Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The floor of The Last Drop was cold, though not quite as cold as the one she had been lying on for the past few… days? Jinx couldn’t really pin down how long it had been since she found herself behind bars. In truth, the exact duration didn’t really matter. Not much mattered anymore. Yet, there was something about this floor that felt different. It wasn’t cleaner or brighter, that much was clear. Still, it felt… less biting, less immobilizing, less consuming. And that annoyed her, because deep down, she knew it was just as harsh as ever. But it didn't feel like it. And the fact that it bothered her enough to notice the change… she hated it.

When she swapped places with Vi, she felt a spark of conviction about what she needed to do. It was time to break the cycle. However, the memory of the last time she had been this sure of something was still fresh on her mind – it hadn’t ended well... In fact, it was the reason she was here, lying on this floor, in the first place.

She used to tread carefully around those wild dreams of reuniting with her friends in the basement of that old bar, of beating Vi’s high score on the boxing machine right under her nose, of hearing Vander tell her Janna’s bedtime stories just one more time, or of soaring away with Isha, leaving everything behind because there was nothing left for her here… That is, until she found Vander, or rather, until he found her.

She had changed a lot since then. But somehow, he still saw her. In the initial shock of his return, her mind went blank. As she tried to gather her thoughts, she realized it was a familiar fear that gripped her, much like when Vi was away on a mission for too long and she sought solace in Vander’s comforting embrace. Yet, that alone didn’t seem to be enough for him to recognize her. No. There was something deeper, something about their connection that transcended the erasing power of time, something she had never quite understood… until Isha came into her life. For this girl – hell, for this girl – she would have sacrificed everything. The life she had built, the name and reputation she had fought for, Silco’s unfinished project; she would have left it all behind for Isha. Was this what Vander felt for her and Vi? What Silco had felt for her in his final moments?

Whatever that feeling was, it felt perfect, fulfilling, beautiful. Enough for her to get lost in this feverish dream of bringing her family together, of starting anew. Enough to keep stoking the small flame still flickering in her heart – the insatiable desire for more, for experiences yet to come, even though she knew how it would all end.

Stupid, right?

Should have seen it coming.

But the determination that drove her to throw a punch at Vi in that cell, even knowing it would bring her more than just physical pain, was something different. It was more than just a naive wish from someone who hadn’t felt such a strong urge to act in a long time. It was a necessity. Not a selfish one, but something essential. For Vi. What was the worst that could happen to her plan? Getting jinxed? Fine by her! It would unfold the way she envisioned anyway. It didn’t matter how it happened – whether it was easy or torturous, quick or slow – as long as it worked. There was no way she was going to mess this up. She couldn’t afford to. Because if it worked – no, when it worked – it would be her final shot at regaining some control. She had certainly stumbled in many ways, but her life, and the freedom that came with it, was all she had left. No one was going to rob her of that choice.

She wanted to trust that moment to Vi, but the bummer just couldn’t do it! What kind of tale would it be if she ended up being taken out by some random enforcer in her cell? Or worse, in public, only to have her image exploited for others’ gain? Hell no! No one was getting anything else from her; she wouldn’t let that happen again.

And what a story that would have been! Vi, the heir to the great protector of the Lanes! The guardian of their dysfunctional family! To destroy the very thing she vowed to protect above all else just to avenge her little sister’s death. What a conundrum! What a story! It was flawless. But Vi didn't playing the part, couldn’t fulfill the role she had chosen! The cell she inhabited!

She had orchestrated everything! It was supposed to be Vi or Jinx – two opposing forces clashing for dominance. Every time Vi bested her, her protective instincts edged closer to overpowering Jinx – the destructive force that had claimed her friends, dragging her to Stillwater for years and keeping her from the woman she loved. And every time she struck her sister, her chaos-fueled nature would overshadow Vi’s deep-rooted desire to keep their family intact. If she killed Vi, she would finally finish the job – at least that’s what she had told Sevika. But if Vi took her out… First, it would grant her a dignified exit, right in the heart of a battle – the battle that had defined her life; it would give everything a purpose. Second, Vi would fulfil her destiny: as the great protector, it was her duty to eliminate the monster that had taken her sister and brothers away. Yet, at the same time (and this was what made her plan so damn brilliant!), she would also be killing herself in the process – because once she killed Jinx, she would also kill any hope of having her little sister back, and her whole shitty protector role would go to waste. So, either way, she would take down Vi, and either way, she would come out on top. BOOM. Genius.

Only she hadn't expected Vi to hesitate. Nor did she expect Isha to step in between them. Now, she was caught in this confusing whirlwind of emotions, unsure whether to feel grateful or angry at Isha for playing that role. It was strange; there was a fierce devotion in this girl that she had never encountered before, a reflection of herself that was both captivating and terrifying. Isha admired that wild, reckless side of her – the part that seemed to tear down everything in its path. Not even Silco had embraced that intensity as deeply as Isha did. Yet, the kid never turned her back on her. What did she see in her? Did she think she was… cool? It was hard to put into words, especially since she couldn’t quite grasp what was so appealing about her. But during their time together, she felt that spark, that connection. In fact, she realized that this feeling had lingered even after Silco's death, as if waiting for someone to fan the flames again. She wanted Isha to prove her wrong, to show her that a happy ending was still possible for them.

She should have anticipated it, should have kept that little brat away, ensuring she never returned. It would have kept Isha safe. But then again, she cherished those moments they shared. Would she be willing to relive it all, even the pain, just to feel that thrill again – dyeing Isha’s hair, playing together, feeling alive once more? She wanted to say yes – the thought of reliving those moments was more than appealing. But seeing Isha die again-

Stop.

It's all pointless now. Vi is gone. Isha is gone. And with them, so is her perfect ending.

