Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bar reeked of salt, sweat, and something vaguely sour—Bilgewater’s signature charm. Lanterns swung above, their dim light twitching with each gust from the open doors, casting drunken shadows that wouldn’t sit still. Somewhere in the back, a sea shanty struggled to stay on key, drowning beneath the clatter of mugs, slurred curses, and the occasional crash of a chair hitting wood.

Jinx didn’t notice. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

She sat hunched at the counter, one boot hooked on the bottom rung of her stool, her shoulder-length blue hair veiling half her face like a curtain she didn’t bother lifting. Her fingers curled around a half-empty glass. The amber liquid inside rippled with every distant crash of waves and every cheer from the gambling table behind her.

“Here’s to you, Isha,” she muttered, raising the drink in a mock salute.

One gulp. The burn hit fast, sharp enough to make her eyes sting—but it passed too quickly. Pain never lasted long when you expected it.

Her jaw tightened. Viktor’s camp. Vander’s rampage. Isha’s stupid, brave, final stand. It all came back in flashes—mud, fire, screaming, and Isha’s blood-covered smile that wouldn’t leave her.

Jinx’s grip on the glass tightened until it creaked.

Even here, buried in Bilgewater’s noise and rot, the silence of loss trailed her like a curse. She’d tried everything to outrun it. Demacia had been too clean, too ordered—like trying to grieve in a coffin. But Bilgewater? Bilgewater made sense. Ugly, loud, full of monsters. Just like her.

She knocked the glass against the counter and gave the barmaid a sharp nod. “Another. Stronger, if you’ve got anything that bites back.”

The woman flinched and poured without a word.

As the fresh drink slid into her reach, Jinx caught a flash of her reflection in the glass—messy hair, smudged eyeliner, pupils too wide and grin too flat to be anything but a lie. Her fingers hovered, then curled around the glass again.

Then it hit. A name. A voice. A face.

Ekko.

She exhaled hard through her nose. The taste in her mouth turned bitter. His laugh. That damn, annoying hope he refused to let go of. The way he looked at her like she was someone worth saving. And that kiss. On that rooftop in Zaun. His lips against hers, warm and full of promises neither of them dared to speak out loud.

She'd told herself it meant nothing. A fluke. A mistake.

So why the hell couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

The glass cracked sharply against the wood—louder than she meant. The barmaid jumped.

And that’s when she heard it.

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve showing your face here.”

Jinx didn’t turn immediately. Her lip curled, not quite a smile.

“Oh, great,” she muttered. “Another tragic backstory with a temper problem.”

Heavy boots thudded closer. A scarred man stepped into the lantern light, his face carved up like old driftwood and twice as splintered. He slammed a pistol onto the counter—ugly thing, jagged mods soldered on like a drunk’s patch job.

“This piece of shit you sold me?” he growled. “Nearly got me killed.”

Jinx didn’t even blink. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve sold a lot of pieces of shit.”

“It overheats after three shots,” he spat, leaning in, breath sour and words hot with rage. “Locked up when I needed it most.”

She finally looked at him. Tired eyes. Feral grin. “That’s not a defect, sweetheart. That’s a feature. Cooldown mod. Three shots, wait ten seconds, then fire again. What—reading not your strong suit?”

The man’s nostrils flared. He was big. Drunk. Probably used to people backing down. But she didn’t. She never did.

“You trying to make me look like a fool?”

She chuckled, slow and mean. “No, darling. You’re doing that all by yourself.”

The crack of his fist slamming the counter echoed through the room. Conversations died mid-sentence. Cards hit tables. Chairs scraped back.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he snarled.

Jinx turned fully now, resting her elbow on the bar, chin on her fist. Her grin was all teeth.

“Oh no. Not the scary man with the broken toy. What ever will I do?”

Two others flanked him—one with a knife, the other gripping a rusty wrench like it owed him money. The regulars started backing up, muttering warnings and curses.

“She’s trouble,” one said.

“Not worth it,” another hissed.

Jinx tilted her head. “If any of you gentlemen want to leave with your testicles intact, now’s your chance.”

The scarred man lunged. She let the punch brush past her cheek and drove a stool into his jaw with a crack. He stumbled back with a grunt.

The wrench guy charged. She grabbed a half-empty bottle and hurled it. He ducked—right into a sliding metal plate she’d kicked with her heel. He hit the floor with a grunt, groaning.

She was already moving—vaulting onto the counter with a laugh. Her boots skidded over spilled beer as she launched herself at him, knees hitting chest. He went down, wheezing.

Knife boy hesitated, shaking hands gripping the handle. Jinx hopped down and twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“Nervous?” she teased. “You should be.”

He fired.

The bullet missed by a mile, shattering a lantern. Glass and flame spilled down. Shadows twisted. The smell of burnt oil filled the room.

She cackled.

“Cute. Let me show you how it’s done.”

She scooped up a handful of peanut shells and flung them in his face. As he flinched, she closed the distance and kicked the gun out of his hand. It clattered across the floor.

The scarred man groaned, reaching for a broken chair leg. He swung. She ducked, drove her elbow into his ribs, and smashed a bottle against the counter.

“Still wanna dance?” she asked, holding the jagged neck up like a bouquet of glass.

The others didn’t answer. One dropped his wrench and bolted. The other followed.

Smart boys.

The scarred man wasn’t so bright. He lunged—again. She swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a wet grunt.

Jinx crouched, picked up the pistol, and studied it like she was bored.

“For junk, it’s got potential,” she murmured. “But yeah, you definitely need the cooling mod.”

She cocked it. Aimed it at his face.

He whimpered.

She rolled her eyes and tossed it onto his chest. “Relax. Not wasting ammo on a disappointment.”

She slapped a few coins on the bar. “For the mess.”

The barmaid still hadn’t moved.

As Jinx stepped outside, the humid night wrapped around her like an old jacket. She didn’t look back until the door swung closed behind her.

Then, just loud enough to carry:

“Next time, bring brains instead of backup.”

Above, on a dark balcony, a figure in a red coat watched her go. Twin pistols rested against their hips. Lantern light caught the shine of a smirk before the figure turned and vanished into the shadows.

Chapter Text

Ekko’s workshop hummed with life—a chorus of whirring tools, flickering sparks, and the low hiss of pressurized steam. At the center of it all lay the Z-Drive, disassembled and bare, its pieces scattered like bones on an autopsy table.

He tightened a bolt on the power coil, jaw set, muscles tight. It wasn’t just work. It was distraction. Salvation. Punishment.

The room mirrored his mind—ordered chaos painted in grease and ink. Blueprints layered the walls like patchwork, scribbled margins crossing over failed ideas and fleeting breakthroughs. Faded Firelight posters still clung to corners, curling at the edges, ghosts of a revolution that once felt worth bleeding for.

Shelves overflowed with hextech scraps, salvaged steel, and weapons too broken to be anything but memory.

His sanctuary. His fortress. His guilt museum.

Ekko adjusted the lens on his goggles—but his hand stilled. His eyes caught on the edge of the workbench.

Pow-Pow.

Battered. Lifeless. Its vibrant paint chipped and peeled back to bare metal.

Fishbones leaned against the wall beside it, grin dulled, stripped of menace. They looked like relics in a museum, or corpses waiting for burial.

They didn’t belong here.

They didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

“What the hell were you thinking, Jinx…” he muttered, lifting Pow-Pow with cautious hands. It felt wrong—too light. Hollow. A shell with no soul.

His thumb traced the scratches along its frame. Each gouge was a memory, a moment—her brilliance etched in chaos and recoil. She’d left them behind, abandoned the parts of herself that made the loudest noise.

Maybe it was her way of letting go.

Or maybe... a warning.

His thoughts circled the same loop they always did. The rooftop. Her kiss. Her silence. Her shadow slipping away before dawn.

He should’ve been furious.

But all he felt was that same slow ache he couldn’t name.

Would she come back?

Or had she already said goodbye?

A knock broke the spiral. Soft. Hesitant.

“Ekko?”

Vi didn’t wait. She never did. The door creaked open, her silhouette framed by the warm buzz of the hallway.

Her jacket was torn again—she never seemed to make it a week without picking a fight—and her pink hair, now brushing her shoulders, was tousled and windblown. But that crooked, shit-eating grin? Untouched.

“Still elbow-deep in nerd shit?” she teased, stepping in like she owned the place. “You ever think about doing something normal? Like... sleeping?”

Ekko slid off his goggles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Vi?”

She sauntered in, arms crossed. “Damn, and here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I’m elbow-deep in saving the world, remember?” He jerked his chin toward the Z-Drive. “That thing doesn’t build itself.”

“Mm. Right.” Her smile dropped a notch, tone softening. “Cait and I are heading to the memorial. You should come.”

“No.” It was immediate. Automatic.

Vi raised a hand. “Don’t say you’re busy. You’ve been staring at the same blueprints for two damn weeks. You’re not working. You’re hiding.”

Ekko turned away, jaw tight. “I’m working to make sure there is no next war. If you want to help, don’t slow me down.”

She drifted to the bench, eyes scanning the weapons like ghosts from another lifetime. When she tapped Fishbones with her knuckle, the hollow clang echoed louder than it should have.

“You’re still carrying this,” she said. “Same as me. Difference is—I’m trying to move. You’re just... here. Marinating.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She didn’t say it like a sister. She said it like a friend who knew the weight of silence too well. “I get it, Ekko. Losing her? It gutted us. But this? This isn’t grief. It’s paralysis.”

He opened his mouth—to argue, deny, lash out—but nothing came.

Because she was right.

And it scared the hell out of him.

If he moved on, let go, even for a second...

Would she disappear completely?

Vi nudged his shoulder with a closed fist. “Think about it. We’ll be there.”

Then, softer: “She wouldn’t want you to bury yourself. Not like this.”

The door clicked behind her.

Ekko sat frozen. Pow-Pow still in his hands. Her scent still lingering in the air.

His eyes drifted to a folded map near the Z-Drive. He opened it slowly. One of her doodles stretched across the margin—an exaggerated stick-figure version of him with big goggles and wild locs.

Beneath it, scrawled in messy handwriting:

“Don’t tell Vi about this.”

A joke. A secret. A goodbye.

His chest tightened.

He tied his white locs into a half-up bun, grabbed his hoverboard, and left the tools behind.

Piltover – The Memorial

Ekko hovered in beside them, landing with practiced ease. The city was alive around them—sunlight catching on chrome and glass, voices blending into a low murmur of movement. But Ekko wasn’t listening.

He didn’t want to be here. Not in this place. Not for this.

“Show-off,” Vi muttered, elbowing Caitlyn. “Think we should get boards too? You’d be the cutest little hover cop.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, Vi. Nothing says dignity like concussing yourself in midair.”

“I’ve got style, thank you very much.”

Ekko hoisted the board onto his back. “No civilians allowed. Firelights only.”

Vi gasped in mock betrayal. “What? No guest passes?”

Caitlyn smirked. “We’ll start our own gang. Firelights North.”

“Please don’t,” Ekko deadpanned. “I’d have to build hover-walkers just to keep you two upright.”

Laughter followed them, but it faded the closer they got to the crowd.

The memorial overlooked Piltover’s shimmering canals. Statues of the fallen stood solemn in the midday light, polished plaques catching the sun.

Zaunites and Piltovans stood together—mismatched clothes, mismatched histories, united by loss.

Ekko hung back. Arms crossed. Breathing slow.

Caitlyn stepped up first. Composed as ever, voice strong. “Today, we honor those who stood together—across borders, across scars. They didn’t die for pride. They died for peace.”

Applause stirred.

Ekko didn’t clap.

Then Vi took the stage. Her face unreadable, voice quiet at first.

“I lost someone last year.”

Ekko’s stomach turned.

“She was my sister,” Vi said. “We fought more than we laughed. But she was... brave. When the time came, she made a choice. She stood between a monster and the people she loved.”

Her throat worked around the next words. “Because of her, we’re still here.”

Ekko looked away. His jaw ached from clenching. The truth swelled in his throat—burned behind his eyes.

She wasn’t gone.

Not really.

But the world didn’t know that.

Couldn’t.

Not yet.

A figure stepped forward. Cloaked in crimson.

Sevika.

She moved like the street was still under her boots, like nothing had ever broken her. The crowd hushed before she even opened her mouth.

“Zaun’s standing because of a lotta things,” she said. “But some credit? Some of it belongs to the guy sulking in the back right now.”

Ekko’s head snapped up.

Sevika pointed. At him.

“Ekko. The kid who ran through bullets, rewired bombs, and still had time to lecture us about unity.”

She let that sit.

“You didn’t just stop a war, kid. You lit the fuse that brought peace. Whether you like it or not—you’re a damn hero.”

The crowd erupted. Cheers rolled like thunder.

Ekko nodded once, lips twitching into something almost like a smile. But inside, something twisted.

Would they still cheer if they knew what it cost?

He drifted to the edge as candles were lit and folded letters fed to flame. Smoke curled skyward like prayers too stubborn to die.

“Ekko.”

He turned. Caitlyn stood beside him, hands folded neatly, expression tight.

“Caitlyn.”

“I found something,” she said. Quiet. Firm. “And it’s about someone we’ve both been avoiding.”

Ekko’s pulse skipped.

“Not here,” she added, glancing toward the crowd. “Please. Just follow me.”

He hesitated. Then nodded.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The docks had quieted, the chaos of the bar left behind like the last echoes of a song no one wanted to remember. Shadows clung to the warped planks, thick and restless, reaching like fingers for anything stupid enough to linger. Jinx leaned against a salt-stained post, one boot hooked behind the other, gaze fixed on the dark water. The breeze tasted of brine, rust, and cheap rum—Bilgewater’s perfume. Gulls screamed overhead, the only creatures bold enough to shatter the silence.

Her fingers curled around the shape in her pocket, already knowing the weight. She pulled out the pocket watch, cracked glass glinting in the moonlight. The hands hadn’t moved in years, but still, she flipped it open like maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different.

It hadn’t been the watch she stole.

It had been time.

His time.

It was Ekko’s. Still. Still his. Even after everything.

She ran her thumb along the crack. A line through the center like a scar that wouldn’t heal. Like her. Like him. At the time, she'd told herself it was a trophy, a joke, a shiny little keepsake from someone who'd seen too much of her.

But standing here now, under a moon that felt too bright, she knew the truth: she hadn’t been able to let go. Not of the watch. Not of him.

Her grip tightened until her knuckles blanched. Zaun pressed at the edges of her memory like smoke creeping under a door. Every time she let herself think about going back, doubt clawed in.

Would Ekko see her for who she was now?

Or would he only see the girl who blew everything to hell and walked away?

The sound came soft: a scrape, a footstep. Jinx tensed instantly, sliding the watch back into her pocket. Her guns were in pieces. Her workshop was a mess. All she had was a boot knife and reflexes, and if whoever it was wanted trouble, she'd have to make do.

“Relax,” a voice said, silk-smooth and edged in steel. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have knocked.”

Jinx turned, pink eyes sharp.

A woman stood a few feet away, one hip cocked against the railing like she owned the night. Wide-brimmed black hat. Crimson waves of hair cascading over her shoulders. Two pistols—expensive, lovingly maintained—hung from her hips. She looked like danger wrapped in velvet.

“Not every day someone storms into The Sump and turns it into theater,” the woman said, voice full of dry amusement. “You make quite the impression.”

Jinx tilted her head. “You make a habit of stalking impressive people, or am I just special?”

The woman smiled—sharp and slow. “Let’s say you piqued my interest. You walked into that bar, humiliated a man most of this dockyard crosses the street to avoid, and walked out like it was nothing. That kind of chaos? That gets around.”

Jinx huffed, unimpressed. “Cool. I’m famous. So what? You want a autograph?”

The woman chuckled, low and musical. “Not quite. I prefer old-fashioned conversation.”

“Yeah? Then pick a better opening line.”

“Fair,” she admitted, stepping forward. Her boots didn’t stomp. They whispered. That kind of control made Jinx twitch.

“Scarface and his crew?” the woman added. “They were on my list. You did me a favor, whether you meant to or not.”

Jinx raised a brow. “So you’re a bounty hunter?”

“The bounty hunter,” the woman corrected, tipping her hat. “Sarah Fortune. But around here, they call me Miss Fortune.”

Jinx gave a lazy shrug. “Big name for someone who just got out-hunted.”

Sarah grinned. “Touché.”

Jinx leaned back, arms crossed. “Alright, Miss Fancy Guns. What’s this really about?”

Sarah stepped closer, her boots clinking softly against the wood. “I’m building a crew. Job’s nasty. Complicated. I need someone who can improvise, survive, and leave a little fire in their wake.”

“You want chaos.”

“I want results.”

Jinx snorted. “Wrong girl. I don’t do teams. I don’t do leashes. And I sure as hell don’t do polite.”

“Perfect,” Sarah said smoothly. “I’m not offering rules. I’m offering a deal.” She nodded toward Jinx’s belt. “You don’t just build toys. You build nightmares. I need that kind of crazy.”

Jinx’s jaw tightened. “You got coin?”

“Enough to buy you out of whatever hole you’re hiding in. But more than that?” She leaned in, just slightly. “A chance to be more than a headline. You know you want that.”

Jinx laughed, but it was hollow. “You don’t know me.”

Sarah didn’t blink. “I know enough. I know Bilgewater’s too small for what you are. You’re stalling. Tinkering. Playing it small because the alternative scares the hell out of you.”

Silence hung between them. Jinx looked out at the water, her hand sliding over her pocket again. The watch was cold against her palm.

“Didn’t catch your name,” Sarah said.

Jinx hesitated.

“Felicia,” she said, voice flat.

Sarah arched a brow. “Felicia, huh? Alright.” She stepped back, the faintest smirk lingering. “You don’t have to say yes. Just meet me tomorrow before sunset. Iron Tide dock. You’ll know where to find me.”

She turned and walked away. Her steps didn’t echo. They landed like punctuation.

Once the silence returned, Jinx pulled out the watch again. The crack in the glass shimmered. She stared at the frozen hands. She thought of Zaun. Of Ekko.

Of the way he looked at her like she was something more.

His voice flickered through her memory: "You’re more than the chaos you’ve caused, Jinx. You’re more than your past. I’ve seen it. I see you."

She didn’t bury it this time.

She let it stay.

She slid the watch back into her pocket.

And then she turned toward the dark.

Light-footed. Sharp-eyed. Silent.

A ghost with too many names.

Gone before the wind could catch her.

Chapter Text

The Kiramman mansion stood just as grand as Ekko remembered, its soaring ceilings and vast windows spilling light across the marble floors. As Caitlyn led him down the hallway toward her office, his eyes darted around, taking in the opulence.

“Nice place,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” Caitlyn replied with a faint smile, pushing open the door. “Come in.”

Inside, the office was spacious, with bookshelves lining the walls and maps of Piltover and Zaun pinned along the edges. Caitlyn gestured toward the chair opposite her sleek wooden desk before sitting behind it herself.

“So?” Ekko asked, settling into the chair. “What’s this about?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she opened a drawer and pulled out a battered monkey bomb, setting it down between them.

Ekko’s breath caught in his throat.

“I think you recognize this,” Caitlyn said, her tone flat. She unfolded a blueprint of the hexgate tower, pointing to the handwritten notes around its edges. “We found this near one of the vents.”

Ekko leaned back, staring at the bomb. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Caitlyn.”

Her patience thinned. “Ekko, you’re smarter than this. Don’t you see? She faked her death.”

He stayed silent, eyes still locked on the monkey bomb. The weight of Jinx’s last words pressed against his chest like a stone: Don’t come looking for me. He’d promised her. He’d sworn to himself. But now, with Caitlyn’s piercing gaze on him, that promise felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Caitlyn pressed on, her voice steady but insistent. “Reports from Bilgewater mention a blue-haired woman causing trouble. Sound familiar?”

Ekko’s jaw tightened. He could almost hear Jinx’s laughter, sharp and wild, echoing in his mind. “She’s not your problem anymore,” he told himself. But the lie tasted bitter.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. “Sevika and I leave tomorrow at sunrise for Bilgewater to meet with... allies. You should join us.”

Ekko blinked. “What? Why?”

A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Caitlyn's lips. “To learn the politics outside of Piltover and Zaun, of course.” Then her tone shifted, lower. “And to investigate Jinx’s whereabouts. Quietly. No one else can know—not Vi, not Sevika. No one. Just you and me.”

Ekko hesitated, the echo of Jinx’s words to him running through his mind: Don’t come looking for me. Her voice was sharp and resolute, impossible to ignore.

“I don’t want to get involved,” he said flatly. “My responsibilities as Firelight leader are too important for a wild goose chase.”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. She opened another drawer, pulled out a pistol, and slammed it onto the desk. Its crude, jagged design and mismatched colors made it unmistakably Jinx’s work.

