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A million lights rose from the bridge connecting Piltover and Zaun. Ekko was left sitting alone on the staircase outside the remains of The Last Drop. He watched them intently, knowing countless of those slips of paper held in heavy ink the names of his friends.
Jinx never came back. Ekko let her go alone because he wanted to prove that he cared, he trusted her, that he understood, he respected her space. She could be dead by now.
He lit a paper of his own. In his mind, Jinx was still out there, maybe happier than she’s ever been, alive. Parallel Powder and Ekko were happy. They did everything he wished he could.
Ekko felt like a piece of him was missing.
He didn't notice the person behind him until she sat down.
"I keep my promises," she said.
A lie. But she knew where her loyalties lie, no matter how much they may shift, and she stuck to them.
"Jinx..."
"Powder is fine," she said. Then clarified, "Also fine."
She may not have looked at him, but he stared at her like she was a newly discovered star he needed to name.
Powder looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, cradling a small hunk of metal. That's when Ekko noticed it--a robotic firelight the likes of which he'd seen before.
Jinx threw it up in the air. It flew. Quite effectively. Ekko only caught a glimpse of a paper before the mechanic bug exploded, causing him to instinctively shield himself with his arms.
"She was only a kid," Powder whispered up at the sky, tears in her eyes.
Ekko only frowned, not yet knowing who she was talking about, realizing with a bit of frustration, just how little he and Jinx had talked before throwing themselves head first into a war. What if that had been their last conversation? Ekko would have never forgiven himself.
Jinx got up. She took a deep breath. And she screamed out at the city and the bridge and the rest of the world, as far as her voice would go. She only stopped for air, to give her the ability to scream louder, farther.
She was crying now. Quietly. She had more energy, more rage, but....
Another voice pierced the air; another scream.
That caught Powder off guard at first.
Ekko was also crying. He stood beside her looking out at the streets. He screamed again.
Jinx joined him.
She caught hold of Ekko’s wrist and they both screamed together in agony and rage, and all the pain of every injustice they’ve ever had to endure—together, alone, inflicted on each other—for all the world to hear.
Ekko interlocked their fingers
Their voices only carried so far. They reflected the state of everything around them.
Jinx wanted to scream again. Before she could, Ekko pulled her close to himself. Powder held onto him like a lifeline. She was going to sob into his chest for as long he would let her. Ekko himself shook a little, needing to cry over too many things.
“I’m sorry, Powder,” he whispered. It felt like an apology to multiple people that had to be so much more than some three words, but he couldn't even begin to fathom what else to say.
"What the hell are you sorry for, little man?"
The words seared his throat. "For ever giving up on you."
Powder's grip grew tighter. "I'm sorry too."
"Thank you," Ekko said in the same vein. "Thank you, for staying alive."
They stayed like that until there was nothing left of the names but ash. Jinx wished her mind had stayed blank when she started hearing something.
He’s the only reason you’re here, someone whispered.
“Shut up,” she said, looking at the remains.
Ekko loosened his hold on and looked down at her. “I didn’t-“
“Not you.”
The voice got a little louder without any visible sign of it, where would you be without him?
Jinx tried to identify the owner of the voice. “Die, Mylo!” she called out at the building. That wasn’t it.
Then she tried talking over it: “I thought you died with Vi’s stupid girlfriend’s mom! Or with him maybe?”
But she could still hear it. It’s your fault. She died for you. She died because of you.
It got ever so slightly louder. No one was in sight. That’s not how this goes. What the hell. She was confused and becoming desperate. And still there was no face to put the voice to.
“Shut up!” she screamed.
Let them go.
And that’s when she realized she had been hearing herself. Her voice amplified in her mind to the point of audible realization. Mylo did die with Silco, so did Claggor, and Vi’s Voice, but Jinx didn’t.
She screamed at the wreckage again. On the next breath, she turned back to face the city.
The next coherent word to leave her mouth was “Isha!”
She repeated it again and again in between violent sobs of guilt and choked “I’m sorry”s.
Ekko hardly noticed when Jinx fell to her knees.
He’d taken a step back, given her space, as soon as he realized she was probably hallucinating, maybe on the verge of a mental break. His mind went blank, he didn’t know what to do. He just stood and stared until she started calling out a name he’d never heard before and endlessly apologizing, which brought him to tears again. His own guilt ate away at him and he couldn’t even bear to look at Jinx anymore.
He didn’t try to hold it together as he sat against the railing, facing away from the city. He put his knees up and buried his face in his elbow to keep from staring at the remnants of his past, and quietly grieved all the losses he completely believed he could have prevented. His fears stayed put, his unfulfilled wishes of being a good leader and a better friend and an even better partner never ceased, and the tears came close to but never quite dried up.
A time of certainty should come after a triumph, especially as great as theirs, yet this was the most doubtful either of them has been in years. There was no certainty of healing, no certainty of the burial of their dead, and—on a personal level—no certainty of truly salvaging their relationship the way they hoped to.
They had to have both calmed down at some point. Ekko didn’t want to check the time. He got up and gently brushed the back of his hand against Powder’s shoulder. She flinched, not having expected the touch, then looked up at him.
“Let’s go home.” Ekko scowled at the sound of his own voice cracking.
He kept his hand outstretched to help Jinx up, which she took. He put her arm around his shoulder and his arm around hers to support her on the walk back. For once, she didn’t protest.
Ekko quickly got lost in his thoughts again, attempting a more objective view on his situation and failing.
He was snapped back to reality on the third repetition of his name.
He looked up with a startled, almost scared expression. That hurt Jinx to see; she felt like the monster she’s always thought she was.
“Ekko,” she repeated. “Why did you save me?”
He stared blankly at her with nary a clear answer.
Jinx saw the glistening in Ekko’s eyes and momentarily doubted his choices as much as her own.
“I’m selfish,” Ekko answered with the ghost of a smile.
“Why did you save me?” she pressed.
“I needed you,” Ekko admitted, only to add: “alive.” He made it sound ever so slightly less like he needed her and more like there was something he needed from her. He didn’t know whether or not he wanted Jinx to take note of it, and she barely did.
It was Ekko’s turn to ask: “Why did you come back?”
Powder was slower to admit her motives. The best she came up with was “I had nowhere else to go.”
Ekko didn’t have the energy to ask how come or why not leave the way she wanted to. So the two—worn out, red and puffy eyed, wet faced, and not alone—walked home in comfortable silence.