. Telling her to stop looking, to be happy with Caitlyn instead. It was supposed to be a blessing. A final act of love, maybe. 

But would Vi ever really let go? Would she ever stop choosing Jinx over her own happiness?

Jinx clenched her jaw, the bitterness curling in her chest.

The only way she can be happy is if I disappear, Jinx thought bitterly. Whether it’s by death or leaving Zaun entirely.

Either way, she would stop being the reason Vi keeps choosing pain. 

Her gaze drifted toward the bedside table—where something caught her eyes, glinting faintly in the low light.

Ekko’s broken stopwatch. 

The same one that had been shattered during their fight on the bridge, its tiny hands still stuck in place, as if the moment had never passed. A relic of that night. Of everything that changed.

She stared at it for a long time, her fingers twitching.

Maybe… maybe this could be the last thing she could fix for him. Her final gift. A farewell he’d find only when it was too late.

Without another thought, Jinx reached for her toolkit, grabbing only what she needed. She sat cross-legged on the floor, setting the watch on a cloth, her hands moving on autopilot. A screwdriver. A precision pin. A few careful twists. 

The world around her dulled to a low hum as she tinkered quietly, the familiar rhythm of mechanical work giving her focus. Control.

Then, she paused.

A gift meant something more with a message. Something real.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her knife and flipped the watch over. Then, slowly, she began to carve something into the metal. 

Her work was interrupted as she heard Ekko open the door to her— their —room. She looked up sharply at his reflection in the mirror, her brows furrowed with frustration. 

He’d seen the signs. A storm brewing behind her silence. She hadn’t eaten a single meal, had barely spoken to anyone. The usual fire in her movements was gone, replaced by quiet withdrawal and anxious pacing. 

Every hour, he checked on her, only to find her curled up in a different corner of the room—always small, always distant. And every time he spoke, she turned away.

Now, as dusk settled over the base, he approached her again. His steps were slow, deliberate, laced with concern that had been building all day.

“Jinx…” 

He stepped closer, then paused—his eyes catching the delicate movements of her hands over the broken stopwatch.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

She stared down at the broken stopwatch, her face twisted with restraint. The storm inside her crackled behind her eyes, barely contained. Then she let out a long, strained breath, like she’d been holding it in for hours—maybe longer.

“Jinx?” He knelt in front of her, eyes searching hers. “Please… talk to me.”

She looked up at him with sunken eyes, her anxiety clawing just beneath the surface. The fear of hurting Vi, the guilt gnawing at her for even thinking of letting go, the aching hope that maybe—just maybe—Vi could be happy without her… it all twisted inside her like a storm she couldn’t quiet.

Ekko had loved Vi once too—still did, in his own way. And that made this harder. He understood what family meant, what loss meant. 

But would he understand this ?

Her gaze lingered on his face, studying him like he might already hold the answer. She searched for a flicker of judgment, compassion, something to anchor herself to in the chaos unraveling inside her.

The silence stretched—fraught, delicate—until she finally drew a breath, cracked and trembling, and spoke the words that had been haunting her.

“I don’t think I belong in Vi’s life,” she said at last, the words slipping out like a confession. “When our lives get tangled, it becomes a mess. Like it’s cursed because of me.”

Ekko’s lips parted, ready to argue—but she beat him to it.

“Jinx—”

“I know,” she said, her voice cracking. “I know you hate when I say that. You’ve been trying so hard to make me believe I’m not broken. And I see it. I do.”

She glanced at him, eyes raw. “But with Vi… it’s different. That kind of damage—it’s old. It’s deep. And I don’t think I can undo it.”

She paused, her expression heavy and bitter. “We can’t even be together in another universe…That’s why I told her to be happy with Caitlyn and forget about me.”

Ekko frowned but remained calm. “Vi could never forget about you, Jinx. You’re the reason she survived. She kept going in Stillwater just so she could see you again.”

“What if she hadn’t?! What if she just met Caitlyn and didn’t search for me? Maybe she wouldn’t have to choose anymore. She could just choose to be happy .” 

Ekko stepped closer, eyes locked on hers. “Who says she can’t have both?” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled with the thought of having a spot in Vi’s life. “She’ll still worry about me too much! It’s better if I just—”

“Just what?” Ekko’s tone grew tense now, his patience waning. His fists clenched. He knew what she was about to say, and he hated it.

“I—...Let’s just say…” she whispered, forcing a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “If I end up in a life-threatening situation during the battle… don’t come and save me, Boy Savior.”

Ekko allowed the words to settle in his head for a moment but they were slicing through him like a sharp knife. 