“This isn’t just about Jinx,” Caitlyn said, her tone hardening. “Weapons and gadgets like this have been showing up all over Bilgewater lately. I’d bet your friend has a hand in it.”

Ekko’s breath hitched as he eyed the pistol. He recognized it instantly—the chaotic paint job, the reckless genius of the design. A cold chill ran through him. He could see her now, hunched over a workbench, her hands moving with frenetic energy as she poured her pain into every bolt and wire. She’d always been brilliant, but now her brilliance was a weapon.

Caitlyn studied his reaction. “You know something, don’t you?”

“No,” Ekko replied, his voice steady but quiet. “And even if I did... I promised I wouldn’t go looking for her.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “So you do know she’s alive.”

Ekko cursed under his breath. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Caitlyn murmured, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve been carrying this, haven’t you? Knowing she’s out there, keeping it from Vi, from all of us.”

He met her gaze, his expression a mix of frustration and resolve. “It’s not your problem, Caitlyn. Or Vi’s. She made her choice, and I’m respecting it.”

Caitlyn’s hand clenched into a fist. “And what about the choice she’s making now? Flooding a lawless port city with weapons and gadgets for whoever has the coin?”

Ekko’s voice turned hard. “I’m sure she has her reasons... She’s not the same person she was before the war. I won’t let you drag her back here just to lock her up.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “I don’t want to imprison her, Ekko. I want to stop the chaos she’s leaving behind. I want to help her—if she’ll let me. But I can’t do that if she’s hiding in Bilgewater, playing arms dealer to the highest bidder.”

Ekko leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He thought of Jinx, alone in a city like Bilgewater, surrounded by danger. He thought of her final request—Don't come looking for me—and he thought of Vi, still mourning the sister she thought was lost forever. The guilt gnawed at him. He’d kept Jinx’s secret for so long, but now it felt like a betrayal—to Vi, to Caitlyn, even to Jinx herself.

After a long silence, Ekko nodded, his expression grim. “Fine. I’ll go to Bilgewater. But if I find her, I decide what happens next. Not you.”

Caitlyn gave him a measured look, then nodded. “Deal.”

She stood. “Meet me at the hexgates tomorrow at sunrise. Pack light, and don’t be late.”

Ekko nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. Caitlyn turned toward her desk, tidying up, putting the blueprints and pistol away. Just as the door swung open, a voice rang out.

“Cupcake, you here?” Vi’s voice echoed through the hall, sharp and bright. “I was thinking we could go for lunch.”

Vi’s gaze landed on Ekko, her brows rising. “Little Man? Didn’t know you were visiting. You want to join us?”

Ekko stood, avoiding her eyes. “No thanks—I’ve gotta get back to the shop. Some tinkering to do.”

“Right,” Vi said with a sigh. “Stay safe, and don’t work yourself too hard.”

A thin smile tugged at Ekko’s lips. “No promises.” He slipped past her without another word, leaving Caitlyn to handle the awkward aftermath.

Vi watched him go, a raised eyebrow on her face. She turned back to Caitlyn, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“What’s that about?” Vi asked, her tone light but her gaze sharp.

Caitlyn sat and leaned back in her chair, masking her unease with a calm expression. “Ekko was here to discuss a few... issues in Zaun. Nothing unusual.”

Vi snorted. “Right. ‘Nothing unusual’ always seems to end with someone pulling me into your mess.”

Caitlyn offered a small smile. “Not this time. I promise.”

But Vi wasn’t convinced. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped further into the office, boots clicking softly against the floor. Her gaze flicked over the desk—now cleared, save for a map of Piltover and a cold cup of tea.

“You sure? It looked pretty intense when I walked in.”

Caitlyn hesitated for just a second too long. Vi caught it.

“Cupcake…” Vi tilted her head, her voice softening. “What’s going on?”

Caitlyn rose, moving around the desk to stand in front of her. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she said gently. “Just council business. Ekko’s helping with a few leads.”

Vi’s frown deepened. “Leads on what?”

Caitlyn reached out, hands resting on Vi’s shoulders, her thumbs brushing the collar of her jacket. “On things I can handle. I’ll tell you when I need backup.”

Vi studied her carefully, jaw clenched as she tried to decide whether Caitlyn was being truthful—or just sparing her. The thought of Caitlyn keeping secrets stung more than she wanted to admit. They’d promised each other honesty, but now it felt like the walls were closing in again.

“You’re keeping something from me,” Vi said at last, her voice low.

Caitlyn’s lips curved into a faint, apologetic smile. “I’m protecting you. Isn’t that what you’re always doing for me?”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Mm. I’ve heard it once or twice.” Caitlyn smiled wider, fingers lightly tugging Vi closer by the lapels of her jacket. “But you’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

Vi chuckled, her suspicion melting slightly. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for that face.”

Caitlyn tilted her chin up, a soft smile crossing her face as she met Vi’s eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

Vi leaned down, kissing Caitlyn gently, the warmth and exasperation of it mingling. Caitlyn kissed her back, hands sliding to rest on Vi’s chest. For a moment, the tension in the room dissolved.

When they finally pulled apart, Vi gave a lopsided grin. “All right, fine. You win this one. But if this blows up in your face, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”

Caitlyn chuckled, slipping her hand into Vi’s. “Deal. Now, shall we? I believe you mentioned lunch.”

“Damn right I did.” Vi squeezed her hand, and they left the office, stepping into the cold Piltover night.

But even as Vi walked beside Caitlyn, a flicker of doubt remained. She didn’t press Caitlyn further—not yet—but the feeling that something bigger was at play lingered. The image of Ekko’s tense expression and Caitlyn’s evasive answers gnawed at her. She’d find out the truth, one way or another. For now, though, she pushed the thoughts aside, letting Caitlyn’s laugh fill the quiet of the night.

Chapter Text

Jinx woke up to the sound of movement above her. Slow, deliberate footsteps creaked across the floorboards of her abandoned workshop.

She groaned, rubbing her face before resting her chin on her knees. Dammit… she must’ve forgotten to lock the damn door again.

For a moment, she just sat there, knees drawn up, listening. If some idiot thought robbing her was a good idea—well. Bad luck for them.

Her mind drifted.

Sarah’s offer from last night still lingered, an itch she couldn’t scratch. She hadn’t been in Bilgewater long, but it was already making her homesick—not for anywhere in particular, but for something that didn’t feel so... temporary.

Then there was Ekko.

That stupid thought wouldn’t leave her alone either. She remembered the way he had looked at her the last time they talked, like he still believed in her. Like she wasn’t too far gone.

"You don’t have to be on your own to figure yourself out," he’d told her. "I’ll be there if you need me."

Jinx snorted, shaking her head. “Always the Boy Savior,” she muttered.

But the noises upstairs pulled her back to reality. She stood, stretched, and climbed the stairs, slipping through the hidden door that led to her workbench—

—and stopped in her tracks.

The scarred guy from last night and his goons were standing at the counter.

Jinx stifled a laugh. “Oh, you guys again? Didn’t get your fill of humiliation?”

The men exchanged grins. That wasn’t the reaction she expected.

“Nah,” the scarred leader said. “Just figured you should know… you caught someone’s attention.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What, the bartender? Lemme guess, still mad about the mess?”

The scarred man chuckled, but there was something off about it. And then—

The air changed.

Heavy. Charged. Like the moment before a storm.

Jinx’s grin twitched, something cold settling in her chest.

A man stepped out from behind them, his presence swallowing the room whole. He was broad-shouldered, draped in a long coat that smelled of salt and gunpowder, his beard streaked with silver. He didn’t move like a thug. He moved like someone who owned the place.

Jinx had no idea who the hell he was—but she knew better than to ignore the feeling crawling up her spine.

The man trailed his fingers along her workbench, inspecting the weapons and gadgets like he was casually considering taking them. His gaze finally landed on her.

“So,” he said, voice even, deliberate. “You’re the one they’re calling a genius tinkerer.”

Jinx tilted her head, forcing her grin back into place. “Yeah? And you are?”

The scarred guy and his goons visibly tensed, but the man just smirked.

“Name’s Gangplank,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “Word on the docks is you’ve recently sailed into Bilgewater from Demacia.”

Jinx let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, news really gets around, huh? What else you hear? That I can juggle knives blindfolded?

Gangplank let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, still watching her like he was sizing her up. "Just makes me wonder... why would someone run from a nice, orderly, boring place like that… just to end up in a city like this?”

Jinx shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe i got bored.”

Gangplank chuckled, like he found that amusing. Then he reached into his coat, pulled something out, and placed it on the counter with a soft clink.

A Hextech crystal.

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

Her fingers curled before she even realized it, muscles tensing like she was about to snatch it away—or shove it as far from her as possible. The crystal glowed faintly, its light casting shadows that reminded her of the fire that had consumed everything she loved. She could almost hear Vi’s voice, sharp and accusing: "You destroy everything you touch—you’re a jinx!"

Next to it, he set down a sleek, well-worn hand cannon.

“Upgrade Parrrley with this,” he said, his tone casual, like he was asking for a drink. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Jinx opened her mouth, already halfway to a response.

"Y’know, I work on my time, not yours," she drawled, leaning against the counter. "And dealing with Hextech? Real delicate stuff. One wrong tweak, and boom—your fancy gun turns into a very expensive paperweight." She grinned, tilting her head. "So unless you wanna blow off your own—"

She stopped.

Gangplank’s gaze had darkened, his patience evaporating like mist under the morning sun.

Slow. Deliberate. He unsheathed his blade.

Jinx barely had time to process the movement before steel flashed—

A wet choke. A gasp turned to nothing.

Bodies hit the floor.

Scarlet splattered across the wooden boards.

The two men beside him crumpled, lifeless, their expressions still frozen in stunned horror.

Jinx didn’t flinch, but her fingers curled against the counter.

The scarred guy—now the only guy—staggered back, his face drained of color. His breath came short and ragged, but he didn’t run. Smart. Or stupid.

Gangplank wiped his blade clean on one of the corpses before sliding it back into its sheath. Then, he looked at her. Calm. Certain.

“This happens if it’s not ready,” he said, voice like the tide—low, steady, inevitable.

Jinx let out a slow breath. Forced a smirk. “Eh. Ain’t that an incentive.”

Gangplank smiled slightly, as if pleased. He turned, walking toward the door, the scarred man trailing behind like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

“You’ll be compensated for the labor,” he added over his shoulder. “And if you decide to run… death will be the least of your worries.”

Jinx didn’t move until the door swung shut, until the sound of footsteps faded into the streets of Bilgewater. Only then she exhale, rolling her shoulders.

Her gaze dropped to the Hextech crystal.

Her fist clenched.

The memory hit like a punch to the gut.

The first time she ever held one—her first Hextech monkey bomb. She’d been so damn excited, so eager to show it off, to prove herself.

Then the explosion. The fire. The screams.

Vi’s voice cut through the memory like a blade.

"You destroy everything you touch—you’re a jinx!"

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the thought down, down, down where it belonged.

She forced herself to focus.

The real question was… how the hell did that Gangplank guy get his hands on a Hextech crystal? In Bilgewater of all places?

Jinx sighed, grabbing the hand cannon and the crystal, and stored them away in a bag. Her eyes flicked to the bodies on the floor, and she wrinkled her nose.

"Well, that’s one way to put down a deposit."

Ekko slung his backpack over his shoulder as the hum of his hoverboard faded into the crisp morning air outside the Hexgates. The metallic archways pulsed with energy in the gentle light of dawn, their flickering reflections dancing on the damp stone of Piltover’s lower districts. He paused for a breath, the cool, dewy air filling him, when a familiar voice sliced through the quiet.

“Well, well. Look who’s up early for a change.”

Ekko turned. Vi was leaning against a post, arms crossed, a confident smirk in place. She pushed off casually, her boots clanking against the cobblestone. A few moments later, she added,

“Cait told me you’ve been helping the council chase down new leads.”

Her tone was light, yet edged with an unmistakable curiosity—as if she was fishing for secrets. Ekko shrugged and replied,

“Something like that.”

Vi studied him for a beat, then let out a short, dry chuckle. “Guess you really are a hero these days.”

Rolling his eyes, Ekko replied, “Don’t start.”

Her playful smirk faded as a more serious expression took over. Vi leaned in a bit closer.

“Look… Cait’s hiding something from me.”She rubbed the back of her neck, eyes narrowing slightly.“I don’t know what, but I’ll find out. Until then, I need a favor.”

Ekko raised a brow, intrigued.

“Keep an eye on her. Bilgewater’s not like Zaun, and Cait… she’s smart, but she’s not careful. I need you to watch her back.” Vi hesitated for a moment before adding softly, “And watch yours too, alright?”

Ekko let her request settle, mulling it over. Caitlyn wasn’t reckless, but she was a Kiramman—and in a place like Bilgewater, that was enough to put a target on her back. Nodding, he said, “I got her.”

Vi’s smirk returned, softer now. “Knew I could count on you.”

Before Ekko could reply, she pulled him into a firm, quick hug—the kind that conveyed more than words ever could. When she released him, she punched his shoulder lightly.

“Try not to get yourself killed.”

Ekko grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.“No promises.”

Vi scoffed as he turned toward the waiting transport. Caitlyn and Sevika stood by the ramp, arms folded, watching them. Sevika’s metal arm whirred faintly as she side-eyed him, but said nothing. As Ekko approached, Caitlyn gave him a knowing look.

He sighed. “She asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Caitlyn smirked. “And what did you say?”

Ekko simply shook his head and stepped past her onto the ship, adding with a half-smile, “What do you think?”

The Hexgate thrummed to life as the early morning light deepened, and in an instant, golden beams swallowed them whole. One moment they were in Piltover, and the next, an endless stretch of sea and a new day surrounded them.

The first thing that hit Ekko was the mingling aroma of salt and brine, undercut by a faint metallic tang—a reminder of rusted chains and old battles—while the warmth of the rising sun chased away the lingering chill of night. The ship rocked gently as it cut through a light mist toward an unfamiliar port.

Bilgewater.

Even from a distance, the docks teemed with life—sailors, merchants, and cutthroats wove through the chaos, their shouts of deals and threats blending together into a relentless hum. The air reeked of fish, rum, and unwashed bodies. Ekko’s grip tightened on his bag; Zaun had its dangers, but Bilgewater… this place was entirely different.

At the edge of the dock, a striking woman in a wide-brimmed hat waited. Auburn hair tumbled over her shoulder as she tipped her hat up slowly, a smirk playing across her lips.

“Well, now,” she drawled, emerald eyes sweeping over the group before settling on Ekko.“Didn’t expect a pretty boy in the mix.”

Ekko arched an eyebrow, about to retort when she turned to Caitlyn.

“Been a while, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Miss Fortune.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and grinned.“Just Sarah, darling. No need for the formalities.”

She scanned the group with casual authority, hands resting easily at her hips. Ekko noted how her fingers never strayed far from the pistols at her sides. With a sweeping gesture toward the bustling docks, she continued, “Now, before we get all cozy, let’s get something straight. Bilgewater’s got its fair share of delights—thieves, pirates, sea witches… you name it, we’ve got it. And if that wasn’t enough, we’re dealing with Gangplank, aka the Saltwater Scourge.”

Ekko’s brow furrowed. “Gangplank?”

Sarah exhaled, rolling her eyes. “A self-styled warlord. Big on blood, gold, and causing problems. He’s the reason you guys came to Bilgewater—didn’t you get debriefed about it, pretty boy?”

Ekko paused, catching Caitlyn’s warning glance. “Yeah, yeah. Just forgot Gangplank and the Saltwater Scourge are one and the same.”

Sarah smirked and waved a hand toward three figures standing nearby. “This here’s my crew—Rafen, Graham, and Isobel. They’ll make sure you don’t get stabbed in the back.” She paused, grinning.“Mostly.”

Sevika let out a dry chuckle. “Thought that was your job.”

Sarah grinned. “Oh, honey, that’s just a hobby.”

Rafen, wiry and sharp-eyed, scanned the crowd like a hawk. Graham, built like a warship, cracked his knuckles but stayed silent. Isobel, the youngest, smirked and adjusted the knives at her belt, her gaze lingering on Ekko’s hoverboard.

As the group moved through the port, the chaotic pulse of Bilgewater unfolded around them—sailors arguing over cargo, merchants hawking questionable goods, and shadows slipping through narrow alleys. The team stayed close, with Caitlyn and Sarah leading the way. Sarah then fell into step beside Ekko, her lips curving in a teasing smile.

“So, pretty boy, what’s your story? You don’t look like the usual Piltover type.”

Ekko offered a half-smile. “That’s ‘cause I’m not.”

Sarah hummed, her eyes appraising him. “Thought so. You’ve got that wild card look.”

The port around them was a tangle of bodies, merchant stalls, and crates stacked high with illicit goods. Bartering, cursing, and drunken shanties formed a constant backdrop of sound. Ekko exhaled and adjusted his pack—one thing was clear: Bilgewater was going to be trouble.

Walking slightly ahead, Ekko’s eyes scanned the surroundings until something caught his attention—a hooded figure with a face hidden in shadow. The figure was dragging something behind them. A body bag? Their movements were sharp and hurried, but what struck him most was the way they moved: a casual shrug of the shoulders, a light bounce in their step despite the apparent weight.

Recognition hit him like a punch to the chest.

Jinx.

There was no doubt about it.

She turned slightly, adjusting her hoodie as blue strands of hair escaped. Ekko’s pulse quickened.

“I need to check something,” he muttered to Sarah, already shifting his weight to follow.

Sarah arched a brow but said nothing, while Caitlyn caught his eye, silently conveying that she knew. That single nod was enough.

The alley ahead twisted into narrowing shadows, the stench of seawater and rot thick in the air. The hooded figure weaved through backstreets with an urgency that suggested she hadn’t expected to be followed. Ekko kept his steps light, trailing just far enough behind her.

Jinx eventually stopped at an out-of-place storefront—a makeshift workshop cobbled together from scrap metal and scavenged wood. She glanced around once, then ducked inside. Ekko hesitated for a split second; his heart pounded in his ears before he pushed open the slightly ajar door. A dim light spilled onto the cracked pavement, and the faint clink of tools echoed within.

Inside, the scent of oil and rust assaulted him. The place was a chaotic jumble of half-finished contraptions, blueprints pinned at odd angles, and metal scraps and wires littering every surface. But his gaze was drawn to something else: a dark, fresh pool of blood near the workbench. His stomach knotted—is it hers? Or someone else’s?

Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice sliced through the stillness behind him.

"Didn’t I tell you not to come looking for me?"

Ekko whipped around. There, leaning against the wall with her hoodie discarded and arms crossed, stood Jinx. For a moment, he just stared—taking in the changes. She looked different now. Healthier. Fuller. Her hair, longer and vibrant, brushed her shoulders, and while her eyes still held that familiar wild glint, there was an undeniable shift in her presence.

A slow, knowing smirk curled at her lips. "Cat got your tongue, Boy Savior?"

Ekko ran a hand through his hair and let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes lingering on the organized chaos of the workshop. "You always did have a thing for messes."

Jinx pushed off the wall with a lazy stretch and tilted her head, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. "Yeah? And you always did have a thing for sneaking up on people." She glanced him over with a sly grin. "Didn’t think you’d actually find me, Little Man."

Ekko crossed his arms and glanced down at the pool of blood before looking back at her. "Wasn’t exactly hiding, were you?"

Jinx followed his gaze, then nudged a stray wrench with her boot. "Eh. Just cleaning up a loose end."

Ekko exhaled slowly, studying her—really studying her. "You look… different."

Jinx arched a brow and quipped, "Different? You planning on lecturing me?"

He huffed a small laugh."Nah. Not in the mood."

For a heavy moment, silence stretched between them—a silence laden with memories of rooftops, wars, and lost time. Then, Jinx stepped closer, her eyes examining him as if trying to piece him back together.

"You got taller."

Ekko smirked. "You got… less dead."

Jinx snorted. "For now."

There was a brief pause, as if she were weighing her next words. Then, unexpectedly, she reached out and ruffled his hair—just like they used to do as kids. Ekko groaned, swatting her hand away.

"Seriously?"

Jinx grinned."Had to check if you were real, Little Man."

Ekko shook his head, but his lips twitched into a smile. "Yeah, well… I’m here."

A flicker of something—regret, longing, or perhaps just the weight of unspoken memories—crossed her expression before vanishing. She turned, grabbing a wrench and tossing it onto the workbench.

"Well, if you’re sticking around, hope you like trouble."

Ekko leaned against the doorway, watching her with a mix of amusement and concern. "Guess that depends—how much trouble are we talking?"

Jinx shot him a wicked grin over her shoulder. "The fun kind."