Oh, what spectacle her final act could have been! She wouldn’t be there to witness it, but the thought of being killed just before her sister’s betrayal resurfaced to haunt her brought a strange sense of peace. The vibrant colors she envisioned would have dazzled the people of Piltover, giving them a fleeting sense of hope before tearing their lungs out, just as they had done to them. They promised Hextech, a brighter future, independence, only to snatch it all away in an instant. She didn't give a shit about their morales, but, hell, she couldn't forget how their childhood was stained by it. How could Vi have joined them? Maybe it was because of that stupid enforcer.

Caitlyn.

She must have hurt Vi deeply, as she had never seen her sister fight without a cause. And drinking? That wasn’t a cause she recognized. Vi fought for people, the ones she loved – especially for her. She even proposed they stayed back at Fortune Cookie guy’s place to help, with Vander and Isha. But Jinx knew there was someone else lurking in the shadows of Vi's mind. So, when she agreed to play along with their ridiculous plan to protect that place, she did it knowing Vi would never abandon that woman. And when her sister had her mind set on something, hell, it was damn hard to talk her out of it.

Oh, how well she knew that stubbornness.

"...Maybe we could rewrite your story,” Vi’s ghost whispered, echoing in the recesses of her mind.

Shut up. Just shut up.

You had your chance, and you blew it! You didn’t do your part! Now, I have to carry this weight alone, as always! So just stop.

“What do you think?”

No.

“Powder.”

That name.

Just that single word – always that wretched name. It was enough to derail her thoughts, to shatter the fragile grip she thought she still had. In those moments, she realized she was just as powerless as she had been that fateful night.

Vi was playing her part after all. That’s why she wouldn’t end her sister’s life. She would never give up on her, even if it made her miserable. She was still trying to save Powder. Such a simple truth, yet so unyielding.

So, it all came down to this, right? Either that or let some enforcer land a pointless blow. Maybe that was how it should end. Why make a fuss about it? She might as well let someone else take care of it.

And she almost did. By the time Caitlyn found her, she was ready to go. She wanted to go. It made sense that it would be her, the replacement, standing between her and Vi. But if she did that, would it even be a choice for Vi afterward? No. She knew that, even if it meant freeing Vi from that burden, Caitlyn would be killing Powder, not Jinx. And Vi would never be able to forgive her. So, there was no escaping it. Whether it was Vi or Caitlyn, she would only bring more misery to her sister. Even if some random enforcer did it, it would haunt her for the rest of her days – especially after she joined them. And maybe she didn’t deserve that… she didn’t deserve to live with this guilt that had plagued her for years. What good had it done her?

She had to break the cycle. That was the only way. It would prove that the one who was dying wasn’t Powder, because Powder would never have had the courage. It could only be Jinx. Only Jinx had the power to act, to destroy and… to be destroyed. If destruction was all Jinx was, then she would – how had her sister put it? – “use all that explosive potential of yours for good”? Yes, to end this once and for all.

So let Jinx be one last time. And then, she would finally rest.

As she pushed herself off the floor, a familiar sensation washed over her – the heavy pull of her past dragging her back down. It was like the ground was calling to her, a warmth radiating from every stone on the pavement beneath her feet. Yes, warmth seemed to fit, but it was also... cold, distant, and ultimately, just... gone. It felt as if there was a source of everything she had once thrived on, buried deep within that very ground. That same floor had been her companion while she waited for Vi, Mylo, and Claggor to return from their missions, dreaming of the day she’d be strong enough to join them. It was where she had drawn endlessly while listening to Vander’s old records, and where she’d tinkered with her bombs. Although "tinkered" might be a generous term, considering she’d only ever managed to get one right – the one that changed everything.

The next time she found herself on that floor, she went by Jinx.

And after that, she didn’t find much joy in wandering around The Last Drop anymore. Instead, she craved the ceiling, the beams that loomed above Silco’s office, where she held the high ground, the advantage, and a sense of control. Up there, she was untouchable. Now she realized that the floor she once found solace on wouldn’t catch her either, as long as she stayed on the ceiling. And this... nostalgic warmth that now pushed her down, wouldn't consume her.

Eventually, she found herself standing, though not without a struggle. It wasn’t just the weight of the floor and the memories lingering beneath it that held her back; her hair was literally dragging her down. Odd, really. She had managed to untangle it before and walked here with it flowing freely. She knew it was heavy and impractical at times, but never had it felt this burdensome. Maybe it was because it had once carried a purpose. It had been a goal for her to grow her hair long, to have a distinctive feature that set her apart from everyone else. Wasn’t that what Vi always said? What makes you different makes you strong? Pff. Sure.

The truth was, it used to be something she could latch onto, something that filled her with pride. Being recognized for her braids, watching her enemies gasp in shock as she sauntered by – that had given her meaning. A twisted kind of meaning, for sure; everyone knew her presence was something to avoid. But it had mattered. It made it easy to hold her head high, because she believed in it, too.

Now, though… that meaning had vanished. Perhaps not for others. She could feel the lingering stares from those few who caught sight of her as she walked down the street. But no one dared to act. That silence told her they hadn’t forgotten the stories woven into each strand of her hair. Yet, for her, it held no significance anymore. The symbol she had created, the image she had fought tooth and nail for, could only end in this way. She accepted it, welcomed it – the very thing that made her unique. Her curse. She had wielded it like a shield; she was a jinx, and destruction and chaos trailed her and those close to her, but she thought that also meant nothing could ever truly hurt her again.

She should have seen it coming. What else could she expect when she branded herself a curse? A jinx ultimately becoming a jinx to herself, leading to her own undoing.

But it didn’t matter. That was precisely what she intended to do.

