Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vi pulled her coat tighter against the humid sea breeze as she wandered through Bilgewater’s bustling market. The air was thick with the scent of salt, spice, and the ever-present tang of unwashed bodies. Voices shouted over one another, merchants hawking their wares, sailors arguing over prices, the occasional drunken brawl breaking out before being hastily dispersed. She had been in the port city for two days now, working on securing a trade route that would bring much-needed resources back to Piltover and Zaun. It was a straightforward job. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

She wasn’t expecting to find ghosts.

A flash of blue caught her eye. Not just any blue—that blue. The same shade that had haunted her dreams for years. A long, thick braid swayed as its owner moved through the crowd, pausing at a merchant’s stall. Vi felt her breath hitch, her pulse spike. Her body moved before her mind caught up, weaving between bodies, pushing past people who grumbled in protest. She barely heard them. Her gaze was locked on the woman ahead of her.
The stranger turned slightly, speaking to the merchant, and Vi’s world tilted.

It was her. Jinx.

Not someone who looked like her. Not a trick of the light or some cruel illusion. Jinx. Alive. Standing right there in the middle of a Bilgewater market, bartering over some damn trinket like she wasn’t supposed to be dead.

Vi’s feet carried her forward until she was standing just beside her. Close enough to see the way her hands moved, the way she stood, that same energy in every shift of her body, even if she was wrapped in a thick cloak that seemed out of place in the humid air. The shock tightened in Vi’s chest like a vice, her throat dry as she struggled to find her voice.

“Jinx?”

The name left her lips like a whisper, like a ghost exhaling its final breath. She half expected the woman before her to disappear, to fade into nothing, leaving Vi grasping at empty air. But Jinx didn’t disappear.

She stiffened.

Slowly, carefully, Jinx turned her head, her face partially obscured by the shadows of her hood. And then, for the first time in years, those electric pink eyes met Vi’s.
Vi felt her heart stop.

Jinx didn’t move. Didn’t speak. For a moment, there was just silence between them, a charged, deafening stillness in the chaos of the market.

“…Vi?”

Her voice was softer than Vi remembered. Less manic, more wary. As if she had already calculated a dozen ways to run if she had to.

Vi swallowed hard, every emotion from grief to anger to relief colliding in her chest, tangled beyond recognition. She could barely think, barely breathe. Jinx was alive.

And she had no idea what to do next.

Vi's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, her breath shaky. "I—Jinx, you're—" She shook her head, as if trying to clear the disbelief from her mind. "You're alive."

Jinx's lips quirked, something almost like a smirk but without the usual chaos behind it. "Yeah. Last time I checked."

It was too much. Too casual. Too unreal. Vi's jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea what you—what we—"

Jinx held up a hand, cutting her off. "Not here," she muttered, her voice low, her eyes flicking around as if expecting trouble. "Not now."

Vi stared at her, frustration warring with the desperate need to keep her within arm’s reach. She had lost Jinx once. She wouldn’t do it again. "Then where? Because I'm not just letting you disappear on me again."

Jinx hesitated, then jerked her chin toward a quieter alleyway just past the market. Vi nodded and followed, her stomach a twisted knot of nerves.

The alley was damp, shaded from the midday sun. Jinx leaned against the worn wooden wall of an abandoned shop, arms crossed, posture tense. Vi didn’t waste a second. "Why?" she demanded. "Why fake your death? Why disappear?" Her voice cracked, raw with years of grief and unanswered questions. "I searched for you, Jinx. For years. I thought I lost you."

Jinx exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. "I had to. I couldn't go back—not to Piltover, not to Zaun. After everything? After what I did? There was no place for me."

Vi took a shaky breath. "You had a place. With me. Always with me."

Jinx's gaze flickered, uncertainty flashing behind her guarded expression. "You don't get it, Vi. I couldn't be Jinx anymore. And I sure as hell couldn't be Powder either. I had to be something else."

Vi ran a hand through her hair, exasperation evident. "And what? You just decided to vanish? Leave me thinking you were gone?"

Jinx looked away. "I didn’t think you’d still care that much."

Vi let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. "Are you kidding me? I never stopped."

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words. Jinx shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her cloak. The movement made Vi's brow furrow. Jinx had always been restless, but this was different—like she was hiding something.

And then, as Vi took a step forward, Jinx stepped back—too fast, too awkward. The edge of her cloak snagged against the rough wood behind her, pulling just enough to reveal the curve of her stomach beneath.

Vi's breath caught.

Her eyes flickered down. Confusion twisted into realization, into shock. "Jinx…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You're…"

Jinx pulled her cloak tight again, jaw clenching. For the first time since Vi had seen her, there was fear in her eyes.

Vi’s world tilted for the second time that day. Jinx wasn’t just alive.

Vi took a slow step forward, her expression unreadable. "You're… pregnant."

Jinx crossed her arms over her stomach, her fingers twitching against the fabric of her cloak. "Yeah. Caught that, did ya?"

Vi let out a shuddering breath, running a hand through her hair. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to ask. Her mind was still struggling to process the fact that Jinx was even alive, let alone this. "Do you… want this?"