Ekko let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Of course it is."

Yet, for a split second, his eyes drifted back to the fresh blood on the floor—the dark stain that carried unspoken questions. Who was it? Why was it there? The questions weighed on him, but he swallowed them down.

Not yet.

Not with Jinx in front of him.

For now, he simply slipped his hands into his pockets and pushed off the doorway. One thing at a time. And for this moment, this strange, familiar, dangerous connection between them was enough.

Chapter Text

Jinx dropped the bag onto the workbench with a clatter, the weight of its contents—metal and something far more dangerous—echoing in the cramped space. The hand cannon and Hextech crystal inside clinked softly against the metal surface. Ekko lingered in the doorway, his gaze flicking between her and the bloodstain on the floor. She didn’t need to ask what he was thinking.

“You gonna stand there and brood,” she drawled, spinning a wrench between her fingers, “or are you gonna help me with my trouble?”

Ekko snorted and stepped further inside, his boots scuffing against the rough floor. “What’s in the bag?”

Jinx grinned, flashing sharp teeth as she unzipped it. With a deliberate clink, she pulled out the hand cannon and the Hextech crystal, setting them on the workbench. The crystal hummed faintly, casting a faint blue glow across the room.

Ekko’s eyes widened. “There’s Hextech in Bilgewater?”

Jinx tossed the wrench onto the table with a clank. “Not really. Some big, dangerous dude with three goons came in earlier, wanted me to upgrade his weapon with it.” She leaned back against the workbench, crossing her arms. “Here’s the kicker—soon as I was about to turn him down, he killed two of his own guys with some kinda fancy pirate blade. Then he turned to me, threatened to do the same if I didn’t get the job done, and casually walked out. Left me with two bleeding bodies on the floor.”

Ekko exhaled sharply, realization dawning. “So that’s why you were dragging a body bag earlier.” His tone was almost amused. “Not like anyone would’ve cared in Bilgewater. Random crazy shit like this happens all the time here.”

Jinx nodded, glancing down at the bloodstain before shrugging. “Eh. Been a while since I shot anyone. Kinda lost the habit of using a pistol.”

Ekko’s brow lifted. “Then why make weapons for criminals?”

Jinx stretched her arms over her head, her grin returning. “Got bored. Needed a way to make some coin. It was either this or bounty hunting, and I’m trying this whole ‘not killing people’ thing. See how long that lasts.”

A long, heavy silence stretched between them. Ekko frowned, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, out of nowhere, he blurted out—

“So… what have you been up to for the past year?”

Jinx stiffened. She didn’t answer right away, rolling her shoulders like she could shake off the weight of his question. “Well,” she said, too flippantly. “Not much—just sightseeing here and there around Runeterra.”

Ekko didn’t let it slide. “That’s not an answer.”

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess it’s not.” A pause. Then, quieter, “I needed to get away, Ekko. From everything. From… me.”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t interrupt.

Jinx hesitated, then let out a short breath. “I ended up in Demacia first. Not exactly a fan-favorite over there, but I kept my head down. Stole to survive, y’know, the usual. But it was too clean, too orderly—place felt like a damn museum. I stuck around longer than I should’ve ‘cause I met Lux.”

Ekko blinked. “Lux? As in Crownguard Lux?”

Jinx huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that one. Weird, right? But she was… different. She didn’t look at me like I was some rabid animal. Didn’t flinch, even when she should’ve.” She drummed her fingers against the workbench. “She helped me. No reason to, just… did. And for a minute, I thought maybe I could stay there. Maybe I could be something else.”

Ekko stayed quiet, letting her keep going at her own pace.

“But, surprise, surprise—I attract trouble like a damn magnet,” she muttered. “Didn’t take long before the wrong people noticed, and suddenly, I was back to being the problem. Figured it was time to go before things got messy. And, well…” She shrugged. “Bilgewater seemed like a good place to disappear. Turns out, it’s not so bad. I tinker, make things, sell ‘em to people who don’t ask too many questions.” She smirked. “Not bad for someone who used to blow shit up for fun, huh?”

Ekko let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He took her in—the guarded way she stood, the restless twitch of her fingers, the way her words danced around the deeper wounds.

A whole year. And she’d been alone through all of it.

Jinx shifted, tilting her head. “What about you?”

Ekko hesitated, then ran a hand through his locs. “Been busy. Rebuilding Zaun’s a hell of a job. I’ve been working on recreating the Z-Drive—giving people real second chances, not just scraps. The Firelights are still around, but we’re not just fighting anymore. We’re building. Making sure people have better homes, better work, better lives.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s slow, but it’s something.”

Jinx studied him, something unreadable in her expression. “You always did believe in miracles, didn’t you?”

Ekko’s reply was quiet, but certain. “Maybe I still do.”

A silence settled between them, thick with everything they’d lost and all they still didn’t know how to say.

Then, Jinx tapped her fingers against the workbench, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Anyway,” she muttered, “How did you find me—in Bilgewater of all places?”

Ekko hesitated before glancing away. “Yeah, about that…it’s kinda complicated.”

Silence stretched between them again, too long. Jinx tapped her fingers against the workbench, her restless energy leaking through the cracks. She tilted her head. “You know I don’t do complicated—just spill it out already, little man.”

Ekko rubbed a hand over his face, then finally muttered, “Caitlyn knows.”

The smirk wiped clean off her face.

Jinx blinked once. Then, just like that, her expression smoothed over—too smooth. “Knows what, exactly?”

Ekko crossed his arms. “Don’t play dumb, Jinx.”

She hummed, kicking a loose bolt across the floor. “That’s a little vague, don’tcha think? Caitlyn knows a lot of things. Real big brain. Real good at putting pieces together.”

Ekko wasn’t buying it. “She knows you’re alive. And she’s been tracking you.”

Jinx snorted. “Let her. Not my problem.”

Ekko clenched his jaw. “She’s here, Jinx. In Bilgewater.”

That got her attention.

Jinx stilled, her fingers tightening just slightly against the workbench. Her eyes flicked past him, already calculating. But then she forced a grin, tossing her arms wide. “Hot damn. You mean to tell me Piltover’s golden girl is stomping around this dump, sniffing after little old me?” She let out a low whistle. “I must be real special.”

Ekko wasn’t amused. “You need to take this seriously.”

Jinx scoffed. “I am.”

“Then act like it.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want me to do, Ekko? Run? Hide? Beg?” She laughed, but it was hollow. “Not my style.”

Ekko stepped closer. “If Caitlyn finds you, it could maybe go sideways. She’s not alone.”

Jinx tensed, “Don’t tell me Vi—”

Ekko cut her off, “Vi doesn’t know and she ain’t here.”

She heaved a sigh as her expression flickered. “So who then?”

Ekko hesitated. “Sevika…but Caitlyn didn’t tell her you’re alive.”

Jinx’s mouth twisted. “Figures.”

Ekko exhaled. “And me.”

Jinx went still.

For the first time since he walked in, her confidence wavered. She searched his face, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. “And you,” she echoed, quieter.

Ekko swallowed. “I told Caitlyn I’d help find you.”

Jinx tilted her head, waiting for the punchline. “And what,” she said slowly, “happens when you do?”

Ekko didn’t have an answer.

And Jinx saw it.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Shit. Looks like I’ve got some thinking to do.”

Ekko frowned. “Jinx—”

She waved him off. “Relax, Little Man. I’ll figure it out.”

Ekko wasn’t convinced.

Jinx moved with purpose, stashing the hand cannon and Hextech crystal into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. As she reached for her hoodie, Ekko’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

She froze.

His grip was firm but gentle. “I’m not your enemy,” he murmured.

Jinx looked down at his hand, then up at him. Something passed between them—raw, unspoken.

A memory. A thousand memories.

She should pull away. Make a joke. Brush it off like it was nothing.

But her fingers twitched in his grasp, betraying her.

She swallowed hard and muttered, “You always do this.”

Ekko’s brow furrowed. “Do what?” His heart was pounding.

Jinx exhaled sharply, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. “Look at me like I’m still her.”

Ekko stilled.

Jinx’s voice cracked before she could stop it. “Like I’m still the one you knew.”

Ekko’s chest ached. He tightened his grip—just enough for her to feel it.

“Maybe I am,” he whispered.

Jinx’s breath hitched, something flickering in her eyes—before she yanked her wrist free.

“This doesn’t change anything, Ekko.”

His fingers curled in the empty space where her hand had been.

“I know.”

A long, heavy pause.

Jinx shifted on her feet. Her hands twitched again, restless, searching for something to hold on to.

“I missed you, y’know,” Jinx mumbled.

Ekko’s breath hitched. “Jinx…”

She turned away. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Then she walked out.

Ekko stood there, the weight of her words sinking in.

“I missed you too,” he whispered.

Jinx lingered just outside the door, leaning against the wall as the midday heat pressed against her skin. Sweat clung to her neck, the heavy air thick with the stench of salt and oil from the docks.

She let out a slow exhale, squinting at the sun bleeding through Bilgewater’s smog.

She should keep moving. Should go somewhere—anywhere—but her feet wouldn’t budge.

Ekko was still inside. She could feel it—the weight of him pressing against the space she’d left behind.

Damn him.

Damn him for still making her feel things she thought she’d buried.

She pulled her hoodie tighter around herself, fingers curling into the fabric.

A year apart, and yet standing in front of him still felt like stepping too close to a fire—burning, pulling, threatening to consume.

Caitlyn knows.

She shut her eyes, cursing under her breath. That changed things. Not because Caitlyn scared her—no, Jinx had danced on the edge of death too many times to be afraid of some former Dictator.

It was the fact that Ekko was the one who told her.

Which meant he was involved.

Which meant she had a choice to make.

She could run. Vanish before Caitlyn or Sevika got too close. It wouldn’t be hard—she’d done it before. Slip through the cracks, leave Ekko behind again.

But that wasn’t what her gut was telling her to do.

Her fingers twitched. She needed to do something, needed to move, needed to—

A noise behind her made her turn.

Ekko was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her like he was waiting for something.

Jinx scoffed. “What, are you following me now?”

Ekko rolled his eyes. “You didn’t go anywhere.”

She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, well. Got caught up admiring the view.” She gestured vaguely at the smog-drenched skyline, where the sun hung dull behind it. “Real pretty.”

Ekko didn’t bite. “You’re thinking about running.”

Jinx snorted. “Please. What gave it away?”

“You always bounce your knee when you’re antsy.”

She stilled.

Damn him for still knowing her tells.

Ekko took a step closer, voice lower now. “You don’t have to run, Jinx.”

She turned to face him fully, arms spreading wide in exaggerated disbelief. “Oh yeah? And what do you suggest, oh wise and mighty Boy Savior? Let Caitlyn and Sevika roll up to my workshop, have a nice little chat over tea and biscuits?”

Ekko didn’t flinch at her sarcasm. “I’m suggesting you don’t make things worse.”

Jinx barked out a laugh. “Buddy, ‘worse’ is my specialty.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Jinx—”

“No, no, really, I love this idea,” she continued, grinning sharp and wide. “We all sit down, talk about our feelings, maybe braid each other’s hair—oh wait, Sevika doesn’t have any. Tragic.”

Ekko clenched his jaw. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” she shot back. “You think I’m gonna just sit here while Caitlyn closes in? Let her decides what happens to me? Hell no.”

Ekko held her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You think I’d let her hurt you?”

Jinx faltered.

It was the way he said it—calm, certain, like a promise carved into stone.

She swallowed, forcing a smirk. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

Ekko shook his head. “I didn’t come here to drag you back. I didn’t even come here to stop you.” He exhaled, shifting his weight. “I just… wanted to see you.”

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the one that left her breath catching.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, Jinx let out a slow breath, running a hand through her hair. “Well,” she muttered, “hope you like what you see.”

Ekko didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her, eyes softening—like he was seeing something she didn’t.

“…Always have,” he murmured.

Jinx’s heart lurched.

She swallowed, looking away. “Don’t say shit like that, Ekko.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she snapped, forcing a laugh, “I might start believing it.”

She turned on her heel before he could see whatever crack had just formed in her expression.

Ekko didn’t stop her this time. Didn’t grab her wrist or try to convince her to stay.

But as she stepped into the daylight, she heard his voice one last time, quiet but certain.

“I meant it, Jinx.”

She didn’t look back.

Couldn’t.

Because if she did, she might never leave.

Chapter Text

The salty breeze carried the scent of rust and brine as Sarah led Caitlyn and Sevika through Iron Tide Dock, where the Syren was docked. The ship loomed ahead, its dark hull worn but sturdy, crew members moving efficiently across the deck as they prepared for departure.

Their conversation remained tense, circling back to the risk they were about to take.

“Parley with Gangplank,” Sevika muttered, exhaling smoke from a half-burned cigar. “You really think sitting across from that bastard is gonna stop him from gutting Piltover’s trade routes?”

“Not if we appeal to reason,” Caitlyn countered, her tone measured. “Profit is profit, even for a pirate. If we offer him something worthwhile—control over specific routes, resources, a tax on Piltover’s goods—he might find it more beneficial than outright sabotage.”

Sarah scoffed, adjusting the brim of her hat before tugging it off entirely. “You don’t get it, Cait. Gangplank’s not some merchant looking for a fair deal. He doesn’t build—he takes. That’s what he enjoys. The moment you think you’ve got him pinned with ‘leverage,’ he’ll flip the table and cut your throat.”

Caitlyn frowned, her fingers tightening around the railing of the ship, but she said nothing.

They reached the ship’s bridge, where Sarah gestured toward the waiting crew. “This is Captain Varro,” she introduced, and the rugged man gave them a curt nod.

“Welcome aboard,” Varro said, his gaze flickering between them before turning back to bark orders.

As they walked along the deck, taking in the crew and the state of the ship, Sevika glanced around. “Where’s Ekko?”

Sarah let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Been a while since he disappeared, huh?”

Caitlyn stiffened. She had noticed—of course she had—but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she deflected. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. So, Sarah—why haven’t you been to Piltover in ten years?”

Sarah flinched—just barely—but Caitlyn caught it. The pirate quickly masked it with an easy shrug, but the damage was done.

She tossed her hat aside, running a hand through her red curls. “Was busy learning how to survive on my own.” A sharp exhale. “Didn’t wanna be coddled by your mother at the Kiramman estate.”

Sevika let out a low, amused huff. “Didn’t know the Kirammans had ties to Bilgewater.”

Sarah’s expression darkened, something raw flickering across her face. “They didn’t. Not directly. My mother brokered trade deals with them before… well, before she and Cait’s mom became friends.”

Caitlyn’s gaze dropped for a moment. Her mother. The memory of the day the council tower fell hit her like a cold wave. The rocket. The explosion. The pain that followed.

Sevika, ever blunt, tilted her head. “So why’d you have to learn to survive alone?”

Sarah paused mid-step. Her jaw tensed. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat. “Because my parents died when I was a kid.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered on her. She knew how it happened—the fire in their Bilgewater home, the whispers of arson, the bodies never recovered.

But before she could say anything, Sarah cleared her throat and straightened. “I should check in with my crew. I’ll keep an eye out for Ekko while I’m at it.”

With that, she left, leaving Caitlyn and Sevika alone on the deck.

Sevika leaned against the railing, studying Caitlyn with a skeptical look before taking a slow drag of her cigar. “Why’d you really bring the kid here?”

Caitlyn sighed, looking away. “Ekko’s pragmatic. He sees things differently than we do—different from the Council, from Zaun, from me. If we’re going to negotiate with Gangplank or find another way to stop him, we need that perspective.”

Sevika didn’t look convinced. She shook her head, tossing the last of her cigar overboard before grabbing a nearby water jug and downing a long gulp. “Hope you know what you’re doing, Councillor.”

Caitlyn wished she had an answer to that.

Sarah wandered through the docks, her boots clicking against the wooden planks, until she spotted Ekko leaning against a wooden post near the water. His gaze was distant, lost somewhere beyond the ships rocking in the harbor.

She stopped beside him, arms crossed. “Where the hell have you been, pretty boy?”

Ekko rolled a shoulder. “Looking around.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. Real specific.”

Ekko smirked. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” she said flatly. “But Caitlyn does.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Iron Tide Dock. Syren. Go before they leave for the parley.”

Ekko gave a lazy salute and disappeared into the crowd.

Sarah lingered for a moment, watching him go. Then, shifting her gaze to a nearby stack of barrels, she spotted her crew—Rafen, Graham, and Isobel—waiting.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. The pieces were almost on the board. Soon, she’d make her move.

Caitlyn and Sevika had just stepped off the Syren when Caitlyn caught sight of a familiar figure weaving through the crowd.

“Ekko!”

He turned, walking toward them, expression unreadable.

Sevika eyed him. “What, got lost?”

Ekko shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Checked out a weapons shop. Smith was being difficult.” He glanced toward the city’s winding streets. “Then, yeah… might’ve taken a wrong turn.”

Sevika exhaled sharply. “Figures.”

Caitlyn folded her arms. “We’re meeting Gangplank for a parley. Trade routes, Hextech, and whatever else he’s meddling with.”

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. A big, dangerous guy who gave her a gun and a Hextech crystal… Jinx’s words replayed in his head. The pieces fit too well. Gangplank.

But he kept that to himself.

They walked toward the Dead Pool shipyard, conversation shifting to logistics. Caitlyn, however, stole glances at Ekko, watching him carefully. Then, when Sevika moved ahead, she dropped her voice.

“Did you find her?”

Ekko didn’t break stride. “Workshop was abandoned. No sign of her.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Not even a trace?”

Ekko kept his expression neutral. “She’s good at disappearing.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, but let it drop—for now.

Sevika glanced back. “We’re here.”

Ahead, the dark sails of Gangplank’s ship loomed, a silent warning of the storm about to come. The Dead Pool rested in the harbor, its black sails rippling in the sea breeze. The massive ship bore scars from past battles—a testament to the terror it inspired. The bridge creaked under the weight of men hustling back and forth, exchanging crates of smuggled goods, weapons, and stolen components.

Caitlyn, Sevika, and Ekko stood at the edge of the dock, waiting. The air reeked of salt, rot, and unwashed bodies. Despite the chaos, Caitlyn maintained her composure—though her fingers twitched anxiously at her side.

“This is a mistake,” Ekko muttered, arms crossed. “Meeting with Gangplank—even on parley—sounds like a bad idea.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the Dead Pool. “The Piltover council uncovered evidence that he’s been ambushing our trade routes for over a year—ever since the war with Noxus. Rumor is, he’s after Hextech.”

Sevika hummed thoughtfully, rolling the joints of her mechanical arm. “Hextech, huh? That’s a big leap for a pirate. What’s he planning to do with it—build himself a fleet of flying ships?”

Ekko’s brow arched. “If he gets his hands on Hextech, he won’t stop at trade routes. He’ll burn Piltover and Zaun to the waterline.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened. “Whatever he wants, we make sure he never gets it.”

The atmosphere shifted—the air grew heavy, charged with unspoken danger. Footsteps echoed against the wooden planks of the bridge until Gangplank emerged from the ship’s shadow—a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered, his scarred face twisted into a cold, amused smirk. A blade at his hip glinted in the dim light.

Ekko stiffened, his hand drifting subtly toward the weapon at his belt. Gangplank’s gaze swept over the group before landing on Sevika. His smirk deepened.

“Piltover’s sending women and brats to negotiate now?” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

Then, his gaze flicked to Sevika, and his grin turned predatory.

“Well, now. Ain’t every day I see a Zaunite that’s easy on the eyes.”

Sevika shifted her weight, the glint of her mechanical arm flashing beneath her cloak. “Not interested.”

Gangplank bit his lip, eyes gleaming with amusement. Then, he turned to Caitlyn and Ekko.

“Miss Kiramman, I presume? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Caitlyn kept her expression neutral. “We’re here to discuss your interference with Piltover’s trade routes.”

He studied her, then glanced at Ekko. His smirk curled. “And you, boy? You look like you’ve seen a scrap or two. Zaunite, eh? What’s your stake in this?”

Ekko tilted his head, gaze dark. “Keep calling me ‘boy,’ see how fast you lose those teeth.”

Gangplank barked a laugh, the deep sound rolling over the dock like an approaching storm. “Feisty. I like it.” His tone darkened. “If Piltover wants to keep trading with Bilgewater, they’d better start sending Hextech my way. Otherwise, I might have to settle for a more permanent arrangement.”

His eyes flicked to Sevika.

“Or maybe your friend here could join my crew. Could keep me entertained at night.”

Sevika rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Pirate.”

Caitlyn bristled. “We’re not handing over Hextech to the likes of you—ever. You’ll have to settle for coin or another deal.”

Gangplank’s amusement drained away, replaced by a cold glare. His eyes bore into Caitlyn before he let out a slow, deep laugh.

