Chapter Text
“Someone worth building it for.”
Her resolve wavered.
Slowly, feeling like she was moving through mud, she turned her body towards him a bit.
“Why are you here?”
He walked closer to her, raising his hands placatingly. He looked so much like he was soothing a wounded animal that she was almost offended, but to be offended would take a lot of energy, and she didn’t have that right now.
“Look, I promise I’ll explain everything, and it’ll be really good and it’ll make a lot of sense. Can you please just…give me the bomb?”
She eyed him distrustfully. “I don’t want to.”
His outstretched fingers brushed her shoulder, and she flinched. “Jinx. Please.”
Slowly, haltingly, the rigid arms clutching the bomb to her chest lowered. Every movement was like pushing a mountain. She stretched out her arm, placing the grinning (or maybe this one was grimacing) monkey in his waiting hand. Immediately, the monkey sailed off the edge.
She rolled her eyes. “Really?”
Ekko exhaled. He nodded.
Calm down. I didn’t even do it yet.
She stared at him, waiting for him to say something. She had so many other things that would achieve the same thing as the bomb. She could even tip forwards just a little bit and follow the monkey off the edge – bet he wouldn’t see that coming – but to do any of that she would have to move, and right now her limbs felt like rubber and lead at the same time.
So she waited.
He was silent for a long time. His brow was furrowed. Dark eyes examined hers. Finally, he spoke. “Jinx, you…what the fuck happened to you?”
His words sparked anger in her chest. Where should I start?
“What do you mean, what the fuck happened to me?” She snapped. “What the fuck happened to you, where have you been?”
“I’m about to explain that part.” He retorted defensively.
She snorted. “Well get on with it. Before I change my mind.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again to look into hers. “Listen. Something insane happened to me at the Hextech gates.”
“The Hextech gates?” She echoed. “What…” her anger was replaced by curiosity, but that was a much weaker emotion, and it stood no chance against the numb waves of grief. “I don’t want to hear about Hextech.”
“It’s not about Hextech. It’s about you.”
“I can’t believe I let you stop me for this.” She turned away. Vander. Mylo. Claggor. Isha. All dead from her Hextech weapons. “I’m not telling you again, Ekko. Get out.”
He grabbed her wrist. “I went to an alternate dimension where everyone who died that night lived.”
What?
Bullshit.
Mylo hovered over her shoulder. His whisper was high-pitched and scornful.
He’s lying to you. Everyone always lies to you. The thoughts weren’t hers, not really. They belonged to the ghosts floating at the edge of her consciousness.
His grip shifted to her shoulder and he pulled on it gently, turning her around to face him.
“They didn’t have Hextech there. I don’t know what happened, exactly, but some small change in their timeline made their future completely different from ours. They were all there, Jinx – Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo…” he hesitated for a second. “Silco.”
Every name sent a wave of pain through her chest.
“I heard you killed him.”
She jerked back. He might as well have backhanded her across the face.
“Why?” His voice was low. He stared at her intensely.
A derisive noise that might be classified as a laugh of some kind escaped her throat. “‘Why?’ You’re asking all the dumb questions today, buster.” Ekko froze, but she barely noticed. “It’s because that’s what I do. Every person I care about, I just can’t help but blow them up or shoot them full of bullets. Let me guess-their Jinx wasn’t such a fucking screw up? How is any of this supposed to be helpful?” She pounded her head with the heel of her hand.
“Their Jinx,” his voice was tense. “Never had a Hextech crystal. Their world never had Hextech, or Silco’s shimmer creatures, or a situation where their Jinx had to do what ours did.”
Her body wasn’t following instructions. She couldn’t move.
“In a world with no Hextech, everything that you blame yourself for never happened.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so, so badly. Could it be true?
It’s you, it’s you it’s you. Not hers.
She let out a long sigh. She was exhausted.
“Ekko, do you really expect me to believe any of that? Come on.” She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t keep her eyelids up. It was so much work to keep her eyes open, and she was so, so tired. She closed them, wishing he would leave her be to disappear into the place where the darkness came from. “I don’t know why you bothered. It was nice of you to try. But you shouldn’t have come.”
“I’ll prove it.” His voice was urgent. “Look.”
She didn’t want to, but maybe if she did, he would leave her alone. He held up the odd device by his side, his gaze holding hers. Her eyes flickered down.
“What’s that?” she asked in a monotone voice. It didn’t matter.
“It takes me back in time.”