She picked up a pair of scissor from a drawer. The scissors trembled in her hands, but once the first lock fell, she couldn’t stop. Each harsh snip echoed in the silence, strands tumbling down like fragments of the life she no longer wanted to carry. With every cut, she felt the weight of Jinx slipping from her – those braids, those colors, that mask of chaos she had worn for so long. It was a frantic act, almost violent, as if she could sever the curse from her very skin.

But when it was done, she reached up and felt only the ragged edges, the bareness of her neck. Without the hair to hide behind, without the wildness framing her face, she felt naked – stripped of armor. Exposed. The air stung her skin, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure if she was Powder, Jinx, or nothing at all.

Strangely however, it didn’t make things easier.

She shook her head.

It doesn’t matter.

The scent of gasoline hung thick in the air as she poured the last of the barrels into Silco’s chair. It was a strange echo of their past, reminding her of the river where she had buried him, the same river where Vander had nearly killed him (the same river he kept talking about over and over again!); he told her that he let a weak man to die that night, so that another could rise anew. He made it sound so effortless, as if life itself was a game he had mastered. Everything seemed so simple when he spoke... Whenever she found herself drowning in despair, he would be there, reaffirming his devotion to her. Even on days when she felt unworthy of his love, he offered her a reason to keep going: to earn his pride, to earn his care.

Right now, she could really use some of that guidance, especially since it was Silco who had pushed her toward this moment. The least he could do was be by her side now! She doubted he would have approved of her actions, but he was gone – hanks to her. Yet, even in his final moments, he had whispered, “Jinx is perfect.” Would he still think that if he could see her now? No braids, no flashy gadgets, just flames consuming his old office – the very space where Sevika continued his legacy, the one she was meant to uphold? Would he still be proud of her? Or was his pride only tied to her actions when they aligned with his grand designs? He had often told her to “take some time” whenever she screwed things up or whenever she wasn't… Jinx.

That thought had always gnawed at her, lurking in the shadows of her mind. Silco seemed to genuinely care for her, yet, at times, it felt as if he… didn’t. Whenever her confusion bubbled over, especially when she mentioned Vi and he pushed the thoughts away… Sure, he believed Vi was gone, maybe he just wanted to protect her from the pain of something she couldn’t change. Righ? It had to be right. Because deep down he loved her, didn't he? He was the only person who accepted her, the only one who truly saw her for who she was. Vi couldn’t love Jinx; she could only love Powder. The weight of expectation that came with Jinx was too heavy. Silco had loved her even after she had hurt him, even after her mistakes. Vi couldn’t even realize that she was just trying to help!

“You need to let Powder die so that the fear of pain will no longer control you,” he had said. But it seemed he was wrong sometimes. Powder was gone for good this time, yet the fear still held her tight. Here she was, on the brink of destroying the only thing that had ever truly mattered to anyone, all because she was terrified of hurting Vi. They had their struggles, and deep down, she understood they could never have a fairy-tale ending… but for a fleeting moment, she had dared to believe. She was ready to start fresh, to reconnect with her sister, with Vander, with… Isha.

Would Silco have liked Isha too? She carried a lot of Jinx within her, but most of that was her attempt to emulate her. Yet, she also carried a lot of Powder, and if that part of her hadn’t perished in the river as Silco had wished, Isha had taken whatever remnants remained. Would he be able to see past the innocent side of Isha that he had wanted to extinguish? Or would he simply dismiss her, as he often did with Jinx? Perhaps it was for the best though; because if he made Isha realize how dangerous it was to be like that, then she wouldn’t try to play the big-fat hero all out of a sudden and she'd still be there! And she wouldn’t be left alone thinking that maybe she was betraying Silco because she wanted the little girl back! Because she wanted Vander back! Because she wanted Vi back!

He had urged her to let Powder die. He had reassured her that Jinx was perfect. And here she was, about to do the very opposite by extinguishing the last remnants of his daughter. Was she betraying him? Maybe he didn’t deserve that. But he was gone, and her sister was still here.

I’m sorry.

With a flick of her lighter, she cast one last glance at the chair. She paused, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, the vision that had visited her in her cell. But he didn’t appear. Back to the silence treatment, huh? Maybe that was for the best. She wasn’t sure she could bear to watch him die all over again. To take him away once more. But at least this way, she wouldn’t be alone.

I’m sorry that I keep trying to fix things when I know I’m only good at breaking them. I’m sorry I couldn’t uphold your dream. But honestly, I probably would have fucked it up anyway, so…

With one final look at the lighter, she let it fall onto the chair, her heart heavy with regret.

I’m sorry.

As the flames danced and devoured the rooms of The Last Drop, she stood frozen, enveloped in a strange blend of warmth, chaos, and oddly enough, a sense of peace. A story of opposites – something she had heard countless times before. Was it possible for something so destructive to be so mesmerizing? Maybe it was because it fulfilled its purpose – destructive enough to take her. But no, it wasn’t just that. There had always been a part of her that found beauty in the way fire moved, in its wild, desperate desire to grow, to shine, to reach for everything just out of its grasp. Perhaps she had always been a bit like that too.

Was this the end she was searching for? Was she truly being authentic to herself?

To herself?

What a daring thought. It used to be so straightforward: Powder or Jinx. She despised the vulnerability that came with being Powder, the feeling of losing control, the innocence that had once defined her. So, she shed that skin and became the exact opposite. But that transformation came with its own set of frustrations. Jinx wasn’t the flawless identity she had hoped for, no matter how much she wanted to convince herself otherwise. Still, it was the only path she knew, the one thing she chose. Even if it caused her pain in countless ways, it was hers. Powder was a label she was born into, an expectation set by those around her. Jinx, however, was her own creation, crafted long before that fateful day. Jinx was the version of herself she aspired to be, strong and courageous like Vi, the sister who would have beamed with pride at her transformation – the embodiment of her untapped potential.