Anger surged through Ekko like a wave, his voice trembling as it rose. “Jinx, if you think I’m just going to stand by and let that happen—”

She didn’t flinch, but her eyes flickered with pain. “Even if I survive, I don’t think I can stay in Zaun. Not near Vi. Not like this. Every time we try to hold on to each other, someone ends up bleeding.”

“So that’s it?” His voice cracked, raw. “You’re fine with that? Those are your only options? To die, or run?”

Her silence was enough of an answer.

He took a step closer, desperate now. “Jinx, there has to be more than that. We can be more than that.”

She shook her head, barely above a whisper. “It’s not about me. It’s for Vi. She deserves a life where she’s not constantly looking over her shoulder for me. Ekko, it’s for the sake of—”

“Then what about me?!” Ekko burst out, his frustration spilling over. “What about me, Jinx? You’re just going to leave all this behind? Vi? The last piece of your family?….Even me?” 

Jinx’s eyes were wide, her breathing uneven. “Ekko… I don’t want it to be the same with you. I can’t ruin you too. I can break the cycle…!”

“No,” Ekko said firmly. “She can have both, Jinx. Just like how you can have both me and her in your life. This isn’t about breaking the cycle. This isn’t your burden to carry alone. You’re not the one breaking anything. You’re not the thing that needs fixing. ”

Tears began to slip down her cheeks, unrelenting now. She shook her head, her voice breaking. 

“I don’t want to leave you, Ekko… I don’t . But this—this is the only way Vi can stop worrying. The only way she can live her life without feeling like she has to protect me.”

Ekko took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his voice dropping to something raw and vulnerable. 

“And what if… what if I can’t be happy without you?” He met her gaze fully, eyes glassy but firm. “Will you stay for that?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how much she meant to him—and how much he meant to her. 

For a moment, she couldn’t speak—just stood there, frozen, staring at him like he had just handed her something she never believed she could hold.

Happiness.

Her happiness.

She had never truly considered it—only survival, only guilt, only keeping others safe from the wreckage she left behind. 

But now, for the first time, she wondered: What would my happiness look like?  

A life where she wasn’t just the storm, but the calm after it. A life with Vi. A life with Ekko.

Did she deserve that?

She thought about him. About them . Every memory flooded back—his arms around her when she couldn’t breathe, his voice steadying her through the noise, his lips pressing warmth into the broken pieces of her. Every time he told her she wasn’t too far gone. 

That she could have good things. That she was good.

Could that really last?

“Jinx,” Ekko said, stepping closer. “Am I enough to stay for?”

Her lips trembled at his words, but her heart refused to hope. Refused to imagine a version of the story where everyone made it out alive.

“Ekko…we both know what will happen. Someone won’t be staying. Either you, Vi, or me. There’s always a casket. Always…”

His jaw clenched, but his voice remained calm—stubborn with belief.

“What if it’s different this time?”

She scoffed, her voice sharp with grief.  “How do you know that?!”

“Because I will be there!” he said, stepping closer. “Not in the shadows. Not one step behind like before. I’ll be right beside you—and so will everyone else. You and Vi won’t be alone. I promise , I won’t be late this time.”

“Ekko, please…I can’t afford to lose you or Vi. Or both of you! Do you understand what that would do to me? I would just—” 

Her voice broke, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden. But when she opened them again, her gaze burned with a painful intensity.

“I would just join both of you,” she confessed, her voice breaking as the tears finally fell. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t be able to keep going!”

She paused, breath catching in her throat. Her hands balled into trembling fists, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“I won’t let that happen!” Ekko’s voice rose, not with anger, but with fervent belief. 

“Once this is all over, you have a chance to be happy. With Vi. With me. We could build something, Jinx. Something real. The world’s a mess, yeah—but there’s still a piece of it that’s ours. Why can’t we hold onto that? Just…pick up our little slice of happiness after the chaos?”

“Ekko, please! ” she shouted, her voice breaking as her hands flew up in frustration. “You’re saying all this now, but we don’t know what’s coming! We never do! We don’t know what’s waiting around the corner!”

Her breathing quickened, and her voice softened into something more fragile, more haunted. “I get it, I’ve found a purpose here. But when it comes to Vi…We’re not built for hope. We don’t get happy endings.”

Her eyes met his, blurry and raw, but defiant. The weight of her fear, the fear of ruining everything, of being the one to lose everything again, pressed down like a tide she couldn’t fight.

“Is that why you’re leaving me this watch?” His voice cracked, thick with disbelief. 

“So I can carry this around instead of having you by my side? Jinx, is that really what you think I want?”

His eyes searched hers, pained and pleading.

“A broken memory instead of a future?”

Jinx clutched the watch tightly, the cool metal pressing into her palm as his words echoed in her mind, sinking deeper with every breath.