Maybe it mattered a little. Just a little.
“That’s impossible.”
Absurd. Does he think I’m that stupid?
Ekko frowned. “How do I-okay. Stay right there.” He backed away from her, his hand resting on the cord hanging from his weird little device. “I’m going to walk back up to you, then rewind by four seconds. From your perspective, it’ll look like I just materialized closer.”
She snorted.
He was undeterred.
“Ready?”
And then he was there again, right by her shoulder. She jerked away, surprised by the sudden closeness.
“How did you…” she trailed off. It was a dumb question. He’d explained it pretty clearly. And really, it would be much easier to just accept it than argue.
The hope on his face didn’t belong here in the pit of despair she’d built for herself.
“Do you believe me?”
A small part of her didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but the thing was, she did, and there was no point in lying. It was too much work.
“And what do you do, exactly, in four seconds?” she asked finally.
He shrugged. “Whatever I need to do, I guess. How do you think we’re still standing here?”
She stood for a second, processing his words, and suddenly, rage sparked inside her. “I already did it? And you fucking stopped me?” She stepped away from him, her anger growing. “Are you for real? It’s none of your business, Ekko. What right do you have to drag me back once I made the decision?”
She expected him to respond in kind, to fight her fire with fire, but to her surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he paused, “I guess.” Then he frowned. “No, I’m not, actually. I just…” his voice wavered, and she felt a twinge of guilt at her outburst. “I didn’t want to lose another friend.”
There it was again, that word – friend. Her and Ekko hadn’t been friends for a long, long time. He was acting strange. So strange, in fact, that maybe he was telling the truth about his insane alternate dimension after all.
She gestured to the device. “Why does it have monkeys in it?”
Ekko ran his hand over the glass. “You helped me build it. Other you.”
Other me.
It was a wild idea. A version of her that hadn’t fucked up everything she laid her hands on. What kind of life would that be?
He was looking at her questioningly, his head tilted. His brown eyes were soft. “I can show you how we did it, if you want.”
It didn’t change anything. None of it did. Not the alternate dimension, not the time travel, not even his pleading eyes that tugged at something deep in her chest. But she was curious. She couldn’t die with him here to stop her, anyway.
Might as well.
She took a deep breath. “Fine.”
Her workshop was deep in one of the fissures that defined Zaun. The giant, long-broken down exhaust fan was accessible through an old elevator system that she had fixed herself. There were no solid walls, just rails. The floor was dented. It creaked and groaned, threatening to send its occupants plummeting into the depths. Most people would have never set foot on it. Most people valued their safety.
It was safe, of course. It just wasn’t a particularly smooth ride, and it didn’t love the extra weight of two people, but it was safe. She traced an old doodle on the railing-some sort of creature with-
Bunny ears.
Fresh grief washed over her.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
She sucked in a shuddering breath.
Ekko’s eyes flickered to her. The concern evident in them was weird. There had been so much anger in those eyes back on the bridge, flashing in her vision as fists connected with her nose. It had been frightening. More frightening still, though, had been the change, the hesitation, the moment where his gaze softened and those dark eyes had seemed to stare into her very soul.
He was looking at her like that right now.
It pissed her off.
“Stop looking at me like…that,” she glowered at him.
“I’m not,” he quickly looked down, studying the sleeve of his jacket, which he’d retrieved as they began their ascent.
A cold breeze from somewhere in the fissure blew past them, sending a chill up her spine. Pathetic. Hers? It was hard to blame him, really. How else could he be looking at you? Hers. There’s nothing left. Nothing worth saving. Not hers. She shivered. The voices whispered in her ears, or was it the wind? Both?
Ekko’s voice cut through the unidentifiable chatter.
“Look, just…” he shrugged off his jacket and held it out. She eyed him doubtfully. Are you serious?
Whatever.
She took a tiny step towards him, and another, and then she couldn’t take any more. No point.
Ekko was nothing if not persistent, damn him, and he moved in himself to drape it over her shoulders. It was better like this. His jacket was warm. She surveyed him blankly.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
They rode to the top in silence.
As they stepped out into the street, Ekko looked contemplative.
“Now what?” She asked, not so much interested in an answer as in trying to break the unbearable silence.
He sighed.
“Ideally, the Firelight base. I just don’t how what to say to them to…I mean, no offense, but you’re not exactly the most popular person around there.”
