Chapter Text
4 days after the war
Zaun is loud. Zaun is alive. Even when the air reeked and Ekko swore he hated it, even when day and night pulsed to the rhythm of crowds and shouts, for him it was home.
But after the war, none of that remained. Well, except the smell. A smell of piss, mingled with grit and booze ; the kind to make your nostrils burn.
Zaun had fallen silent like a grave, hollow and still. Though Ekko had often dreamed of peace like this, that night wandering through the filthy backstreets, the only thing his heart desired was for the noise to come back. For things to be as they used to be, even if that meant things he didn't like.
He’d thought going out would help. It didn’t.
So he turned on his heel and made his way along the shadows of the walls to reach his refuge. Scar was the one who opened the gate for him. No words pierced the air ; concern was conveyed through his gaze. But Ekko didn't respond, walking straight ahead, not even bothering to look at him.
Scar spun around to watch his best friend's back recede into the distance. He still bore the marks of war—beyond the clothes he hadn't changed, it was grief that weighed entire on his body.
What to say, what to do. It's still too soon, but it hurts seeing him like this.
Ekko had already lost. A lot, too much. And in moments like these, he'd disappear from the world, isolate himself until he could breathe again. But this time, Scar knew—It was different. This pain was taking deep root.
The mourning leader resumed his walk, his steps slow and aimless. The stairs creaked under the weight of a body moving alone, out of habit.
When he entered his home, the air felt even colder. And this absolute silence, oppressive, screaming its loneliness.
Undressed, his heel pressed against the stone of his bath. For a moment, the burning water wrapping around his body relaxed the tension knotting his muscles, hoping perhaps that the heat would help him fall asleep tonight.
But lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, he already knew sleep would not come. So he sat up, desperate. His gaze shifted to the facing wall. An old section of cement, cracked, dirty, scratched... and covered in drawings. Jinx's drawings. Pink and blue lines with a few dashes of green. Absurd messages, meaningless figures that Ekko didn't want to understand, left there like screams from another time. It was unbearable, unbearable to see them.
He stood up and pulled an old piece of furniture from the back of the room. A cupboard built entirely with his own hands, a bulky holdall that he had built in the old days, when the Firelights were formed. The wood scraped against the floor with a dull thud as he placed it in front of the wall and sighed with relief.
Finally.
The drawings were hidden. That was all he could do ; hide the pain. Maybe he’d sleep better now.
By reflex, he opened the first drawers. It was heavy. Inside, a multitude of forgotten objects, frozen memories. He smiled, barely.
Ekko was the kind of boy who attached memories and emotions to objects, which made it hard for him to throw them away. So he kept them, as long as there was space.
His fingers brushed wooden figurines, clumsily carved, relics of a time when boredom was a luxury. An old broken watch, aburnt out lightbulb, rusted nails and other junk. And there, in the background, a small sculpture—his favourite. A miniature wooden prototype of his Circle Bike. Before making his bike, Ekko drew pages of plans and sketches, then made a miniature wooden prototype to make sure it could at least stand upright.
The lines were crude, the angles rough, but the idea was there. It was all of him, contained in this small object : Ingenuity, the desire to escape, freedom. And with it, the memory of the one who was always with him.
Powder.
He closed his eyes for a moment and the images returned without warning : Another time, another world. Children laughing, frenetic pursuits, carefree moments, all almost forgotten. Memory came knocking and Ekko didn't have the strength to keep it out.
****
Powder and Ekko were slumped like two worn pillows on the old couch, their legs tangled, staring into the void. In those moments, they used to chat to fill the silence. Not to say anything important, just to feel there, together.
— D'you remember Rosalind and Jack ? Powder asked.
Ekko nodded without even turning his head, looking up at the ceiling. Those two was the couple they'd caught kissing on a street corner several months ago.
— I saw her again yesterday at the market, holdin’ a baby. Her big belly was gone.
Ekko turned his head quickly towards Powder with his mouth forming an ‘o’, clearly shocked.
— Told you Ekko, that wasn't fat. She couldn't hold back her laughter.
— Y-You think... they became parents just because they kissed ?! He said, panicked.
Powder nodded with conviction, like she was holding a scientific truth.
— But we... us two ? Why did you-. Little man started imagining some innocent absurdities.
— I kissed you first, remember. She cut him off shamelessly. While for them... it was Jack who made the first move !
Ekko let out a sigh of relief, as if he'd just escaped an irreversible fate. Then Ekko's stomach gurgled loudly, a sound similar to a fart which made them both laugh. He glanced at her, embarrassed. Powder replied with a mischievous smirk.