“I don’t give a damn about your coins or your goddamn deals. I only want power. And control.”

He turned toward the bridge, voice casual. “If you won’t accept my terms—then I suppose this parley’s over. Good luck to you and Piltover, Miss Kiramman.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as the threat lingered.

Ekko stepped closer, voice low. “He doesn’t make empty threats. Watch your back.”

The wind shifted.

Ekko noticed it first.

Not in words—but in movement. A shift in posture. A lingering glance. A crate being set down too carefully.

His stomach twisted. His instincts screamed at him.

“Move—”

Too late.

A net shot from the side, weighted ropes tangling around Caitlyn and dragging her back. She barely had time to gasp before a fist cracked against her temple, sending stars across her vision.

Ekko spun, ready to fight, but a heavy boot slammed into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. Hands gripped his arms, twisting them back as he struggled.

Sevika cursed, her metal fist slamming into the nearest attacker, sending him flying into the sea. She grabbed another by the throat, lifting him effortlessly before throwing him into the crates stacked nearby. More men rushed her, but she fought them off, her mechanical limb crushing bone with every swing.

“Sevika!” Caitlyn choked out, still struggling against the ropes.

The Zaunite woman turned, eyes blazing, but another wave of Gangplank’s men swarmed her, cutting her off from Caitlyn and Ekko.

Ekko’s head snapped sideways as a strike caught his jaw. Copper flooded his mouth. He twisted, slamming his foot into one of his captors, but there were too many. Hands wrenched his arms behind his back, steel binding his wrists.

Gangplank’s men dragged Caitlyn and Ekko toward the ship while Sevika fought tooth and nail against the swarm. She managed to break free just as Caitlyn was hauled up on the bridge.

Sevika’s chest heaved. She could charge after them, but she’d be outnumbered fast. Gritting her teeth, she made a split-second decision—she turned and sprinted into the streets.

She needed reinforcements.

Chapter Text

The halls of the Kiramman mansion were eerily quiet during the afternoon. Vi moved with practiced stealth, her boots barely making a sound on the polished marble floors as she approached Caitlyn’s office. The door was locked—no surprise there. With a quick glance down the hall, she crouched, pulled out a small knife, and worked the lock. In seconds, it clicked open.

Her heart pounded in her chest—a mix of guilt and determination propelling her forward. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and exhaled slowly. The office was immaculate, every item in its place—just like Caitlyn. The faint scent of parchment and ink mingled with a trace of gunpowder, a reminder of the secrets hidden in these walls.

For a moment, Vi hesitated. Caitlyn had always been her rock, her anchor in the storm. Through the war, through Jinx’s death, Caitlyn had never left her side. She’d held Vi when she couldn’t stand, listened when the grief became unbearable, and helped her rebuild. But now… if Caitlyn was hiding something, Vi needed to know why.

Moving quickly, she scanned the shelves and cabinets. Ledgers, council reports—nothing seemed out of place. Yet, knowing Caitlyn’s penchant for discretion, Vi’s eyes settled on the heavy wooden desk. She yanked open a drawer—more paperwork. Another drawer yielded nothing.

Then she reached for the last drawer. Locked.

Vi gritted her teeth. Picking locks wasn’t hard for her, but patience wasn’t exactly her style. With a sharp grunt, she braced herself and yanked hard. The drawer groaned and splintered under the force, the crack of wood echoing in the quiet room. Her breath caught.

Inside lay a battered, scorched monkey bomb. Vi’s fingers trembled as she reached for it, turning it over slowly. The chipped paint and bent wind-up key told a story of chaos and fire—a story that brought memories of explosions, screams, and Jinx’s wild laughter flooding back. Her stomach twisted; these bombs were unmistakably Jinx’s.

Carefully, she set it aside and pulled out the next item—a blueprint with frayed edges. It was a schematic of the Hexgate Tower, detailed with Caitlyn’s precise handwriting: notes on security weak points, maintenance schedules, and transportation routes between Piltover and Bilgewater. Vi’s pulse hammered in her ears as she read, each line deepening her unease.

Why was Caitlyn looking into Bilgewater—and what did it have to do with Jinx?

Determined, she forced open another drawer, this one locked tight. With little hesitation, she pried it open. Inside lay a sleek pistol, its intricate engravings unmistakably in Jinx’s style. Next to it was a thick report titled:

The Saltwater Scourge

Vi skimmed through the pages rapidly. Gangplank. The bastard had been ambushing trade routes, disrupting Hexgate commerce, and it seemed he was after Hextech. She then read a section about Sarah Fortune before her hands shook as she reached the section highlighted in yellow:

"A woman with blue hair has been spotted in Bilgewater, working as a tinkerer—specializing in weapons and gadgets."

Vi’s world tilted. The realization hit her like a physical blow. Her sister was alive. Caitlyn had known all along—and had lied.

A surge of grief and rage welled up inside her. Without thinking, she slammed her fist down on the wooden desk, the splintering wood echoing in the silence as papers scattered. The pistol rattled against the surface, but she barely noticed. The shock was too profound.

The room spun as grief and betrayal warred within her. How could Caitlyn keep this from her?

Jinx’s boots scuffed against the worn wooden planks as she made her way toward Iron Tide Dock, the salt-heavy air thick with the scent of brine and damp metal. The harbor pulsed with life—sailors barking orders, dockworkers hauling crates, and the distant clang of hammers against hulls. But none of it really registered. Not when her mind was still stuck on him.

"I didn’t come here to drag you back. I didn’t even come here to stop you—I just… wanted to see you."

Jinx exhaled sharply, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Idiot,” she muttered, though the word came out softer than she intended.

She could still hear Ekko’s voice, steady and earnest, carrying all the weight of the past year between them. He wasn’t here to fix her. He wasn’t here to fight her. He had just wanted to see her. And damn it, that almost made it worse.

Her thoughts churned as she wove through the crowded dock, pushing past grim-faced men unloading cargo and the occasional pickpocket slinking through the crowd. Caitlyn was here. Looking for her. With Ekko’s help.

Jinx scoffed under her breath, but it didn’t hold its usual bite. She wanted to be mad. She should be mad. Instead, all she felt was… complicated.

Lost in thought, she almost didn’t notice the bounty hunter and her crew until she was nearly on top of them.

Sarah Fortune stood with her back to the railing, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as she caught sight of Jinx. Her red coat billowed slightly in the wind, a loose curl of auburn hair falling over one eye. Her crew—rough-looking but disciplined—watched Jinx with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

“Well, well,” Sarah mused, pushing off the railing with an easy grace. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Felisha.”

Jinx gave a lazy two-fingered salute. “Yeah, well, I figured I should check in before you start thinking I ghosted.”

Sarah chuckled, then turned to her crew. “This one’s a wildcard, but she’s good. Fast, sharp. If she decides to stick around, she’ll be an asset.”

The crew exchanged glances, some more skeptical than others, but none of them spoke up. That was the thing about Bilgewater—you didn’t last long if you let doubt slow you down.

Sarah turned back to Jinx, her expression shifting, her voice taking on a quieter, more serious tone. “We’re putting together a plan to deal with Gangplank—his raids, his men, all of it.”

Jinx scoffed, her mind flashing back to the ruthless efficiency with which Gangplank had dispatched his two lackeys without a second thought. “Sounds like a great way to get killed,” she muttered, voice edged with bitterness.

Sarah shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe. But Gangplank’s got his eyes set on the trade routes with Piltover. He’s been sniffing around for a way in—rumors of alliances with smugglers, spies slipping into the city. All to get his hands on Hextech.”

Jinx stiffened, her smirk faltering.

Sarah noticed. “You know what happens if he gets that kind of power. He won’t stop with Piltover—he’ll take everything. There’ll be no one left to stop him.”

Jinx looked out over the water, jaw tight. “Not my problem. Piltover’s full of smug, uptight jerks who think they’re better than everyone else. Maybe they deserve a little chaos.”

“Maybe,” Sarah answered, watching her carefully. “But that chaos will spill over, won’t it? Into Zaun. Into places where people are already barely surviving. You know what Hextech can do in the wrong hands.”

Jinx’s fists clenched before she even realized it. Her mind flashed back to Viktor—what he had become. That shimmer-fueled, Hextech-driven nightmare that could have turned every living soul into nothing more than his puppets. If it hadn’t been for Ekko and the Z-Drive, everyone would’ve been enslaved to his will.

“And let’s not pretend this isn’t personal for you… Jinx.” She added with a knowing smile.

She froze for a moment as her voice came out quieter than she meant. “So, you knew about me huh—what gave it away?”

Sarah stepped closer, steady as ever. “Oh please darling, I’m a bounty hunter. I know all the targets from all over Runeterra—even the presumed dead ones.”

Jinx let out a short laugh, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Eh, I guess I must have one hell of a reputation to be that well-known.”

Sarah tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “Well, firing a rocket at the Piltover Council, and starting a revolution kinda does it.” Then, lowering her voice just enough for only Jinx to hear, she added, “But joining me and my crew? That could be a fresh start. A chance to build something new. For yourself.”

Jinx hesitated. The wind tugged at her hair, salt clinging to her skin.

Part of her wanted to blow Sarah off, to laugh in her face and disappear like she always did. But another part—the one that still felt Ekko’s words pressing against her ribs, the one that knew Caitlyn’s knowledge of her survival changed everything—kept her rooted to the spot.

Did she want a fresh start?

Did she even deserve one?

Her nails bit into her palm as she swallowed back the doubt, forcing a smirk. “Fine,” she muttered, voice sharp and bitter. “I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to play nice.”

Sarah’s smile widened, a flash of triumph in her gaze. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Welcome to the crew, Jinx.”

As Jinx followed Sarah toward the waiting ship, the wind carried the scent of the sea—and something else. A spark of something buried deep beneath the chaos and guilt.

Purpose.

If it would be enough?

That wasn’t her problem.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

The stench of salt, blood, and rotting wood clung to the air like an omen.

Ekko rolled his shoulders, testing the shackles clamped around his wrists. They were iron—reinforced, bolted to a thick chain looped through a rusted ring in the floor of Gangplank’s cabin. His legs were free, but the chains left just enough slack to move a foot or two in either direction. The cold metal bit into his skin, and every shift sent a dull ache up his arms.

Across from him, Caitlyn sat in a similar predicament, her hands bound behind her back. A throbbing bruise darkened her jaw where one of Gangplank’s men had struck her. She was breathing steadily, gaze sharp even in the dim light, though her fingers flexed subtly against the ropes, testing their give.

The room swayed with the rhythm of the ocean, lanterns flickering against damp wooden walls. The only sound was the groan of the ship and the distant laughter of pirates above deck.

Caitlyn was the first to break the silence.

“Well. This is an improvement from being dead, I suppose.”

Ekko huffed, shifting to ease the pressure on his wrists. “That’s your bar for success?”

“Low standards keep me from being disappointed.” She tested the give of her restraints, then frowned. “Do you see any weak points in these chains?”

Ekko glanced at the bolts anchoring them. Rusted, but still strong. “Not unless you’ve got an explosives expert hidden in that fancy coat of yours.”

Caitlyn’s mouth twitched, but her amusement was short-lived.

She hesitated, then spoke again, quieter. “Did you see what happened to Sevika?”

Ekko’s smirk faded. He thought back to the chaos of their capture—the gunfire, the bodies hitting the dock, the rush of salt air as they were forced aboard. He hadn’t seen Sevika go down, but she wasn’t here with them. That left two options.

“She either got away,” he said, “or she’s in worse shape than we are.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “If she escaped, she won’t leave Bilgewater without trying to break us out.”

Ekko nodded. Sevika wasn’t the kind to cut and run, not when there was still a fight to be had. But if she had been taken… well, he didn’t like their odds.

For now, they had to assume they were on their own.

A silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Caitlyn tilted her head, eyeing him.

“So,” she said, “Vi still doesn’t know Jinx is alive, does she?”

Ekko stilled, then let out a slow breath. “No.”

“She deserves to know.”

“I know.” His voice came out sharper than he intended. He sighed, rolling his shoulders against the chains. “I was gonna tell her. A dozen times. But every time I saw her, I just… I couldn’t.”

Caitlyn studied him. “Because it wasn’t your secret to tell?”

Ekko gave a humorless chuckle. “Because if I said it out loud, I’d have to deal with what it meant.” He glanced at her. “That Jinx left. That she didn’t want to be found.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened. “You still believe she can be saved.”

Ekko didn’t answer right away. His hands flexed against the iron cuffs. “I have to.”

Caitlyn nodded, as if she understood. Maybe she did.

She leaned back slightly, shifting the weight off her bound wrists. “If Vi finds out the wrong way, it could destroy her.”

Ekko knew that too. He’d seen Vi break once before. The thought of her doing it again—of her rage, her grief—made his stomach twist.

Another silence passed before Caitlyn exhaled through her nose. “We need to get out of here.”

Ekko smirked, some of his old edge creeping back in. “Oh, now you’re in a hurry?”

Heavy footsteps thudded against the deck above, then down a nearby stairwell. A moment later, the cabin door creaked open, flooding the room with orange light.

And there he was.

Gangplank.

His towering frame filled the doorway, casting a long shadow across the room. The stench of salt and gunpowder clung to him like a second skin, mingling with the faint tang of rum. His coat was battered but unmistakably his, the dark leather stained from a lifetime of violence. His single good eye gleamed in the lantern light, scanning the room like a predator sizing up its prey.

Ekko straightened. Caitlyn didn’t move, but Ekko saw the way her fingers curled behind her back, readying for something—anything.

Gangplank stepped forward, boots scraping against the floorboards. His single good eye lingered on Caitlyn for a beat longer than necessary before shifting to Ekko.

“Well,” he rumbled, voice like a storm rolling in, “look at the two of you. Piltover’s little Councillor, all tied up. And Zaun’s would-be savior, sitting in my ship like a stray dog.”

Ekko met his gaze evenly. “Guess that makes you what? A washed-up, one-handed relic who still thinks he runs this place?”

Gangplank’s grin widened, slow and dangerous. He pulled a rusted blade from his belt, rolling it between his fingers. Then, without warning, he plunged the blade into the wooden wall beside Ekko’s head. The steel vibrated, so close that it clipped a loc from his hair. The sound of the impact echoed in the small cabin.

“I do run this place,” Gangplank said, leaning in until his rancid breath washed over Ekko. “And you? You’re just another rat, scrambling to be something bigger than you are.”

Ekko stayed silent. He knew men like Gangplank—ones who built their power on fear and thrived on taking things from people just to prove they could.

Gangplank turned his attention back to Caitlyn. “Councillor Kiramman. You’ve caused me quite the headache, meddling in business that ain’t yours.” He crouched, leveling his eye with hers. “Tell me, what’s Piltover’s interest in Bilgewater? Or is this just personal?”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. “You kidnapped me. That tends to make things personal.”

Gangplank chuckled, low and cruel. “That’s cute. But I ain't interested in your little sense of justice.” He leaned in, his breath rancid. “I want to know how much your city’s willing to pay to get you back.”

Caitlyn’s lip curled in disgust. “Piltover doesn’t negotiate with criminals.”

Gangplank’s expression darkened. “Then I reckon they won’t mind if I send ‘em a piece of you to prove a point.”

Ekko tensed, muscles coiled, but Caitlyn’s voice cut through the room first.

“If you kill me, you’ll have more than just Piltover on your back. You think Zaun will let that slide?”

Gangplank barked a laugh. “Zaun? Please. You think they care what happens to you? Even your own city would rather sweep this under the rug than admit they let their precious Councillor get snatched by a pirate.”

Ekko exhaled slowly through his nose. Then he smirked. “See, that’s where you messed up. You should’ve just killed us outright. Now you’ve got a problem.”

Gangplank’s eye narrowed. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

Ekko tilted his head. “If you kill Caitlyn, Piltover makes some noise, maybe tightens its grip on your trade routes. Annoying, but manageable.” He leaned forward. “But if you kill me? Zaun burns this city to the ground. And you know it.”

Gangplank studied him for a long, heavy moment. Then, slowly, a grin split his face.

“Hah. You got guts, boy.” He rolled his shoulders. “But you’re forgettin’ something.”

Ekko lifted a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Gangplank turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to throw a parting shot over his shoulder.

“You ain’t dead yet.”

Then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Ekko let out a slow breath. Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, then tilted her head toward him. “Do you always antagonize people who hold your life in their hands?”

Ekko shrugged. “Only when they’re dumb enough to let me talk.”

She huffed, amusement flickering behind her exhaustion. “Remind me never to play cards with you.”

He smirked, but his mind was already working—a beat of silence passed before he spoke again. “What about Miss Fortune?”

Caitlyn raised a brow. “Sarah?”

Ekko nodded. “If she’s still out there, can we trust her? Or is she just waiting to see how this plays out?”

Caitlyn considered it. “She’s unpredictable, but she has a grudge against Gangplank. If she sees an opportunity to hit him where it hurts, she’ll take it.”

Ekko’s eyebrow lifted. “Why the grudge?”

Caitlyn exhaled. “She never told me the real reason.” A pause. “But I think it has something to do with her mother.”

Ekko didn’t pry further.

For now, they had bigger problems.

They needed a way out.

And fast.

Sarah Fortune sat at a table near the stern of the Syren, one gloved hand curled around a bottle of rum while the other rested absently on the smooth wood. Beyond the railing, the sea stretched endlessly under the dim glow of lanterns swinging with the tide, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the spaces between conversations.

Her crew sat with her—Rafen, Graham, and a handful of others, quiet but attentive. Across from them, pacing in restless loops, was Jinx.

The girl had barely stopped moving since she set foot on the ship, jittery and sharp, like a fuse burning toward something volatile. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and her eyes darted around the deck, never settling for long.

"So let me get this straight," Sarah said, voice calm but edged with interest. "Gangplank came to you. In person. And asked you to upgrade his hand cannon with Hextech?"

"Yep." Jinx popped the ‘p’ and spun on her heel, tossing her arms behind her head. "Said he wanted something stronger. More destructive. More... boom." She grinned, then scoffed. "Told me I had 'til tomorrow. Otherwise, well—" She drew a finger across her throat.

Sarah exhaled slowly, rolling her jaw. The story tugged at a part of her she didn’t like touching—memories buried deep, ones she had spent years trying to smother beneath gunpowder and revenge.

Her fingers drifted toward Shock and Awe, the twin pistols holstered at her hips. The metal was warm under her touch, familiar. She hadn’t let go of them since the day she rebuilt them, since the day she had vowed to put a bullet through Gangplank’s skull.

And now Jinx’s story pulled her back—back to a time before blood and fire.

She had been a kid. Wide-eyed, scrappy, eager.

Her mother, Abigail Fortune, had been the greatest gunsmith in all of Bilgewater. A legend. She could craft anything—pistols, rifles, cannons—turning raw materials into weapons of awe-inspiring destruction.

Sarah had spent her childhood watching her work, fascinated by the way her mother shaped steel like it was an extension of herself. She had helped where she could, fetching tools, polishing barrels, learning the delicate mechanics of each weapon.

But there had always been two firearms that stood above the rest. Shock and Awe.

They were her mother’s masterpiece—sleek, powerful, and deadly. Firearms crafted with such precision and artistry that no one else in Runeterra could replicate them.

And then he came.

Gangplank. A lowly pirate back then, not yet the self-styled King of Bilgewater. He had swaggered into their workshop, smelling of salt and rum, a hungry glint in his eyes. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor echoed in the small space, and his presence seemed to suck the air from the room.

He had requested—no, demanded—a pistol unlike any other. One that could kill in a single shot, which could tear through armor, which could be legendary.

Her mother had told him the truth—it would take time. The materials needed weren’t easy to come by. It would take a year.

Gangplank had agreed.

And when he returned, one year later, he had held the pistol in his hands, tested its weight, and pulled the trigger.

Then, with a slow, cruel smile, he had turned the gun on them.

"Not good enough."

He had shot her mother first. Sarah still remembered the sound—the way the bullet tore through flesh, the way her mother staggered back, eyes wide with shock.

Then the gun had turned on her.

Pain. Blinding, searing pain as the bullet ripped through her abdomen. She had collapsed, choking on the scent of blood and smoke as Gangplank set the workshop ablaze.

And in the inferno, as the flames consumed everything they had built, he had destroyed Shock and Awe—crushing them under his boot, shattering them like they were nothing.

Sarah had survived. Barely.

But her mother hadn’t.

She had crawled from the wreckage, body broken, clutching the remains of Shock and Awe in her trembling hands. And in that moment, as the fire reflected in her bloodstained eyes, she had sworn she would rebuild them.

She would restore them.

And she would kill Gangplank with them.

Sarah blinked, dragging herself from the memory. Her hand was still on her pistol, grip tight enough to make her knuckles ache.