Or so she wanted to believe. That’s why she sat on that chair, right? Jinx was her choice.

What went wrong? When did Jinx start hearing voices? When did trust become a fragile thing? When did she begin to doubt herself? Doubting her independence, her will? If she couldn’t trust those core parts of herself, what was left for her to hold onto?

She didn’t want to fade away feeling like an undefined, shapeless thing. Not to the world, no – everyone seemed to have a clearer picture of who she was than she did. But to die as a stranger to herself? What had she been doing all this time if she couldn’t even grasp that fundamental truth? What certainties could she cling to if that one essential piece was missing? Was she even justified in considering this? But… what other options were on the table?

Break the cycle.

Sure, but she didn’t have to die as Jinx or Powder, or whatever else – she just needed to die.

End of story.

It could have happened in that cold, sterile cell, really. If they hadn’t stripped her of everything that could have been used to end her suffering, she might have already taken that final step. Her necklace, her belt, the laces of her top, her hair cuffs – hell, even her damn shoes! They had taken away everything that could inflict pain, but also everything that defined her. If she were to die in that cell, whether by her own hand or another’s, she would leave this world unrecognizable.

Huh! Why did it bother her so much?!

In the end, she would be dead.

That’s all.

She already knew why she was the one who needed to do it – it was the only way Vi could find peace. So why did it feel so wrong standing there? Hadn’t she just decided that being engulfed by flames sounded oddly comforting? How serene it would be to merge her ashes with the remnants of the place she once called home – the ashes of Vander’s cherished music box, still holding their favorite record, of her old gadgets, of Silco’s maps, of the sofa where she had once competed with… Ekko, to see who could jump higher…

Shouldn’t all that evoke a sense of clarity? A feeling of purpose? A sense of belonging?

Why did it feel so… off. Why did she feel like she was … betraying herself? She didn’t even know who she was anymore!

What was she so afraid of?

Of dying?

No. There had been too many instances where she welcomed the calm that comes with an end to her self-imposed torment. Whether it was at the hands of Vi, Warwick, or even a stranger, she would have accepted it without hesitation. But this time, she was the one taking charge, and that felt like a betrayal of everything Jinx represented. She wasn’t supposed to flee; she wasn’t supposed to choose the easy way out. There was a difference between dying in a fight, taking your enemy down with you, and ending your own life without any greater purpose other than the desire to escape. But wasn’t there a purpose? Breaking the cycle?

Then why didn’t it feel right?!

“Killing is a cycle. One that started long before Vander and me. And it will continue long after the two of you.”

Was it wrong?

Was this truly the way to break it? It might fulfill Vi’s needs, but what about her own? Would it really bring closure to their cycle? Perhaps not. A cycle is something that ends the same way it began. She couldn’t recreate that day, or else she wouldn’t be standing here now. Instead, she would be striving to help them all without messing things up again. But just like that day, she wanted to help Vi; she wanted to prove her worth to her sister. But she held back because deep down, she didn’t believe she could do it. Then she tried to defy that doubt and…

“Then you killed everyone!” Mylo’s voice echoed in her mind. “You killed me! You killed Claggor! Tell her, Claggor! How we were about to free Vander and escape when she jinxed everything, again. Just like she always did.”

Shut up.

“Tell her, Claggor!” He pressed on.

But Claggor just looked at her, his weary eyes reflecting a lifetime of disappointment. As if Vi had assigned him the task of cleaning up her mess once more.

“You know why Vi took you on our missions?”

She did know the answer; they had reminded her for years.

“Because she pitied you!”

Shut up.

Shut up.

She wished the fire would consume them, that it would wash their voices away. But as the moments dragged on, the vibrant colors of the flames began to fade, swallowed by thickening smoke. And they remained.

“You don’t belong here!”

Her head felt heavy, her eyelids drooping. Was that it? Like falling asleep…

.

.

Shut up. Let me sleep. Let me go…

As she lifted her head, she caught sight of Vander at the bar, pouring her favorite drink into a cup. He carefully nudged it toward her, just like he used to when she was feeling down. It felt like he was tucking her in for a long rest.

Like falling asleep…

.

.

.

But then the smoke filled her lungs, forcing her to cough. Every nerve in her body ignited, every muscle screamed for her to move, to escape, to focus! Focus!

She had to get him out of the fire! He needed to survive so they could all be together again—her, Isha, Vi!

Focus. Focus.

They’re gone. Isha is gone. Vander is gone. Vi…

They’re right. This isn’t her place. Nothing would ever be the same again. There were no happy endings… Just memories. Old, set in stone, unreachable, unchangeable. Staying here would destroy the very reason she had set the fire in the first place.

“Jinx… I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away.”

And with that thought echoing in her mind, she took a step back.

Freedom.

It was a fleeting sensation for her, one that she could only recall in fragments, moments that felt like a breath of fresh air. Most of those memories took place in her hideout, a chaotic blend of thumping music, vibrant neon lights, and artwork that seemed to breathe life into the rusted metal around her. To anyone else, this place might have seemed like a waste, but she recognized its potential and claimed it as her sanctuary. Here, she felt a sense of safety, a refuge from the weight of expectations and the sting of disappointment. That is, until Mylo would start talking and shatter her peace. But now, thankfully, he was quiet. Perhaps he had burned away with all the painful memories tied to The Last Drop after all.