“And what if this time, you do get a happy ending?” His voice dropped again, desperation creeping in. 

“ How? You can’t be the Boy Savior for everyone—”

“I CAN TRY! ” Ekko’s voice cracked with passion, chest heaving as he stepped forward. “For once, I can finally try! I always had to leave—you, Vi, everything I cared about. But I’m tired of running. Tired of abandoning the people I love. Tired of abandoning you. ”

Jinx’s breathing became ragged. She didn’t want to slip back—not after everything. But thinking about Vi… it peeled open the old wound. The reason Powder had to die. The reason she renamed herself.

Because what Vi said had always rung true— she would always jinx it. Their bond. Their fragile, hopeful bond would always unravel by her hands.

“The only pain I’ll ever feel is losing you. Again!” Ekko’s voice trembled now, fury and heartbreak tangled in his throat. 

“You keep pushing everyone away,” Ekko said, his voice low but tight. “Shutting them out before they can reach you…”

He hesitated, his jaw clenched as he searched her face—unsure if he should say it, knowing what it might stir in her.

“But Jinx—Vi wouldn’t want that…”

A breath.

A pause that held too much weight.

“…And Isha wouldn’t want that.”

Her head jerked up at the sound of that name.

Like it shattered something inside her.

“ DON’T! ” Jinx snapped, her voice rising in a desperate pitch.

“When it comes to me, Vi will ruin herself!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to do this, Ekko! I don’t know how to protect all of you! Everyone I care about either leaves or—”

“ Then let me help you! ” Ekko cut in, his hand reaching for hers with a quiet urgency. “Let me stay. Let me be the one who makes sure you don’t lose anyone else!”

She looked at him, eyes wide, glassy, overwhelmed—her heart on the edge of a cliff. 

“You don’t get it, Ekko…” Her voice trembled. “If I lose you …or Vi …”

“You won’t,” he said, his grip tightening, like he could will it into truth. “You won’t lose anyone. I promise you. ”

But Jinx yanked her hand away, her head shaking as if the words burned. 

“ Promises don’t mean anything! ” she shouted. “They don’t bring people back, Ekko!”

The words stung her tongue as her thoughts spiraled back to Isha. If only. 

If only promises could rewrite the past. If only her promises to protect someone actually brought them back. 

“Jinx, please,” Ekko begged, his voice breaking now.

But she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stay. The thought of Isha—of failing her—confirmed every fear festering in her chest. Her head throbbed like it would split open.

“ Stop! ” she gasped, her voice raw as she spun on her heel. She shoved past him, dropping the watch on the floor, and stormed out the door before he could stop her.

The slam echoed through the room like a gunshot, leaving only silence in its wake. Ekko stood there, frozen in place, her absence weighing down on him like gravity.

His shoulders sagged, his chest heavy with defeat. 

"Why can’t you stay by my side?" he whispered to the empty space she left behind.

The clock twitched once more. 

Still broken. Still stuck in time.

Ekko stared at it, unmoving, his gaze heavy with thought. Slowly, he reached out, fingers brushing over the worn metal casing. He turned it over in his palm—then paused.

Etched into the back in scrawled, uneven handwriting were the words:

Jinx was here!

—  —  —

Jinx paced restlessly across the open plaza, the heart of Zaun’s undercity where Vander’s statue stood tall and weathered by time. The deep night wrapped the space in an eerie hush, broken only by the distant hum of pipes and the occasional flicker of faulty neon.

It was the kind of silence that felt too heavy—like the city was holding its breath. Even the wind moved cautiously here, threading through alleyways and curling around the statue’s feet like it, too, remembered the man who once kept this city from burning.

She kicked at a loose cluster of gravel, her boots scraping against the worn stone as she muttered under her breath, each word lost to the stillness around her.

“He’s crazy. Like, actually insane. One boy can’t save the whole world,” she scoffed, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the thought.

She made another sharp turn, boots skimming the dust, but when her eyes landed on Vander’s statue, her steps faltered. She stopped, slowly lifting her gaze to meet the face carved in stone—stoic, silent.

Vander. Silco.

Both fathers. Both gone.

A memory flickered in the quiet. Vander’s laugh, low and comforting, as he carried her and Vi to bed. The way his voice hummed that tune from the bar, arms warm and steady, always a shield from the world. She could still see the candlelight swaying in the dark as he blew it out.

Jinx let out a scoff, bitter and quiet.

“You know, Dad…I used to put someone to sleep too. A little girl. You probably saw us running around Zaun like lunatics…”

She paused, her throat tightening as Isha’s face filled her mind—bright-eyed, eager, always reaching out with small hands and a big heart. 

