Chapter Text
7 months.
Looking through the window, Ekko’s gaze was stuck on the dark heavy cloud that hung in the sky. Perfect day to do this, he thought. Shitty looking sky for a shitty feeling day. Fitting. Not like any of this was useful to begin with. Not like any of this could change anything at all.
Seated at the edge of the large orange chair right next to the big window overlooking the street, his elbows settled into his knees, he twisted the deep blue ring around his index finger, feeling the skin beneath beginning to get sore. A habit to comfort him. A habit he inherited from her. He never understood why she fidgeted with her hands so much when she was stressed or anxious, but he was thankful for the tell. At least he could know how she felt, at least he could do something about it.
But now that it was his own, he got it. It was about focusing the rush she felt into something, rather than letting it consume her. A small repetitive task, she did over and over again. Pinching the inside of her wrist or the skin between her thumb and index finger, scratching the polish on her thumbs. Self-soothing it was called.
Self-soothing.
Looking back at all the things he should have done but never did, he wondered why in the moment she let him know she was pregnant, he didn’t just hold her hand. Why he let her pinch her skin until it was red instead, until she couldn’t take it anymore and walked away, leaving him behind in the café, phone and coffee still on the table.
The pinching of her skin she did, when she was troubled. He noticed it the first time, when he mentioned her childhood, how she pinched the skin on her foot, sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. It wasn’t something he got to see often. But he did by the end, far too often around him.
That’s what he’d been told. It was self-soothing for her. Something else for him, a way to hold onto her. Mirroring something that was intrinsically her. Hers. He picked up her habit and was told it was grief manifesting physically. A piece of J-… A piece of her that stayed with him. A proof she had been a part of his life for a… little while. Little, huh…
How cruel of a reminder, all that’s left of her.
Funny his body thought it ever necessary, the extra reminder.
“Eight years ago…” Ekko said, the skin under his ring begging him to stop, “That was eight years ago. Mhm… You asked what brought me here, it’s…”
The words sat heavy in his mouth, talking about… All of it wasn’t easy, but it’s something he needed to do. He owed it to her, the little one with the runny nose. He did. He didn’t believe any of it was useful, at all. But he needed to try it at the very least.
His fingers twisted the ring again, digging it against his knuckle, but the pressure wasn’t enough. It never was. Twisting the ring had a purpose, after all.
“The biggest mistake of my life,” he murmured.
The confession was welcomed by silence as he stopped twisting the ring and looked at it. The exact same shade of blue against his skin. The worst shade of blue.
Finally, the question came. “Why?”
Ekko exhaled, slow. His eyes flickered to the window again, to the dark clouds that swallowed the sky. The dripping that begun as the downpour was about to start.
“If she hadn’t met me,” he started, “she’d still be alive somewhere.”
It felt definitive, something he had known all along but never wanted to put into words. Like an answer he had been running from. The truth. So, he said it again.
“She would still be alive if I left her alone from the very beginning.”
He clasped both his hands together and held them tight. If twisting the ring didn’t hurt him enough to dull the pain in his chest, then maybe if he squeezed his fingers tightly enough, he’d break them. Would that amount on pain be enough to make the rest quiet?
“She would’ve been somewhere else rather than… She’d...” His throat burned. He swallowed, hard, before forcing out, “She’d wouldn’t… She would be alive.”
His fingers didn’t stop moving. The ring pressed deeper into his skin.
“She could’ve had a whole life without me, if I stayed away,” he whispered. “And I could’ve lived with that. If it meant she was still here, I could’ve lived with that.”
“And you can’t now?”
Ekko didn’t answer, he breathed through his nose instead, slowly.
“Is it something you could have predicted?” The new question came after another beat of silence.
“No… I just wish I could rewind time… To the day I met her, so I could walk out before I ever knew she existed. Or… Just to… two years ago. Just these two years. Before she got pregnant.”
“What would you do?”
“Stay away from her. After it all fell down, I should have let her be. But I was idiotic, I couldn’t live well enough alone so I tried to get her back, that’s when… When she got pregnant and signed her…”
“Her what?”
“Her… That’s when she left us.”
“But she didn’t leave you, did she?”
“…No.”