Jinx snorted. “You know, that’s the most convincing argument for ‘I was in an alternate dimension’ you’ve given this whole time. Haven’t you heard?” He glanced at her in confusion. “Everyone in Zaun loves me right now. Broke, like, a bajillion people out of Stillwater.”
“Really?” He sounded impressed.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Lot of good that did some of them.”
“What-”
“Nothing.” She brushed past him, a bitter taste in her mouth. Why had she said that? He would only ask questions. Questions that she didn’t want to answer. “Okay, where are we going?”
A long pause hung in the air as she walked away from him. Maybe she was walking in the opposite direction of their stupid base. Maybe he would let her keep walking. Give up. Let her leave him behind.
No such luck.
She knew where the hideout was. Sort of. The clues had been there, but she’d never bothered to put them together, or share them with someone who would. Exploring the area had felt pointless. Maybe some small part of her didn’t want to know. She’d never been this close, anyway, she thought as they turned a corner.
They were alone and then surrounded, a group of Firelights appearing in the blink of an eye. There were three of them, snarling masks pointed at her and Ekko. Hostility crackled in the air, and she wondered for a second if she’d misjudged and if he would have to fight to get her in.
“Well, shit,” the tallest of the group spoke. “Ekko? Where the hell’ve you been?”
Ekko winced. “Right.” Had he not even stopped by the base before running off to track her down? Clearly, it had been the right choice as far as his objective was concerned. Hers, not so much. “It…would take a while to explain.”
The guard’s face was unreadable under the mask, of course, but she could just picture a snide expression on their face as they took a step closer. “We have a while, don’t we?”
Another one reached over and shoved them back. “Cut it out, Moss.” The masked face surveyed them, then nodded to Ekko. Then to her. For fuck’s sake.
Of course these awful, hopeful idiots had fallen hook, line, and sinker for whatever lie about her apparent goodness Ekko had suddenly fallen victim to, too. She wished they had fought them. If she couldn’t convince Ekko to let her end it, maybe his people could have, but as always, she was her own worst enemy – no one here was going to challenge the symbol of Zaun’s revolution.
“Don’t listen to him, Ekko. We’re just glad to have you back. You can share later.” The second firelight’s tone, even distorted by the mask, was friendly. She couldn’t see their face, but she could feel their eyes on her. “Are you sure about…”
His hand rose up between her and the group protectively. She could have laughed. She didn’t. If she wanted to kick these three’s asses, they would be the ones needing protection from her.
“We’re not going to have any trouble.”
The firelight tipped their head to the side, considering his words, then took a step back, gesturing with their weapon. Permission granted, the two continued on their way. The bright sun as they left the tunnel blinded her for a second and she blinked to clear her eyes as they entered the main clearing.
Damn.
It was beautiful. The towering tree, a mesmerizing, vibrant shade of green, cast dancing shadows on the ground. The little insects that the Firelights were named after danced in the air. The natural beauty of this tranquil place was enhanced by string lights, paint, and flags. An aura of calm, of peace, of human connection welcomed them in. For a split second, the tiniest spark of wonder spread through her, almost bright enough to illuminate the blank, numb haze before one thought snuffed it out like a cloud drifting in front of the sun-
Isha would have loved this.
The two of them were right in the center of the clearing, in full sight of everyone in the firelight base who was choosing to look – and that was everyone. Countless eyes rested on her. Some glinted with hostility, but just like the sentries, no one moved to attack. Some were shining with anticipation, with awe, with reverence. The weight of so many more people to disappoint pressed on her throat like…like metal. Crushing her windpipe. Pushing her to the concrete, Slamming her head against the ground. The chatter of metal teeth filled her ears.
Ekko’s hand brushed against her shoulder and she jumped, his face swimming into focus, contorted with rage, fist raised, but no – that was then, this was now, and this time, his face was –
Ugh.
That wide-eyed expression, again, the only thing standing between her and the pin of the grenade. She grimaced.
“Well?” Her tone was sharp. He looked confused, so she elaborated. “We were going to talk time travel.” She gestured to the device hanging off his shoulder.
He nodded, rubbing his neck. “We were.” He hesitated. “But I was thinking maybe we could…get you cleaned up a bit, I don’t know? You look…”
Like shit?
“…tired.”
Well, that wasn’t wrong, but a bath wasn’t going to fix it. A bath wouldn’t wash the smell of blood out of her nose. A bath wouldn’t scrub the scars off her skin. A bath wouldn’t gather the dust in the wind back into Isha.