Jinx's lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, Vi thought she might crack a joke, brush it off. But instead, Jinx exhaled sharply and muttered, "Guess I don’t really get to back out now, do I?"

Vi frowned, watching her closely. "That’s not what I—"

"It doesn’t matter, Vi," Jinx interrupted, her voice quieter now, but firm. "It’s happening. That’s all there is to it."

Vi nodded slowly, absorbing that. There was an edge of finality to Jinx’s tone, one that Vi wasn’t sure how to push past. So instead, she shifted, glancing down at the curve of Jinx’s stomach again. "The father… is he—?"

Jinx cut her off before she could even finish the question. "Don’t ask."

Vi blinked at her. "Jinx—"

"I said don’t ask," Jinx repeated, sharper this time. "It’s not your business."

Vi’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t press. The way Jinx was holding herself, the way she wouldn’t meet her eyes—it was clear she wasn’t about to explain anything, and Vi wasn’t sure she had the right to demand answers.

Instead, she swallowed down the hundred questions in her head and simply asked, "Are you safe?"

Jinx hesitated. Then, without looking at her, she nodded. "Yeah. I am."

It wasn’t much. But for now, Vi had to take it.

Vi swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Of all the things she had imagined saying if she ever saw Jinx again, nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing had prepared her for any of this. She had spent years mourning her, years wrestling with what-ifs, years trying to move forward while carrying the weight of the past. And now, here Jinx was—alive, standing right in front of her, hiding secrets beneath that tattered cloak.

A hundred questions burned in Vi’s throat, but none of them made it past her lips. Instead, she let out a breath, rubbing at her temples. "Shit, Jinx."

Jinx gave a weak laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Silence stretched between them, thick with all the years they had lost. Vi studied her, taking in every little change—how her shoulders were a little straighter, how her eyes weren’t quite as wild as before, how there was something different about the way she held herself. But she was still Jinx, wasn’t she? No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much had changed, this was still her sister. And Vi didn’t know what to do with that anymore.

"I don’t even know where to start," Vi admitted, shaking her head. "I mean, fuck, Jinx. You were dead. I thought you were dead."

Jinx’s smirk faded, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve. "Yeah. That was kinda the point."

Vi exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into her voice. "You could’ve told me. You could’ve—"

"And what?" Jinx snapped, suddenly looking up. "Come back? Act like everything was fine? You think that would’ve worked?"

Vi clenched her jaw. "I wouldn’t have cared, Jinx. I wouldn’t have given a damn about what happened back then—I just… I just wanted you back."

Jinx looked away. Her hands were still twitching, like she was resisting the urge to fidget with something. Vi remembered that nervous habit from when they were kids—when Powder used to break things just to put them back together again.

"It wasn’t that simple," Jinx muttered. "It never was."

Vi let the words settle before exhaling. Maybe she didn’t understand it, but she could see Jinx believed it. That, to her, disappearing had been the only option. And as much as Vi hated it—hated the years they lost, hated the pain of thinking she was gone—she wasn’t here to fight over the past. Not right now.

Her eyes dropped to Jinx’s stomach again. There was no ignoring it now. "And this?" she asked, more carefully this time. "Was this simple?"

Jinx tensed, her arms crossing again, like she was trying to shield herself from the conversation. "Simple’s never been my thing."

Vi snorted despite herself. "Yeah, no shit."

Another silence. This time, Jinx was the first to break it. "Are you gonna freak out? ‘Cause if you’re gonna freak out, just get it over with."

Vi raised a brow. "Am I freaking out? I found out you were alive and pregnant in the same breath, Jinx. I think I get a little time to process."

Jinx exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Let me know when you’re done."

Vi studied her again, then sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I just… I need to know you’re alright, Jinx. That’s it."

Jinx hesitated. Then, finally, she muttered, "I am."

Vi didn’t know if she fully believed her. But for now, she could let it be.

She took a deep breath, crossing her arms. "So… what now?"

Jinx gave her a lopsided smirk, though there was a nervous edge to it. "Dunno, Vi. Didn’t exactly plan a family reunion today."

Vi huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. Me neither."

Jinx rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. "Guess I should say congrats. Heard you got hitched."

Vi blinked at her, caught off guard. "Uh… yeah. I did."

Jinx smirked, tossing her a bit of side-eye. "Damn, Vi. Didn’t think you’d go all domestic on me."

Vi huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, well. Life’s full of surprises."

Jinx’s smirk softened just a little. "Hope she makes you happy."

Vi’s chest tightened at that. It was such a simple thing, but coming from Jinx—after everything—it meant more than she knew how to put into words. Instead, she just nodded. "She does."

Jinx gave a short nod, then turned her gaze to the side like she was already done with the subject.

But Vi wasn’t. "How’d you hear about that, anyway?"

Jinx’s fingers twitched at her sleeves, but her expression stayed neutral. "C’mon, Vi. Caitlyn’s a Kiramman. Whole damn city probably had an opinion about it."

It was a decent deflection. But Vi knew her too well. She tilted her head, watching Jinx carefully. "Yeah, sure. But you’re not exactly keeping up with Piltover gossip, are you?"