“You have to say it.”
“What’s the point of any of this?” Ekko snapped. “It won’t change anything!”
“You keep saying she left you. That she signed her fate. That she could’ve had a whole life without you. But none of that is what actually happened.”
Ekko’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“You’re framing it like a choice, like something she did, something you caused. But it wasn’t a choice, Ekko. She didn’t leave you or your child. She died.”
Ekko’s hands curled into fists against his knees.
“If you don’t say it, you don’t have to face it. You can keep believing that if you’d done something differently, things would have changed. That if you had stayed away, she would still be here. That this is on you. But none of that is real.”
Ekko’s knee started bouncing, hard as the muscles in his arms tensed.
“Saying it won’t change what happened. But it will change what happens to you. Because right now, you’re not mourning her, you’re punishing yourself. And if you keep doing that, you’re never going to move forward. Not for yourself. Not for Isha.”
Silence. Ekko’s knee kept bouncing, as his gaze drifted to the window.
“She didn’t leave you, Ekko. She died. And you’re still here.”
The thunder broke at that moment.
16 weeks
Vi knocked, but there was no answer. She had been increasingly worried lately; Ekko didn’t give any sign of life for days now when she made him promise he would check in every few days. She didn’t fear for his life or her niece’s, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way, meaning he wouldn’t put himself in harm’s way, as her sole care giver. It was another kind of harm she feared. One that’s not caused by a sharp edge or a twisted sheet.
She tried again, harder this time, until the door finally creaked open. Ekko stood by the door; exhaustion written into every line of his face and on the dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t greet her. Just turned, leaving the door open behind him and walked back inside.
Vi followed, shutting the door behind her. The apartment was dark, the sun rays of the warm summer day filtering through the closed blinds. She stepped forward, Vi’s footsteps, the song playing on the mobile over Isha’s crib and her soft snores were the only sounds in the otherwise silent place.
“You look like hell,” Vi said after watching as Ekko sat heavily on the couch. He didn’t react, just leaned back, throwing his head against the head of the couch, his gaze aimed at the ceiling.
“Did you eat today?” she pressed. Nothing. “Have you slept?” Still, nothing.
She sighed and dropped onto the other side of the couch and stayed silent for a beat.
"Ekko," she tried again, softer this time.
His eyes flickered toward her, but he stayed quiet, just raised his brows, waiting for her to say whatever it was she came in for.
“You… You should come over for dinner sometime. You and Isha. My place. It’ll be nice, plus Cai-”
“I’m fine,” he cut her, voice flat, looking back at the ceiling.
“You’re not,” Vi countered. "You can't keep doing this.”
Ekko let out a humorless chuckle. "Doing what?"
"You tell me," Vi shot back, shifting to face him. "Ignoring me? Wasting away? Running yourself into the ground?"
At that, his jaw tightened. "I'm not-"
"You are," she cut in. "And I get it. But you’re a ghost of yourself. You don’t talk to anyone, you barely leave this place unless it’s for groceries or the kid’s appointments, hell, I don’t even think you remember what the sun looks like.”
He exhaled through his nose, pressing his fingers against his closed eyelids. “Vi, drop it.”
She didn’t. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to pull yourself together. Isha needs you and you can't take care of her if you don’t take care of yourself.”
That broke something. His shoulders tensed, and when he lifted his head, the dead emptiness in his eyes was suddenly alive. Except, not in the way she hoped. “I AM taking care of her,” he said in a low furious voice.
Vi opened her mouth to say something but held her breath instead.
“I feed her, I bathe her, I play with her, I hold her when she cries, I do everything I fucking can.” He continues, his voice growing louder with every word. “And it’s still not enough. It will never be enough, because I will never give her what she needs,” he said, pointing to the crib, “she should still be here!” If I had just-” He stopped himself, chest heaving. “If I had been faster. If I had picked up the damn phone. If I-” His voice cracked, rage and guilt bleeding together, leaving him shaking. “If I-… She would still be here!”
“Ekko-…”
“I am at my limit, Vi.” He pleaded. “I am giving everything I have, and it’s still not enough! So don’t-… don’t sit there and DARE to tell me to pull myself together because I’m already hanging by a THREAD!” He finished, getting off the couch and walking around the room, trying to regain control of his breathing.
