Chapter Text
It's no easy task to break the wall between worlds and step into a timeline you don't belong in.
She leaves behind a note, tucked into her hideaway for her version of Ekko to find. He'll tell her family, she knows that; and, blindly, she thinks he might understand, they'll all understand.
Powder knows, she knows that it's risky. She doesn't know what will await her in this timeline, except that her sister is there, alive, breathing, a whole person and not the body they had laid to rest all those years ago. Ekko will be there too, an Ekko who will see her and understand why, exactly, she had done this, had spent days working and working and working to replicate the work they had done.
The thought of seeing Vi again… it is something Powder's dreamed of more times than she can count on both hands. Being able to make amends, to hug her sister and tell her that she loves her and that she's sorry and that she's better now, she knows what she's doing!
It is that thought, the desire coursing through her veins as strong as her own blood, that pushes her into the spiraling, spinning vortex, a bomb thoughtfully placed at the power levers to boost what otherwise might have failed by sheer lack of another person to help, like they had done before. Powder feels it inside her, feels something tear at her bones, and then–
~~
She leaves a world full of color and enters one dark and grey.
She had built the new vortex at her own place, because where else could she get away with working on this in complete secret, not risking the chance of her family finding out and trying to dissuade her into letting the past stay in the past? It goes against everything that Powder's worked so hard to build for herself, goes against the happy ending that she so desperately craves.
Where she lands though… it has been torn to bits. Charred ash hits her nose immediately, and Powder presses a hand to her face, wincing as it comes back covered in soot just from the entrance.
Something shifts in her body. For a moment, she feels herself glitch – is this what Ekko was experiencing when he was in my world? – as her body struggles to find footing. Still, she balls up her fists and pushes through and lets muscle memory do the working for her, swinging through rafters and sliding down poles until her feet touch solid ground and she is faced with smouldering remains of a home that was once so vibrant.
For a moment, Powder feels sick to her stomach. This is what I wanted, she thinks, and then shudders; the thought, though in her own voice it had been, had not been hers, not entirely.
For all of her dreaming and plotting, she is… not very good at thinking ahead, this much she can admit to herself as she shoves her way past charred wood and fallen bricks and stumbles into an undercity completely different from the one she's familiar with.
Powder's not stupid. She remembers, vaguely, the time before; memories that she holds dear, no matter how terrible they had been. They are, after all, her only memories of Vi. She remembers how dark Zaun had been, overrun with criminals and full of desperate people seeking comfort in something, anything to take their minds off of the helplessness inflicted on them by the people of Piltover.
Peace had come after Vi's death, in ways that Powder herself still does not fully understand.
Here, though, she's immediately transported to some of her early memories of the days after Vi's death; there are uniforms walking the streets, but instead of tormenting the regular people milling around, they seem to be helping. There's lights off in the distance, and a line that winds around the sidewalks. It is not quite the hopelessness of her earliest memories, but not quite the happy, peaceful city she grew up in.
And people are staring at her like she's grown a second head. Powder instinctively reaches for her hood, tugging it over her head. It sticks uncomfortably around her buns, but she doesn't quite have the presence of mind to take them down, letting the hood give her faux ears as she zips up the coat she had thankfully, thankfully thought to wear and shoves her hands in her pants.
Walking through the city feels like one of her daydreams. Familiar streets with not-so-familiar designs, the looming darkness ever present and weighing down Powder's mood as she lets her feet walk without much thought, drifting aimlessly through Zaun.
Where does she even go? She does not know where her sister resides in this world, or where to even start looking. The fact that she's retained her appearance seems to suggest that the her of this world either is dead or no longer resides here – at least, those are her main guesses, considering Ekko had stepped right into the Ekko that she grew up with and she had only seen his true form in the vortex – and besides, nothing is where she thinks it would be. Where does Ekko even live here?
Powder steps over a puddle, glancing down at the shimmery reflection of herself. In her own face, she sees exactly how she feels; a scared girl, grown up faster than she was ever a child, still forever grieving a loss so overwhelming it has shaped the very essence of her being, driven her to strange lands chasing what might just be a fairy-tale, too good to be true, forever out of her reach.