Jinx was watching her, head tilted, curious.

“So,” Jinx said, flippant but sharp, “I take it you’re not exactly shocked that a Bilgewater bastard would screw someone over?”

Sarah inhaled slowly. The truth pressed against her teeth, a raw wound she refused to expose. “Gangplank’s got no honor. That doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”

Jinx shot her a sideways glance, lips quirking. “Huh. And here I thought you were all cut from the same cloth.”

Sarah flinched—just slightly—but Jinx caught it.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Jinx tilted her head, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. “So, what’s your beef with Gangplank, exactly?”

The truth pressed against Sarah’s teeth, a raw wound she refused to expose. Instead, she smirked. “I need him dead to be the number one bounty hunter in Bilgewater.”

Jinx gave her a long, searching look. Then, slowly, she grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before Sarah could respond, the heavy thud-thud-thud of boots on the deck drew their attention.

Sevika.

She strode toward them, her usual scowl even deeper than usual, tension rolling off her in waves. Her mechanical arm gleamed in the lantern light, fingers flexing as if itching for a fight.

Jinx immediately turned away, pulling her hood up, muttering something under her breath.

Sevika barely spared her a glance, instead locking onto Sarah. “We’ve got a problem.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Shocking.”

Sevika leaned in. “Parley’s gone sideways. Gangplank’s got Caitlyn and Ekko.”

Sarah caught the way Jinx flinched. A small thing. Almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Jinx exhaled slowly, tilting her head back like she wasn’t about to explode from the inside out.

Sarah didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge it. Just took a slow sip of her rum before setting the bottle down. “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

Jinx muttered something under her breath, but before she could say anything, Sarah spoke.

“I already have a plan in place.” She turned to Jinx. “You. I need explosives. Lots of them. And I need you to distract Gangplank by bringing him what he wants—his ‘upgraded’ hand cannon.”

Sevika turned to Jinx, her expression puzzled.

And then she stepped closer.

Studied her.

Her frown deepened.

And then, realization struck.

Sevika reached out, grabbed Jinx’s hood, and pulled it back.

Jinx froze. Just for a fraction of a second. Her lips twitched into a smirk, but her eyes were sharp, calculating.

“It’s—” Sevika’s voice wavered, her usual sharpness dulled by something like shock. “It’s really you.”

Jinx sighed dramatically, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Hey, Leftie… been a while.”

Sarah smirked, leaning back as she took in the moment.

“Well, well,” she mused, watching the tension crackle between them. “Looks like you two have some catching up to do.”

Chapter Text

The ship was loud—too loud. Even anchored, it swayed with the tide, its wooden frame groaning under the weight of restless crew members and the kind of tension that made people reach for their weapons before their words.

Jinx needed air.

She slipped away unnoticed—mostly.

By the time she perched on a stack of crates near the stern, she wasn’t surprised to hear the heavy thud of boots approaching.

Sevika.

Jinx didn’t look up. “Took you long enough.”

Sevika leaned against the railing, a lit cigar between her fingers. She took a slow drag, exhaling smoke into the night air. “Wasn’t following you.”

Jinx snorted. “Right. Just happened to wander all the way over here after I left.”

Sevika didn’t rise to the bait. She just stood there, watching the waves roll under the dim glow of lantern light, the ember of her cigar pulsing faintly in the dark.

Jinx hated the silence more than she wanted to admit. It wasn’t like the quiet she’d shared with Ekko—that quiet had meant something, had held a kind of understanding that didn’t need words.

This? This felt loaded. Like a tripwire waiting to snap.

Sevika finally spoke, her voice low. “You faked your death.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, keep up, Leftie. That was, what, a year ago? Not exactly breaking news.”

Sevika exhaled smoke through her nose. “You let Vi think you were gone.”

Jinx didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back against the crate, arms crossed.

Sevika watched her, sharp gaze tracking every twitch, every tell Jinx had never been great at hiding. “You could’ve come back.”

Jinx barked out a laugh. “Come back? To what? Vi, pretending everything could go back to the way it was? Piltover, calling me a terrorist? Zaun, treating me like a big fat hero?” She shook her head. “Nah. Wasn’t an option.”

Sevika studied her for a long moment, taking another drag. “And Ekko?”

Jinx stiffened. Just slightly.

Sevika noticed.

Jinx waved a hand, dismissive. “Told him I was leaving.”

“Told him, huh?” Sevika’s tone was unreadable.

Jinx shrugged, forcing a grin. “What, you want me to say he cried? That he begged me to stay? Hate to break it to ya, but Little Man’s got a whole city to worry about. He got over it.”

Sevika didn’t call her out on the lie, but the silence said enough.

Jinx exhaled, tilting her head back. “You think I wanted to stick around?” She gestured vaguely. “After everything? After—”

She stopped herself, jaw tightening.

She didn’t have to finish.

Sevika knew.

The war. Isha’s sacrifice. Her past crimes and mistakes.

“You could’ve stayed,” Sevika said after a while, tapping ash from her cigar. “Figured it out.”

Jinx let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, sure. And what? Play house with Vi? Join the Firelights? Be the good little sister everyone wanted?”

Her grin twisted, bitter. “That ain’t me, Leftie.”

Sevika’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted.

“You sound just like Silco.”

Jinx flinched.

For a second, she thought about snapping back, making a joke, turning it into something sharp and mean so she wouldn’t have to sit with it—

But she didn’t.

She just swallowed. Stared out at the water.

Sevika sighed, rolling her shoulders. “I get it.”

Jinx side-eyed her. “Yeah?”

Sevika nodded, taking another drag. “Sometimes, leaving’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Jinx huffed. “Didn’t think you’d be the sentimental type.”

Sevika smirked, just barely. “Don’t push it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The harbor sounds filled the space between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sevika took another drag, waiting.

Jinx shifted, slouching against the crates, fingers toying with her hair. “What do you think, huh? ‘Bout all this?” She gestured vaguely. “Me. Here. Working with Gun Lady and her crew.”

Sevika took her time answering, watching the smoke curl from her lips before she finally said, “I think you’re lookin’ for somethin’. Not sure you even know what.”

Jinx snorted. “Wow. Deep. You read that in a book somewhere?”

“Yeah. Right next to the chapter on dealing with pain-in-the-ass brats.”

Jinx grinned at that, but it faded quickly. She looked down at her boots, scuffing the toe against the ground. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“She knows, Sev.”

Sevika frowned. “Who?”

Jinx glanced up, pink eyes shadowed. “Caitlyn.”

Sevika had suspected that something was off. The way Ekko had acted during their little meeting with Gangplank. The way Caitlyn had looked at him, like she knew something but hadn’t wanted to say it in front of her.

“And?” Sevika asked.

Jinx’s jaw tensed. “She won’t stop looking for me.”

Sevika flicked the cigar, crushing the ember under her boot. “You sound surprised.”

Jinx laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, I guess that’d be stupid, huh? I just…” She exhaled sharply. “She should hate me. After everything.”

Sevika crossed her arms. “Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t. Why do you care?”

Jinx hesitated. Then, so quietly Sevika almost didn’t catch it—

“I dunno.”

That was new.

Sevika had seen Jinx be reckless, cruel, cocky, even scared. But uncertain? That was something else.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Look, kid. You wanna work with Sarah and her crew, fine. You wanna keep dodging Caitlyn, and whoever else from Piltover and Zaun, fine. But you need to figure out what the hell you’re actually doin’. ‘Cause right now? You’re just floatin’.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Wow, thanks, Mom. Real insightful.”

Sevika pushed off the railing. “Yeah, well. You’re welcome.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the creak of the ship and the distant crash of waves. Jinx shifted, restless.

“Y’know,” she muttered, kicking at a loose nail in the floorboards. "We should probably start making plans with Gun Lady and her crew for tomorrow."

Sevika smirked, exhaling smoke. “Yeah. Got to come up with a sound plan for Caitlyn and your boyfriend’s rescue.”

Jinx nearly choked, her face becoming red. “The fuck?!”

Sevika shrugged. “What?”

Jinx scowled. “Ekko is not my—”

Sevika raised a brow.

Jinx pointed a finger. “Don’t give me that look.”

Sevika tapped ash off her cigar. “You ran from him. And now you’re planning to run straight into danger to save him. If that ain’t love, it’s something close.”

Jinx growled. “I hate you.”

Sevika smirked. “Nah. You just hate when I’m right.”

Jinx huffed, crossing her arms, staring down at the floor like it had insulted her.

Sevika let the silence stretch, her voice quieter when she finally spoke. “You left ‘cause you thought it was best for him.”

Jinx’s fingers twitched.

Sevika watched her. “You still believe that?”

Jinx swallowed. The memory from earlier today—of him—was too close.

The way he’d looked at her.

The way he hadn’t tried to stop her.

No, not hadn’t.

Couldn’t.

She forced a smirk, flicking a loose bolt from her belt. “Ain’t my problem anymore, Leftie.”

Sevika flicked the last embers from her cigar over the railing. “Then why are you making it one?”

Jinx’s smirk faltered.

Sevika pushed off the railing. “Think on it. See you at sunrise.”

Jinx didn’t stop her as she walked away.

Didn’t move at all.

Just sat there, staring out at the dark water, the weight of everything she’d left behind pressing down on her like an anchor.

The Next Day...

The Syren rocked with the lazy pull of the morning tide, but the air on deck was anything but calm. The crew moved with sharp efficiency—securing weapons, checking gear, exchanging quick, wary glances. They had a mission ahead, and every soul onboard knew what was at stake.

Sarah Fortune stood at the helm, her gaze sharp as she surveyed her gathered fighters—mercenaries, pirates, and opportunists, all willing to risk their lives for vengeance or a payday.

“Listen up,” she called, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. The deck stilled. “We’ve got one shot at this, so don’t screw it up.” She turned her attention to Jinx, who sat on a crate near the railing, flicking a monkey bomb open and closed like a nervous tic.

“Jinx, you’re delivering Gangplank’s new toy,” Sarah said.

Jinx snapped the monkey bomb shut with a metallic click, grinning as she slung her bag over her shoulder. Inside, the custom-modified hand cannon gleamed beside a neat bundle of explosives. “Gotta say, it was almost fun making this—can’t wait for the part where I get to shove it where it will hurt the most.”

Sarah smirked. “That’s the spirit.”

She turned to Sevika, who stood with her arms crossed beside Jinx, unimpressed as always. “You’ll be waiting near the docks. Once we have enough chaos, you slip in, find Ekko and Caitlyn, and help Jinx set the charges.”

Sevika grunted in approval. “Works for me.”

Sarah continued. “Meanwhile, I’ll have Varo move the Syren closer to the Dead Pool. The second the cannons are in range, we light the bastard up. That’ll keep Gangplank’s men distracted long enough for Sevika to slip in unnoticed.” She paused, letting the plan settle in. “Simple. Clean. We move fast, we don’t get dead.”

The nods that followed were stiff but confident. A solid plan—no room for mistakes.

Jinx hopped off the crate with a stretch. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Got a psycho pirate to impress.”

Sevika motioned for her to follow, and the two disappeared below deck.

Sarah turned to Varo, captain of the Syren, a grizzled bastard with a jagged scar and a permanent sneer. “Get us moving. We need to be at the Dead Pool within the hour.”

But Varo didn’t move.

Neither did his crew.

A stillness settled over the deck—an unnatural pause that sent every instinct in Sarah screaming. Hands crept toward weapons. The air thickened, tension winding like a noose.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “What the hell is this?”

Varo grinned, slow and smug. “Change of plans.”

Steel rasped. Swords unsheathed. Rifles cocked into place.

Sarah’s jaw tightened. “Traitor.”

Varo’s grin widened.

Sarah inhaled sharp and slow, her fingers twitching toward her pistol. She had seconds before this turned ugly—

Then, out of nowhere—a blur of pink and motion slammed into Varo—a metal-plated fist catching him clean across the jaw, sending him sprawling across the deck with a sickening crack.

Sarah blinked.

Standing in his place, flexing metal gauntlets, was a pink-haired woman with an easy smirk and a dangerous glint in her eye.

She rolled her shoulders. “You must be the infamous Miss Fortune.” Then, casually, like she wasn’t standing in the middle of an armed standoff, she asked—“Need a hand?”

Sarah recovered fast, tilting her head with a smirk. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She holstered one pistol, resting her other hand on the remaining gun’s grip. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

The pink-haired woman cracked her knuckles, the metal of her Hextech gauntlets glinting in the light. “Vi.”

And just like that, she lunged.

The deck exploded into violence.

Vi moved like a brawler, but with a precision that caught Sarah’s interest. She wasn’t just swinging wildly—she was calculated, brutal. She dodged a sword slash, grabbed the attacker’s wrist, and yanked him forward into a sickening knee to the ribs.

Sarah didn’t waste time watching. She whirled, drawing both pistols in a smooth motion, and fired.

Two shots. Two men down.

Vi let out a low whistle as she dodged another blow, delivering an uppercut so strong it sent a man crashing over a barrel.

“Damn, you shoot like you’re picking off bottles.”

Sarah smirked, spinning to land a headshot on a rifleman. “And you punch like you’re breaking walls.”

A crewman charged Vi from behind—she spun just in time, ducking beneath the strike, planting a fist into his gut so hard it lifted him off his feet.

Sarah whistled as she dodged a swipe of a blade, countering with a clean shot through the chest. “Not bad, sweetheart.”

Vi grinned, shaking out her fists. “You’re not so bad yourself, Gunslinger.”

Together, they tore through Varo’s men.

Ropes snapped. Barrels rolled. The ship lurched with the weight of bodies hitting the floor.

The survivors—those who weren’t unconscious or bleeding—dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

Varo, bruised and bloody, tried crawling away.

Sarah stalked over, planting a boot on his back. She pressed the barrel of her pistol against his head.

“You got any last words, traitor?”

Varo spat blood. “Gangplank’s gonna gut you for this.”

Sarah smiled. “Nah. I’ll get to him first.”

She pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the harbor, and Varo crumpled. Blood slicked the deck. 
Silence followed.

Sarah turned, holstering her pistol as she addressed the remaining crew.

“New rule,” she said, voice even. “I just killed your captain. That makes me your captain.” She scanned their faces, letting the weight of it sink in.

“You got two choices—swear loyalty, or take a swim.”

A long pause.

One by one, they swore allegiance.

Sarah nodded. “Smart choice.”

Behind her, Vi cracked her knuckles, eyeing the scattered bodies. “So—where’s Caitlyn?”

Sarah arched a brow, intrigued. “That why you’re here?”

Vi exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. Should’ve figured she’d get herself into a mess.”

Sarah’s lips twisted into a half-smile. “She’s in captivity on Gangplank’s ship.”

Vi’s jaw tightened. Then she sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Figures. Can’t leave her alone for five minutes without her getting kidnapped.”

Sarah chuckled, sliding her pistol back into its holster. “Then you’re in luck. We’re about to go get her.”

Vi rolled her shoulders, eyes gleaming. “Good. Lead the way, Gunslinger.”

Sarah grinned as she motioned the crew to get the ship ready.

The Syren’s sails caught the wind, turning toward the Dead Pool—and the battle waiting ahead.

Chapter Text

The docks reeked of salt, fish guts, and blood—Bilgewater’s signature perfume. Jinx wrinkled her nose as she and Sevika strode across the weathered planks, boots clicking against the damp wood. The tide rolled in sluggishly, lapping at the hulls of docked ships, their creaking masts swaying under the weight of the thick, storm-heavy air.

Jinx’s fingers twitched against the strap of her bag, the weight of the explosives inside a constant reminder. The plan had to go smoothly. No screw-ups, no second-guessing.

Sevika, walking beside her, cracked her neck. “You sure about this, Jinx?”

Jinx ignored her, eyes darting around the dock. Gangplank’s crew was out in force—scarred, cutthroat bastards with rusted weapons and sharper grins. Some leaned against crates; others kept watch from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with the promise of violence.

Then, from the shadows between two stacked cargo boxes, a figure stepped forward.

Jinx recognized the scarred man immediately—the one from the bar, the one from her workshop.

He lifted his hands, showing he wasn’t a threat. “Easy now. I’m on your side.” His voice was calm, steady, as if he’d had this conversation a hundred times before.

Jinx cocked her head, fingers still hovering near her holster. “That so?”

He gave her a slow nod, his scarred face unreadable. “Name’s Ed.”

Sevika crossed her arms. “And we’re supposed to trust you because…?”

“Because I’m working both sides.” Ed smirked. “Gangplank thinks I’m his, but I’ve been feeding info to Miss Fortune. She sent me to make sure you get through this in one piece.”

Jinx eyed him, trying to piece him together. He wasn’t lying—not entirely, anyway. There was something about the way he carried himself, something in his eyes that said he’d seen enough shit to know where to place his bets.

Still, she wasn’t about to let her guard down. “So what’s the deal, Ed?”

“The deal is your friends are still breathing. For now.” Ed glanced around before lowering his voice. “Gangplank doesn’t know you’re planting bombs. I’ll make sure they’re set while you keep him distracted. Your tall lady friend needs to hide before we head in—can’t have him seeing her.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose, clearly displeased, but she didn’t argue.

Jinx tapped her temple, thinking. “Alright, Ed. You play nice, and I won’t have to paint the docks with your insides.”

Ed just chuckled. “Fair enough.”

With that, he led Sevika away to a hidden alcove between two abandoned fishing shacks, leaving Jinx alone at the entrance to the Deadpool—Gangplank’s monstrous, battle-scarred flagship.

She adjusted her bag, cracked her neck, and took the first step up the bridge.

The stench inside the Deadpool was worse than the docks—rum, gunpowder, and rotting wood. The ship’s deck was a mess of pirates, some passed out drunk, others sharpening weapons or brawling over petty disputes.

And at the heart of it all, standing tall with his hulking form draped in a salt-stained coat, was Gangplank himself.

He turned as Jinx approached, his grin splitting his scarred face. “Well, well. Ain’t this a surprise?”

Jinx flashed him a grin, tossing her bag onto the table beside him. “Thought I’d deliver your new toy in person.”

Gangplank’s brows lifted as he reached inside, pulling out the Hextech-modified hand cannon. It gleamed under the lantern light, the crystal embedded in its chamber pulsing faintly.

He whistled low. “Now that’s a beauty.”

Then, without warning, he aimed it at one of his men and pulled the trigger.

A deafening blast. A sickening squelch. The poor bastard disintegrated in a flash of blue energy, nothing left but scorched wood where he’d stood.

The ship fell silent.

Gangplank let out a booming laugh, twirling the gun in his grip. “Now that’s what I call firepower!”

Jinx barely flinched, but she arched a brow. “Hope you like it. Custom job.”

Gangplank turned to Ed, who had just arrived, and jerked his head toward Jinx’s bag. “Get her things. She won’t be needin’ ‘em where we’re goin’.”

Jinx tensed. Ed’s expression didn’t change, but he met her gaze for a fraction of a second. A silent message.

Stay sharp.

Gangplank motioned for her to follow. “Come on, girl. Got something to show ya.”

Jinx knew something was off the second she stepped into the lower hold.

There, bound to wooden chairs, were Caitlyn and Ekko.

Caitlyn looked roughed up, her coat dirtied, her wrists raw from the restraints. Ekko was glaring daggers at Gangplank, his face set in a cold, defiant mask.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, no one spoke.

Then Gangplank stepped forward, dragging a chair across the wooden floor. He positioned it in front of Caitlyn before pulling up a second one and motioning for Jinx to sit.

“Come on now, don’t be shy,” he drawled.

Jinx forced a smirk and flopped down into the chair, kicking her feet up onto the table. “What’s this, a family reunion? Shoulda brought snacks.”

Gangplank chuckled, but there was something dark in his eyes—a glint of malice that made Jinx’s skin crawl. “Y’know, I did my homework on you, Jinx.” He leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. “Know all ‘bout you. Know ‘bout your little stunt with the Piltover Council. The explosion that killed this one’s dear ol’ mum.” He jerked his head toward Caitlyn.

Jinx’s smirk faltered for just a second.

Gangplank continued, grinning. “And I know how our dear Councillor Kiramman here put a bounty on your head—dead or alive. Became real ruthless, that one. A regular little tyrant, tightening her grip on Piltover.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched, her hands trembling against the restraints. “Shut up,” she spat, her voice low and venomous. But beneath the anger, there was something else—something raw and unspoken. Guilt? Regret? Jinx couldn’t tell.

“Oh, don’t be modest, girl.” Gangplank feigned innocence. “You turned Piltover into your own little kingdom. All in the name of justice.”

Ekko shifted in his chair, eyes darting between them. “What do you want, Gangplank?”

Gangplank grinned. “Simple. I was gonna kill all three of you. But see, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a six-shot revolver. The metal gleamed under the dim lantern light.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?”