Just like her. Just like Powder once was. A child desperate to help, to matter. To be enough.

And the cycle never ended.

Jinx swallowed hard, her chest aching with devastation.

And then, as if he were standing beside her in the dark, conjured by the guilt and memory wrapped around her ribs, she heard his voice.

Silco.

His voice crept in like smoke—clear and inescapable. Just like that night they both stood here.

Is there anything so undoing…as a daughter?

Her shoulders trembled, the sound of his voice echoing in her ears.

It was just a memory. Just a whisper of the past. But it felt real.

Jinx’s knees buckled slightly as she reached for her side, gripping the strap of her belt like it could keep her upright. The night was too quiet, too still. The silence around Vander’s statue suddenly felt like judgment—like the ghosts of Zaun were watching her, waiting for her to unravel again.

And maybe she already was.

Maybe this is how Vi saw her back then—something fragile to protect, to keep sheltered. That’s why she made Powder stay behind that night.

And maybe…maybe if she had done the same with Isha—kept her safe, wrapped in some untouchable bubble like Vi tried to do for her.

Then maybe…Isha would still be alive.

Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“It all makes sense now, Dad…Maybe if I had stayed behind that day…If Isha stayed behind that day…everything could’ve been different.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the tears finally spilled over, like a dam that had cracked without warning. Every moment flashed through her—every slap, every scream, every time Vi or Mylo called her a jinx.

It all made sense now.

Why she was kept behind. Why Vi tried so hard to protect her. 

Why, in the end, it still wasn’t enough.

And this— this —was why Jinx couldn’t bear to doom Vi any further. She had seen it clearly the moment Vi visited her in that cold prison cell. That quiet, torn look in her sister’s eyes, caught between duty and love.

As long as Vi kept having to choose between her and Caitlyn… she’d never truly be free. Never truly be happy.

Vi shouldn’t have to worry about me anymore, Jinx thought bitterly. She should get to live her life without feeling like I’m the weight chaining her down.

But even as the words settled in her mind, her heart ached.

Because she waited.

God, she waited.

For years she clung to that flicker of hope—that maybe, just maybe, her sister was still alive. That one day, the torch she kept safe, the smoke signal she fired into the sky, would guide Vi home.

What she didn’t expect was the version of Vi who came back. Changed. Different.

But so was she.

Powder had fallen down a well. And Jinx… Jinx was the one who crawled out.

“A thousand times…I’ve imagined the moment I could see Vi again…But never like this…”

She stared upward, eyes brimming, the tears stinging as she blinked them back.

“All I ever wanted…was my sister back.” 

She scoffed bitterly, the ache rising to her throat.

“But guess what, Dads…! We can’t even be together in another universe. We’ll always be doomed. Two sisters destined to hurt each other.”

Her voice faltered again—more fear creeping in.

“Is that…Is that what it’s going to be like for me and Ekko? Are we doomed too?”

“You’re not a calamity, Jinx,” came a voice behind her.

She made a sharp turn towards the voice and suddenly, her steps faltered, almost sending her off balance as a sudden wave of nausea hit her like a punch to the gut. She doubled over, hands gripping her knees, before stumbling toward the nearby faucets. 

The retching came fast and hard, her body heaving violently.

When it passed, she crouched there, panting hard, her breath shaky. Sweat dampened the strands of blue hair hanging in her face. Her reflection rippled in the growing puddle beneath the faucet—panicked eyes, flushed cheeks, a hint of something she couldn’t name.

Turning on the faucet, she cupped her hands beneath the stream of water, rinsing her mouth to banish the bitter taste of bile, though she could sense something deeper about this abrupt sickness.

“M-Must’ve eaten spoiled food…” she muttered, as she tried to face Scar.

When she turned around, Scar was standing there, arms crossed and brow raised.

“Trouble in paradise?” Scar asked.

Her eyes narrowed as her fingers twitched toward her weapon out of instinct. Her defenses were sky-high, but her expression faltered when she saw him. 

Scar stood there, his usual calm demeanor betraying no emotion, just an air of knowing her better than she was comfortable with.

“Ugh. Ekko’s shadow. His right-hand man!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air theatrically, then landing on her hips. 

Scar rolled his eyes, a subtle gesture that reminded her of Sevika’s exasperation whenever Jinx went off the rails. 

“You don't look so good, Jinx.” Scar approached cautiously, but the concern threading through it was unmistakable. He was watching her closely—watching the way her chest rose in uneven, strained breaths, her face even paler than usual.

“It already passed,” she shot back, her voice rough, cracked.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, avoiding his gaze.

“That fast?” he asked, not accusing—just careful.