Jinx shrugged. "You’d be surprised what people talk about if you listen long enough."

Vi narrowed her eyes slightly. "Uh-huh. And you just happened to be listening?"

Jinx shot her a grin, all sharp edges. "Gotta keep myself entertained somehow."

Vi wasn’t buying it. But she could tell she wasn’t getting a real answer—not yet, at least. And maybe, right now, that wasn’t the most important thing.
She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "You’re impossible."

Jinx gave her a mock bow. "And yet, here I am."

“Yeah, you are,” Vi exhaled, crossing her arms. "Alright, so if you don’t wanna talk about yourself, what can I ask about?"

Jinx scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Vi smirked slightly. "More like a really frustrating conversation."

Jinx clicked her tongue, glancing away. "Ask about the weather."

"Pass."

"The food?"

"Not interested."

Jinx smirked. "Wow. Tough crowd."

Vi huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "C’mon, Jinx. Throw me a bone here."

Jinx tilted her head, considering. "Fine. You can ask me about…" She dragged out the words, clearly stalling. "Uh… ships? There’s a lot of ships here."

Vi groaned. "Seriously?"

Jinx grinned, but before Vi could push further, a merchant wheeled a cart into the alley, forcing them to step aside. The wooden wheels rattled over the uneven stones, and the scent of salt and dried fish lingered in the air as he passed.

Vi barely paid it any mind, still focused on Jinx. "I just wanna know you’re okay."

Jinx snorted. "Define ‘okay.’"

Before Vi could respond, a voice called out from somewhere beyond the alley. "Mama!"

Vi barely registered it at first, but she felt the way Jinx tensed beside her—how her shoulders snapped rigid, how her head turned sharply toward the sound as if pulled by instinct.

A small child barreled into Jinx’s legs, hugging them tight, looking up at her with a wide grin. "Papa bought me an airship! Look!" Tiny hands lifted a small wooden model, its painted sails fluttering slightly in the sea breeze.

Vi’s breath caught in her throat.

The kid was young—couldn’t have been more than four or five. Light, curly hair, warm brown skin… but Powder’s eyes. The same sharp blue she used to know (before shimmer, before everything), wide and full of mischief. The resemblance was uncanny, and Vi felt the ground shift beneath her as she struggled to process what she was looking at.

Jinx stiffened, like she hadn’t meant to be seen like this. "Hey, kiddo," she said, ruffling the child’s hair with a forced sort of ease. "Did Papa let you run off on your own again, Theo?"

Vi was still frozen, her gaze locked on the child—until movement in the distance caught her eye.

Several paces away, standing stock-still in the crowded street, was Ekko.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were wide with shock, mirroring Vi’s own.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Vi’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her mind was still trying to catch up. Jinx—her sister—was standing here in front of her, a kid clinging to her leg, and Ekko—Ekko—was standing just a few paces away, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

Jinx was the first to move. She let out a breath, her fingers twitching before she rested a hand on Theo’s head. "What, you’re just gonna stand there, Firelight? Say hi."

Ekko’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his gaze shifting uneasily between Jinx and Vi as a heavy silence settled over them. Something unspoken passed in that tense glance before Ekko finally stepped forward, his voice deliberately steady. "Hey, Vi."

It was too much. Though it had been a long time since Vi last saw Ekko face-to-face, they'd maintained frequent communication—exchanging letters filled with plans and strategies for improving Zaun's ever-growing infrastructure. He regularly sent detailed diagrams of his inventions, complete with meticulous instructions for engineers on how and where to implement them most effectively. Vi had received his latest letter just three days before departing for this godforsaken pirate den. Yet, in all their correspondence, Ekko had never—not once—even hinted at the fact that he'd built himself a family here, let alone one that included her sister.

Her dead sister.

Vi exhaled sharply, scrubbing a weary hand down her face, frustration and disbelief battling within her. Finally, she settled on the only words she could muster: "What the hell, Ekko?"

Jinx clicked her tongue. "Really setting the tone here, sis."

Vi shot her a look. "You knew I thought she was dead. You—" She exhaled sharply, lowering her voice, mindful of the kid. "You knew and didn’t say a damn thing?"

Ekko shifted his weight, jaw tight. "It wasn’t my secret to tell."

Vi scoffed. "Oh, that’s real convenient."

Theo, still hugging Jinx’s leg, looked between them, his small brows knitting together. "Mama?"

Jinx’s tension shifted immediately. She crouched beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "It’s okay, kiddo. Just some old friends catching up."

Theo didn’t look convinced. His tiny fingers clutched at her sleeve, and his voice was quieter this time. "You’re mad."

Jinx hesitated, then shook her head. "Nah, just surprised. That’s all."

Vi swallowed hard, watching the way Jinx softened for him. The way she spoke—steady, reassuring—it wasn’t an act. It was real.

The realization settled like a weight in Vi’s chest. Jinx had a kid. And Ekko—

She looked at him again, really took him in. There was something there, something unspoken in the way he stood close but not too close, the way his eyes flickered toward Theo before settling back on her, cautious but unwavering.