Jinx tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Ooooh, is this the part where we get to traumatize each other?”

Gangplank loaded a single bullet into the chamber, spun the cylinder, and placed the gun on the table between Jinx and Caitlyn.

“One of you dies. The other two get to walk.”

Silence.

Jinx and Caitlyn shared a long look.

“You really wanna do this?” Jinx asked, voice quieter than before.

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched. “Do we have a choice?”

Gangplank grinned.

The revolver sat heavy on the table between them. The metal gleamed under the dim lantern light, its weight pressing down on the room like a silent threat.

Gangplank leaned back in his chair, arms folded, watching with a sick kind of amusement. “Tick-tock,” he drawled. “Ain’t got all night.”

Jinx drummed her fingers against the table, her mind working fast. She needed time—time for Ed to plant the bombs, time for Miss Fortune to make her move. She reached for the gun, slowly, letting the moment stretch.

Click.

A sharp inhale from Caitlyn. Gangplank’s grin widened.

Jinx exhaled, setting the gun down in front of Caitlyn again. “Y’know, this would be way more fun if we had some drinks. Maybe some music.” She smirked, tapping a finger against her temple. “Really set the mood for bad decisions.”

Gangplank chuckled, but his patience was wearing thin. “Spin the chamber, Kiramman.”

Caitlyn’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the revolver. She turned it over in her grip, fingers ghosting over the trigger. “You’re stalling,” she murmured, just loud enough for Jinx to hear.

Jinx winked. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes but didn’t push it—at least, not yet. Instead, she aimed the gun at herself and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Another empty chamber.

Gangplank let out a disappointed sigh. “Damn shame. Thought we’d have a winner by now.”

Jinx picked up the revolver again, rolling it between her palms. “Guess we’re just lucky.” She lifted it halfway, then paused, turning her gaze to Caitlyn. “So, how’d you find out?”

Caitlyn furrowed her brows. “Find out what?”

“That I was still kickin’,” Jinx said, spinning the cylinder absentmindedly. “Bet that was a real fun discovery, huh?”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I put the pieces together months ago.” She glanced at Ekko. “Though I doubt I would’ve figured it out if someone hadn’t been so careful about hiding the truth.”

Ekko didn’t look at her. He was watching Jinx, his expression unreadable.

Jinx tilted her head. “And? How’d it make you feel? Oh-so-happy to know your favorite headache was still running around?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then said, “Relieved. At first.”

Jinx blinked. That wasn’t the answer she expected. Click.

Caitlyn picked up the revolver and spun the chamber. “But that feeling didn’t last long.” She met Jinx’s eyes as she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

Click.

She set the gun back down, pushing it toward Jinx. “Because when I found you again, you weren’t just surviving—you were selling weapons.”

Jinx’s smirk faltered. “a girl’s gotta eat.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “You could have done anything, Jinx. You were smart enough to build something new. Instead, you chose this.” She gestured around them—the ship, the danger, the company Jinx kept.

Jinx picked up the gun, spinning the barrel again. “At least I’m not blowing people up anymore.” Her voice was light, teasing, but there was something else underneath it. Something raw.

Caitlyn let out a slow breath. “Then why?”

Jinx frowned. “Why what?”

Caitlyn’s blue eyes burned into her. “Why didn’t you tell Vi? Why did you leave without a word?”

Jinx opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it again, gripping the revolver just a little too tight.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “She hasn’t been the same since the war.”

Jinx’s grip on the gun tightened.

Caitlyn continued, her voice quieter now. “It’s like she lost a part of herself that day. You left, and she—” She stopped herself, as if saying it aloud made it too real.

Jinx forced a grin. “Vi’s tough. She always bounces back.”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not from this.”

Jinx finally glanced at Ekko. He hadn’t spoken, but the look in his eyes told her he understood exactly what Caitlyn meant. He knew Vi wasn’t the only one who had been left behind.

Jinx exhaled, forcing herself to meet Caitlyn’s gaze again. She gave a lopsided shrug. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “In the way?”

Jinx swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I get close to someone... something shitty happens.”

The admission hung between them, heavier than the gun in her hands.

Caitlyn studied her for a long moment before finally, slowly, nodding. “I see.”

Jinx spun the chamber one last time, hesitated, then lifted the revolver.

Click.

Still empty.

Gangplank let out a long, exaggerated groan. “Gods, you lot are terrible at this game.”

Jinx let out a breath, setting the revolver back down, buying herself another moment. Ed had to be close to finishing with the bombs by now. And Miss Fortune—she had to be coming.

The sea outside was too quiet.

Jinx glanced at Caitlyn again. “I didn’t wanna hurt her. I didn’t wanna hurt any of you.”

Caitlyn didn’t look away. “But you did.”

Jinx swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah.” And then a gunshot shattered the moment.

The bullet didn’t hit anyone, but it tore through the wooden planks inches from Ekko, leaving a gaping hole in the floor. Smoke curled from Gangplank’s pistol as he leaned back, watching the splintered wood with mild amusement.

“Gettin’ bored here,” he drawled, cocking his pistol again. “Let’s make this more interesting.” He picked up the revolver, adding two additional bullets before spinning the cylinder. “Now there are three bullets in the chamber, and no more spinning allowed.” He slammed the revolver on the table.

Caitlyn’s breath was unsteady as she reached for the revolver, her fingers grazing the cold metal. She shot Gangplank a glare—sharp, burning—but her hands betrayed her hesitation.

Click.

A hollow, empty chamber.

The revolver tumbled from her grip onto the table with a dull thud.

Jinx exhaled through her nose, amused, and lazily reached for the gun. She rolled it over in her hands, running her thumb along the barrel, then, without hesitation, pressed the cold muzzle under her chin, her grin sharp but her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty. Was she taunting Gangplank, or was there a part of her that didn’t care if the bullet found its mark?

For a second, her finger hovered on the trigger.

A slow inhale. A tiny, barely-there twitch of her lips—uncertainty, or something else?

Gangplank snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

Jinx grinned, but there was something hollow in it. “What? Not the grand finale you were hopin’ for?” She tilted her head, finger teasing the trigger. “Truth is, we all got an expiration date. I made peace with mine a long time ago.”

Click.

Caitlyn flinched.

Jinx dropped the gun to the table, her shoulders loose, as if she hadn’t just played another round with fate. She smirked at Caitlyn, but her gaze flickered—searching.

Caitlyn stared at the revolver. Her breath came slow, measured, but her fingers curled into a fist.

Gangplank sighed, rolling his eyes. “Hurry it up, Kiramman.” He raised his pistol again, this time leveling it at Ekko.

Ekko didn’t move.

“If you’re tryin’ to get under my skin, it ain’t workin’,” he said flatly. “Go ahead.”

Caitlyn’s head snapped toward him. “Ekko—”

Ekko didn’t look at her. His eyes were on Jinx, steady and calm despite the gun aimed at him. “Let him do it,” he said. “You and Jinx have someone who needs you. Vi—”

“Gods, you’re a self-sacrificing little shit, aren’t you?” Gangplank barked out a laugh, lowering his gun. “You people make this so entertaining.”

Jinx’s fingers twitched.

“Shut the hell up, Ekko,” she muttered.

Ekko’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

Caitlyn, her throat tight, reached for the revolver again. The weight of it settled in her palm—cold, indifferent, final.

The revolver felt heavier than before. Maybe it always had.

She sucked in a breath, throat tightening. This is stupid. This won’t change anything.

But then she met Jinx’s eyes—really met them—and suddenly, she needed her to know. Needed her to hear it.

She inhaled. Then, with quiet resolve, she lifted it to her temple.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “For not trying to understand. For thinking you were just—” She met Jinx’s eyes, something raw and unguarded there. “—unredeemable.”

Click.

Caitlyn froze, breath stalling in her chest. She exhaled shakily, eyes flicking down to the revolver as if it had betrayed her.

Jinx stared. Something warm, painful, stirred behind her eyes, creeping up her throat, unfamiliar and unwelcome. Before she could stop herself, she snatched the revolver from Caitlyn’s hands.

Her fingers curled tight around the grip, knuckles going white.

Then, she turned.

Her eyes met Ekko’s.

Ekko didn’t flinch.

“Do it,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, steady—no challenge, no fear. Just understanding. "Shoot me."

Gangplank let out a pleased chuckle, leaning forward. “Oh, I like this one.”

Jinx held Ekko’s gaze, and for a moment, nothing else existed.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” she said, her voice cracking just enough to betray the storm of emotions beneath her smirk.

Ekko’s smile was faint, almost sad. “Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I’m your idiot.”

She let out a small chuckle—quiet, almost fond—then turned back to Caitlyn. “I’m sorry for bein’ the sister-in-law from hell.” A smirk pulled at her lips, but her voice wavered. “Vi’s lucky to have you. Really.”

Caitlyn parted her lips, as if to speak, but no words came.

Jinx then turned back to Ekko, her fingers tightening around the revolver. Her throat burned.

She exhaled, slow and measured.

She wasn’t supposed to be saying this. She never said this shit. It wasn’t her.

But hell, if she was gonna go out…

“Y’know, Little Man… for all the shit we’ve been through,” she said, voice quieter now.

Ekko froze.

Jinx could feel a warm tear sliding down her left cheek, her grin tilting somewhere between playful and painfully honest. “I kinda wish I had stayed,” she admitted as she tapped the revolver against her temple, her voice light, almost casual. “So that we could’ve—y’know—done some more than friends stuff.”

Ekko’s breath hitched.

The floor beneath them trembled—faint, barely noticeable at first. A deep, distant rumble.

Gangplank’s expression shifted. “What the—”

Ekko lunged.

And then—

The world detonated in a blinding flash of light and sound. The force of the blast hurled Jinx backward, her body slamming into the wall as debris rained down around her. Smoke and fire swallowed the room, and for a moment, everything was chaos.

Gangplank swore. “What the hell?!”

Jinx coughed, blinking through the haze. Somewhere in the confusion, she felt a familiar hand grasp her wrist—Ekko’s.

She turned her head, still dazed, and met his wide, frantic eyes.

She was still alive. The realization hit her like a second blast, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe through the smoke. And then she felt it—Ekko’s hand gripping her wrist, his touch grounding her in the chaos.

He was alive too.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

In another life, in another world...

She woke with a sharp inhale, chest heaving, the dream clinging to her like smoke.

For a moment, she swore she could still hear it—the echo of an explosion rattling through her ribs, the crackle of fire licking at the walls. The scent of gunpowder burned in her nose, the phantom heat pressing against her skin.

But as her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of her hideout, reality bled back in.

Zaun. Not a ship. Not drowning in fire and chaos.

Her fingers curled into the tattered blanket draped over her, grounding herself. The lingering sensation of impact ghosted down her spine—the jolt of her body slamming into a wall, the shockwave stealing the air from her lungs. It had felt real. Too real.

And the faces—

The navy blue-haired woman, knuckles white around the gun, her breath uneven.

The dangerous-looking man with a beard, watching like he already knew how it would end.

Ekko—but not her Ekko. Concerned. Reaching for her.

She shuddered, rubbing her arms against the phantom chill crawling over her skin.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

But the words felt hollow.

She swung her legs over the edge of the makeshift cot, pressing bare feet to cold metal. The hum of Zaun’s underbelly pulsed through the walls—pipes creaking, steam hissing in the distance, the steady drip-drip of a leak somewhere in the corner. The lantern beside her flickered, casting restless shadows over the scattered blueprints and half-finished tools littering the floor.

Everything was where it should be.

So why did it feel like something had been ripped from her?

Her fingers twitched. Ever since he had left.

That other Ekko. The one who had come here, just long enough to ask for her help—long enough for her to watch him walk away with the Z-Drive they had built together.

She exhaled, raking a hand through her tangled blue hair.

The dream—it wasn’t just a dream. She knew that in her bones. It had been too sharp, too vivid. The kind of thing that shouldn’t belong to her.

And yet, she could still taste the gunpowder.

Still hear the rush of fire.

Still feel the weight of that other Ekko’s gaze—like he knew something she didn’t.

Her fingers twitched. Because this wasn’t the first time.

A year ago, she had woken up shaking from a different vivid dream.

A dream where she may had died.

She had tackled and fell with a monster, a towering, wolf-like thing with eyes like embers. And Vi had been there. Older, alive in a way that made no sense, her face carved with lines of grief and battle.

She had saved Vi.

Not her Vi. Not the ghost she had lost long ago. But some other Vi—one who didn’t belong to her world. A Vi from his world.

That other Ekko’s world.

The dream had felt real back then, too. The fear, the weight of choice, the pain. She had woken up gasping, feeling the phantom ache of fangs curling onto her middle, her vision flashing pink-hot before—nothing.

She had told herself it meant nothing. That it was just her mind playing tricks.

But now—

Her fingers curled into fists, pulse hammering in her ears.

The ship. The Russian roulette. The explosion.

The monster. The sacrifice.

Two vivid dreams, a year apart. Both with things that shouldn’t exist. Both feeling too real to ignore.

Powder exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

Something was wrong.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what.

Meanwhile in the current world...

Flames licked at the tattered sails, smoke curling into the night sky as the ship groaned under the weight of the explosions. The stench of salt, gunpowder, and blood thickened the air, stinging Vi’s lungs as she landed hard on the deck.

A pistol cracked.

The bullet whizzed past her ear, close enough that she felt the heat against her skin. Vi dove behind the splintered remains of a mast, teeth gritted as the ship shuddered again. A scream pierced the chaos—distant, nameless. Another life swallowed by the madness.

But only two names mattered.

Caitlyn. Ekko.

Her gauntlets whirred to life, gears locking into place with a sharp hiss. She surged forward, fists swinging with brutal precision. The first pirate’s jaw shattered under the force of her strike. He didn’t even have time to grunt before he crumpled to the deck, blood spreading in a sickening pool.

A flash of red cut through the smoke—Sarah Fortune, gliding through the carnage like a specter. Her pistols fired with practiced efficiency—first a round to the gut, then another to the skull. She didn’t waste a second to reload, barely pausing to take a breath.

Vi exhaled sharply, trying to clear the weight in her chest. “We find Cait and pretty boy,” Sarah called, slamming another round into her pistol with a sharp flick. “This ship ain’t got long before it sinks.”

Vi barely heard her. Her thoughts were already ahead—below deck.

Please be okay.

Another explosion rattled the deck beneath her feet. A mast cracked, tilting dangerously as ropes snapped under the strain. A pirate lunged at Vi, blade flashing. She twisted, catching his wrist mid-swing, and wrenched hard—too hard. The bone snapped like dry wood, his shout swallowed by the roar of the fire. She drove her gauntlet into his gut, sending him sprawling overboard before he could recover.

Gunfire. Smoke. The acrid bite of burning wood. The Dead Pool was coming apart at the seams.

Through the haze, Vi caught sight of a familiar figure—Sevika.

The Zaunite carved a path through the battlefield, her mechanical arm crushing anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path. For a moment, their eyes met across the chaos. No words. Just a sharp nod before Sevika disappeared down the stairs.

Vi exhaled sharply, the knot in her stomach loosening just slightly. At least she wasn’t the only one tearing through this hellhole looking for Cait and Ekko.

A gunshot rang out—too close. Vi barely ducked in time as a pirate charged, blade aimed at her ribs. She caught his arm mid-air, twisted, and sent her fist into his ribs. The impact sent him flying across the deck, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Sarah stepped up beside her, firing over her shoulder. "Where the hell are they?" Vi demanded, sweat and soot dripping from her brow.

Sarah snapped her pistols shut with a flick of her wrists, eyes sweeping the battlefield coldly. “Gangplank wouldn’t keep 'em up here," she muttered, scanning the wreckage. "Somewhere below. Somewhere he thinks is secure."

Vi’s jaw tightened.

Then we go through whoever’s in the way.

Another explosion split the air. The ship’s spine screamed as a mast gave way, crashing into the deck with a resounding boom. Flames swallowed the wreckage, turning the air to an inferno.

Vi barely caught her balance before another shot rang out, the heat searing past her cheek. She cursed, twisting to avoid another pirate’s blade. Too damn many of them.

Sarah shot her a smirk, reloading with effortless grace. “Gettin' real tired of 'em?”

Vi slammed her gauntlets together, the metallic clank ringing through the chaos. “Yeah. Thinking it’s time we shut ‘em up.”

Without another word, Sarah disappeared into the fray, twin pistols spitting lead with deadly accuracy. Vi followed close behind, fists swinging, cutting through the bodies between her and the stairwell.

Find Caitlyn. Find Ekko.

Another pirate lunged at her, but Vi barely blinked before grabbing his rusted blade and twisting his arm sharply, forcing him to drop it. A second later, her fist shattered his nose, sending blood spraying across the deck. He dropped like a stone.

Gunfire. Explosions. The ship was sinking into madness.

Somewhere in the distance, Gangplank’s men barked orders, but Vi wasn’t listening. The stairwell loomed ahead.

“I’m going after them!” she shouted, voice hoarse with urgency.

Sarah barely glanced at her. “Then go. I’ll clean up up here.”

Vi didn’t hesitate. She turned, her mind locked on the stairs, and disappeared into the smoke-choked belly of the burning ship.

Ekko released Jinx’s wrist as he hit the ground, rolling to absorb the impact. The ship groaned around them, each explosion rattling its frame like a dying beast. Across the room, Caitlyn coughed, struggling free from the chair she’d been tied to.

Jinx let out a breathless, almost delirious laugh, still sprawled on the floor. “Took ‘em long enough.”

Gangplank’s head snapped toward her, realization dawning just as another explosion rocked the ship—this one closer. Too close. The walls buckled, beams splitting under the strain. Outside, the panicked shouts of his crew mixed with the crackle of fire and crashing waves.

"You little—" Gangplank snarled, reaching for his revolver.

Jinx moved first. A sharp kick sent the revolver skidding across the floor, far from his grasp. She rolled onto her knees, grabbed Caitlyn’s arm, and yanked her toward cover just as the wall behind them exploded inward.

A gauntleted fist punched through the shattered wood, sending splinters flying. Then—

Vi stormed into the room.

For a moment, everything stopped.

Caitlyn froze, disbelief flickering across her soot-streaked face. Ekko, bloodied but standing, let out a sharp breath. And Jinx—

Jinx just stared.

Vi’s gaze found Caitlyn first. Alive. Whole. Relief hit like a punch to the gut—but there was no time to process it. The ship was coming down around them. She barely let herself breathe before scanning the rest of the room—Ekko, bruised but upright. And then—

Jinx.

The world compressed into a heartbeat.

Jinx looked different. Not just alive—thriving. The sharpness of her face, the muscle replacing the gauntness Vi remembered, the color in her skin—she wasn’t the ghost Vi had mourned. But her eyes…

Her eyes still carried the weight of every choice she had made.

Vi’s stomach twisted.

No time. No time for this. Gangplank was still standing.

Vi snapped her focus back to him, no hesitation.

"You got real bad timing, you son of a bitch."

Her fist slammed into his jaw. Gangplank staggered back into the table, but it wasn’t enough. Vi lunged, grabbing his collar, and swung again—harder.

For Caitlyn.

For Ekko.

For her, not so dead, sister.

For every second Vi had spent imagining the worst.

Gangplank reeled but caught himself, wiping blood from his mouth. He grinned, teeth red. “That all you got, girl?”

Vi’s fists clenched. She was ready to prove him wrong when—

“Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the haze. “We need to go—now!”

Another explosion. The Dead Pool shuddered violently, flames swallowing what remained of the walls.

Gangplank laughed, shaking off the blows. “You think this is over?” He reached for another weapon—a pistol.

Jinx saw the movement first. “Oh, screw this.”

She moved, kicking his pistol even farther away before he could reach it. He snarled, but before he could retaliate—

The ceiling cracked.

A lantern crashed down, oil spilling across the floor. Fire erupted in its wake.

“Shit,” Jinx hissed, feeling the heat licking at her back.

Ekko lunged, grabbing her wrist. “Move, before this whole damn place burns down!”

Jinx hesitated—for just a second.

Gangplank was still standing, framed by the flames, that twisted grin plastered on his face. His ship was dying, but he looked unbothered. Like he wasn’t done yet.

Caitlyn grabbed a revolver—one she’d snatched from the floor—and fired. Gangplank ducked at the last second, the bullet embedding itself into a wooden beam instead.

Vi turned back toward Jinx.

Their eyes met.

For a year, Vi had forced herself not to think about this moment. Because every time she did, it left her raw and angry—angry at Jinx, angry at herself.

Jinx was supposed to be dead.

And if she wasn’t—if she had been alive all this time—then that meant she had chosen to stay gone.