“Yeah, why?” She straightened, trying to sound more stable than she felt. “You trying to play doctor or something now?”

Scar didn’t answer right away. He took a half-step closer, his expression shifting—eyes narrowing, lips tightening like he was weighing whether or not to say something.

“Jinx…” His tone had changed. Quieter. More deliberate. “You might have morning sickness.”

Her entire body went still.

She stared at him, hard, as if the intensity of her gaze could freeze time and prevent whatever was about to leave his mouth.

“What… What’s with that look, Scar?”

He hesitated. Then—like the word was a bomb he didn’t want to hand her, but knew she had to carry—he finally let it fall.

“Um…I think you’re…you might be…”

Her fists clenched. Her mind screamed.

Jinx held her breath, her world swirling, but deep down she knew the word he was about to say. 

Don’t say it , she pleaded, her thoughts echoing, Don’t fucking say it .

“Pregnant.”

The word detonated inside her like a grenade.

Pregnant. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Pregnant? There’s no way. 

Me and Ekko…Ekko…Our child? 

Her knees nearly buckled as her heart dropped, pounding so violently it echoed in her ears. Her stomach churned again, not from sickness—but from shock.

This can’t be real. It’s not real.

Everything—Ekko, Vi, the war—suddenly felt a million miles away.

That word.

Only that word remained.

Chapter Text

“Pregnant.”

The word struck her like a fatal blow.  

Pregnant. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Pregnant? There’s no way.

Her mind raced, desperate for an escape. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

She clung to the hope that it was just another delusion. Another voice, another cruel trick of her mind. Maybe Scar wasn’t even standing there. Maybe none of this was real.

She looked up, her hands trembling violently as she eyed Scar, her laugh sharp and cracking under her growing panic.

“Real funny, Scar,” she said with a hollow chuckle. “You’re just in my head, aren’t you?”

Scar’s expression hardened, but he didn’t flinch.

“Wish I was,” he said quietly. “But I’m very real, Jinx. And so is…that child.”

Child.

The word sliced through her like a blade. A living child. Inside her. Ekko’s child.

No. No, no, no.

The truth crashed down on her, suffocating and inescapable. Her knees buckled under the truth, and she dropped to the ground, hands instinctively flying to her stomach—hovering there, unsure, terrified—as if she could push the nightmare away.

Her mind clawed at anything to hold onto.

But all it found was Isha.

The little girl who had been her second chance. Her Powder.

Isha’s laughter, Isha’s tiny hands gripping hers, Isha’s trust.

Gone. Lost because she couldn’t protect her.

I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t save her. What makes me think I can save this one?

The panic spiraled, tightening in her chest until she could barely breathe.

She wasn’t ready for this.

She wasn’t strong enough.

She wasn’t enough .

She had failed Isha—failed her completely. And now? Now the world was cruelly offering her another chance on a platter. 

Another life to fail. Another soul to curse with her touch.

How could she do this again? 

How could she bring a child into a world that had already taken so much from her? A world where everything she touched turned to ash?

Tears blurred her vision. She continued pressing her trembling hands to her stomach, terror clawing its way up her throat.

“Listen, Jinx…”

Scar’s voice broke through the chaos, careful, measured—as if he knew she was on the brink of spiraling beyond reach.

“We’re not certain yet. But…” He hesitated, searching her face. “When my wife was pregnant, she had the same symptoms.”

Jinx jerked her head up, panic flashing across her tear-streaked face.

“Are you… Are you sure I’m not just poisoned or something? Please—” she choked out a humorless laugh. 

“I’d rather be poisoned right now.”

“This…This isn’t like food poisoning, Jinx. That makes you puke all day. But…this morning sickness comes and goes quickly. Like, really quickly. It left as fast as it came right?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as the tears slipped free.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking open. “I shouldn’t. I could never… not again. I’ll ruin them. I’ll ruin everything. ”

Scar crouched down a few feet away, careful not to push too close, letting her have space—but refusing to leave her adrift. His tone softened even further, gentler than she thought possible.

“You don’t know that, Jinx.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes burning a fierce, shimmering pink, raw and defensive.

“Shut up! You don’t know me!” she spat, her voice shaking under all her fear.

But Scar didn’t move.

He stayed where he was, his eyes remained kind but certain—carrying a rare strength.

“I know enough,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you fight for people you care about. I’ve seen you take risks no one else would—but you kept going.”

He leaned in just slightly, his words firm, honest.

“I’ve seen you love, Jinx. That’s more than enough to be a mother.”

Love. Mother.

The words slammed into her like a blow to the ribs—because somewhere, buried deep beneath the fear, a part of her ached to believe it.