Then, her reflection glitches, and Powder flinches away from the puddle as bright violet eyes stare right back at her with a sorrow so deep it pierces right through her like a knife, only disappearing when she kicks at the water and shoves right past it. No time for reflections; she has family to find.
Vaguely, she thinks about the place Ekko had taken her to in her world, the place he had painted in memory of the Vi that Powder had never gotten to meet. Her feet pick up the pace, and Powder clings to the strings of her hoodie as she weaves around crowds of broken people and ignores the stares she receives in return.
She walks and walks and walks for what feels like hours before she finally, finally is drawn to a stop, her feet skidding on the ground as she stares up in awe and then immediate horror at the statue.
It's Vander.
Before she can even think about it – which seems to be the theme of this little trip – Powder reaches a hand up, brushes fingers against stone, right over the place where Vander's chest has been so thoughtfully carved. A memorial, she realizes, and she shudders, her eyes squeezing shut as a grief she never had to experience hits her with all the force of a tidal wave.
Vander is dead in this world? Powder tries to envision a life without her father there to guide her, thinks about all the times he pulled her out of her own stupor, offered kind arms and a gentle lullaby when she was still a child forever scarred by loss, and the tears burn in her eyes when they form, forcing her to reopen them.
If Vander is dead, who else has joined him? In this world, who else has Powder lost?
Does she even exist here? Powder, again, tries to imagine the person she might've become if she hadn't had her family at her side, and she grimaces, then shudders as that same wave of grief longing loathing they're dead and it's your fault you did this to them everyone around you always dies your fault your fault your fault hits her, so intense that she drops to her knees and heaves and heaves and cries.
It makes no sense. None of what has happened here happened to her, and yet the weight of it all, the sorrow that grasps her so tightly in a chokehold and sits there heavy against her neck, balled up in her windpipe and only releasing in small, choking sobs, keeps her there on her knees for far, far longer than she would like. Her sobs, slowly, turn to gasping breaths, her face warm and wet with tears, and her stomach turns uneasily but she doesn't think she's in danger of throwing up anymore.
"You shouldn't linger here for long, little one," a voice says, and Powder flinches instinctively, her hand going to her waist like she has anything on her person to protect herself from… a woman, dressed in a simple cloak, gazing at her with soft, weary eyes. "Topside wants us all gathered at the checkpoints while they clear the air, it's not safe."
"I don't want to go topside just yet," Powder rasps, wracking her brain for something, anything she could say to this person that would get her actual answers. "Sorry, sorry, I just–"
"-hey, you don't have to apologize to me," the woman laughs, and she smiles something kind. "Still, it wouldn't do you any good to stay here."
Powder hugs her legs, drawing her knees into her chest as she sinks further onto the ground. "I don't know where else to go," she admits.
The woman blinks, but her smile doesn't falter, and instead she crouches, offering a hand. "Not everyone's ready to sidle up to the Pilties," she says. "The Firelights still have a decent presence in the city, if you need a place to stay."
No questions asked, no wondering why someone who must have grown up here – had to have grown up here, because who would think of the alternative? – wouldn't know where to seek refuge, no judgement. It is everything Powder knows of the residents of her city, and something in her chest unwinds, the grief peeling off like one of the stupid face masks Mylo likes to buy for her at the familiarity.
"That's good to hear," she says, even as internally she winces. Powder, you don't know who the fuck the firelights are. "Are they still… where they used to be?" Subtle.
"I'm headed that way myself, just wanted to stop and pay my respects," the woman sighs wistfully, and she crosses her wrists, dipping her head in the facsimile of a bow towards the statue. "Follow me."
For a moment, Powder hesitates. What if this is a trap?
Then: why would it be?
Slowly, she picks herself off of the ground, dusting off her pants and wiping at her sore eyes. The woman does not question why she was sitting there crying at the foot of Vander's statue, and Powder is so, so grateful for it, because how the fuck would she explain… anything?
And so, she keeps walking.