What a bath would do, though, was give her the chance to hide behind a closed door from all these stupid trusting people – including him. Give her time to think without him hovering over her shoulder.
So she took a deep breath. “Sure,”
He eyed her suspiciously. “That easy?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Lead the way.”
Steam rose from the surface of the water, curling in the light. The bathhouse was a short building tucked into a crevice in the wall. Soft lighting illuminated the shower stalls lining the walls. Ekko led her through the room to the back wall, where three doors were open to reveal tubs tucked away. There were plants hanging from the roof and even some candles on the repurposed boxes that they were using as tables. Where they got those, she had no idea, but she supposed every space needed a personal touch. Ekko didn’t light any of them. It was probably a good idea. Arson wasn’t an act that she committed often, but the smoldering remains of The Last Drop probably weren’t a point in her favor.
Ekko turned the faucet. It squeaked, but the water that came out of it was clean and hot. She watched him as he rummaged in a cabinet off to the side, pushing aside bandages and other medical supplies to get to the towels. It made sense to have the running water and some first-aid supplies in the same place, although she was sure they had a proper infirmary elsewhere. Ekko set up everything she would need – the towel, the shampoo, the soap – then he was gone, the door was closed, and she was alone.
Again.
This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? The only reason she’d agreed to this dumb non-solution. Silence alone was different from silence with someone else – emptier, somehow, without the sound of his breath, the rustle of his clothes, the quiet buzz of his energy. And of course, in the silence came the screams, tugging at her ears until she was humming just to drown them out. Her fingers hovered over the clasps of the belts holding her top on.
Isha touched this.
She closed her eyes, but all that did was bring the bright little face into sharper focus, glowing with delight, little tufts of hair sticking out in every direction. She clenched her teeth so tightly she was surprised they didn’t break.
Just take the damn thing off.
She tossed her clothes into a pile on the floor and waded into the warm water. The sides and bottom of the tub had probably been white at some point, but over time, the iron in the water had given them a reddish hue. Her mind returned to the pristine bathroom in the Kiramman manor as she pressed a palm to the surface of the water, playing with the surface tension. Clean tile and marble reflected bright white light, shining in her eyes. Bright white light, blinding her, bouncing off the metal of the syringes. Fuck.
She had to say it out loud, she had to say something out loud, otherwise something terrible was going to happen and it would be her fault because she didn’t say anything to keep the bad thing from happening even though she knew that something bad would happen if she didn’t-
“I’m not there anymore. I’m not going back.”
The words meant nothing, really, as the scornful ghosts reminded her with glee. She hadn’t prevented it the first time – not much she could do to keep it from happening again. Well, there was one thing, but stupid Ekko and his new toy hadn’t let her take that way out.
Unless…
She lowered herself towards the surface of the warm water, shivering as it enveloped her. It was still pleasant, but it had cooled down a bit. Had she really been standing there that long? She gazed down at her reflection. It stared back.
Evil. Worthless. She didn’t know anymore who was saying what.
It would be so easy. Him and his stupid time machine couldn’t stop her. By the time they got tired of waiting for her and came in, she would be long gone. The perfect plan. It was ironic – she’d committed to Jinx by diving underwater, and now she would finish her off the same way.
She hesitated, her eyes fixed on the surface of the water. Should she take a breath before going under? If the point was to drown, wouldn’t it be better to start off with as little air as possible?
“Hey,”
The water rippled.
For fuck’s sake.
Ekko’s interruption was maddening, muffled by the door. “Are you good?”
Her voice didn’t sound like hers. “Yeah,”
“Sorry. It’s been a while.”
Had it? She hadn’t noticed. The moment was ruined, the haze of intense clarity – or maybe confusion – broken. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she looked over at the bars of soap and bottles of shampoo. She could reach over and take one, but her arms didn’t feel like they belonged to her. What was the point, anyway?
“Do you need anything?”
It was like he had some kind of sixth sense for her mind slipping. It was a long time before she could muster a reply. “I don’t know.”
There was no reply for a second. Then-
“Can I come in?”
She certainly wasn’t going to come out. “Yeah,”
The door opened, and his footsteps echoed through the small space. She supposed she should be embarrassed by the fact that she was, in fact, completely naked, but Ekko didn’t seem to notice. With her bent knees and folded arms, it wasn’t like he could see anything anyway. And so what if he did? It wasn’t like there was much to look at.