To believe that her love could change things.

That her love for Vi could’ve been enough.

That if she wasn’t just Silco’s weapon—she could’ve been more.

That maybe… if she had loved Isha enough, she wouldn't have selfishly let her get caught in the crossfire.

But the voices returned—sharp, hissing, cruel.

Every time you love someone, it ends in ruin.

Your love is a jinx!

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”

The words tore from her throat as she yanked her handgun out faster than Scar could blink. She fired into the empty air, the sound shattering the fragile stillness around them.

Scar’s eyes widened, but he stayed rooted in place, his hands lowering slowly, offering no threat, no sudden movements. He just watched her—the way her whole body trembled, the way her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose like she could physically crush the storm in her head.

The gunshot had been enough.

Enough to rip open the chaos and let a sliver of breath through. Her voice came ragged, barely held together.

“Love is a curse. My curse. Everyone I care about…ends up hurt. Or dead.”

Scar let her breathe, let her fight through it. And then, quietly, he delivered the one name—the one truth—that broke through her panic.

“Not Ekko.”

The static in her mind faltered. For the first time since the sickness had hit her, it calmed.

Ekko.

The boy who had said it so freely— I love you.

The boy who had kissed the worst parts of her and didn’t walk away.

The boy who made her believe, if only just a little, that she wasn't doomed to destroy everything she touched.

Her heart seized at the thought.

Maybe, with him, the curse didn’t have to win.

That small, fragile hope flickered somewhere in her chest—the same hope Ekko had been trying to build in her for weeks. The same steady hand that pulled her out of the darkness again and again.

But... would the cycle really stop there?

Would it be any different with this child? With Vi?

How could Ekko promise she wouldn’t ruin them too?

Her hands fell limply to her sides, the trembling in her fingers finally stilling into a cold, helpless ache.

Her gaze dropped to the ground, and a tortured look crossed her face—pleading, desperate—for this all to be some cruel, fixable mistake.

It was still a child. And she wasn’t ready.

She had never even allowed herself to dream of this—never let herself imagine a world where she could be someone’s mother.

Not even when she tucked Isha into bed at night, whispering dreams of a better future she was too scared to believe in.

She could barely believe she deserved a place in Vi’s life—how could she believe she could bring another life into the world without cursing it too?

Without dooming them from the very beginning?

Her heart clenched painfully.

I’ll fail them before they even have a chance.

I’ll jinx them just by loving them.

Scar crouched lower beside her, his voice breaking gently through the storm raging in her mind—attempting to anchor her panic.

“Jinx… you need to tell Ekko.”

Scar’s voice was almost pleading.

Her head snapped toward him so fast it made her dizzy, her Shimmer-lit eyes blazing bright pink, crackling with raw panic.

“I…I cannot…tell him…” she rasped through clenched teeth.

“He has to know, Jinx…,” Scar said firmly, unmoving. “Don’t go through this alone.”

“I… I just found out five minutes ago… I need to—”

Her words crumbled as the piercing voices began to claw their way in again.

Jinx!

You know what you are!

Her name is JINX!

Jinx. Jinx!

“…SHUT UP!” she screamed at the empty air, the voices crashing her mind relentlessly. “ Everyone shut up! I need to think …”

“Jinx!” Scar’s voice cracked through the storm, calling her back to reality. 

He crouched a little closer, his voice gentler now. 

“Please, take your time to process but…the war. You need to make it out alive.” 

He hesitated, then glanced down toward her stomach.

“All three of you.”

Three. 

There were three now. The number slammed into her chest harder than any punch could have.

A…A family. 

The word tasted like poison in her mouth. Was she really about to curse another family? A family she unintentionally created by her own hands?

“But what if it all just… gets—”

“Jinxed?”

Scar cut in smoothly, without missing a beat.

Her glare snapped toward him, a flicker of warning flashing in her eyes—but he didn’t draw back.

If anything, he seemed ready for it.

“Wake up, Jinx,” Scar urged gently.

“Ekko has never given up on you.”

He paused, then added with a faint smirk, arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, grounded way.

“I used to tell him he was an idiot, you know,” Scar said casually, crossing his arms, his voice threading somewhere between humor and regret.

“I told him he couldn’t save Powder. Couldn’t save everyone. That sometimes…”

He shrugged slightly.

“Sometimes you have to leave things behind.”

Jinx’s gaze hardened, suspicious—but curiosity flickered just barely beneath her walls.

“But he never listened,” Scar continued.

“Even after he said Powder was gone. Even after all the fighting, all the years… he never stopped talking about you. About Jinx.”

Scar’s mouth quivered into a half-smirk.

“Every damn time. You were always there. Always on his mind.”