They do not talk, the woman and Powder. Powder doesn't even think to ask for her name; names have power, she's learned, and while Vander would've immediately gotten her name… well, Powder can't help but sink into the small part of her that has learned to be wary and trust nobody, the part of her that hasn't seen the light of day since she was a small child crying over missing hearts and broken souls.
No, she's perfectly content to keep walking, shuffling her feet as she grips the edges of her hoodie a little tighter and stares at the scenery as it passes her by.
At least, until she sees something else that makes her pause.
A mural.
It is, quite painstakingly, Ekko's work, Powder thinks she would recognize his art style anywhere. Upon the wall, familiar faces stare right back at her; Vander, Mylo and Claggor, Vi.
And herself.
Something drops into her stomach, and Powder swallows around it, taking a long breath. The woman does not pause for her, which means she has to keep moving, and yet the enormity of what the mural represents sits there, nestled in her ribs.
She knows – she knows – that Ekko cares for her, in this world or the one she came from. What she didn't know is how much he also cared about their shared network of family and friends, enough so that he painted an entire wall with their faces, a reminder of their youth now forever immortalized on mortar and stone.
I'll have to ask him about this later, she decides, and with another shaky breath, she turns away and lightly jogs to catch back up.
Now that she's seen this mural though, little details keep sticking out, catching her attention at every twist and turn. Blue and pink line the walls of the city, zig-zagging through in uneven paces. There is… so much blue paint, it drowns out everything else, ever-present in Powder's vision even when she stares down at her feet to get away from it all.
How interesting. Powder needs to find Ekko and Vi now.
Finally, the woman weaves into a small opening, gesturing for Powder to follow her. Powder, curiously, does; she doesn't remember this opening from her own city.
It leads into a large, spacious cavern, a dying tree nestled right at the center. Leaves have fallen off of the tree, the branches withered and curled in on themselves, and yet it is still one of the most beautiful things that Powder has seen here by far.
"Here we are," the woman says, and she smiles at Powder again, giving a fond dip of her head in Powder's direction. "It's not as grand as it used to be, but it is still a home." With that, she turns and walks away; as she struts out of Powder's vicinity, her hood falls, revealing a shock of blue hair braided down her back.
It's the same shade as Powder's own. Subconsciously, Powder reaches under her hood to brush at her bangs, and then she grits her teeth, tearing her gaze away from the woman and scanning the entire area for something, anything familiar.
She must look like a lost little puppy, waiting patiently at the entrance for help, because within a few minutes of hopeless searching, another person comes walking up to her holding a basket and a patient look in their eyes. "Welcome," they greet, "haven't seen you here before, you need some help setting up?"
"No, I'm just here looking for someone," Powder answers honestly, and she wiggles her fingers, stretching out her wrists in anxious fidgeting. "White hair, pretty smile, name's Ekko?"
At the mention of his name, the person's eyes light up and then immediately dim, squinting in suspicion. "What business do you have with Ekko?" they ask.
Oh, he's important here?
No wonder he left me.
Powder swallows, but she plasters a smile on her face, tilting her head to hopefully convey innocence. "Oh, we're old friends," she assures, "he'll back me up, I just wanna see him."
The person is now frowning, their brow furrowing. "You know, you sound awfully familiar," they say. "You wouldn't happen to know Jinx, would you?"
"The only jinx I know is me!" Powder says cheerily with a laugh, and then she inhales deeply; all of these years joking about it has never lessened the sting of the name, once thrown on her for simply daring to breathe around the wrong people. Vi never let her believe it – never let her internalize the concept of her being a jinx – but then Vi died and the reassurances just never hit the same coming from Mylo and Claggor and Vander. "I mean, uh, no."
The person is still staring daggers at her, and even though she doesn't know why, Powder finds herself sweating, the back of her neck uncomfortably hot in her hoodie as she raises both hands in a pitiful peace offering.
"Hey, Flems, are you antagonizing newcomers again?"
Ekko.
Powder breathes a sigh of relief as a familiar face comes zooming into view; Ekko, riding a hoverboard clearly self-designed, hair tied in the same ponytail, face bare and eyes upturned in good-spirited mirth as he quickly jumps to the ground and folds the board across his back.
