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Most wives might be at least slightly perturbed when their husband came home with an angry bird of prey and lacerated arms, but Jinx always appreciated chaos. Especially given that she’d been retired for the last four months, which meant that area of her life had been strangely lacking. Not that she’d minded that as much as she’d expected to. For the first time in her life, she was at peace. It felt so almost wrong. Not that most people would consider a life consisting of mad scientist experiments, burnt dinners, and parenting a reckless teenager to be peaceful. Still, it was a nice change of pace to have Ekko being the one to come home covered in blood. She crossed the room quickly, grinning at the sight of the owl in his hands.
“Where the fuck did you find that?”
“In a dumpster,” Ekko said. “Poor little guy lost her wing. She wasn’t really happy about me picking her up.”
“No shit,” Powder laughed. “Let me find something to tie the beak and claws with.”
“Be gentle.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She found some string that would hopefully be strong enough, along with a first aid kit. For Ekko, as well as the bird. The claw marks looked nasty.
The string held, and Ekko put the owl on the kitchen table. Carefully he unwrapped the cloth it had been swaddled in. Sure enough, one of its wings was gone, replaced by a festering wound. Jinx looked at it with a frown.
“That looks bad,” she said.
“I know,” Ekko said. “It’s feverish too. I know we probably can’t save it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Jinx said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Me and Singed have been working on something special.”
“You and who?” Ekko said.
Jinx winced slightly at the tone of his voice. That was one cat out of the bag. She turned to go to the workshop.
“Don’t freak out. He’s super smart.”
“He’s insane.”
“You know what they say,” Jinx said, rummaging through the countless vials and half-finished creations. “Birds of a feather.”
She laughed at her own joke before seeing it: a small purple vial. And a syringe right next to it. Perfect.
“It’s not the same thing,” Ekko said. “I can’t believe you’re still talking to him after what he did.”
“After he did what? Save my life?” Jinx said. “Besides, if anyone knows how to keep me alive a little longer, it’s him. That’s actually what this was for.”
She placed the vial and the needle down on the kitchen table, not meeting Ekko’s eyes. The owl tried to fly off, as if it knew what was about to happen, flapping its remaining wing pathetically.
“Please tell me you aren’t letting him experiment on you.”
“Of course not,” Jinx scoffed. “I’m experimenting on myself.”
“With needles?”
She shrugged. As if it was nothing. As if every time she injected herself with some new poison didn’t send her spiraling into a panic attack. But she’d been getting better. Her fear had faded. Gotten easier to control.
“This was supposed to be a safe way for my body to process the excess shimmer,” she said. “It didn’t work, but it did make my infections heal even faster. And for being shimmer, it was pretty painless. I think a small dose might give our friend here a pickup.”
“Guess it’s our only chance,” Ekko said, thankfully dropping the topic of Singed. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”
“You,” Jinx said.
No way she was picking up a needle if she didn’t have to. Ekko still hesitated, looking at the dying bird with something she couldn’t read.
“What?” she asked.
“Is this the right thing? She's in a lot of pain, and this might not even work. What if it just makes things worse?”
“You’re saying we should just let it die?”
The words came out harsher than she intended them to. Which was stupid. Why was she suddenly getting upset over a stupid bird?
“I don’t know,” Ekko said. “I guess I don’t want to hurt her even more.”
“You won’t. It wants to live.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do,” Jinx snapped. “Nobody wants to die, Ekko.”
Even as she said that, she knew it wasn’t true. How many times had she wanted to die? At the warehouse, on Singed’s table, on that awful night when her gun jammed. There was a sudden pressure on her chest, a heat in her eyes, and a thickness to her throat. She looked down at the owl, bloodied and forlorn. There was something desperate in its yellow eyes. Suddenly she hated that bird and wished it would die.
“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Ekko said. “That she doesn’t get a choice.”
She snatched the vial and the syringe from the table, filling the former without looking at Ekko.
“You’re such a pussy,” she snapped. “Hold the damn thing still.”
He didn’t snap back, which only made her feel worse. Instead, he held the fighting bird in place as it struggled futilely. Jinx plunged the needle in quick and clean. She was glad they tied the beak. She didn’t want to hear it crying.