— Wanna go steal some honey buns from Elline ? She suggested.
He nodded conspiratorially, eyes gleaming.
— We'll take my Circle Bike !
He jumped up from the sofa and stretched out his hand to her, wich she grabbed immediately. They slipped out of the bar discreetly without Vander catching them and headed for the bakery. There were Ekko's favourite buns, reputed to be the best in Zaun. Powder didn't particularly care for them, but she knew that Ekko would sell a kidney for even a quarter of one.
In their duo, she was always the one to enter the shop. Ekko, on the other hand, kept watch a few metres away, eyes scanning everywhere, legs ready to bolt at the slightest warning. He had a talent for escaping, always thinking of the quickest, safest route. Powder might’ve been certainly quicker and lighter, but that wasn't why he stayed outside.
The baker, Elline, knew Ekko's parents. He couldn't afford to be seen, much less recognised. It was better for him to remain a blurred silhouette in the Zaun mist, invisible for the sake of those he loved.
Elline... A shrivelled old woman, fat, ugly, with eyes as hard as her heart. And racist, above all. Her contempt was a venom reserved for anyone who didn't come from Piltover or didn't have deep pockets. Kids like Powder and Ekko only had the right to her spit.
But her buns…Her buns were soft as a mother’s kiss, golden brown, fluffy and flavoured with walnuts and honey. It was a mystery to Ekko : How could someone so disgusting make something so delicious ?
She had no husband and no children. No surprise to the whole neighbourhood. And yet, every year, Ekko's parents took money out of their meagre savings to buy a single bun for Ekko's birthday, when they could. Some years, they went home empty-handed, ashamed. Meanwhile, Ekko sometimes forgot the date, unconscious of what that day truly meant to them.
Those buns were expensive, especially for Zaunians. Inflation only worsened poverty and deepened inequality every year.
Powder had managed to sneak into the shop, bag in hand, almost on the point of crossing the exit. But a huge shadow appeared behind her. Elline.
She didn't dare turn around, eyes wide.
— You little blue haired vermin ! The old woman spat, full of hate.
Powder froze for half a second. She’d been tiptoeing delicately, but now there was no point hiding. She immediately straightened up and ran at full speed, her feet slamming into the ground, her breath coming in short gasps.
Elline was only a few metres away, tried to follow her but the difference in speed was obvious : Powder was practically flying. She left the shop, turned right and saw Ekko waiting just a few metres away.
As always, he was wearing Mylo's dark glasses—which Powder had stolen from him—and a red scarf three times the size of his head, still smelling of her. She’d given it to him on purpose, it was his camouflage.
When he saw Powder, his face lit up and he smiled, reassured. But the moment of relief was brief as Elline appeared in her turn. Monstrous, closer than she had ever been. Under his glasses, Ekko's eyes widened so much that they almost seemed to pop out of their sockets. His heart skipped a beat, he froze, mouth open. His brain refused to process what he saw.
She was running towards him, her blue hair dancing in the wind. Time slowed. She wore a smile so huge it took up half his face. A smile that was almost absurd given the context, but it was her. She was laughing, loudly. Adrenalin made her euphoric.
Powder's reactions were sometimes out of sync with reality. In front of him, she was joyful and confident, which always contrasted with Ekko's dramatic, worried nature. These moments made her feel almost dizzy to be alive as if she could only breathe when she was running for her life.
And it has to be said that Ekko's look was particularly hilarious.
— Move it, Spaceboy ! We're not dying over buns ! She shouted, laughing.
She grabbed his hand in a flash, bringing him back to reality and tenderly pulled his red scarf up to over his white hair to hide it. The last thing he needed was to be recognised. They had to run. Fast.
The more their legs moved, the more Elline disappeared behind them, panting, out of breath, spitting insults as vulgar as they were incomprehensible. Powder's laugh echoed through the narrow streets of Zaun, it bounced off the walls, reached Ekko and finally drew a smile from him. Then a laugh.
Happiness. These moments were pure oxygen.
Their Circle Bike waited faithfully ahead. Ekko jumped on as driver, Powder hopping on behind him. She clutched the bag close to her belly with one hand and held onto his shoulders with the other. He sped off, tires screeching against the stone.
They'd won for today.
The thieves sped through the grimy streets, the air whipping against their faces. She was still clinging to him, her chin resting on his shoulder, worried that they'd taken too long.
— Hurry, Ekko ! If Vi gets there before us, she's gonna freak !
He accelerated, legs on fire.
— I'll take a safer route... Pow- argh ! He said painfully, forcing on the pedals.