The person, Flems, huffs, and then turns to Ekko with a clearly fake smile painted on their face. "I wasn't trying to be rude, she just insisted on seeing you and I wanted to ensure your safety," they say, deceivingly earnest.
"Yeah, but I told him we were friends," Powder says, and when Ekko pauses – turning to her with skeptical eyes – she shoots him a finger gun, winking when he catches her gaze. "Right?"
Ekko breathes something sharp, and a full shudder runs through his body. "Flems, you can let her go," he says tensely, and he makes a plain, come hither gesture. "I'll handle this."
Doesn't sound so happy to see me. Powder pouts, but she follows obediently, waving at Flems as they stare still so skeptically with a little wiggle of her fingers. And I came all this way to see him again!
Ekko leads Powder around the tree, through another opening in the rock and into a cave that is clearly his little hideaway here. It's cozy, if a little claustrophobic, and Powder gazes at her new surroundings with wide, curious eyes. "Cute place," she comments, turning towards the desk and reaching for the first thing she sees; a very familiar, very cute monkey bomb. "Woah, this looks like something I'd build."
"Powder," Ekko says, and there is… something in his voice, something pleading and desperate and yet so frantic it makes her turn, the monkey bomb still in her hand as she stares back at him. "It's you, Powder, right? Not…"
Powder finally shrugs off her hoodie, giving Ekko another wink. "Hey Ekko," she says, kindly if not a little more down to earth than her usual flare. "Boy, were you hard to track down. Do you know how long I spent trying to replicate your work?"
"How did you do it?" Ekko starts pacing across his workspace, his hands flying to his hair as he paces and paces and paces. "Why did you do it. Why are you here? You can't be here."
Powder, getting rather dizzy watching him walk around in circles, steps forward, catching his arm just like she's done a million times. Not for the first time, this Ekko flinches; unlike the last time, he doesn't pull away, just pauses in his steps and stares at her with a weariness she feels deep in her bones.
"What, you think I'm stupid?" Powder asks, tilting her head as Ekko just stares. "I found your journal, I saw you, and I knew, I just knew you came from a place where my sister was alive. So I redid it! Tracked you down! Jumped worlds! Isn't it amazing!"
"It's incredibly dangerous," Ekko frets, and he shakes his head– but he doesn't pull away from Powder's touch, which she considers a win. "Powder, this is so dangerous. You could've been killed!"
"Oh please, like I would ever die that easily," Powder snorts. It's a running gag, considering all the trouble she used to get into and never get caught for; except this time, rather than laughing along with her, Ekko just inhales, that familiar grief flitting across his face. "Hey, hey, relax. I'm fine, see? And besides, can't go back unless I recreate the vortex here, which took me so long last time so you're practically stuck with me, I don't make the rules."
"Powder…" Ekko hesitates, and then a hand shakily reaches up, brushing against Powder's cheek; like a feather, gently dusting at her to make sure she's real. "Look, I… I know, why you're here. It's not for me, it's for Vi. Right?"
Oh, Ekko. Always has a way of seeing right through her. Powder winces, but she can't bring herself to shrug off Ekko's touch and deny it. "Is that such a bad thing?" she whispers instead.
"No. Maybe? It's so complicated." Ekko sighs wearily again, and a faint smile tugs on his lips; something far more familiar, far more comforting. "You can't go barging around demanding to see her like you did with me though."
"Are you gonna tell me why, or just let me bust down some doors and figure it out myself?" Powder prods, her free hand twirling a strand of her bangs around her finger. "Cause I'll do it if I have to."
Ekko winces, and he pulls his hand away to instead pinch at his brow. "I don't even know how to explain everything," he groans. "Just… oh, I know! Come with me."
~~
Ekko takes her to another mural.
It's not far from the Firelight hideout, or whatever the fuck Ekko calls his little gang. Walking back through Zaun – especially after the warning she had received earlier – has Powder shivering the whole time, rubbing at her arms as her spine tingles with unease.