She made her way to the center of the hideout, searching for the bomb while carefully avoiding the remnants of Isha’s belongings. The dim light helped her keep her eyes off them and avoid the weight they carried, but it slowed her down as she looked for the monkey bomb. A few times, she bumped her head against something solid, and her feet met obstacles as she navigated the clutter. But anything was better than confronting her drawings, her face paintings, the prototypes of bombs she was trying to recreate, and that blue paint she once used to dye her hair... Shit. Stop.

She is gone.

And that hurt more than anything else. Pulling the trigger was one thing, but having someone else do it for her – that was a feeling she wasn’t accustomed to. And for what? Warwick had vanished, and if he ever returned, he wouldn’t be bringing Vander back with him. And her? She had nothing anchoring her to this place anymore. Not after losing Isha… Would she be wasting her sacrifice if…

Stop.

She couldn’t afford to spiral into those thoughts right now, not when she was so close to achieving a semblance of peace. Maybe Isha wouldn’t understand her choice; maybe she would have been furious, crossing her arms like the rebellious little punk she was, disappointed even… But Isha wasn’t here. So, in the end, it didn’t really matter.

After all her searching, she finally grasped her prize.

Freedom.

There was a fleeting moment where she felt even lighter than during her time spent here. It was that exhilarating moment when she fell from the rooftop, engulfed in the blue flames of her first successful bomb – the one she had placed all her faith in. The one that should have made her sister believe in her strength, silenced Mylo, earned a pat on the head from Claggor, and made Vander proud. It was funny how, in that moment of explosion, she had felt invincible, unafraid of crashing to the ground because she believed she was helping them. Now, she would rather have broken her spine in the fall.

That was the true beginning. And it would be the ending.

As she drew closer to the ledge, she rummaged through her pocket for the blue stone and carefully placed it inside the monkey bomb. Her mind was blank; she had exhausted all her thoughts in that cell, in The Last Drop, battling her demons… They weren’t here now, which brought her relief on one hand but left her feeling profoundly alone on the other. That’s how she would meet her end – alone. It wasn’t the scene she had envisioned, but given everything that had happened, she felt no desire for a different exit. Being consumed by that brilliant blue light would suffice.

Just as she was about to pull the pin to end her suffering, a voice rang out.

“Wait!”

Startled, she inhaled sharply, searching for the sound’s source.

Ekko.

Not now. Not now! Not her mind trying to sabotage her again! He couldn’t be there. He had died on that bridge; she was certain of it. If he were alive, he would have come for the stone she had taken from him. Instead, it was Silco who had found it. If Ekko had survived, he would have noticed the stone was missing and would be looking for it. Right? That was why he was on that bridge in the first place.

“I just… wanna talk to you.” He said hesitantly.

But before he could take another step closer, she cut him off. “Get out of here, Ekko.”

He was dead. Her mind was playing tricks on her, as it always did. None of the ghosts from her past could deter her now; they were part of the reason she wanted to escape in the first place. Yet here was something entirely new. She had never seen Ekko before, despite believing he was dead. No. Despite being certain he was dead; she hadn’t laid eyes on him since their fight, and there had been whispers of his demise… So why was he here now? It felt like her mind was playing its last card, its final attempt to cling to life. Silco often said that the mind and soul would fight to quench the desire to live. Could that be true? Hadn’t she had enough?

But… there was nothing she could do at this point.

“I just… wanna talk to you, Pow-Jinx,” he insisted.

She would always remember that look in his eyes from that night on the bridge. She had slipped. She was… just like now, ready to go. But the situation was different this time. He had tried to kill her, anticipating every move in their little dance. He had lured her in with the familiar swing of his watch, just like when they were kids. Back then, she always won that game. She should’ve seen it coming, but maybe part of her didn’t want to. Maybe she longed for those simpler times again. He had a knack for making everything seem easier, more serene. He had beaten her because he understood her. He truly saw her. He always had.

But things had gone too far. He needed to kill her after everything she had done against his plans and his friends. As the leader of the Firelights, he had responsibilities to uphold. But perhaps he felt an even greater obligation to her as a former friend. Powder. That wasn't the person he went looking for that night... but he saw it, she let it out – the remnants of her old self, her old life. His old friend. She was scared, and deep down, she felt sorry for the path his life had taken. She wished he could be free from the burden of having to kill her, free from the weight of leading a group that seemed doomed; free – both of them.

Yet here they stood. No, here she stood. Ekko was gone.

She cast him one last glance. In a way, it was comforting that he was there, that her mind chose him to accompany her in her final moments. He had once been a safe haven for her. He was there when Vi wasn’t, when her inventions failed, when she was training – or whatever the whole punching-the-air routine was. The point is, he had always been present. But with that comfort came a pang of sorrow for all the things left undone, for all the dreams he hadn’t chased and things he hadn't accomplished. Yet she didn’t regret it. After everything that had happened with Isha, she was certain that by dropping that bomb, she had spared him from a lot of pain. He was in a better place now, and soon, she hoped to join him there too.

But as she looked closer at his face, she noticed blood dripping from a cut above his right eyebrow. On that same side, his white paint was fading. He seemed exhausted, panting slightly as he struggled to maintain his stance. Small green lights danced around him, and a wispy white smoke seemed to evaporate into the air. What kind of twisted game was this?

Worthless.

“You’re too late, Ekko.”

Nothing her mind conjured could—

“Always a dance with you.” He said quietly.

She looked at him again, this time with deeper scrutiny. Instead of dismissing the illusion, she found herself tempted to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t talking to herself.

No, stop.

That was probably wishful thinking, not the reality of the situation. Hadn’t she just been reminiscing about their dance on the bridge? Yes, she must have conjured these thoughts herself. Deep down, she hoped, she wished things could return to how they used to be. Because he had always seen through her, never expecting her to wear a mask around him. He could simply look at her and understand what she felt without her needing to say a word.