Ekko’s eyes studied her face, taking in the smeared eyeliner and dry hair that clearly hadn’t been washed. “Have you just been sitting here?”
Wordlessly, she nodded. His face glitched and distorted, before snapping back to the familiar concerned expression. He knelt beside the tub, his gaze level with hers.
“I thought we agreed this would help.”
She sighed. “There’s no point.”
You’ll never wash off the blood. Not hers.
His patience was infuriating as he coaxed her. “Come on. I really think you’ll feel better.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She snapped.
“I’m not trying to. I just think-”
“-you think a bath is going to magically fix me? Face it, Ekko.” Her throat burned as she remembered her words to Vi. “There’s no good version of me.”
His eyes flickered. “You said you believed me.”
She laughed bitterly. “I believe you that there is a reality out there where a version of me isn’t as fucked up. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, though, but that’s not this version. That’s not me. And you don’t really care if this version lives or not. You just want it to remind you of that one.” She shook her head. “Let it go, Ekko. This version’s not worth it.”
Silence hung in the air.
It stretched for a very long time.
Ekko rose to his feet. Good. Get out. Let me finish the job.
He didn’t.
Instead, he retrieved a small towel from a nearby shelf. Then he was back again, crouching beside her. His movements were hesitant. Slow. If she wanted to stop him, she could.
She didn’t.
He dipped the towel in the water and reached for her face. The warm, damp cloth was soothing on her skin. His touch was gentle. She didn’t know what to do. Where should she look? She closed her eyes.
Bit by bit, the towel worked its way across her face-cheeks, eyes, forehead, jaw. She leaned into his hand instinctively. Warmth spread from every point of contact. Water ran down her face in rivulets, curving around her jutting cheekbones to be wiped off. His thumb beneath the towel brushed her bottom lip.
.
Then the warm pressure was gone. She opened her eyes to see that he had moved around the edge of the tub. He was behind her now, reaching around her, fingertips ghosting across the surface of the water.
“Does this bother you?” His voice was low and soothing. There wasn’t any part of him touching her, but she could feel his presence over her shoulder.
She took a breath. “No,”
His damp fingers brushed a greasy clump of hair out of her face. Droplets ran across her forehead. More water poured over her head from his hands. She closed her eyes.
It was nice.
He was reaching for one of the bottles that she hadn’t touched off to the side. The scent of mint filled the air as he removed the cap and poured the contents into his hand. Gently, slowly, his hands made their way back into her hair, scrubbing at the dirt and blood. In the blissful darkness behind her eyelids, his touch was the only thing she could focus on as his fingers worked the shampoo into a lather. His nails brushed her scalp as he easily worked his fingers through the short strands of hair. It was impossible not to relax at least a little at the soothing way his hands tugged at it.
It was over too soon. Water and suds ran down her face, trailing the pathways her tears had left behind, and she was clean – well, her hair, at least. It hung down around her face in jagged curtains. For a second, neither of them moved, the stillness broken by the drops of water falling from her face and hair into the tub.
Ekko stood up, clearing his throat. He seemed a bit unsettled now. A cold rush of air filled the place where his warmth had been. He gestured awkwardly to the pile of clothes that she’d discarded on the floor. “I can-I can take these to get cleaned, if you want.”
She shook her head. “Burn them.” Her arms wrapped tighter around her knees. Please burn them.
He didn’t ask. “Okay. I’ll just-” He pointed to the door, and suddenly the thought of being alone again was excruciating; she needed his presence, his voice, his hands-
“Can you stay?” She blurted out.
He paused, and she saw his throat bob.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
He resumed his previous position sitting on the floor behind her. It would have been nice to be able to look at him, but this was clearly a last-ditch effort to preserve her modesty, and she left it alone.
His fingers brushed across a wet lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear. She half-glanced over her shoulder so that she could see him in her periphery. His gaze was flickering over her shoulders, taking in the grime and blood that hadn’t come off as the water ran down her neck. Tentatively, his hand reached past her for the soap.
“Do you mind?”
It was kind of a dumb question. She was stark naked. He’d already washed her hair. It was nice of him to keep up the pretense of boundaries, though. She nodded. Technically, a positive response would mean that she did mind, but she didn’t have the heart to respond out loud, and she figured he’d understand either way.
He worked the bar of soap across her skin; her shoulders, her upper back, her arms. The little tray didn’t have a sponge, and as he reached for her shoulders, his hands suddenly changed course and he paused for a second before returning to her hair, arranging it pointlessly. He was stalling.