Jinx scoffed weakly. “Oh, so he’s clingy.”

“He’s in love with you,” Scar said bluntly. 

The words struck heavier than any bullet.

“At first, I thought he was crazy too,” Scar said quietly. “Told him over and over to give it up. Let you go. Told him there were easier battles to fight.”

He paused, studying her.

“But he didn’t. Couldn’t.”

Scar’s voice dropped, almost like he was sharing a secret meant for no one else.

“Love makes you do stupid things. Irrational things. Impossible things. But it’s still love, Jinx.”

Jinx’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability she couldn’t quite mask. 

“I can’t afford to be stupid anymore…” her hand instinctively twitching towards her stomach. 

Scar tilted his head, reading the war behind her Shimmer-glowing eyes.

And then, his voice dropped low.

Sharper, because he knew she could take it.

“If you can believe in his love…”

He waited—made sure she was listening.

“…then why can’t you believe in yourself too?”

The words slid under her skin.

She flinched—not visibly, not dramatically—but enough that Scar caught it. Enough that her fingers twitched at her sides, desperate for something to hold onto. Enough that her gaze darted away, toward the cracked pavement like it could offer her an answer.

“I’m not…” she croaked, her throat raw.

“I’m not enough. Not for Vi. Not for—”

Her hand pressed firmly against her belly, the realization crashing down again.

“…not for anyone.”

Scar didn’t argue. He just spoke a truth she had no choice to hear. 

“You’re already enough.”

He slowly placed his hand on her trembling shoulder.

“You were enough when you couldn’t see it. You’re enough right now, Jinx.” 

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, hard enough to hurt.

Her chest ached, every old wound reopening all at once.

“Let someone believe in you,” Scar said.

“Let him believe in you. That you’re worth saving too.”

For a moment—just a moment—the voices in her head went quiet.

No accusations. No screaming.

Just a trembling, fragile silence.

A silence that sounded suspiciously like hope.

“Maybe you’re right,” Scar admitted, his voice losing some of its usual edge, softening into something closer to weary honesty. He dropped his hand, his gaze shifting to the empty streets. 

“War always demands a toll. But I don’t think he’ll let you pay it. Not you. Not her.”

Jinx’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing into a sharp, dangerous gleam.

Her voice dropped into a low, soft growl.

“How do you know it’s a girl?”

Scar just shrugged, casual but not careless.

“Just a hunch,” he said. His lips quirked in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Fits the theme, huh?”

Jinx stiffened, holding herself together. The thought of a daughter, another fragile thing she might break, wrapped itself around her ribs.  

Scar leaned back, fully sitting on the cold ground against Vander’s statue now. His eyes stayed fixed on Jinx.

"You don't have to save this kid from yourself, Jinx."

His words cut clean, not cruel.

"You just have to love them."

It was simple.

Too simple.

Jinx’s breath caught, sharp and uneven, as she pulled her knees tighter against her chest, curling into herself like she was trying to disappear.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps as the words burrowed deep, stirring the most dangerous thing inside her— hope.

Love.

Not perfection.

Not protection.

Not saving them from the world, or from herself.

Just love.

Scar didn't touch her—he knew better.

He just stayed nearby, steady as stone, letting her fight it out inside her own skin.

Tears blurred her vision, but she still whispered, cracked and raw:

"But what if love...isn't enough?"

Scar let out a low, tired breath, like he knew the answer too well.

"Sometimes it won’t be. Sometimes the world will still be cruel. But love…Love is the only thing that ever made anything better."

He shrugged lightly, a bitter smile ghosting his lips.

"Without it...what’s the point?"

Jinx hugged her arms tighter around herself, rocking slightly where she sat on the ground.

“It’s not just me or Vi anymore,” she muttered into the crook of her arm, her voice rough and muffled.

“I was ready to die for her. That was fine. It was just my life to throw away. But now…”

She gave a hollow laugh, bitter and shaky. “Now you’re telling me I’m carrying another life? One I’m supposed to protect by staying alive? Seriously? This has to be some sick joke.”

Scar tilted his head, studying her like he was seeing through every wall she tried to put up.

“Or…This kid is already telling you your life is worth it. Besides, do you really think Ekko wouldn’t die to protect both of you? And Vi?”

Her body stiffened. The retort sat on the tip of her tongue—but it never came. Instead, her next words came out small, raw.

“…I’m not okay with that.”

“Neither is he,” Scar said quietly. “Neither of you wants to lose the other. So why fight alone?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her breath caught, her mind racing.

“You say one boy can’t save everyone,” Scar went on. “But what if it’s both of you? You and Ekko—together. You wouldn’t just survive. You two would be unstoppable .”