Just like that night.

See? The very train of thought that had been swirling in her head led her here: she wanted to die as her true self, and Ekko recognized the part of her she often denied. He saw potential in her that she so many times doubted existed. Ekko understood her. So it made sense that he would be the last person her fractured but stubborn mind wanted to see in a desperate attempt to cling to life.

“I think I’m just gonna sit here for a minute." He said, voice shaking. "You know, catch my breath. Hmm. See if I can talk an old friend out of blowing us up.”

Her eyes lingered on him a bit longer. Could he really be there? And if he was, what did that mean? But how could she explain any of this? She was probably just… confused. She couldn’t tell if he was truly there or if it was just her soul grasping at the familiar warmth of his presence as she prepared to leave everything behind. If he was really there, could he know something? Could they… No. There was no 'they'. There was only Jinx and a cycle that needed breaking.

Enough.

She considered jumping, just in case he was really there. Uncertainty gnawed at her, but she didn’t want to dwell on it too much. Because if he was there, it meant he was still searching for her. After all these years, after everything she had done, he still cared for her. But that was no different from Vi. So the conclusion would ultimately lead to the same place.

But he had corrected himself before… He had called her Jinx. What did that slip mean? Was he searching for Powder, or did it indicate he wasn’t really concerned about who he found?

Stop! What if he wasn’t there at all? What if she was imagining the entire thing? And what did that say about her? That she was scared, that she didn’t want this, that she sought someone who would just…

Stop!

Either way, she would end up hurting him or herself. It had to end. Enough thinking. Enough talking.

“You know I learned from someone..." he said, suddenly only a few steps away from her. When the hell had he gotten so close to her? He was sitting there just now! “…very special, that… no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new.”

A soft glow emerged from his side. In a cylindrical container that looked eerily similar to the one she had swiped the stone from, a small, radiant ball began to float out, causing the little monkeys surrounding it to freeze in their antics. Were those… hers?

As if he could read her thoughts, he added, “Someone worth building it for.”

Worth. That was a concept she barely understood. But for him, it was second nature. She recalled their time spent at Benzo’s store, sifting through the clutter her sister Claggor and, especially, Mylo had brought in. She wasn’t terrible, but often overlooked the gems hidden within the junk. Ekko, on the other hand, took his time, finding value in things she would toss aside after a mere glance. Most of the time, he was right.

But items at a pawn shop were one thing; a person who had made all the wrong choices was another entirely. She was painfully aware of her misdeeds, even if she hadn’t considered their weight back then. She knew they were wrong. Things had spiraled too far; she had gone too far.

Yet there he was. Really there. She had no clue how he had tracked her down, why he was bleeding, or why he had her monkeys with him, but she understood that he was here because of her. Because of someone... worth it. She struggled to see how that could apply to her but, hey, he always had a better eye for those broken things than she did, right? (Please be right). And he said he wanted to build something new. So he wasn't there to correct her; he wasn’t trying to rewrite her story. He spoke with no moral judgment over her actions; even if he had them (and even if he was probably right), he wasn’t about to impose it on her. He was simply reinforcing what he had showed countless times before – that he cared about her, that he still believed in her.

Oh, how she longed to believe that too. To return to the blissful innocence of childhood, where possibilities were endless and expectations were minimal. But that chapter had closed. She knew there was no worth left to uncover here anymore.

He noticed her gaze darting between the bomb and the Z-drive, her thoughts clearly spiraling. After countless attempts, he felt like he had finally said the right thing, yet it gnawed at him that it still wasn’t enough to pull her back from the edge. Just like that night. When she had dropped the bomb, it took him a heartbeat to realize what she was doing. He had tried to kick it away, but he hadn’t been quick enough to save them both from the explosion. If only he had had four more seconds, he might have snatched the bomb from her hands before she could even think twice about it, and perhaps they could have escaped in time.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts of what could have been, even as the guilt weighed heavily on him. He was here now; he had to act. He couldn’t wish for more time when he was squandering what he had left. So, he took a few tentative steps toward her, mindful of her reactions with every movement. She seemed torn, caught between surrendering and fleeing.

In the end, she did neither. Instead, she turned her back to him, as if avoiding his gaze, filled with fear and uncertainty, waiting for him to make the decision she dreaded the most. But he saw right through her. She had done the very same thing when he had tried to reach her all those years ago. He had finally found her, living under Silco’s rule after they had taken over The Last Drop. He thought he was saving her… maybe even protecting her… God. He was terrified for her. He understood all too well what it felt like to be alone in this world – he had lost his family: Benzo, Vander, Vi. And her. His best friend, and well... his first love too.

She was there, perched on Silco’s table, fiddling with what could only be one of her bombs. Maybe she’d swiped it without him knowing, trying to get it to work as a means of escape. “Don’t worry, Powder, I’ll get you out of here,” he thought, his heart racing. He crawled along the ceiling beams, inching closer to her. He knew this place inside and out, but so did she. Why hadn’t she bolted? Maybe someone was always watching her. He scanned the room for her captors, but it was empty.

He should have anticipated this, should have known better. But he was just a kid, and the fact that he had finally found her was all that mattered at the moment.

“Powder!” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Powder, look, up here!”

At first, she didn’t seem to notice him, probably too absorbed in her work. He called out again, a bit louder this time. She tilted her head, searching until her eyes landed on him. His heart leaped with joy; he was finally going to get her out of this place. But she looked a little stunned, maybe not fully grasping what was happening. He decided to climb down so she could see him better, to show her that he had never given up on her.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I’m so sorry it took me so long,” he said, his voice filled with urgency.