She tightened her arms around his neck, scanning the area attentively to make sure no-one they knew was around. Ekko felt his heart race, and not just because of the effort.
They arrived at the bar after parking the Circle Bike in the shadow of a tagged wall only they knew. Powder sprinted toward the hideout without slowing down. She ran ahead of Ekko, passing Vander by the way.
— Hi Vander, we're back ! She shouted mid-run.
He raised an eyebrow, sighed and shook his head with a half-exasperated smile, half-amused to see Powder scurrying away like a cat. Ekko tried to follow, miming a military salute directed at Vander with a big smile as he ran towards the hideout in the basement.
— Ek- Ahh, another one on the run ! Vander muttered. They're all getting away from me, those kids…He added amusedly.
The stairs went down at full speed. The door slammed shut behind them. Ekko looked around the room, then rubbed his hands together with a satisfied smile.
— All this, just for us. He said, already drooling.
They fell back on the couch, throwing their feet up on the table, proudly. Powder took out a bun and handed it to him.
— I've been dreaming about this for weeks... He said grabbing the bun.
He looked at Powder, who bit into hers, closed her eyes, letting the sugar melt on her tongue. Then he finally allowed himself to taste his honey-walnut brioche.
— Mmmh... shogood... She mumbled, mouth full.
He mimicked her, eyes closed, savouring every sweet crumb that stuck to his mouth. It was so rich that the taste stayed on his tongue for a long time. Then suddenly, she burst out laughing. Ekko looked at her.
— Did you see Elline's face when we ran off ?
She spoke in the voice of an old hag.
— Get out, you filthy brats ! Thieves ! Powder was a master of imitations.
He laughed back and tried to imitate her too.
— You don't deserve to live, you dirty anima-..
His voice cracked when it got too high. Powder exploded. He laughed with her, mouth full, and then swallowed hard. He started coughing, violently, bending over.
— Ekko ?! You okay ? She gasped, already at his side.
He nodded, his head red, coughed louder. She looked at him facing his lie and sighed. She leaned him forward, tapped between his shoulder blades. A few crumbs flew out. She scrambled to her feet and returned with a glass of water.
He was slumped on the sofa, panting. Exhausted, but alive. He took the glass with a trembling hand and sipped.
— Thanks.
She sat beside him, relieved.
— Well well Little man, forgot how to eat ?
He sketched another weary smile.
— I wasted a bun… He muttered, disgusted and fed up with himself.
She handed him the rest of her piece without a word. He took it and bit into it hungrily, crumbs flying everywher. He was clearly eating his frustration, which made her smile.
— You're my only idiot friend. You're worth more than a bun, ya know ? I'll go steal more, don't worry. She said, worry hidden benhind the joke.
Ekko stops and looks at her. His eyes get large but Powder concentrates instead on the multitude of crumbs sticking to his cheeks. Every time he took a bite he made a bigger mess, but she couldn’t be mad at him.
— You got it everywhere. She sighed, chuckling. Now Vi gonna know we went back to Elline's...
He was about to reply with a ‘Sorry’, but she had already moved closer. With her fingers, she brushed the crumbs from his cheeks. Then, gently, she ran her thumb over his lips to remove the last sticky bits.
She paused halfway. Looked him in the eyes, round and golden brown. He felt his head heating up, heart beating furiously.
Amused, she leaned in and placed a light kiss on her thumb, then pulled back proudly.
— There ya go. Now there's no risk !
— Pow... why’d you do that ? He said in a faint voice.
— I dunno. She replied, shrugging her shoulders. Is it bad ?
He shrugged too, looking away. Unable to answer, too red to think.
— So… Benzo ? You were telling me about a new order, right ? She breaks the silence as if nothing had happened.
****
He opened his eyes. The sculpture was still there, resting in his palm.
As he was about to close the drawer after placing his prototype back inside, another object, more discreet, caught his eye. A green pencil. He recognised it immediately.
It was the one he used when he was still working at Benzo. In those days, Ekko always drew before building. Every time. Every plan, every idea, every detail was put down on paper before becoming real. He needed to visualise in order to create, to write things down so that nothing was left to hazard. Perhaps that's why he's so good at drawing now ?
He took it between his fingers and examined it. An ‘E’ was carved into the wood, a tiny mark that had survived the passage of time. He ran his thumb over it.
How many years had passed since the last time he held it ? This pencil never left his overalls pocket in the old days, or his ear. Little Ekko couldn't have imagined what lay ahead... and how much he would change.