Vi exhaled slowly. "So, this is your kid."

Jinx straightened, resting a hand on Theo’s shoulder. "Yeah. This is Theo."

Vi nodded, her expression unreadable. Then, after a pause, she looked back at Jinx. "I have a lot of questions."

Jinx smirked, but it was subdued. "Yeah, I figured."

Ekko finally spoke again, his voice quieter now. "Maybe we should take this somewhere else."

Theo looked up at Jinx expectantly, still clinging to her sleeve. "Can I show her my airship first?"

Jinx glanced at Vi, then nodded. "Go on, kid."

Theo beamed and held the small wooden ship up to Vi. "Papa got it for me! It’s got real sails and everything!"

Vi forced a small smile, her heart still hammering in her chest. "Yeah? Looks real nice, kiddo."

She barely heard her own words. Her mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of what had just been dropped in her lap. But one thing was clear.

Nothing between them would ever be the same again.

Jinx, Ekko, and Vi made their way through the winding streets of Bilgewater, Theo chattering happily as he clutched his toy airship. Vi barely heard him. Her mind was still spinning, still trying to piece together how this was real—how Jinx was alive, how Ekko was here, how there was a kid in the middle of it all.

Eventually, they reached the docks, where a mid-sized airship was moored, its hull worn but sturdy. It wasn’t as sleek as the ships Vi had seen in Piltover, but it had a presence—like it had seen things, been places.

Theo bolted ahead, clambering up the gangplank with practiced ease. "Freya! Look what Papa got me!"

Vi followed at a slower pace, scanning the deck as she stepped aboard. Her eyes landed on the towering figure near the ship’s mast—a Kiilash woman, broad-shouldered and covered in thick golden fur. Her feline features were sharp, her amber eyes cold as they flicked toward Vi. She said nothing, but Vi could feel the scrutiny, the unspoken warning.

Freya’s tail flicked once as Theo barreled into her leg, holding up his wooden airship. "It’s got real sails!"

She knelt down slightly, examining the toy with a thoughtful nod. "Good ship," she rumbled, her voice deep and gravelly. "Strong sails."

Theo beamed, clearly pleased by her approval. Vi, meanwhile, was still eyeing the Kiilash warily. She wasn’t used to seeing Kiilash outside of Ionia, let alone one this imposing. The kid barely came up to her knee.

Ekko caught the look and stepped closer. "She’s good," he murmured. "Wouldn’t have her here if she wasn’t."

Freya grunted but didn’t refute it. Instead, she turned her gaze back to Ekko and Jinx, her ears twitching slightly. "Tense."

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just a little family reunion."

Freya’s gaze lingered on Vi again before she finally exhaled through her nose. "Mm."

Ekko crouched down beside Theo. "Hey, bud. Think you can stay with Freya for a bit while we talk?"

Theo tilted his head. "You’re not coming?"

"We’ll be close by," Ekko assured him, ruffling his curls. "Just gotta talk grown-up stuff for a minute."

Theo seemed to consider this before nodding. "Okay!" He turned back to Freya, already launching into an excited ramble about his new toy.
Vi exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Alright. So where are we doing this?"

Jinx gestured toward the ship’s lower deck. "Come on. Let’s get this over with."

Jinx led the way down into the lower deck, the dim lantern light casting long shadows on the wooden walls. The space was cluttered but lived-in—maps pinned to the walls, scattered tools, a hammock swaying slightly from the movement of the ship. It smelled of oil, salt, and something vaguely metallic.

Vi crossed her arms as soon as they stopped. "Alright. Talk."

Jinx lowered herself heavily onto a crate with a quiet sigh of relief, stretching her legs out carefully in front of her and pressing a gentle hand briefly to her stomach. "Damn, didn’t even give me a second to sit down."

Vi’s patience was running thin. "I spent years thinking you were dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me? And then I find out Ekko knew? Ekko knew and said nothing?"

Ekko exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Vi—"

"No," she cut him off, looking between them. "How long? How long have you been keeping this from me?"

Jinx shrugged, eyes flicking away. "Since I faked my death."

Vi clenched her jaw. "No shit. I mean how long have you two—" she gestured between them, "—been whatever this is?"

Ekko hesitated, but Jinx spoke first. "Few years."

Vi’s eyes narrowed. "So all that time you were sending stuff to Zaun, all those ‘gifts’ for the Firelights—you were helping him?"

Ekko sighed. "Yeah."

Vi scoffed, running a hand through her hair. "Unbelievable."

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Like you wouldn’t have dragged me back to Piltover in cuffs if you knew."

Vi bristled. "That’s not—"

"Isn’t it?" Jinx cut in, voice sharp. "You’d have told Caitlyn, you’d have brought me in, and we both know how that would’ve ended."

Vi hesitated, but only for a second. "You don’t know that."

Jinx let out a dry laugh. "I know Piltover, Cupcake."

Vi flinched at the nickname, old memories surfacing unbidden. "That’s not fair."

Jinx leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Look, I get it. You’re pissed. But I did what I had to do. I got out. I started over."

Vi’s hands curled into fists at her sides. "Without me."