But before he could even finish, she turned her attention back to her bomb, offering him her back and shaking her head. What was going on? They didn’t have time for this—Silco could show up at any moment! He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away. When she faced him, her eyes were wide, slowly filling with tears. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she was just trying to help, that they could escape together.

“Powder…”

But before he could pour out all the words that weighed heavily on his heart, the ones that haunted his sleepless nights, she slapped him. It was a strike he had never witnessed from her before – ferocious, filled with rage, as if she was exacting revenge. Of course, she was. He had let her down.

“I’m sorry for what happened, but this isn’t your fault! It was mine! I gave you the tip. And I told Vi where Vander was,” he said, slowly picking himself up, the confession weighting on his chest, "I'm so sorry... but I’m here for you now, we can-"

Suddenly, she grasped his cheeks with one hand, holding his face steady, still stinging from the slap.

“I don’t need to be rescued! I don’t need your help! And Powder is gone! It’s Jinx now!” she shouted right in his face.

When she finally let go, he watched in despair as she turned her back to him once more. It felt like a final goodbye.

Forever.

He understood it all now.

Back then, Powder had let her guard down completely, not even bothering to glance his way because deep down, she knew he wouldn’t make a move. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t act; he was too wounded, too cautious to reach for her when it mattered most. She left the ball in his court, daring him to decide the next move – but if she had been honest, she would have reached for him. He was sure of that. If only he had insisted…

Damn.

For the longest time he cursed himself for not trying again. But who assured him she would give in? Maybe she felt like things could never be the same. That was why she had clung to Silco for so long. Familiarity. Security. Someone who claimed to understand the chaos inside her. Someone who was there, someone who hadn’t known her before the accident, someone who wouldn’t demand explanations. Ekko remembered the way she had moved around him back then – hesitant, restless, like she was trying to bare herself for his accusations.

He had always known how fiercely she resisted change. It scared her, the possibility of being left behind, of failing those she cared about – especially Vi. Watching her sister grow, taking on a courage that even Vander struggled to muster, must have been like a mirror to Powder’s own fears. He remembered the tight clench of her jaw, the way her fists would twitch whenever she tried to push forward, and the quick inhale she couldn’t quite hide when she felt small or powerless. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could evolve without losing the people she loved.

She couldn’t back then. Not without someone to anchor her. And Silco had been there, offering purpose, a path forward she thought she couldn’t carve for herself. She didn’t see it as choice, exactly; she saw it as survival.

It had taken time for Ekko to piece it all together. At first, the trail was just fragments: the chaos in Zaun, whispers of Jinx’s deeds, the trail of destruction and fear. Bit by bit, he realized what she had endured, how she’d been manipulated, and how much of her path had been shaped by being abandoned. Every time he found her again, his chest tightened, and his hands itched to reach for her – not just to stop her, but to make her feel seen. Knowing she hadn’t done those things out of malice, but because she had no other option, because he had left her behind, stabbed him anew.

He remembered the warehouse, the blue explosion that had drawn him there, and the bodies he had found. At the time, all he saw was the devastation, and for years he had blamed Silco entirely. But then he thought back to the alternate timeline, to Powder accidentally killing Vi with the blue stones. And suddenly it clicked: if Powder could unintentionally unleash such destruction there, maybe she had in this timeline too. The evidence was subtle – the explosion, the traces of her presence, the guilt she carried when she called herself a curse – and yet it fit. Jinx hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. But sometimes, chaos had a will of its own, and she had been at the center of it.

Even understanding it all, seeing her choose Silco still stung. Not for pride, not for anger, but because he knew the pain that drove her there – and the role he had played in leaving that space open. She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone; she hadn’t wanted him to leave. And yet, he remembered the small tilt of her head, the subtle tension in her limbs, the way she had barely met his gaze, daring him to act.

And what did he do? He had walked away. He had given up.

But this time, it would be different. He could feel the heat of the thought in his chest, a kind of taut, urgent hope, and he flexed his fingers as if to brace himself. This time, he would not leave her alone.

Not now. Not ever.

“I know you think there’s only one choice,” Ekko said, his voice low and steady, “but that’s not true. I’ve seen what you can do. What you’re capable of.”

She froze, his words hitting her like a weight on her chest. It was too much, too close. He was supposed to walk away, to leave her alone with the bomb, the silence, the end she had chosen for herself.

Just let me go.

But instead, his arms slid around her. One hooked gently over her collarbone, the other closing over the hand that clutched the bomb. He knew the risk of his hands away from the Z-drive, and of being this close to her considering she had tried to blow them up before. But Jinx went stiff, despite the way the sudden pressure jolted her nerves; her grip twitched on the weapon, but his hand was already there, steady, firm without force.

“That’s why I’m here,” he murmured, his chest brushing against her back with each word. “To show you.”

For a heartbeat, panic surged through her. Her shoulders stiffened, breath hitching as if she might lash out. She remembered every moment she’d been grabbed, cornered, betrayed. Yet every part of her screamed to be held together, completely reliant on his touch to maintain her form, while deep inside, a voice cried out to be set free, terrified of being vulnerable again. Her instincts screamed at her to shove him off before he got too close. But his touch… it wasn’t a cage. His hold trembled slightly, as though he was just as afraid.

The fear inside her intertwined with something else – something warm she hadn’t felt in ages. The weight on her chest loosened just a bit, and she realized she was leaning into him. Her fingers twitched around the bomb’s pin. He sensed it too, adjusting his grip just enough to show her he wasn’t there to take anything from her; he was simply there to hold her, to offer her some stability.

Her throat tightened, heart racing in a chaotic rhythm, longing to break free and melt into his warmth all at once. She wanted to vanish, to cease to exist—but then his breath brushed against the side of her neck, and that thought faded away, leaving her trembling in its wake.