He was nervous.
Ekko’s hands traveled to the nape of her neck, scrubbing at the dirt. His thumb brushed over her spine, sending tingles down the entire length of it. A few inches lower and his palms were on her shoulders. In the right headspace, she might have cracked a joke – trying to cop a feel, Little Man? – but she could only sit in silence, savoring the way her tense muscles released under his touch.
Useless. Not hers. Can’t even clean yourself.
“Shut up,” she mumbled.
Ekko paused. “Sorry?”
She jerked her head. “Not you. Them.” She waved an arm listlessly, sending shimmering droplets across the room.
He resumed his ministrations, a bit slower now. “…what did they say?”
“Something mean.” She glowered at the snickering figures.
“Who’s they?” He asked. “I mean, is it someone?”
He doesn’t really know, does he?
Between bombs and bullets, they’d never really had the chance to sit down and talk feelings. She hummed, fake amusement lacing her voice. “Oh, they’re someone all right.” She pointed. “Mylo’s right there. He’s making fun of me.” His hands stilled, but she continued. “Claggor shows up sometimes. Used to get Vi, but not anymore, so that’s nice, I guess. Isha-” Her voice withered and died in her throat.
He’d gotten closer to her. She could feel his breath on her ear as he spoke, so quietly that surely even her ghosts couldn’t pick up his words. “Isha? Who’s Isha?”
He never met Isha.
He never will.
She didn’t want to talk about Isha. Guilt stabbed through her heart, so thick she could choke. She struggled to speak. What would she say, anyway?
One of Ekko’s hands vanished. He leaned it against the side of the tub, resting his face on it. She could see him following the movement of his other hand idly out of the corner of her eye. He spoke.
“You know, we’ve got this giant mural of everyone we’ve lost. People we loved,” his tone was conversational. “The people who loved them the most draw it, even if it’s not very good. Know why?”
She did, of course she did, but she shook her head, unable to speak.
“Because that’s our way of keeping them with us until we’re ready to let them go. We draw them, we tell their stories, we love them, we miss them. We cry over them. Then we put them to rest. It’s hard. But it’s part of the process of letting them go.” His touch was so gentle it almost hurt. He was leaning closer now. If he lowered his head just a bit, his chin would be resting on her shoulder. His voice was for her only. “Put her to rest.”
“Isha…” her voice hurt as it made its way up her throat, but she swallowed, pushing on. She deserves it. “I never understood why Vi left me behind that day. I went on all our other missions – why not the most important one? Maybe if I’d gone right away, I wouldn’t’ve…” The water rippled. She had no idea whether it was from her breath, or water dripping off her face, or a tear. “Isha was…” she struggled to find the words. “She made me get it. Isha was my Powder.”
Her words hung like the steam in the air.
“I tried so hard to keep her safe, Ekko, I tried-” Her voice cracked and failed, a sob building up in her chest. “I just can’t get it right. Why can’t I ever get it right?”
Ekko didn’t answer. What could you say to that, really?
“What happened to her?” He asked finally.
Her words were powder in her mouth. “My gun blew her up.” He tilted his head questioningly, and she elaborated. “There was a battle. The Noxians attacked us and set off…” He didn’t know about this either, did he? He’s going to think I’ve lost it even more than I actually have. “Look, I believed you about the time travel, okay? I know it’s insane, but Vander is alive.” Ekko’s hand, still rubbing her shoulder, paused. “He’s some kind of…shimmer creature now. Singed brought him back.”
To her surprise-
“I believe you.”
She glanced back at him suspiciously. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. Like you said – time travel. Besides,” his brow furrowed. “Last time I saw you, you were…”
Dead?
Almost. If only she’d been that lucky.
“Is that…is that what happened to you?” His tone was hesitant. Of all the wounds he’d picked at over the last few hours, this one seemed to haunt him the most.
She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want to talk about any of the things he wanted her to talk about. She took a deep breath.
Put it to rest.
“Silco found me. I was…I wasn’t dead yet. I was heading there.”
It hung it the air, unspoken – I wish I’d made it.
“I don’t really know what happened, exactly. It was…” she trailed off. Were there words to describe the pain, the terror?
Not really.
She went with, “It was bad,” hoping that he would understand the things she couldn’t say. The specters whispered ominously, sharp fingers reaching for her. For a second, she was back on the table, leather digging into her skin as screams burned her throat, begging uselessly to divert the path of the knives.