Jinx didn’t speak. Didn’t offer an excuse or an apology. Just gave her a lazy salute, like it was all a joke. Like she hadn’t left Vi to mourn her.

Vi’s stomach twisted. Her hands clenched.

Then Caitlyn’s grip was on her arm, yanking her back to reality.

“We don't have time for this,” Caitlyn said, urgency lacing her voice. “Let's go.”

Vi hesitated—one second too long.

Gangplank took advantage of it.

His twisted grin widened as he swung his blade—not at them, but at a support beam.

The ship groaned. And before Vi could shout a warning—

The ceiling collapsed.

Flames roared up between them, cutting her off from Caitlyn, Jinx and Ekko.

Vi cursed and surged forward, but a hand caught the back of her collar, yanking her back.

"Don’t."

Vi whipped around, fury burning in her chest. "Get your hands off me."

Sarah Fortune held firm. "You run in there, you will burn."

Caitlyn. Jinx. Ekko. They were all in there.

Vi’s breath was ragged, her instincts screaming at her to move.

"I have to get them!" Her voice cracked, raw with something she refused to name.

Sarah’s gaze flicked to the fire, then back to Vi. Without a word, she shoved a duffel bag into her hands.

Weapons.

Caitlyn’s rifle. Ekko’s swords and hoverboard. Jinx’s guns.

Sarah locked eyes with Vi.

“Go and find another way. I’ll deal with Gangplank.”

Vi hesitated for only a second. “You sure?”

Sarah turned to her, flashing a sharp, wicked grin. “Been waiting a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Vi exhaled, nodding once as she slung the bag over her shoulder—

And ran.

Sarah barely spared her another glance. Her focus was on the rising smoke, the silhouette of Gangplank through the fire.

This was her fight.

She had spent years planning for this moment. Dreaming of it.

Now, she wasn’t about to let anyone take it from her.

She cocked her pistols and stepped into the blaze.

Time to finish what she started.

Vi moved fast—vaulting over burning debris, skidding past collapsed beams as the ship groaned beneath her. Heat bit at her skin, smoke curled in her lungs, but she didn’t slow. She couldn’t.

Not when Caitlyn was still in there.

Not when Ekko was.

Not when her sister was.

Gunfire cracked ahead. Then—a voice, sharp and steady despite the chaos.

Caitlyn.

Vi barreled forward, the duffel bag slamming against her back, fists raised—just in time to see Ekko, arms locked around Jinx’s middle, holding her back. Protecting her.

Caitlyn stood just ahead, revolver raised, back to them. Her stance was sharp, trained—but Vi caught it. The hesitation. The exhaustion fraying at the edges.

And behind them—Gangplank’s men, closing in.

Vi didn’t stop.

Caitlyn’s gaze snapped to her—relief flashing raw, unguarded.

“Vi—”

No time. Just trust. Just instinct. Vi met her eyes—I’ve got you—before lunging.

She dropped the duffel bag in one motion, flicked her gauntlets to life.

“Duck!”

Caitlyn dropped instantly. Vi’s fist met a pirate’s face with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling. The impact sent a shockwave through the deck, splintering wood.

Ekko moved with her, fast and fluid, tearing through the last of them—but his eyes kept flicking back to Jinx.

Waiting for her to move.

She didn’t.

Jinx just watched. Waiting.

And Vi—Vi hesitated.

Her breath caught, chest tightening.

Jinx. Alive.

After the bridge.

After Silco.

After Isha.

After the war.

And Caitlyn—Caitlyn had known.

A pirate lunged, blade flashing—straight for Jinx.

Vi moved before she could think.

She caught the bastard mid-stride, her gauntlet crushing into his chest, slamming him against the nearest wall. Wood shattered, splinters raining down as he collapsed, unmoving.

Vi turned, stepping between him and Jinx, body instinctively shielding hers.

Jinx blinked. Like she hadn’t expected that.

For a second—just a second—the bravado cracked. A hairline fracture.

Then she smirked, tilting her head.

“Didn’t think you’d be the protective type.”

Light. Teasing. But her eyes said something else. Something Vi couldn’t place.

Vi clenched her jaw. “Shut up and move.”

She grabbed Jinx’s wrist—just for a second—just to make sure—before letting go.

Jinx snorted. “Fine,” she muttered, falling into step beside her. “But if I die ‘cause of your hero complex, I’m haunting you.”

Then—Ekko. His hand on Jinx’s arm. Not holding her back this time. Just steadying her.

“You good?”

Soft. Almost lost in the chaos.

Jinx went still.

She forced a grin. “Eh. Just another Tuesday.”

Ekko didn’t look convinced. His gaze lingered, searching—but he didn’t push. Just nodded, jaw tight.

“The ship’s coming down,” he said, already moving. “We need to go.”

Vi swung the duffel bag over her shoulder, scanning the wreckage. The Dead Pool was breaking apart beneath them. If they didn’t move now, they’d go down with it.

Caitlyn grabbed Vi’s arm, fingers curling tight—too tight.

“Vi.”

Firm. Almost a command. But her grip—her grip said something else.

Vi exhaled sharply, forcing it down. The anger. The betrayal. The raw ache of seeing Jinx again.

Later. She’d deal with it later.

But Caitlyn’s fingers only tightened, her eyes searching Vi’s—uncertain.

“Vi, I should have told you.”

The words cut through the chaos like a gunshot.

Vi’s breath hitched.

She knew exactly what Caitlyn meant.

Jinx.

The secret Caitlyn had kept.

A dozen things clawed at her—anger, hurt, why didn’t you tell me—but now wasn’t the time.

She shook her head. “Not now, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn flinched.

At the nickname.

At the way Vi said it—clipped, rougher than usual.

Vi’s voice softened. Just a little. “We’ll talk later.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard. Nodded. But she looked like she wanted to say more.

Vi didn’t let her.

She turned to the wreckage. “Sarah went after Gangplank.”

“We can’t leave her behind,” Caitlyn continued.

Ekko’s jaw tightened. “The whole ship’s coming down—”

“Then we find her fast.” Vi’s voice was steel.

Ekko didn’t argue.

Vi shifted the duffel bag, adjusting the strap. “Get your shit.”

Jinx grabbed her pistol—hextech, sleek and deadly. Her movements were sharp, impatient. But her hands—her hands shook.

Ekko strapped his hoverboard to his back, checking his blades with quick, methodical efficiency.

And Caitlyn—Caitlyn reloaded her rifle, gaze darting between Vi and Jinx like she was bracing for impact.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed Caitlyn’s hand first—steady, certain. Then reached for Jinx’s wrist.

Jinx flinched.

Just for a second.

Then—slowly—she let Vi take it.

And they ran.

Ekko took the lead, flames raging behind them, The Dead Pool sinking. The ship groaned—a death knell—but Vi barely heard it over the pounding in her skull.

She tightened her grip—Caitlyn’s hand in hers, Jinx’s wrist in the other.

They were alive. They were together.

Vi cracked her knuckles, flexing the weight of the gauntlets.

“All right.”

She exhaled, shaking off the weight pressing against her ribs.

“Let’s find Sarah before the ship goes down.”

The inferno devoured the ship, flames twisting around the shattered remains of the Dead Pool. Smoke choked the air, thick with the stench of burning wood and gunpowder. Embers danced in the wind, flickering like ghosts of the past.

Then came the sound—a low, rumbling chuckle that slid beneath Sarah’s skin like ice.

Her grip tightened on her pistols.

She stepped over broken beams, boots crunching against smoldering debris, and there he was—Gangplank, a phantom wreathed in fire, as if the flames themselves had taken his shape.

He stood at the far end of the collapsing deck, his long coat in tatters, streaks of blood drying against his weathered skin. Despite his wounds, despite the world falling apart around him, he still grinned—like the devil himself.

"Well, well…" His voice was gravelly, almost amused. "Ain’t this a misfortune—running into the bounty hunter who torched my ship."

Mockery slithered through the words, but beneath it lay something colder.

Sarah’s breath stayed even, but her pulse hammered in her ears. She raised her pistol. No words. Just a shot.

BANG.

Gangplank twisted at the last moment—the bullet grazed his ribs instead of tearing through him. He staggered, but didn’t fall. If anything, the mockery in his eyes deepened. His laughter was low, rasping.

"Eh—quite the temper." He wiped the blood from his lips. "Almost makes me proud."

Sarah’s jaw clenched. The taste of copper lingered on her tongue. She leveled both pistols, her steps slow, deliberate. "You don’t get to talk to me like that."

His gaze flicked over her, considering. "You got a lot of hate in you, girl. But I don’t even know what for."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

He didn’t know.

The man who had stolen everything from her—shattered her world—didn’t even remember.

The realization hollowed her out.

"You killed my parents," she spat, the words sharp, unrelenting.

Gangplank blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, he tilted his head, as if trying to recall some half-forgotten memory. "That so?"

His smirk faltered. Just for a second.

Then it twisted back into something darker. "You’ll have to be more specific."

The breath caught in her throat.

"Abigail Fortune." She bit out each syllable like a curse. "That name mean anything to you?"

And there it was—a flicker of recognition.

The firelight carved shadows into his face, accentuating the hard edge of his expression. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his cutlass.

For the first time, he looked at her—not as some nameless enemy, but as her daughter.

He scoffed, shaking his head, almost dismissive. "That’s what this is about?"

But the flicker of unease in his eyes betrayed him.

Sarah didn’t wait for an answer.

BANG.

Gangplank dodged, rolling through the flames, closing the distance in a blur of motion.

She fired again—but he was already on her.

His blade swung in a vicious arc. She twisted, barely evading the blade as it sliced the air. The heat from the flames licked at her skin.

He pressed forward.

Steel hissed past her face.

Point-blank, she fired again.

BANG.

The bullet struck true—sank into his gut—but instead of crumpling, he lunged.

A feral roar—then a crushing weight.

Sarah hit the deck hard, breath leaving her lungs in a ragged wheeze. Her head cracked against the wood, and for a moment, the world spun.

When her vision cleared, he was on top of her.

A massive hand closed around her throat, cutting off her air. His grip was iron, fingers digging deep.

"You really thought you could kill me, girl?" he sneered, breath hot and foul against her face. "You ain’t the first who’s tried."

Her vision blurred. The weight of years—of hatred, of loss—pressed down.

Then—

CRACK.

A gauntleted fist slammed into Gangplank’s ribs.

The impact sent him sprawling.

Sarah gasped, coughing violently, rolling onto her side. Through the haze, she caught flashes of violet and blue, the familiar outline of her allies stepping into the fray.

Vi stood over Gangplank, her gauntleted fist raised, smoke curling from the plating.

Beside her, Ekko had already taken a stance—clock sword braced, muscles taut with controlled fury.

Jinx lingered at the back, her eyes unreadable, fingers resting casually on her holstered pistol.

Caitlyn stood behind them, rifle trained on Gangplank’s chest, grip tight, breath steady.

Vi glanced at Sarah, voice edged with amusement. "Looks like you needed a hand—again."

Sarah wiped blood from her mouth, pushing herself up. "I had it under control."

Jinx snorted, a glimmer of amusement curling her lips. "Ha—yeah, sure."

Gangplank, now dripping blood onto the burning deck, spat a thick wad onto the floor. His sneer remained, defiant.

"You lot don’t know when to quit, do you?"

Sarah’s hands were steady as she raised her pistols again—her mother’s pistols. The firelight gleamed off the etching in the metal, grounding her.

"Neither do you," she said, voice steady.

BANG.

The first bullet struck Gangplank’s chest. He staggered, a ragged breath escaping him.

BANG.

The second sent him reeling against the railing.

His blade slipped from his grasp, clattering to the deck.

He sagged, barely holding himself upright.

Sarah stepped forward, slow, deliberate. His eyes met hers—breath shuddering, but there was no fear.

No regret.

Just… recognition.

And this was the moment.

The line between justice and vengeance blurred.

Caitlyn saw it.

The hesitation.

The weight of history in Sarah’s grip.

She knew that moment—had lived it herself. Finger hovering over the trigger. Heartbeat in the silence.

"Sarah." Caitlyn’s voice cut through the air, firm but not cold. "It won’t change anything. It won’t bring her back."

Sarah didn’t turn. Her fingers tightened.

Vi stepped closer, voice quiet but certain. "He’s already finished. Let him go down with his ship."

The Dead Pool groaned beneath them, flames consuming the deck, licking at the sails.

Sarah stood frozen, caught between past and present.

Jinx tilted her head, voice lilting, almost… thoughtful. "Kinda poetic, don’tcha think?" A beat. A whisper. A verdict. "You don’t have to pull the trigger. The sea’s gonna do it for you."

The weight of her words settled over Sarah like a shroud.

Gangplank wheezed, blood bubbling at his lips.

He had taken everything from her.

And now—he had nothing.

Sarah exhaled. A slow, shuddering breath.

Then, without a word, she lowered her guns.

Turned.

Walked away.

Caitlyn followed, rifle lowering with a quiet click.

Vi, Ekko, and Jinx trailed after them.

And then—

Laughter.

Low. Rasping. A dying man’s defiance.

Gangplank’s laughter echoed through the flames, curling around them like smoke.

The wreckage of the Dead Pool burned in the distance, flames licking hungrily at what remained of the once-feared warship. The fire cast an eerie glow over the water, reflecting in the wide eyes of the gathered crowd.

Vi, Jinx, Ekko, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Sarah stood at the docks, surrounded by Bilgewater citizens and the crew of the Syren, all watching as the ship slowly sank beneath the waves.

Vi let out a slow breath, running a hand through her sweat-matted hair. “Damn, that was one hell of a reunion.” She shot Ekko a look. “Didn’t think I’d find you in the middle of a burning ship, though. You got some kinda bad luck or somethin’?”

Ekko huffed, shaking his head. “You’re one to talk. What the hell are you even doing here?”

Vi smirked. “Broke into Caitlyn’s office. Found out she’d been keeping—” her eyes flicked to Jinx, “—certain information from me.”

Ekko flinched. Barely. But Vi caught it.

She rolled her shoulders, keeping her tone casual. “Then I read Jinx was in Bilgewater, that something big was going down with Gangplank. Came looking for Cait and you, but I ran into her instead.” She jerked a thumb toward Sarah. “Turns out she was already planning on storming the ship to get you two out. Figured, why not team up?”

Ekko arched a brow. “Huh. And here I thought you were allergic to working with other people.”

Vi grinned. “Only when they suck.” She glanced at Sarah, who stood with her arms crossed, eyes locked on the sinking wreckage. “Gotta admit, though—she’s got style.”

Ekko scoffed. “Yeah. Blowing up a ship while we’re still on it? Real stylish.”

Vi snorted. “You survived, didn’t you?”

Ekko shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Barely.”

Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t press it. Not yet.

Then her expression shifted, something sharpening in her gaze.

“Ekko.”

There was something in the way she said it. A weight.

He straightened.

“You knew.”

Ekko didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to Jinx. She stood at the water’s edge, silent, watching the wreckage disappear beneath the waves. Caitlyn lingered a few feet behind her, arms crossed, face unreadable. Sevika and Sarah spoke in low voices nearby, their conversation lost to the crackling fire.

Ekko exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

Vi’s jaw tensed. “For how long?”

Ekko hesitated. “A year.”

Vi sucked in a breath, running a hand down her face. “A whole damn year?”

“I didn’t—” Ekko started, then stopped, shaking his head. “I didn’t know what to do, Vi.”

Vi let out a short, humorless laugh. “What to do? You could’ve told me.”

Ekko met her gaze then, steady despite the weight pressing on him. “Could I?”

Vi opened her mouth. Shut it.

The fire crackled in the distance, the scent of burning wood thick in the salty air.

Ekko sighed. “She didn’t want to be found. I had to respect that.”

Vi’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “Yeah? And what about me? What about Cait? You don’t think we had a right to know?”

Ekko’s expression hardened. “It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about you, or Caitlyn. It was about her.” He shook his head. “She barely even knew what she wanted, Vi. She needed time.”

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose, looking away. “You could’ve told me,” she muttered again, quieter this time.

Ekko softened. “Maybe.” He hesitated. “But would you have left her alone?”

Vi’s jaw clenched.

She wanted to say yes. Of course she would have. She would’ve given Jinx space. Would’ve let her figure things out on her own.

But they both knew better.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

Ekko huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I’ve been told.”

Vi sighed, rubbing at her temples. Then she glanced back at Jinx, watching the way her sister stood so still, staring out at the sea. There was something different about her. A weight she hadn’t carried before.

“...Is she good?” Vi asked, voice low.

Ekko followed her gaze.

“She’s getting there.”

Vi nodded, her expression unreadable. “Guess that’s all I can ask for.”

A few feet from the crowd, Caitlyn, Jinx, and Sevika stood at the water’s edge, watching the last embers of the Dead Pool flicker and die against the waves. The fire hissed as wreckage slipped beneath the surface, sending up tendrils of steam. None of them spoke at first. The weight of the past few hours pressed down on them, thick as the salt-heavy air.

Caitlyn was the first to break the silence.

"That game… the Russian Roulette. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it." Her voice was quieter than usual.

Jinx let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah. Bet it’s gonna be real fun replaying that one in my dreams."

She shifted her weight, gaze flicking to Sevika. "Ever had a guy put a loaded gun to your head for funsies?"

Sevika barely reacted. Just shrugged. "Been in worse spots."

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. "Have you?"

Sevika exhaled through her nose, shifting slightly. "Maybe not exactly like that. But I’ve had people try to make me beg. Try to break me." She flexed her fingers, as if remembering an old wound. "Never gave ‘em the satisfaction."

Jinx studied her for a beat, then snorted. "Yeah, well. Good for you." The words were light, dismissive—but her fingers twitched at her sides.

Caitlyn’s gaze softened. "You didn’t give him the satisfaction either, Jinx."

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Felt like I did. He got me to say shit I didn’t want out—"

"Oh, you mean that thing about wanting to be more than friends with Ekko?" Caitlyn cut in smoothly, a sly smile playing at her lips. "Or was it the part about being sorry for being a sister-in-law from hell?"

Jinx’s face turned red in an instant. "You wanna shut it, cupcake?" she sputtered. "Or I swear, I’ll drop you in the water."

Sevika, who had been listening impassively, actually let out a short laugh.

Caitlyn smirked. "Relax, your secret’s safe with me."

Jinx scowled, but there wasn’t much bite to it.

Sevika, arms crossed, gave a slight nod. "You’re still standing. That’s what matters."

Jinx looked away, lips pressing into a thin line—but something in her posture eased just a little.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, fingers brushing against the worn surface of her rifle. "I was ready to kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to crossing the line before."

Sevika scoffed. "Please. You think he didn’t deserve it?"

Caitlyn didn’t answer immediately. She watched the smoldering remains of Gangplank’s ship, her expression unreadable. "Maybe. But I was scared of what it would mean for me."

Jinx tilted her head. "And?"

Caitlyn’s gaze drifted to Sarah, who stood tall despite the weight pressing on her shoulders. "And I think I just got my answer."

A ripple of voices broke through the moment. Murmurs spread through the gathered onlookers.

"Is he really dead?" someone whispered.

"If Gangplank’s gone, what happens now?"

"He kept things in check—even if it was through fear. Without him, the city’s gonna tear itself apart."

Then, a voice rose above the murmurs.

"MISS FORTUNE!"

Ed, the same scrappy deckhand who had helped plant Jinx’s bomb on the Dead Pool, stepped forward, his voice raw with exhilaration. "Miss Fortune for Queen of Bilgewater!"

The chant caught fire, spreading like gunpowder through the crowd.

"MISS FORTUNE! MISS FORTUNE!"

Sarah let out a slow breath. She felt Caitlyn’s eyes on her—concerned, questioning.

She squared her shoulders and stepped forward, the firelight flickering in her sea-green eyes.

"Bilgewater." Her voice cut through the noise. The crowd hushed, watching her. "Tonight, we burned the past. Gangplank ruled this city with blood and fear. But that ends now."

A murmur swept through the docks.

"I was the one who set fire to his ship while he was still on board," she continued, voice steady. "And I’m the one who will lead Bilgewater. Not as a bounty hunter. Not as some pirate out for revenge. But as your Pirate Queen."

Silence.

Then, a roar of approval erupted. Cheers rang out, echoing against the wooden planks and the sea beyond.

Sarah let the noise wash over her, but her jaw remained tight. She had just painted a target on her back. Whatever Gangplank’s loyalists were left, they’d come for her eventually.

She turned back to her companions, catching Vi’s raised eyebrow and Jinx’s lopsided grin.

"Well, shit," Vi muttered. "Guess that makes it official."

Sarah smirked, shaking her head. "Guess so."

Then she clapped Vi on the shoulder and grabbed Caitlyn’s wrist, tugging them both toward the taverns. Over her shoulder, she nodded toward Ekko, Jinx, and Sevika.