Jinx’s smirk faltered. "Yeah."

The room was heavy with silence.

Ekko finally spoke, his voice careful. "Vi… I wanted to tell you. I did. But it wasn’t my choice to make."

Vi shook her head. "I don’t get it. You could’ve at least let me know. You think I wouldn’t have just been happy she was alive?"

Jinx’s expression darkened. "You wouldn’t have let it go."

Vi stared at her, jaw tightening. "Of course I wouldn’t have let it go! You’re my sister!"

Jinx exhaled through her nose, gaze dropping for the first time. "Yeah. And look how well that went last time."

Vi sucked in a sharp breath. It was like a punch to the gut.

Ekko shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should—"

"No," Vi snapped. "We’re doing this now. Because I need to understand. I need to know why everyone decided I didn’t get a say in this."

Jinx tapped her fingers against her knee, then finally met Vi’s eyes again. "Because I didn’t want you to come looking for me."

Vi’s chest ached at that, at the finality in Jinx’s tone. "You really thought I was better off not knowing?"

Jinx tilted her head. "Didn’t say better off. Just figured it’d be easier."

Vi let out a breath, shaking her head. "Yeah? And was it?"

Jinx’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "What do you think?"

Vi’s breath was unsteady, her fists still clenched at her sides. "You really believe that, huh? That it was best for you to just walk away?"

Jinx sighed, running a hand over her braid. "Yeah, I do. And you can be as pissed as you want about it, but it doesn’t change anything."

Vi shook her head, stepping forward. "Jinx—"

"Don’t," Jinx cut her off, her voice tight. "I made my choice. And it was the right one."

Vi let out a hollow laugh, hands dropping to her sides. "The right one? You let me think you were dead. You let me grieve you—again—and you call that the right choice?"

Jinx’s expression hardened, but there was something guarded in her eyes. "It was the only choice. You don’t get it, Vi. You never did. If I stayed, what would’ve happened? Another fight? More blood? Piltover breathing down my neck, waiting for me to screw up? You hovering over me, waiting for me to be someone I’m not?"

Vi swallowed hard. "I wasn’t trying to change you."

Jinx scoffed. "Weren’t you? You wanted Powder back. But she’s gone. And the second you saw me again, all you wanted to do was pull me back into your world—same as everyone else."

Vi’s jaw tightened. "That’s not fair. I just—I just wanted my sister."

Jinx exhaled sharply, glancing away. "I know."

The weight of those two words pressed down on Vi’s chest. I know. Jinx knew, and she still walked away. Still let Vi think she was gone.

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "So why now? Why let me see you?"

Jinx shrugged, but the movement was stiff. "Wasn’t part of the plan."

Vi exhaled a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, fate’s got a messed-up sense of humour."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with everything unsaid, years of hurt and loss wedged between them like a chasm too wide to cross.

Ekko shifted against the wall, finally speaking. "This isn’t about sides anymore, Vi. Jinx wanted out. She made a life. And I—I just wanted her to have a chance."

Vi’s gaze snapped to him. "And you? You were fine just letting me believe she was gone?"

Ekko hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. If it meant she got to live."

Vi swallowed hard, staring at him, at Jinx, at everything she had missed. There was too much to process, too much she still wanted to say, but for the first time since this all started, she let the silence settle.

Jinx shifted on the crate, her fingers absently toying with the edge of her cloak. "Look, Vi… I never wanted to hurt you."

Vi let out a shaky breath. "You did."

Jinx flinched slightly but nodded. "I know. And I—I don’t know how to make that better."

Vi crossed her arms over her chest again, protectively like it might shield her from that pain. She looked away. "I don’t think you can. Not right now."

Jinx exhaled slowly, glancing toward Ekko, but he said nothing, just watching the two of them work through it. Eventually, she looked back at Vi. "Do you hate me?"

Vi’s head snapped up, brows furrowing. "What?"

Jinx forced a lopsided smirk, but there was something fragile about it. "Wouldn’t blame you if you did."

Vi shook her head, pressing her lips together. "No, Jinx. I could never—" She stopped herself, sighing. "I’m mad. I’m hurt. I don’t know when—or if—that’ll go away. But I don’t hate you."

Jinx looked down at her hands, silent for a long moment. "Guess that’s something."

Vi let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah. Guess it is."

Ekko finally spoke again, his voice softer this time. "Vi, she’s okay. She’s safe. That’s what matters, right?"

Vi looked between them, at the space that had settled, heavy but no longer suffocating. Her chest still ached, but there was a small, quiet part of her that saw it—Jinx was alive. Jinx had made a life. And even if Vi wasn’t part of it, even if it hurt, she was okay.

And 'okay' is leagues better than dead.

Vi sighed, running a hand down her face before meeting Jinx’s gaze again. "Yeah. That matters."

Jinx studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "Good."

It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t perfect. But for now, it was enough.

The silence stretched for a few beats before Vi exhaled and rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the last bit of tension. "Well, since some of the bigger cats are out of the bag—" she paused, smirking slightly, "—and before Freya decides to eat me for stressing you out, think you’ll finally talk? Tell me what you’ve been up to?"