“Hey,” the room swam back into focus. Ekko was speaking to her, saying her name.
“Sorry,”
“Lost you for a second.” His fingers squeezed. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”
Her lips twisted. “Not much else to say.”
“You think that’s what he did to Vander?”
A change of subject. Sort of.
She nodded. “He’s unstable. They’ve been experimenting on him for years. I can’t even imagine how much pain he’s in.”
Not entirely true. She may just be the only person who could.
“He went on a rampage. Everyone there was in danger and Isha…she-she tried to take him out.” She dug her nails into her palm, so hard that she was surprised she didn’t draw blood. “Didn’t even work, I don’t think. Knocked him out. The Noxians took him after that.”
His hand traveled down her arm, down to her fingers, and gently, one by one, uncurled them. His touch lingered on the metal of her prosthetic, but he didn’t comment. Maybe he sensed that he’d brought up enough things she would rather forget for one conversation. Maybe he didn’t care, except he did, she couldn’t deny that he did, because with careful movements, he began scrubbing the dried blood off her hands from where she’d ravaged them in her cell. His hands were bigger than hers, engulfing her cold, brittle fingers. He was speaking to her again.
“You said they took him?”
She nodded. Her eyelids had drifted closed. The warm water, the gentle pressure on her hand – it was nice. Foreign. Alien. But nice.
“That’s weird. You’d think they’d try to put him down. The Noxians don’t strike me as the merciful type.”
Jinx sighed. “I doubt that was it. They’ll want something that powerful for themselves.”
“And they attacked this…commune place? Scar says I missed some crazy miracle worker. Why were you there?”
“Vi and I were looking for help for Vander. Then they all showed up. The Noxians, and that Piltie enforcer.” Caitlyn.
“Caitlyn was there?” Ekko’s voice sharpened. “I heard she’s been…taking some extreme measures to find you. What happened?”
She realized with a start that, for the first time in years, they were on the same side. Sort of. The irony of her ascent to the pedestal Zaun had placed her on hadn’t been lost on her, but she hadn’t realized just how much she’d taken his place in his absence.
The Boy Savior.
What does that make you?
He was waiting for her to respond. “She and Vi made some kind of plan to fight them, but it didn’t really work.”
He glanced at her. “She betrayed them?”
She could see what he was getting at. You’d have to be an idiot not to. She just wasn’t particularly interested in picking up the metaphorical breadcrumbs. “I guess so.”
There was a long pause. “That’s bad.”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure they’ll be waging war on Piltover by the end of the week.” She shrugged. “And?”
“Well, don’t get me wrong, I’m not too bothered about that either after the shit they pulled with the grey. But,” his fingers tapped on her arm as he thought, a strangely intimate gesture.
What the fuck is going on? Last time she saw him he’d beaten the shit out of her.
“If they hit Piltover hard enough, Zaun’s going to feel it. No matter who comes out on top, they’re going to take it out on us. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t love our chances.”
She opened her eyes, considering his words. “Well, we’re just fucked then, right? No use dwelling on it.”
His gaze was hard. “Maybe Piltover could use some backup.”
Jinx snorted.
“From who? The twenty people in fighting shape around here? No offense, Ekko, but the Firelights won’t do shit.”
“I’m not talking about the Firelights. I’m talking about Zaun.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Good luck convincing anyone around here to do that. No one wants to help those topsiders. Besides, they’d tear each other apart before we even made it to the bridge. You and I both know that everyone in this place is always out for each other’s blood. Name one thing that’s been able to unite Zaun in the last decade.”
“You.”
It was difficult to render her speechless, but he had always had a knack for doing the impossible. Finally, she found her voice enough to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. It was a bitter sound.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. You’ve been actively talking me off the ledge for hours. I was about to try to off myself again when you came in. You’re asking too much, Ekko.”
He sighed, frustration evident in his tone. She waited for the snap, the rage. None came.
This wasn’t the Ekko she was used to. Ekko was serious, he was quick to anger, and he fought injustice with a conviction that she’d spent the last seven years mocking, inevitably leading to the rage being directed at her. She supposed this side of him had always been there, but she certainly hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing it. What had happened in this alternate universe that was bringing this side of him out?
“Why are you being nice to me?” She hadn’t meant to ask that out loud. It was too late, though. The question hung in the air between them. He took a breath as if he was going to respond, but nothing came out. She’d rendered him speechless this time, and he gestured aimlessly. Slowly, realization sunk in. A bitter taste rose in her mouth.