Over the years, those pages of sketches had become less necessary. He continued to draw, sometimes as a habit, sometimes for the most complex projects. But it wasn't like before anymore. Not like when he was a kid, when every idea had to be born on paper before existing elsewhere.
Now his hands already knew the gestures. His imagination had become his rough draft, his plans, his margins. He visualised, calculated and assembled in his head with instinctive precision.
And yet that night, he returned to the blank page.
An impulse ran through him. He stood up and went to find a notebook, the one with the purple cover lying under a pile of books. He returned to his seat, resting his back against the piece of furniture that hid Jinx's drawings. He blew gently on the cover, brushing away the dust then turned the pages until he found a blank sheet. And he started drawing. He drew so he wouldn’t implode, to translate what was screaming silently inside. Maybe it would free him, he hoped.
The first time he had drawn Powder, he was almost twelve. He thought she was dead—thought everyone was. He had drawn her so he wouldn't forget. To keep them alive, all of them. Forever. That drawing was meant to remember, to freeze a face in time.
Then he learned. Powder was alive, but not really. Jinx had taken her place. She had pushed him away, hit him, screamed. That night, he came back to his refuge distraught, crying with anger building in his chest. With a trembling hand, he tore up the pages soaked with her face, the same ones he had once cherished.
But he hadn't thrown them away. No.
He put them back together, months later fragmented and fragile. The patched faces wept with him, the ink stains mingled with his tears. These drawings aren't Jinx, he told himself. They’re Powder. And Powder is dead.
The second time was after the fight on the bridge. This time, it was to forget.
He hadn't dared to draw her face—only her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it was her. Powder. He drew her to trap her in those pages, so he could then close the journal and hide it deep in a drawer, far away from himself. As if by hiding her, he could erase her from his memory.
Perhaps that was his way of dissociating.
And now, tonight... It was the third time. But this time, it wasn't to forget, nor to remember—it was to survive. To soothe the fire that was consuming him from inside.
Then her voice echoed loudly in his head. If it consumes you... Don't hold on so hard. He answered it by crushing the black lead of his pencil against the white page. At first, his lines were imprecise, nervous and messy. Then gradually, something took shape. Something clear, alive. Powder.
Her eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were pink now, with a strange and unreal glint that seemed to pierce his soul. He wished he could see them one last time the way they used to be. He wished his memories would stop fading, that they would imprint themselves. Take root, become solid and real.
He slowly closed the notebook, places it gently on his lap, then closes his eyes.
Silence.
A soft breath escaped his lips.
There was nothing left to say. Nothing to save. Even trying to understand is useless.
There was no more logic. No landmarks. Only the emptiness he tried to fill with memories slipping throught his fingers.
He bowed his head, mind spiraling around the same dull question that never leaves him : What did go wrong ?
His heart clenched. It comes back, ever more vivid, ever more cruel : What if I had saved her ? What if I'd arrived earlier ? What if I'd...
That's the worst part. This creeping certainty that he—could—have changed something. This curse of what if. A slow poison eating him from the inside. He wished he could let go, let his mind fall silent just for a moment.
So he stayed there, back against the furniture. Jinx's drawings hidden. Powder's portraits in his lap. Eyelids closed, but soul wide open, lacerated by a thousand images.
And the world kept turning, as if nothing had ever happened. Cruel. Unfair.
Ekko opened his eyes. Facing him, his bed. But from that angle and in the half light, it had the outline of a couch : Jinx's one. The one they had collapsed on, side by side, after she had attempted the irreparable.
Again.
Another memory grips him. It clutches to his conscience and pulls him back, ruthlessly, into the abyss of the past.
****
Day 0
Jinx, balancing on the edge of the void, hands on her chest, eyes closed. Her body ready to fall and heart already gone. And Ekko, desperate, rewinds time. Again. And again. He refuses to fail. Not this time.
He appears behind her and without a word, he wraps his arms around her, firmly, gently. His arms surround her, gripping her hands and her shoulder, his chest against her back. He pulls her back from the edge, not with force but by warmth. A living anchor. Proof she's not alone.
She doesn't move, but something changes. A timid light returns to her face. The tension in her shoulders melts, like an invisible weight finally dissolving. Her eyelids stay closed, but her features soften, caressed by a wavering peace. A breath of solace escapes her rosy lips, a breath of life returning. A smile.
It's Ekko. She recognises him.
His arms, his warmth, his scent...
Every smile, every pain,
Every memory coming back again.
She felt he's calloused fingers slip into hers and gently take the cold canister she was holding. She didn't protest—no, she leaned a little closer to him to catch even a little more of his warmth. Ekko smiled in response.