Ekko takes her to another mural, and this one – much like seeing Vander's statue, earlier – sends a shockwave crashing into her entire system, this time of rage, burning rage, fury with the world, how dare they abandon us, why would they use me as a symbol, I'm nobody, I'm nothing, they deserve to pay for all that they've done but why me, why me, why me–?
Because the mural, though Powder doesn't recognize it with her own memory alone, is clearly her.
It's a version of her she's never seen before though; long, long hair tied in braids, holding a torch with a serene smile, an exploding topside underneath her, doves flying in the background. Powder doesn't even have the history to fully understand and yet like a lock it clicks right into place, memories that aren't hers layering over her like the glitches she experienced in the vortex.
"Wow, I'm kind of a stunner," she says stupidly, with a total lack in ways to explain her gut churning. "That is me, right? The me of this world?"
"Yeah," Ekko says quietly. "Jinx."
Huh. "You know, I can't see a world where I actually use that name," Powder says, reaching a hand upwards like she can touch the mural– or, better, touch through it, reach the girl it is representing. "So she must've gone through a hell of a lot more than me."
"She had Vi," Ekko says, and he, too, is staring up at the mural. "But everyone else in your reality – Vander, Mylo, even Silco – is gone. That's the price."
Powder sniffs, and she rubs at her eyes, still sore from her fit earlier. "Guess that makes sense," she mutters. "Can't have everything, now can you?" Then, a little louder. "Ekko, what… happened? To her?"
Ekko's face falls again, and there's familiar sorrow in his eyes as he too reaches upwards, his hand clasping Powder's and holding it there in the space above them. "I don't know," he admits, soft-spoken and unsure. "Vi says she's gone, dead. The city, both of them, believe the same. As for me? I… did a lot. Trying to save her. I'll be pretty pissed if she threw it all away anyways."
Powder turns her head away from the mural, staring fully at Ekko now as he continues to gaze upwards, brows furrowed. "You loved her," she whispers; not a question, but a fact.
"Maybe," Ekko agrees, and then he, too, turns, offering Powder a shaky smile. "But you already knew that."
He says it so calmly, like it doesn't matter that Powder and the Jinx of this world couldn't be any more different, like he could be in love with both of them like they aren't two separate halves of what might be the same person, split by different lives, different fates. Powder's breath catches in her throat; how can she blame him for his calmness when she feels the same? When she has her Ekko in her world – confused, but still mostly hers in all the ways that matter – and yet…
…and yet…
Powder leans in closer, drops the outstretched hand to instead curl fingers against Ekko's jawline, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm sorry she's not here," she says, her voice catching. "She seems badass."
Ekko laughs, and once again his hand curls around Powder's own, holding it to his own cheek. "She is," he promises, and then clears his throat, taking a step back and dropping the hold. "But, uh, that's not why I brought you here."
Powder just raises an eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest as she taps her foot against the ground, impatient.
"My point is that Jinx was… a symbol, a leader even when she didn't want to be," Ekko gestures up at the mural once more. "And whether she died or disappeared, it was… purposeful. I don't know what would happen if she reappeared, and Vi lives there now. Up on topside. Waltzing in won't go well; you'd have to change your whole appearance and your voice just to not get recognized."
"But you'll help me, won't you?" Powder levels her best, most potent puppy-dog eyes in his direction, drawing her lips into a pleading pout as she clasps her hands together over her chest. "Oh, won't you help your bestest friend in the whole world go see her dead sister? Please?" She draws out out the vowels on the please, watching in utter delight as Ekko's expression shifts from exasperation to humiliating defeat.
"Fine, fine, I'll help you." He extends a hand, which Powder gladly takes. "Not tonight though. Come stay at the tree with me for the night?"
"Aw, asking me out are you?" Powder teases, just to watch the way Ekko flushes. "Yeah, yeah, not like I have anywhere else to go."
Ekko smiles at her, and Powder smiles back, and as they head back to the tree, a burden she didn't even fully realize she was carrying lifts off of her back.
Step one: Find Ekko.
Check.