“Is this about Powder?” She could hear the malice in her tone. “She was still Powder, wasn’t she?” his head jerked towards her, and she realized she’d hit a nerve. She plowed on. “Bet Powder was easier to talk to, huh?” He was silent. Infuriating. “Answer me, damn it.”
She saw it – the spark of anger in his eyes. Small. She could work with it.
There he is.
“Bet she was real fucking agreeable. Squeaky clean Powder to go with your squeaky clean other Zaun? Bet she was a pretty thing, too, not some broken rat holed up in her cave. Bet she never got blown up and stitched back together with fucking shimmer.”
“Stop.” Ekko was seething, she could tell; she was about to make him break.
She had definitely struck a nerve. Good. Yell at me. Hers. You just can’t let anything be, can you? You have to blow it all up. Not hers. Maybe hers. It was hard to tell sometimes.
“Stop what? Am I pushing some buttons? Oops,” she snarled, yanking her hand out of his.
They were face-to-face now, burning eyes locked.
“Admit it, Ekko.” She hissed. “You liked having sweet little Powder back. You want me to be her, just like everyone else, because it’ll be easier for you. You’re just trying to find her in this universe. You can’t.She’s gone.”
His eyes flashed with rage. Tension crackled in the heavy air. Her ears burned as adrenaline shot through her. Her muscles tightened, prepared to dodge his punch.
Suddenly, his lips twitched. She watched, taken aback, as it happened again, and then he was smiling – a grim, resigned smile, but a smile, nonetheless.
“Gods, you are so wrong.” He laughed, rubbing his face. “She was Powder, yeah – it fucking sucked. I was an asshole when I showed up there, Jinx. I was confused as hell. I said the most awful things. She let me get away with so much shit before she put her foot down. You want me to admit something? You want the truth? I want to be called out on my bullshit. I like this.”
She sat back, a little lost. Well, this is no fun.
“I had to convince that Powder to step out of her comfort zone, to use her stupid brilliant brain instead of sitting around on her hands all day. You’ve never needed anyone to do that for you. You’ve lost everything and every time, you’ve kept going and building your life again. And it doesn’t always line up with my ideas, but you keep doing something. You act like you don’t care, but you do. That’s why losing that poor kid hit you so hard. That’s why you’re coming after me right now, that’s why you’re refusing to do what needs to happen to help Zaun. Because you’re afraid to build it again and lose it. But you’re different from her. You don’t stop.”
Stop.
He didn’t.
“You can’t stop. You have to keep building. If you give up now, if you let every awful thing that’s gone wrong for you in the past control you, you’ll never get the chance to get it right.” He inhaled. “Sometimes, taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind.”
Every word was like a punch in the gut. She couldn’t breathe.
Ekko knew her. He knew her. Out of everyone, he’d been here the whole time. He’d seen every terrible act she’d committed, he’d buried every friend she’d killed, and yet here he was, fighting her to convince her that she was worth saving.
She didn’t want to do it for her. She didn’t want to do it for Zaun, certainly not for Piltover. But maybe, just maybe, she could do it for him.
For Isha. For Vander and the boys. For Silco.
For Vi.
And in any case, if they all died in the attempt, at least she would get her wish.
“If I were to get on board with this,” she spoke slowly. “What’s your plan, exactly?”
Ekko’s face lit up. He was looking at her in a way that she hadn’t really seen from him before. Like…well, it didn’t matter. Did she like it? She wasn’t sure.
“I didn’t get that far. You were kind of the linchpin. Rally the people, I guess.”
Her face felt like glass, but she cracked a smile anyway. “Oh, sure. That easy, huh?”
He held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I know. Listen, if I knew how to unite Zaun, it would have happened a long time ago.”
She almost laughed. Almost. She felt – not good, far from it, but…lighter, somehow.
“So no plan then?”
“None, no.”
She looked down at the water. Her brain felt refreshingly clear, and in her clarity, a thought struck her. It was a horrible thought, but somehow, it didn’t come with an overwhelming wave of despair. “Well, I have someone I need to go see anyway. We could start there, I guess.” Her limbs were part of her again, connected to each other and her brain. She flexed her fingers experimentally, then braced her hands on the side of the tub to help her stand. She paused.
Whoops.
“Can you find me some clothes?”