It's an olive branch—the best she can muster for the moment—and if the sudden spark of light in Jinx's eyes is anything to go by, Vi thinks her sister might finally take it.

Jinx arched a brow. "Talk, huh?"

Vi gave a slow nod. "Yeah. You know, words. Sentences. Maybe even a full story, if you’re feeling generous."

Jinx tapped her fingers against her knee, considering. "Dunno. Mystery’s kind of my thing."

Vi scoffed. "Jinx, you faked your death and turned up with a kid. I think the mystery act has run its course."

Jinx snorted despite herself, but there was still hesitation in her posture. She glanced at Ekko, who merely crossed his arms and gave her a look that said, your call.

After a beat, she leaned back against the wall. "Alright, fine. What do you wanna know?"

Vi tilted her head, watching her carefully. "How about we start with something easy? Like... how the hell did you end up here?"

Jinx sighed, stretching her back before grimacing. "Can we put a pin in that? This crate’s killing me. My back’s been aching all day."

Ekko straightened, offering her a hand. "We can talk upstairs. You should sit somewhere comfortable."

Jinx rolled her eyes but took his hand, letting him help her up. Vi watched the casual way he steadied her, a quiet familiarity in the motion that made her stomach twist with old, tangled emotions.

They made their way up to the cabin, where Freya sat cross-legged on the floor, oiling the leather of one of her arm braces. Theo was busy decorating her fur with ribbons and hair clips, humming to himself as he worked. The Kiilash woman remained utterly unbothered, allowing the child to do as he pleased while she continued tending to her gear.

When they entered, her sharp eyes flicked up to them, scanning their faces. She seemed to note the tension had ebbed, but her expression remained unreadable. With a quiet huff, she returned to her work, though Vi caught the way her ears twitched in their direction, clearly still listening.

Ekko rolled his shoulders. "I’m making food. You two want something?"

Jinx groaned dramatically as she sank into the couch. "If you’re cooking, obviously. Just don’t burn it."

"That happened once," Ekko shot back, already moving toward the small kitchen area.

Vi sat beside Jinx, shaking her head with a quiet smile. She let her eyes drift back to Theo and Freya, watching as the little boy twisted another ribbon into the Kiilash’s fur, utterly delighted with his work. Freya, for her part, remained still, her large hands working the leather of her arm brace with practiced ease. It was such an absurd contrast—this towering, gruff warrior covered in pink ribbons, going about her business like it was nothing.

Vi huffed a small laugh. "Didn’t take you for the salon type."

Freya didn’t look up. "He is good."

Vi raised a brow. "At hairdressing?"

"At focus." The Kiilash tested a newly tightened strap on her brace before finally meeting Vi’s gaze. "Keeps hands busy. Mind steady."
Jinx snorted. "That’s one way to put it."

Freya regarded her with a slow blink before turning back to Vi. "You doubt? Try."

Vi smirked. "Think I’ll leave the hairdressing to the professionals."

Theo perked up, beaming. "I can do yours next!"

Jinx stifled a laugh as Vi paled slightly. "Uh—maybe later, bud."

Theo’s face scrunched in exaggerated disappointment before he turned back to Freya’s fur with renewed determination. "Okay. But you’re missing out."

Freya simply hummed, adjusting the fit of her brace again before exhaling in approval. "Good."

Jinx shifted, stretching out her legs with a small sigh. "Guess this means you’re stuck with us for a bit, huh, Vi?"

Vi leaned back against the couch, glancing at her. "Yeah. Guess I am."

There was an ease to the moment, a quiet pause in everything heavy that still hung between them. It wouldn’t last forever. There were still things to say, things to sort through. But for now, she could sit, breathe… just be.

Later that night, Vi lay on the spare cot in Freya’s quarters, arms folded behind her head as she stared at the ceiling. The ship creaked around them, rocking gently with the tide. The room was dim, lit only by a lantern hanging from the wall, casting flickering shadows against the wooden planks.

Freya sat on the floor nearby, methodically sharpening a wicked-looking knife, her movements slow and deliberate. She hadn’t spoken much since Vi had stepped in, just given her a short nod before returning to her task.

Vi exhaled through her nose. "So… you’ve been with them a while, huh?"

Freya didn’t pause in her sharpening. "Yes."

Vi hummed. "Since before Theo?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them again. Vi shifted on the cot, feeling vaguely like an intruder. Eventually, she tried again. "So, uh… how’d you end up here?"

Freya’s sharpening slowed for a moment, then resumed. "Sickness took my tribe."

Vi blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the response. "Oh. Shit. I—I’m sorry."

Freya gave a low grunt, neither accepting nor rejecting the sympathy. "Not honourable. Not battle. Just death. Empty."

Vi frowned. She didn’t know a ton about Kiilash culture, but she knew enough to understand—dying of sickness, unable to fight, would be seen as disgraceful. "That why you left?"

Freya nodded once. "Grief is a test. I struggled, so I left… to find honour. To give it back—to them—to me."

Vi hesitated before asking, "And you found that here?"

Freya was quiet for a long moment, then she set the knife down and finally looked Vi in the eye. "Jinx and Ekko granted me passage. Gave me a place here. They did not see disgrace."