It would be so easy to surrender. To allow him to guide her hand away from the pin, to let him carry some of the weight she had been dragging for so long. And, oh gods, a part of her yearned for it – yearned for him.

But another part, the louder one, whispered of destruction. Everyone she had let in had paid the price. Why would this time be any different?

Her body betrayed her uncertainty: knees shaky, chest rising and falling too rapidly, her grip loosening just a bit against his. And in that delicate space – caught between breaking free and breaking down – she let herself lean against him for just a moment longer. It was a perfect blend of every conflicting force, every jumbled emotion within her, merging into something beyond words, without boundaries or clear definitions.

It simply felt… right to be held by him. Too right for her. Too unfair. Was it worth risking everything to trust his judgment? Did she even have the right to do that? Did she truly deserve such a chance?

“Why?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, as if the answer itself might cut her open.

“Because I gave up on you once,” Ekko replied, his grip steady and strong despite the weight of his words. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

She could feel the tension in her body, every muscle tightening at the revelation. There it was – the very thing she had feared. It wasn’t just about him standing there, not just this moment, but the haunting echoes of who they once were that pressed heavily between them. She sensed it in the way he held her, in the gravity behind his voice. He was still chasing shadows. Powder. The girl she had long since buried.

Her throat tightened at the memories. She recalled his eyes on that bridge – filled with a fiery rage, his fist raised, his body trembling with the urge to lash out. And then came the hesitation, a flicker of something softer, a fleeting recognition of the girl who had vanished long ago. That look haunted her just as much as the fear of his wrath. And here it was again, lingering in his gaze, pressing against her like a ghost.

“You don’t need to feel guilty, Ekko,” she managed to say, her voice shaky and almost pleading. Her fingers tightened instinctively around the bomb, the pin rattling gently. “Not for me. Not for... her.”

He inhaled deeply, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back. The silence stretched between them, amplifying the sound of her heartbeat until it thundered in her ears. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, softer than before, but there was a firmness beneath it.

“It’s not guilt,” he clarified. His hand shifted, not pulling away the bomb, but easing the tension from her clenched knuckles. “I’m not trying to make up for the past. That’s not what this is about.” His cheek brushed lightly against her temple, grounding his words in the warmth of his presence. “You’re not a mistake I need to fix. You’re you. And I’m not here to erase that. I just... need you to know it.”

Her lips parted, but no words came forth. A tremor coursed through her chest, and she leaned back just a bit – just enough for his hold to catch her again. Caught between the urge to pull away and the desire to lean in closer, she found herself suspended in the tension of his embrace, with nothing solid to stand on except the sound of his voice.

Jinx’s hands trembled, her grip on the bomb loosening as if her body had decided before her mind could catch up. Her pulse raced in her ears, drowning out everything else.

“I’ve changed,” she whispered, her voice frayed and unsteady, as if admitting it was a heavier burden than she could bear.

“There can be beauty in change,” Ekko replied, his arm tightening just enough to steady her as he shifted, pulling them both back from the brink. His chest pressed against her trembling shoulders, anchoring her in the moment. “Sometimes, all it takes is someone to help you see it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. His voice was too close, his warmth undeniable. The words cut deeper than she anticipated. Memories surged back – the laughter of a little girl, the way Isha had clung to every wild invention as if it were pure magic. Isha had cherished Jinx, not in spite of who she had become, but because of it. For the first time, Jinx found herself wondering if maybe… just maybe Ekko wasn’t lying. Perhaps there was something worth seeing after all.

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice steady now. “Just trust me, Jinx. Let it go. Please.”

She tensed against him, her shoulders quivering, caught in a battle between pulling away and leaning into him. Her fingers shook uncontrollably, the sharp edge of the pin digging into her skin as her grip began to slip.

“That’s it,” he murmured, gently guiding her hand open with his own. “Let me take it. It will be alright.”

The bomb fell away, and for a fleeting moment, Ekko felt its heaviness in his palm – a rush of relief washed over him, almost knocking him off balance. He had it. He had her. After countless times of losing her – on the bridge, to Silco, to the chaos of madness and sorrow – she was finally in his arms. Alive. Breathing. The trembling girl nestled against him was no specter, no fading memory. She was real. He gripped the bomb tightly in one hand, as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, and wrapped his other arm securely around her waist, pulling her back from the edge.

He buried his face briefly in her shoulder, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Not this time. I won’t lose you again.

Jinx’s whole body resisted, jerking against his hold. Her head shook in small, frantic movements, the words let me go breaking soundlessly behind clenched teeth. Her chest heaved, shallow and ragged, her ribcage stuttering beneath his arm as if each breath fought to escape. But with every second she didn’t pull away, every shudder that ended in her leaning just slightly into him, the fight drained out of her.

Her knees buckled first. The sudden jolt of hitting the floor sent a shock through her body, and she gasped. Without ever taking his arms from around her, Ekko adjusted his body to catch her as she collapsed forward into his arms. A sob clawed its way up her throat, choking her breath until it burst free. Her hands, once tightly grasping destruction, now clutched at his shirt, holding onto him as if he were the last solid thing keeping her from shattering into pieces.

Tears streamed down her face, hot and blurring her vision. She pressed her forehead into his chest, her body shaking with each broken breath. In that moment, she realized that despite the fear gripping her heart, she wanted to let him reignite that spark within her. She wanted him to believe in her, even knowing it would hurt him. Because he was choosing her - with all her faults, all the heartache she had caused, but also with whatever he still believed she could become.

So, as her body caved in, and the tears clouded her vision, and the sobs that threatened to choke her finally broke free, and every piece of her screamed Don’t let me go, he kept on holding her.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m not letting go.”

And he held her, even as she broke against him.