Jinx let out a short snort, rolling her eyes, but the crack in her armor was showing.

“What, so now I’m the Girl Savior too?”

Scar smirked, amused.

“Has a nice ring to it.”

Then, his grin turned almost teasing. “Did he ever tell you what they called you two in the alternate universe?”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust immediately.

“Ugh. Zaun’s Royalty. Idiots…,” she grumbled, but the faintest trace of warmth flickered in her chest.

Scar’s words rattled the foundations of her doubts.

If anyone could understand how much Vi meant to her, it was Ekko. If he knew what she was carrying in her belly…

He would do whatever it took to keep them safe—all of them.

Maybe it was time she believed in that.

Maybe it was time she trusted him to be The Boy Savior.

Scar laughed, the rare sound catching her off guard. 

“Come on, Jinx. Be scared of jumping into this alone if you want. But with Ekko, that leap of faith should be a little less terrifying, don’t you think? Maybe…maybe idiots can still be a family.”

Jinx sat motionless, her gaze locked on the ground, her fingers grasping her arms as the grip of her fears pressed down. 

She had never asked to be anyone’s savior. She had never wanted it.

But life had a cruel sense of humor.

First, it had been Isha—a little girl who had dared to light a flame inside her heart when she thought she had none left.

And now…

Now, another tiny life had been sparked inside her. Unplanned, uninvited—and yet, entirely necessary.

Somehow, without meaning to, this little heartbeat already tethered her to the world in a way nothing else had.

Where once she would’ve died without a second thought, allowing Vi and Ekko to be free from her misfortunes.

Now, there was something—someone she couldn’t walk away from.

Love really does make you do stupid things.

But the thought of telling Ekko? That terrified her even more.

What if she broke whatever fragile, beautiful thing they’d built?

A single tear slipped down her cheek and she spoke her fear out loud before she could even stop herself.

“I’m scared, Scar…” she whispered, her hands curling into trembling fists at her sides.

“What if I tell him... and he looks at me differently?”

Her words cracked at the end, barely stitched together, as if the very act of saying it out loud made it real.

The idea alone crushed her.

The thought of Ekko pulling away from her, of seeing something other than love when he looked at her—

It was unbearable.

Scar’s expression softened, the sharpness in him dissolving into something older, heavier.

“Jinx,” he said, firm but kind, “He’s already seen the worst of you. And he’s still here.”

He waited, making sure she was really listening.

“And he’s not just here,” Scar added quietly.

“He’s staying. ”

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, another tear slipping free.

She was terrified.

Terrified down to her bones.

But for this little life growing inside her, she had to be ready. Even if she had to tear apart every part of herself to do it.

A vow to this child.

A vow to fight, no matter the cost.

With a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped, the last remnants of her defiance crumbling.

And when she looked up, her voice was strained, but still carried that familiar sharp edge—the part of her that refused to break.

“If Ekko or my sister… or this kid… gets hurt because of me,” she muttered, turmoil flashing in her eyes, “I’m nuking both cities.”

The air hung silent for a beat—

Then Scar chuckled, shaking his head with a wry smile.

Even Jinx felt the faintest flicker of relief thread through her chest, a pressure easing just slightly.

“As long as you give me a chance to run, Girl Savior,” Scar replied with a small smile.

—  —  —

Jinx perched on one of the Firelight tree’s thick branches, the cool night air biting against her skin as her thoughts raced. Her legs dangled loosely, the branch creaking under her slight weight, the sound swallowed by the hush of the sleeping base.

When Scar walked her back, she was still fragile, arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. Scar kept stealing glances at her, worried she might slip away again if he so much as blinked.

But when she reached the base, her steps were heavier—yet determined.

Almost without thinking, her hand brushed over her stomach—a quiet, protective gesture.

For the first time, she wasn’t walking back for herself.

She was walking back for this child.

Her gaze lowered to her stomach, eyes soft with wonder—a quiet reverence as her mind tried to wrap around the timing of it all. 

You really picked one hell of a time to show up, Little Bug.

The dead of night wrapped around her like a thin blanket. From her spot in the tree, she could see the faint light still flickering in their room.

Ekko was awake.

Waiting.

She lingered, collecting the scattered pieces of her mind before she faced him. Her thoughts drifted to Isha—her little flame, her stubborn spark.

You didn’t reincarnate just to keep me alive, did you, kid? she thought grimly, looking down at her stomach, a bitter smile flickering and dying at the corners of her lips.

The unborn child inside her felt strangely familiar. Like a small, stubborn ember refusing to go out. A reason to move forward, even when everything else was falling apart. And try as she might, she couldn’t push it away anymore.