Afterwards, it seemed to settle down a bit. The fever was down too. Ekko wrapped it in blankets and untied its claws and beak. To their surprise, it didn’t attack. It just ate the meat they gave it and went to sleep.
“I think she’s going to make it,” Ekko said.
“Lucky bird,” Jinx said, not without sarcasm. “Come on. You’re bleeding pretty bad.”
She started cleaning and wrapping the cuts. It was quiet except for the endless ticking of all their clocks. Isha had gone to sleep over at a friend’s house. Jinx thought she’d like the pet. Rover, their cat, would probably be less pleased with their newest addition.
“Jinx,” Ekko said. “Are you serious about this? Getting better?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because we talked about this after the surgery. The doctors said you’d make it to your forties, and you said you were okay with that. You didn’t want any more experiments or surgeries or medication. You wanted to die peacefully.”
He always had to be so damn blunt. She hated it. It made it hard for her to control herself, and she didn’t want to yell at him again.
“I wanted to die fighting,” she said. “But I’m not going to get to do that now, am I?”
“Never say never,” he said.
“Hilarious.”
“Seriously though,” Ekko said. “I don’t want you putting yourself through hell just for me.”
“You’re starting to sound like you want me to die young, Ekko.”
“I want you to have a choice,” he said. “The one you should have gotten nine years ago.”
“I had a choice that day!” Jinx said. “I chose to die for you, for Zaun, for the Firelights. I sacrificed myself willingly. And you—“
She broke off, ashamed. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit her resentment at him for bringing her back. Because it had been all wrong—painful and brutal and violating. Because she had been wrong, afterwards, her very body a constant reminder that she was a dead girl walking. Because even now, as her eyes filled with tears, everything was tinged with pink.
“You think I don’t know that?” Ekko said. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did to you? You think I haven’t spent every damn day since then thinking I might lose you anyway?”
She knew he wasn’t just talking about the shimmer that was slowly killing her. Her hands brushed the rough parts of her wrists almost subconsciously as guilt started to creep in.
“You did lose me. That girl you married died, and I was some monster shambling around her place.”
“No, you weren’t,” he said. “You were just…Powder. Or Jinx. Whatever the hell you call yourself, it’s the same damn person.”
“That’s exactly my point! Nobody calls me both of those names. I’m either Powder or Jinx. You’re the only one who acts like they’re interchangeable.”
“They’re not interchangeable,” he said. “But they’re both you. And I love both of them. I love it when you do horrible things to horrible people. I love it when you stay up at night to help Isha through a fever. I love it when you create some weapon of mass destruction and name it like it’s a stuffed animal. I love it when we do our hair together in the mornings. And every time a part of you changes, I find something new to love.”
“…shit.”
Then she started bawling, because how else was she supposed to respond to any of that? Ekko sighed but went over and put a bandaged arm around her. Finally the sobs receded, and she was able to talk. They didn’t, at first. They just settled into silence.
“Are you still angry at me for the surgery?” he asked finally.
“Yes,” she said. “Are you still angry at me for dying in the first place?”
“I’m angry every time you choose dying over staying with me,” he said. “Even the ones that weren’t your fault.”
“Guess we just have to stay angry at each other then, huh?”
“I guess so.”
Another pause.
“I really am glad that you saved me,” Powder said. “I don’t want to die. I never did. I was just…scared, I guess. But I’m trying to be braver. Find a way we can grow old and wrinkly together.”
“Then let me help,” he said. “I don’t care if it means working for Singed or anyone else. If this is really what you want, we’ll find a cure.”
“Okey-dokey,” she said. “Sounds like a deal. What are you going to name him, by the way?”
“What, the owl?” Ekko said. “I don’t know. How does Eon sound?”
“Terrible. I like Mister Hooty Snooty.”
“This is why I didn’t let you name Isha.”
“I wanted to call her Bunny.”
“You’re making my point,” he said. “Eon it is. You think we could make a prosthetic he could fly with?”
“Duh,” Jinx said. “We’re a pair of geniuses, remember? We can do anything.”
And for the first time she really believed it. That they could fix this bird. Fix this city.
Maybe they could even fix her.
Together.