“And what do you want me to do, huh? Sit back and watch while you tear yourself apart? It’s not your fault, Ekko…” Vi asked, tears brimming in her eyes. “She wouldn’t have blamed you. Jin-”
“Don’t,” he cut her off coldly, holding out his hand. “Don’t talk about her like you know what she would’ve wanted. You don’t. Neither do I. Because guess what, VI? SHE’S DEAD! DEAD SO SHE’S CAN’T SAY WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED! SO DON’T SPEAK FOR HER!”
There was a quick beat of silence following Ekko’s outburst, only broken by Isha's cries. Ekko flinched, chest still heaving, eyes brimming and turned away from Vi. His hands trembled as he crossed the room quickly.
Lifting Isha into his arms, he cradled her against his chest, his touch, contrary to the rage he just displayed, was gentle.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my baby.” His voice, still wrecked with emotion, softened for her. He rocked her slightly, his grip tightening. “Shh… It’s okay, I’m sorry...”
Vi swallowed. “Ekko…”
“Just go.” His voice was cold, exhausted. He didn’t even look at her, his focus entirely on the little girl in his arms.
Vi hesitated. “Ekko, please-…”
“Go,” he repeated, firmer this time. His jaw was tight, his eyes staring straight ahead, refusing to meet hers. “I can’t do this right now.”
A lump formed in her throat. “I’m just trying to help.”
His eyes flicked to hers, dark and empty. “Then leave.”
The finality in his tone left no room for argument. Vi wanted to fight, to push back, to force her way in and make him see what he didn’t. There were a million things she wanted to tell him. That shutting her out wasn’t fair to her. That it was a mistake for him. That he wasn’t the only one who lost someone, she lost her sister, she needed him too. She needed him to make sense of it, she needed her niece to make peace with it, she needed him because no one else understood her pain like he did. But she didn’t say any of it. Because looking at him now, she knew he was too far gone to hear her. Already too close to the edge.
So she did the only thing she could. She left.
Vi wiped at her eyes as she stepped out onto the street. Exhaling, she straightened her jacket, only to now realizing how much she’d been shaking. She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers, watching how… how useless they felt. Like the rest of her.
A pain burned inside her that wasn’t just grief. It was helplessness, how useless she felt. It was knowing that, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t fix Ekko. He wouldn’t let her. She couldn’t take care of Isha. She wasn’t even allowed to try. And Theo, the one person who might’ve understood, was gone.
She had no one to share this with. No one to tell her what to do with all of this fucking grief.
Her breaths came hard and fast as she braced herself against the wall, her shoulders curling in. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, trying to steady her breathing, but it wasn’t working. The pressure behind her ribs only built with no release.
At least she had Cait. At least, at night, there was someone to hold her, to bring her back when the nightmares came, when the silence in her allowed her thoughts to run wild.
But even that was twisted with guilt.
Because while she had Cait, Ekko had nothing.
Vi kicked the trashcan next to her and screamed at the top of her lungs. She stood there, chest heaving, hands still shaking, heart still beating too loudly. And for all the force behind it, for all the rage she poured into it, she still felt just as fucking useless.
1 day.
It’s so cold.
That was the first thing that hit him, stepping into a place he didn’t belong. The first thing he noticed, how cold it was, when they walked into the room, they said he’d find her. Vi’s hand crushing his, her face closed, refusing to believe she would be here, and she was right, it’s too cold.
It’s so cold here…
He’s seen all the blood on the floor and her pale face, the strength leaving her body. He saw the anguish in her eyes the whole night and the toll it took on her body. But she can’t be here.
“What if she dies?” Her face crumpled, tears streaking hot down her cheeks
But he wasn’t there when it happened. He left before she-… before this. He didn’t see her go. He was following their daughter, making sure she was safe, thinking Jinx would be fine. He didn’t see her go.
"They don’t know her! She can’t die alone with stran-”
His mind kept screaming for him to go back, to turn around and be with her… He didn’t see her go.
“She's never been alone, she needs someone who loves her!" She cried, her voice broken as she pushed him to go after their baby.
And then, an hour later, they told him.