Vi listened, watching the way Freya’s golden eyes flickered in the lantern light. The big Kiilash woman flexed her claws absently against her knee, expression unreadable.

"And now?" Vi asked carefully. "You still looking?"

Freya considered this, then tilted her head slightly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Vi raised a brow. "That cryptic wisdom thing a Kiilash trait, or just a you thing?"

Freya let out something that was almost a chuckle. "Theo does not see disgrace either. He does not see honour. He sees me."

Vi blinked, glancing toward the door as if she could see through it to where the kid was sleeping. It wasn’t hard to imagine him barreling toward Freya, grinning wide, asking her to play. No hesitation, no doubt, no judgment.

Freya picked up her knife again, resuming her sharpening. "Perhaps that is enough."

Vi let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Maybe it is."

Vi let the quiet settle for a moment before speaking again. "So… what’s life been like on this ship? Sounds like everyone’s been doing alright. I missed a lot."

Freya hummed in agreement, still running her whetstone along the knife’s edge. "Yes. You did."

Vi huffed, half amused, half exasperated. "Yeah, thanks for that."

Freya didn’t react, her focus still on her blade. Vi watched her for a moment before shifting on the cot, propping herself up on one elbow. "Jinx is pregnant again."

"Yes."

"And she’ll be fine?"

Freya finally glanced up, eyes steady. "You ask the wrong person."

Vi exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, I figured. Just… y’know. You’ve been here. You saw how it went with Theo."

Freya was silent for a moment, considering. Then, finally, she conceded. "She was strong. Stubborn. Would not rest when she should."

Vi snorted. "Sounds about right."

"Ekko worried. Too much. Too little. Always." Freya's tone was unreadable, but there was something almost fond in the way she said it. "But she did not break. And the child came."

Vi swallowed. "And she was okay? After?"

Freya studied her for a long moment. "She lived. The child lived. It was hard, but she recovered."

Vi let out a slow breath. It wasn’t a detailed reassurance, but it was something. Freya didn't seem like the type to say anything if it weren’t true.

Freya sharpened her knife once more before setting it aside. "She will not break, Vi."

Vi met her gaze, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt the knot in her chest loosen just a little. "Yeah. Okay."

Vi let the quiet stretch for a moment, mulling over Freya’s words. She glanced around the cabin, the dim lantern light making everything feel smaller, more contained. "You like it here?"

Freya adjusted the strap of her arm brace. "It is a place. It moves, but it is steady."

Vi smirked. "That’s not an answer."

Freya tilted her head, considering. "It is… different than a tribe. But a ship is its own kind of pride."

Vi let that sink in. "Guess that makes sense. And the captain?"

"Which?"

Vi snorted. "Right. Jinx or Ekko—who's in charge, really?"

Freya gave a rare, amused huff. "They pretend it is one or the other. It is both. Or neither. Depends on the day."

Vi grinned. "Sounds about right."

Freya studied her. "You do not trust easily."

Vi blinked at the sudden shift. "What?"

"You question much. Watch everything." Freya’s golden eyes were sharp in the low light. "You do not know what to do with peace."

Vi scoffed. "This is peace?"

Freya shrugged one broad shoulder. "For them. For you? Maybe not yet."

Vi exhaled, leaning back against the cot. "You don’t talk much, but when you do, you really go for it, huh?"

Freya only blinked. "Words should matter."

Vi found herself smiling despite everything. "Guess I can respect that."

Freya nodded, as if accepting something unspoken between them, then reached for her blade again. "Sleep, Vi. The ship will still be here tomorrow. So will they."

Turning onto her back, Vi stared at the ceiling again and let out a breath she felt she had been holding in since the war. She closed her eyes…

…and slept.

Finally.

Vi stirred awake, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the small cabin window. The cot creaked as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Freya was gone. Not surprising. For someone her size, she was quiet in more ways than one.

Rolling her shoulders, Vi stood and stretched, then made her way out onto the deck.

She was immediately met with the sound of frantic scuffling and exasperated groans.

"Theo, no—!" Ekko's voice rang out, followed by the unmistakable clatter of something tumbling across the deck.

Vi stepped forward and took in the scene: Theo, grinning wildly, stood near the ship’s wheel, looking way too pleased with himself. A few feet away, a small bucket of tools had been knocked over, its contents scattered. Ekko stood with his hands on his hips, looking like a man who had already lost this battle three times this morning. Jinx, perched on a crate with her head resting on one hand, watched with bleary eyes. She looked exhausted but vaguely amused.

"Theo, we’ve been over this. You do not—"

"—touch Papa’s tools," Theo finished, sighing dramatically as if this was an unfair and unreasonable rule. "But I needed them."

Ekko ran a hand down his face. "For what?"

"I was fixin’!" Theo puffed his chest out, clearly proud of himself.

Vi leaned against the railing, grinning. "Yeah? What exactly were you fixing, kid?"

Theo turned to her with wide, excited eyes. "The ship!"

Ekko threw up his hands. "The ship doesn’t need fixing!"