After a few suspended seconds, she turns abruptly and throws herself into his arms. She clings to him like a raft in a storm, the way she once clung to Silco. Ekko frozen at first, surprised by this almost violent embrace, quickly returns the impulse. He holds her tight. He won't let her go.
Slowly, he feels Jinx's arms loosen around him. She steps back and looks up at him. He no longer knows what time it is, since he left this alternative universe, time no longer follows any logic.
Jinx stares at him, silent. Confused—Why is he here ? Why is he alive ? Why did she hug him ? Why didn’t she jump ?
He looks at her, anxious and apprehensive.
— I'm tired. She whispers, broken.
Ekko's eyes soften, lips tightened. Standing on that ventilation wing, facing the void, terrifies him. They need to get away.
He came closer, put one hand behind her back, then gently lifted her by sliding the other under her legs. She doesn’t resist. She's there, but not really. Amorphous.
— Me too. He murmurs. Then let’s sleep.
He carries her to the little hut he knows well, placing the bomb on a dresser that was lying around on the way. There's a couch inside. He gently lays her down then sits in front of her.
She doesn't look at him, but, he can see that her eyes are devoid of emotion.
— Rest. He says simply.
She finally turns her head. A breath of attention. He sketches out a gentle smile to reassure her.
On the edge of the couch, his hand rests, open, offered.
[ ►] With slow hesitation, Jinx placed her cold and trembling fingertips on his.
— Are you... real ? Her eyes are full of doubt, fear but also hope.
Ekko approaches, a smile pulled down at the corners, his eyes shining and his face scarred, exhausted by his previous attempts to save her.
— Yeah. It's me. Little Man… Ekko.
She frowns slightly. Little Man. How many years since she'd heard that nickname ? She looks at him, his clothes, his face, then looks around them. Everything feels unreal.
Ekko clasps her hand in his. Her palm is ice cold. He wants her to feel warm. He wants her to stay.
— Please…sleep.
— I can't...
His gaze falls on the sofa—it's small, barely enough for two—but not matter. He climbs up beside her, shifting her gently before slipping an arm beneath her and drawing her close to his chest. Her cheek crashes against his green overalls that smell faintly of smoke, she says nothing, does nothing.
Maybe warmth will help her fall asleep. He hugs her tighter and feels her breath against his collarbone. Jinx's eyelids are heavy but her eyes remain open.
— I'm sick of holding on. She murmurs, hopeless.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Spontaneously he tightened his hold around her—his right hand burying itself deeper in her blue hair, while his left resting on her hip, gripped harder too.
— Don't hold on. Just... let it all out. In my arms, at least for tonight.
Ekko's large right hand comes to rest over her eyes, covering almost her whole face.
I want these worries gone.
And beneath his palm, he feels everything. Her pain. Her weariness. Her slow, warm breath rhythmically brushing against his ring finger. He feels Jinx's lashes tremble, then fall. She finally closes her eyes.
He doesn't move. He becomes her wall, her refuge. And in that suspended moment, she falls asleep with Ekko’s hand protective on her face, as if to say “It’s okay. I’m here now, you can finally rest”. Because her burden, it wasn’t just hers anymore—she would no longer carry it alone.
What the hell is even going on ?
He’d never stopped pretending he had everything under control, for her. So she could have confidence. But in truthfully, he was on the line. Everything could have collapsed. His muscles slowly relaxed but in his head, the storm is deafening. His thoughts were racing at a speed he couldn't control.
What the hell is even going on ?
And after two long hours of immobility, his eyelids finally grow heavy. But his sleep remaines shallow. He has to stay alert, he can't really sleep. Not yet. Not while she's still like this.
Not while she still needs him.
****
The weight of her body’s warmth faded. Jinx's breath on him was just an echo, distant and unreal.
His hand went to his chest. Empty. Reality was cold—so cold and painful.
He sat for a long time without moving, gaze locked on the notebook resting on him, still full of memories too heavy to bear. Reminding him of what he’d lost, what he’d tried to save. Reminding him that he had failed after barely glimpsing a semblance of hapiness. Of wholeness. Of love.
He ran a hand over his face.
A growl rose inside him. A mix of rage, frustration and—love, sorrow. He had been strong, he had held on. For her. For everyone. Then a breath of words escaped from his parched lips.
— You make me wanna die too.
It wasn’t meant to be heard. It was just the truth, heavy and irrevocable.
Ekko stood, movements still slow. He took the notebook in his hands and slid it into the drawer as far away as possible, where the light wouldn't reach it.
The drawer slammed with a dull thud.
Then silence.