They told him, but that doesn’t mean he believed any of it. What kind of cruelty would that be? To make a baby and only let her hold it once before it was snatched from her chest. To scream for her child not to die alone, for her to do exactly that?
What kind of cruelty that is? For someone with a paralyzing fear of being left alone, to die alone. That was cruelty beyond words, so none of it could be true.
Blue hair is uncommon, but they mistook her for someone else. They’ll walk in, look at the body and exhale in relief that it wasn’t her on the table, no thought spared for the ones who were going to be shattered by the sight of the body on the table, it wasn’t them.
It’s so cold here… A thought stuck in his head that kept running through in circles, she doesn’t like the cold.
Jinx hates the cold. She complains about it all the time, especially since getting pregnant, always tugging at his stolen hoodie sleeves, pushing her feet to his lap to keep them from freezing off, pressing against his side because she said he was so warm. Even at home, she’d curl up under blankets, burrowing in warmth like an old lady.
She hates the cold. She wouldn’t be here. She’d never let herself be here.
Ekko felt Vi’s grip tighten around his hand, her short nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t look at her.
She’s not here…
Vi muttered something under her breath, “No, no, this isn’t…” but her voice was so, so far away… She could have been in another room. Ekko didn’t have the energy to correct her. He just walked, one step at a time, holding Vi’s hand tight, praying it was all a mistake. It has to be.
Maybe he should allow himself to hope it wasn’t her they’d see on the table. It was so cold after all. She hates the cold. Really, truly does… She can’t be here. The door would open, the room would be empty…
Then the doors opened.
It smelled artificial, it smelled of chemicals trying to scrub that scent off the walls. The cold hit harder now. The kind that seeped into your ribs, locked your joints in place. He flexed his fingers, but they ached.
His stomach twisted, nausea curling up his throat, but he forced himself to step forward.
She couldn’t be here.
It smelled like death.
She would shiver and complain…
She was here.
But that couldn’t be.
Because it was so cold in here, and yet she wasn’t complaining.
She was here, not tucked against his side, not tangled in blankets, not swearing about how much she hated the winter air.
Undressed, cold.
On a metal table, so cold.
It’s no wonder her skin looked white and frozen. Still, on the table, the white sheet not even covering her properly.
Vi was the first to move, the only one to move, because Ekko was paralyzed. She approached slowly, the tip of her boots dragging against the tile as her body refused to move forward, dragging him along with her to the edge on the table. Shaking her head, whispering “no…” under her breath.
What could one word do against that?
It’s not right, that’s not what she needs.
Then she touched her sister’s hand… and gasped.
Her knees hit the floor hard, the sound breaking the silence. A sob tore out of her. Both hands clutched the shirt beneath her jacket, tugging desperately, gasping for air that filled her lungs in the tiniest of intakes. Never enough to fill her as she suffocated on the ground.
With the sound of her scream, her lungs finally full.
The denial shattered all at once. For her.
Ekko barely heard her. It was like listening through glass, something between him and everything else. His heart was too slow. His blood too thick. His throat completely dry.
His hands trembled as he reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek.
Too cold…
She wouldn’t like this at all. She’d be pissed, waking up here, freezing cold and under this terrible white light.
“It’s too cold in here,” he said, in a whisper. “She can’t be here, she hates the cold.”
Leaving her face, his hands adjusted the sheet around her shoulder, tucking it in like that would make a difference. It wouldn’t. He knew that. It was too late, and still, a part on his mind still refused to believe it. But his fingers kept moving anyway, pulling the fabric up, smoothing it down, making sure she wasn’t exposed to the cold.
“Get her something warmer, she’s cold,” he murmured again, voice shaking now. His throat felt tight, his voice strangled. His body wouldn’t stop trembling, the realization of the truth in the table felt like a pair of hands, squeezing around his throat harder, harder, until it felt like he was going to suffocate.
And with the far away sound of Vi screaming on the floor, he bent down, pressing his lips against her forehead. He lingered there, his chest heaving, his eyes shut. The cold seeped into him.
Tears slipped down his face, dripping onto her skin. He didn’t move, didn’t wipe them away.
“She doesn’t like the cold,” he whispered, his forehead against hers.