Theo frowned, crossing his arms. "Everything can always be better."

Vi barked out a laugh, shooting Ekko a look. "Wow. That sounds familiar."

Jinx snorted softly from her spot. "Yeah, wonder where he gets it from."

Ekko groaned. "Theo, buddy, you can’t just take tools and start messing with things. What if you broke something important? What if you got hurt?"

Theo’s bottom lip jutted out, but he glanced at Jinx, who gave him a tired, knowing look. "Papa’s right, bug. Maybe don’t dismantle our home?"

Theo sighed, the dramatic weight of adult expectations clearly pressing down on his tiny shoulders. "Fiiiine."

Vi watched the whole exchange with amusement before shaking her head. "Y’know, this is kinda fun to watch."

Ekko shot her a withering glare. "You wanna deal with him?"

Vi held up her hands. "Nope, you’re doing great, Papa."

Ekko muttered something under his breath as he crouched to start gathering his tools. Jinx smirked at Vi before stretching with a wince.

"Alright, kiddo," she said to Theo, "how about instead of breaking the ship, you go see if Freya’s up for some early morning not destruction."

Theo beamed and took off running. "FREYA!"

Vi chuckled as she watched him go, then turned back to see Ekko shaking his head with tired fondness. "He’s gonna be the death of me."

Jinx snickered. "Nah, he’s the one keeping you alive, old man."

Vi crossed her arms, smiling as she took in the scene. For all the chaos, for all the mess, for all the hurt she still couldn’t shake yet—this was good.

As if summoned by the chaos, Freya emerged from below deck, carrying a barrel under one arm and Theo under the other like he weighed nothing. The child was laughing, completely unbothered by his predicament.

She strode forward, setting the barrel down with a solid thud, then effortlessly lifted Theo up by the back of his overalls. With a casual motion, she hooked the fabric onto a coat rack near the cabin door, leaving him dangling a few inches above the ground.

"Trouble," she rumbled, shaking her head at him.

Theo, still laughing, kicked his legs playfully, trying to swing himself free. "Freyaaa! Lemme down!"

Freya crossed her arms, golden eyes steady. "You have much energy this morning."

Theo grinned. "Always!"

Jinx smirked, watching from her crate. "That’s what you get, bug."

Vi chuckled, stepping closer with a smirk. "Huh. That’s actually a pretty effective solution. Might’ve helped back in Zaun."

Ekko groaned. "Don’t give her ideas."

Freya, unbothered, simply let Theo dangle for a moment longer before finally plucking him off the hook and setting him down. He immediately bolted, giggling as he ran across the deck, clearly having enjoyed the experience more than learned from it.

Vi shook her head, watching him go. "Kid’s fearless."

Freya grunted. "Or foolish. Often the same thing."

Ekko sighed, rubbing his temples. "And he's ours to deal with."

Vi glanced between them all, her smirk softening. Chaos and all, it was starting to feel like she was standing in something that almost resembled a family.

The day passed too quickly, and before Vi knew it, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting warm orange hues across the ship’s deck. As much as she wanted to pretend she had all the time in the world, she didn’t. She had come to Bilgewater for a reason, and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

Standing near the gangplank, she turned to Jinx, shifting awkwardly. "Guess I gotta go."

Jinx, who had been sitting on a crate rubbing her belly absentmindedly, looked up at her. She didn’t say anything at first, just studying Vi with that unreadable expression she wore when she was trying to figure out what to say.

Vi scratched the back of her neck. "You ever think about coming to visit? I mean… you don’t gotta stay or anything, but just—y'know. Come see everyone?"

Jinx exhaled sharply, shaking her head with a smirk. "Vi, I finally got out. I ain't exactly eager to go back. I like it here. I’m free here." Her smirk softened slightly. "Not sure that’d still be true if I set foot back in Zaun or Piltover."

Vi frowned but didn’t argue. As much as she hated it, Jinx had a point.

"Well," Vi said after a beat, "at least keep in touch."

Jinx rolled her eyes, but it was fond. "Ekko always does anyway."

Vi huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, but it'd be nice to hear from you too."

Jinx didn’t say yes, but she also didn’t say no. That was probably the best Vi was gonna get.

A long silence stretched between them before Vi finally sighed and took a step back. "You’ll be okay, right? With…" She gestured vaguely toward Jinx’s stomach. "I mean, I know you will, you’ve been fine, but—"

Jinx tilted her head before cutting her off. "You’re always gonna worry about me, huh?"

Vi crossed her arms. "Yeah. ‘Cause you’re my sister."

Jinx huffed, shaking her head. "Sappy."

"Bite me."

Jinx snorted, but the teasing glint in her eyes didn’t last long. There was something else there—something heavier. Maybe she wasn’t ready to put it into words, but Vi could see it anyway.

She was gonna miss her too.

Vi exhaled and finally turned toward the gangplank, forcing herself to start walking. She didn’t look back until she was halfway down.

Jinx was still watching her.

Vi lifted a hand in a lazy wave. Jinx hesitated, then lifted hers in return.

It wasn’t a perfect goodbye.

But it was far more than she could have dreamed of having a few days ago.