"Drinks are on me."

Ekko huffed a quiet laugh, glancing at Jinx and Sevika. "You guys coming?"

Jinx rocked back on her heels, watching the last embers of the Dead Pool sink beneath the waves. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she finally shrugged. "Hell, why not?"

Sevika rolled her eyes but followed, muttering something about needing a strong drink after all this.

And so, as the smoke faded into the night sky, Bilgewater’s new Pirate Queen and those who had helped reshape its future walked toward the promise of fire-lit taverns, strong liquor, and the uncertain road ahead.

Chapter Text

The tavern pulsed with victory—rowdy toasts, slurred shanties, the scrape of chairs across warped wood. Somewhere near the bar, a poor bastard picked the wrong pirate to piss off, and the resulting scuffle sent a table crashing. The air was thick—smoke, sea brine, the sticky-sweet scent of spilled rum.

At a table near the back, Vi leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She scanned the room once before settling on the girl across from her.

Jinx slouched in her chair, idly spinning her half-empty tankard. No smirk. No quip waiting on her tongue. Just silence. Heavy, stretched thin—like a rope about to snap.

Vi exhaled and leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. “So, you wanna start, or should I?”

Jinx scoffed, flicking her gaze up. “What, you wanna do this here?” She gestured vaguely at the packed tavern. “Not exactly the ideal place for sisterly heart-to-hearts.”

Vi shrugged, voice easy, gaze steady. “Well, you’re sober. Figured I should take my shot while I got it.”

Jinx snorted but didn’t argue. She took a sip from her tankard, then set it down with a sigh. “Look, Vi, I get it. You’re pissed. You feel betrayed. But I—”

“I ain’t pissed.” Vi cut in—firm, not unkind. She ran a hand over her face, exhaustion weighing in her shoulders. “Not anymore.” A pause. “I just—hell, I don’t even know where to start.”

Jinx tilted her head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and caution. “How about ‘I missed you, Powder’?”

Vi’s breath hitched. Sharp, gut deep. “Don’t—just don’t.”

Jinx’s fingers tightened around the tankard. But she let it drop.

Vi swallowed, steadying herself. “I did miss you. Spent a whole damn year thinking you were gone. Then I find out you’ve been—what? Traveling? Playing tinkerer and pirate?”

Jinx tensed. Jaw clenching. “It wasn’t like that.”

Vi held her gaze. “Then what was it like?”

Jinx exhaled sharply, drumming her fingers against the wood. “I was trying to figure my shit out, okay? Trying to be someone that wasn’t just…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “Me.”

Vi’s expression softened, the edge in her voice fading. “And did you?”

Jinx let out a breathy, bitter chuckle. “Hell if I know.” She traced a groove in the table, gaze distant. “But I—I am trying.”

The silence settled, thick and pressing. Then finally—Vi sighed, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yeah. I can see that.”

She then leaned back, arms draped over her chair. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad you made it out alive. And that we got you off that psycho pirate’s ship in time.”

Jinx’s expression shuttered.

Vi’s smirk faded. “Jinx?”

Jinx exhaled through her nose, gaze flicking away. “You weren’t there, Vi. You don’t get it.”

Vi hesitated, then leaned forward again, voice low. “Then tell me.”

Jinx didn’t answer right away. Just stared at her tankard. Then, slowly, she pushed it aside. “Gangplank made us play Russian Roulette.” Flat. Too flat. But her hands curled into fists. “Me, Ekko, Caitlyn.”

Vi’s stomach turned cold. “Shit.”

Jinx let out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah. Shit.” She shook her head, voice dropping. “He put the gun in my hand first. I—” Her throat bobbed. “I pressed it under my chin and pulled the trigger.”

Vi’s pulse pounded, chest tightening. “Jinx…”

Jinx’s fingers twitched. “Didn’t fire, obviously. But for a second—” Her voice dipped, almost too quiet to hear. “For a second, I thought maybe it should.”

Vi clenched her teeth, reaching out, gripping Jinx’s wrist. “You made it out. That’s what matters.”

Jinx’s fingers flexed beneath Vi’s. But she didn’t pull away.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—Jinx let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. Just heavy. Just real.

Vi studied her for a beat. “You look better.”

Jinx blinked, thrown. “Huh?”

Vi nodded. “You don’t look like you’re hanging by a thread anymore. You seem… steadier.”

Jinx scoffed. “Damn. Must’ve really looked like shit before, huh?”

Vi smirked. “Oh yeah. Total train wreck.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Vi. Real confidence booster.”

Vi chuckled, then let the humor slip. She traced the table with her fingertip. “I mean it, though.” A pause. “You’re trying. And it shows.” Her voice softened. “I’m proud of you, Jinx.”

Jinx froze. Just for a second.

The words sat between them, unguarded, unexpected. Like a step taken too close to the edge.

Her fingers curled tighter around the tankard. She could deflect. Make a joke. Shrug it off.

She didn’t.

Instead, she let out a slow, shaky breath. “...Thanks.”

Vi’s chest tightened, but she kept her voice light. “Wow. An actual ‘thank you’? I should start writing this down.”

Jinx groaned. “And there it is. I hate you.”

Vi grinned. “Love you too, sis.”

Jinx scowled, but it was weak at best. She looked exhausted—but not the bone-deep exhaustion Vi was used to seeing. Not the kind that came from running, from drowning. This was different. This was a slow exhale after a fight.

Vi took a breath, then stood.

Jinx tensed. “What are you—”

Vi didn’t let her finish. She stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

Jinx froze. Of course she did. Too many years spent fighting Vi, not leaning on her. But Vi just held on—steady, sure—and after a long, breathless hesitation, Jinx let out a quiet, shaky breath and slumped forward.

Her forehead pressed against Vi’s shoulder. Inch by inch, the tension unwound.

Vi held tighter. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I got you.”

Jinx didn’t pull away.

The silence stretched—long enough to feel fragile, like something settling between them.

Then—

Vi huffed a quiet laugh. “So, uh… is there something between you and Little Man?”

Jinx stiffened. “What? No. Fuck no,” She shoved back, scowling, but the redness in her ears gave her away.

Vi smirked. “Just saying. You two seemed real sweet on each other, that’s all.”

Jinx grabbed her drink and flipped her off.

Vi grinned. Then, over Jinx’s shoulder, she caught sight of Caitlyn at the bar, sipping her drink. Their eyes met.

The grin faded.

Jinx muttered something about nosy sisters and turned away, but Vi was already moving.

Caitlyn arched a brow as Vi approached, arms crossed, weight settled easily against the bar. “You and Jinx looked like you were actually talking instead of throwing punches. Progress?”

Vi exhaled, propping an elbow on the counter. “Something like that.” She let a beat pass, then—“So. You wanna talk now, or later?”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched. “Well, is later a better option for you?”

Vi shot her a flat look. “Nope.” Her voice dipped. “You should’ve told me about Jinx.”

Caitlyn sighed, setting her drink down with a quiet clink. “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Vi.”

 Vi’s jaw tightened. “Then why?”

Caitlyn turned toward her fully, one blue eye searching hers. “Because I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.” Her voice softened, careful but steady. “You were finally starting to heal. I didn’t want to rip that apart.”

Vi’s fingers curled against the wood.

It made sense. It pissed her off anyway.

She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “I get it. I do. But next time?” She met Caitlyn’s gaze head-on. “Don’t make that call for me.”

Caitlyn studied her for a long moment. Then, finally—she nodded. “Alright.”

Vi huffed, some of the weight easing off her shoulders. “Good.” A pause. Then, quieter—“She told me what happened. On Gangplank’s ship.”

Caitlyn’s expression flickered. Not surprise—just something tired, heavy. “I figured she would.”

Vi swallowed, glancing down at her knuckles. “You, her, and Ekko. That sick bastard made you play Russian Roulette.” She let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but too sharp, too bitter. “Shit.”

Caitlyn didn’t say anything right away. She just turned back to her glass, running a finger along the rim. “It wasn’t a game to him,” she murmured. “He wanted to break us.”

Vi’s chest tightened. “Jinx said she pulled the trigger first.”

“She did.” Caitlyn’s grip on her drink tightened. “Didn’t even flinch.”

Vi swallowed hard. "And you?"

Caitlyn finally met her eyes. "I thought about it." Her fingers curled tighter around her drink. "When it was my turn, I thought about it. If I did it, maybe Jinx wouldn’t have to. Maybe she’d get out."

Vi barely breathed, her chest tightening, words caught somewhere between anger and disbelief. “Cait…”

"I pulled the trigger," Caitlyn went on, softer now. "The chamber was empty."

Vi clenched her jaw, the tension in her body evident. She didn’t want to think about Caitlyn’s words, didn’t want to feel the weight of it. So she grabbed Caitlyn’s glass, tossing the remaining drink back with a bitter twist in her gut.

Caitlyn blinked. “Vi—”

Vi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t care. Needed it.”

The silence between them grew thick, the weight of unsaid words settling in. Then, without warning, an arm slung around Vi’s shoulders—Sarah Fortune, grinning like a storm had just passed, the scent of rum curling off her breath.

 “C’mon, ladies,” she drawled, looping an arm around Caitlyn too. “Let’s do shots.”

Vi and Caitlyn barely had a second to react before a barmaid laid out a dozen shot glasses in front of them. Vi shot Caitlyn a glance.

“Oh, hell,” Vi muttered, rolling her shoulders.

Caitlyn just shook her head, exhaling. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “If we must…”

Jinx perched on the edge of the bar, legs crossed, an empty shot glass spinning restlessly between her fingers. Ekko leaned against the counter beside her, arms crossed, gaze distant.

Neither had spoken in a while.

The silence wasn’t comfortable. It was waiting.

Jinx sighed, flicking a glance at him. "You’re mad."

Ekko didn’t move. "I’m not mad."

"Uh-huh." She tipped the glass, watching the last drops of whiskey catch the light. "You got that whole broody, ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ look going."

Ekko exhaled through his nose. "Kinda hard not to when I had to watch you put a gun to your own head."

Jinx stopped spinning the glass.

Ekko’s voice was quiet, but steady. "That shit was—" He shook his head. "—insane."

Jinx tilted her head, mouth curling. "So… did you think I was gonna die back there?"

Ekko let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. "Jinx, I had about six different heart attacks."

Jinx flinched before forcing a smirk. "Aw. Like that time you stopped me from blowing myself up—six times—with that Z-Drive of yours?"

Ekko wasn’t looking at her. His jaw was tight, his fingers gripping his arms. His voice, when it came, was too level. "Back then, after Isha—" He hesitated, just a fraction of a second, before pushing forward. "You had nothing to lose."

Jinx froze.

The shot glass stilled in her hands.

Isha.

Her grip tightened. "Tch. Low blow, Little Man."

Ekko barely blinked. "And this time?" His gaze locked onto hers. "Playing Russian roulette against Caitlyn? You kept flinching."

Jinx tried for another smirk. "So now you’re analyzing me?"

"Tell me I’m wrong."

She hated when he did that. When he pinned her to the truth, left her squirming in it.

Her fingers drummed against the shot glass. "It wasn’t the stupid game itself."

Ekko turned slightly, listening.

Jinx exhaled, shifting. "It was Caitlyn."

His brow lifted, a flicker of surprise.

Jinx leaned back on one arm, staring at the low-hanging lanterns. "Dumb, huh? All that time I spent hating her, then suddenly…" She shrugged, like that could shake the feeling. "Didn’t want to watch her die."

Ekko’s expression softened, his gaze lingering on Jinx as if trying to understand her, as if she were finally showing him the parts of herself he had been looking for all this time. 

Jinx rolled her shoulders, restless. "Guess I finally get why she means so much to Vi."

Ekko was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You mean a lot to Vi too, Jinx." A pause. "You should’ve aimed the revolver at me instead of yourself."

Jinx let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Yeah? And how the hell would I live with myself—if you were gone because of me?"

Ekko met her gaze, like he had an answer.

The air between them grew thick, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on both of them.

Then, without warning,

A shadow fell over them.

Sarah Fortune, smelling of rum and bad decisions, grinned as she slung an arm around Ekko’s shoulders. "C’mon, pretty boy. You’re way too broody for a night like this. Let’s dance."

Ekko blinked. "Wait, what—?"

Too late. She’d already caught his wrist, yanking him toward the open floor. The tavern roared in approval.

Jinx scowled, her chest tightening for a reason she couldn’t quite place.

Then beside her, a warm puff of cigar smoke curled in the air. “You look like you swallowed a damn lemon.”

Jinx flicked her eyes to Sevika. “Bite me.”

Sevika smirked, exhaling slow. “Didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”

Jinx snorted. “I’m not.”

Sevika took a lazy sip from her tankard. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Jinx rolled the shot glass between her fingers, her gaze fixed on Sarah as she spun Ekko effortlessly. The tavern erupted in cheers, but Jinx’s grip tightened, her knuckles whitening. 

Sevika arched a brow, exhaling a plume of smoke. “So it’s got nothing to do with her having her hands all over your boy?” 

“He’s not my boy,” Jinx muttered, her voice low and defensive, though the words felt hollow even to her. 

Sevika hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.” 

Jinx shot her a glare. “The hell do you care?” 

Sevika tapped ash into the tray, her expression unreadable. “I don’t. Just funny, is all. You spend a whole damn year running from that kid, and now you’re pouting ‘cause he ain’t glued to your side.” 

Jinx clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palm. She knew Sevika was baiting her, knew she had no right to be mad—but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. 

She was the one who left. The one who told Ekko not to follow. 

And yet— 

Across the room, Ekko twisted out of Sarah’s grip with an easy spin, flashing that quick, knowing grin. His gaze found hers, cutting through the noise, like it always did. A silent invitation. 

Jinx rolled her eyes and shook her head, though a small part of her couldn’t help but smile at his persistence. 

Ekko grinned wider, like he’d expected that answer. Like he knew her too damn well. 

He started toward her— 

But Sarah was faster. 

She grabbed his arm, yanking him back into another dizzying twirl, her laugh bright and unapologetic. The tavern cheered, the music swelling around them. 

Jinx scowled, her frustration bubbling over as Sarah’s laugh rang out again, sharp and grating. 

Sevika snorted beside her. “Still not jealous?” 

“I’m going outside,” Jinx snapped, “before I put a hole in something.” 

Sevika chuckled, taking another slow drag. “Go on, then.” 

Jinx didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reply. She was already pushing through the crowd, the warmth of the tavern pressing in on her as she headed for the door. 

Ekko found Jinx perched on the edge of the docks, knees pulled to her chest, staring out at the sea.

Smoke still curled from the wreckage of Gangplank’s ship, drifting like ghostly fingers against the night. The fire had mostly died, but the embers still glowed, flickering defiantly against the dark.

He approached carefully. “Jinx.”

She stiffened but didn’t turn.

Ekko lowered himself beside her, letting the quiet stretch between them. The air was thick with salt and soot, heavy with something unspoken.

After a beat, he asked, “You okay?”

Jinx huffed out a quiet, humorless laugh. “What do you think?”

Ekko didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

She let out a slow breath, rubbing at her arms like she was trying to shake off something she didn’t want to name. “You looked like you were having fun back there.”

Ekko blinked. “Huh?”

Jinx flicked her eyes toward him, their usual glow dimmed under the weight of exhaustion. “With her.”

Ekko tilted his head, then realization hit. “Oh. Sarah.”

Jinx scoffed. “Yeah, Sarah.” She picked at a loose thread on her glove, muttering, “Guess you like being dragged around like a damn puppet.”

Ekko smirked. “She’s persistent.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to go along with it.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” He flexed his wrist. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

“Should’ve dodged.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his grin sharp. “Should’ve danced with me instead.”

Jinx’s breath hitched. Her head snapped toward him, glare half-formed—but Ekko just watched her, quiet, steady. Like he was waiting for her to catch up. Like he already knew how she felt before she did.

She hated that.

“Not my scene,” she muttered, looking away.

Ekko chuckled. “Yeah. I figured.” He nudged her shoulder, light but deliberate. “But I still would’ve picked you.”

Jinx tensed.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? He would always pick her. Even after everything.

The ache in her chest swelled too fast, too big, like a wound she couldn’t stitch closed. Before she could stop herself, she swung.

Ekko barely flinched. He just watched as her fist hovered inches from his jaw, her whole body trembling with the effort of not following through.

Her breathing was ragged. Her fingers uncurled.

She didn’t hit him.

Didn’t want to.

And the realization made her sick.

Her arm dropped limply back to her side. And before she could talk herself out of it, she collapsed against him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

Ekko stilled.

Then—slowly, carefully—his arms came around her.

Not tight. Never tight. But enough.

Enough to let her stay if she wanted.

She did.

The docks were quiet, save for the faint thrum of music drifting from the tavern. Laughter and the rhythmic strum of a fiddle carried through the night, a reminder that somewhere, people were celebrating.

Not them. Not here.

Jinx pressed her forehead against his shoulder, fingers curling weakly into his shirt. He adjusted slightly, just enough to let them both settle more comfortably, his arm brushing against hers, their legs stretched out side by side on the worn planks of the dock.

The wreckage still burned in the distance. Smoke curled into the air, mixing with the salt breeze.

She let out a shaky breath. “I meant what I said.” Her voice was quiet, rough around the edges. “Back on the ship. I meant it.”

Ekko smirked, voice low. “That I’m a goddamn idiot—”

Jinx huffed a wet laugh, sniffling.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “No. The part about staying instead of leaving.”

Ekko’s breath hitched. The pink shimmer in her eyes flickered with uncertainty, but the words hung between them, weighty and real.

The tavern’s melody swirled around them—soft but insistent, like the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He knew the song. Had heard it before. But tonight, the words felt like they were meant for them:

Come up to meet you / tell you I'm sorry / You don't know how lovely you are / I had to find you, tell you I need you / And tell you I set you apart

Then—Ekko shifted.

One arm loosened from around her, and before she could register what he was doing, he took her wrist, fingers slipping past the edge of her fingerless glove.

Jinx tensed. “What are you—”

Ekko pulled her up.

“C’mon.” A hint of amusement laced his voice. “Dance with me.”

Jinx blinked. “Are you—are you serious?”

Ekko shrugged. “You said I should’ve dodged.” A pause. Then, smirking, “Figure this counts.”

Jinx scowled. “That is not how that works.”

But he was already moving, already pulling her in, already stepping in rhythm to the music drifting from the tavern—low and steady, an easy beat, just enough to follow if she let herself.

Nobody said it was easy / It’s such a shame for us to part / Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be this hard

Jinx narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t the kind of person who danced. Too much coordination, too much attention.

Oh, take me back to the start

Too much of what she used to be.

“I can’t do this,” she muttered, resisting just enough to make a point.

Ekko hummed. “You do now.”

Then—he spun her.

Jinx sucked in a breath as the motion turned the world into a blur, her coat flaring out. But before she could stumble, Ekko caught her, hand firm at the small of her back.

Tell me you love me / come back and haunt me / Oh, and I rush to the start / Running in circles / chasing our tails / Coming back as we are

She blinked up at him, breath unsteady.

Ekko grinned. “See? Not so bad.”

Jinx scowled. “Hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Another step, another turn. The tavern music carried them, too distant to dictate their rhythm but enough to keep them moving.

Nobody said it was easy / Oh, it's such a shame for us to part / Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be so hard

Jinx let herself fall into it, half because she was too tired to fight, half because… because she didn’t hate it.

 I'm going back to the start

Ekko’s grip stayed loose but steady—letting her lead when she wanted, guiding her when she didn’t.

She wasn’t sure how long they moved like that. Slipping between steps that weren’t quite a dance and something that felt like one.

Then—Ekko slowed.

Jinx looked up at him. And before she could second-guess herself—she leaned in, her hand reaching for his face.

Ekko stilled. His breath hitched.

Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh

She was close. Close enough that he could see the way her lashes fluttered, the way firelight danced against the streaks in her hair.

The way she was looking at him—like she wasn’t sure if this was a mistake, but she was already too far gone to stop.

Like she was waiting for him to stop her.

He didn’t.

Ah ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh

And she kissed him.

Soft. Uncertain. A little desperate.

Not like before—not like on the rooftop, when it had been something stolen, something fleeting. This was different. It tasted of salt and exhaustion, of everything unspoken between them.

When she pulled away, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I was the idiot for leaving.”

Ekko searched her gaze, his own warm and steady. “Then don’t leave again.”

Jinx swallowed hard, fingers twitching against the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t want to.”

Ekko nodded, thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Then stay.”

Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh

Jinx let out a breath, shaking her head with a small, self-deprecating smile. Then, without another word, she tugged at his hand.

Ekko raised a brow. “Where we going?”

Jinx glanced back, eyes unreadable but intent in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Somewhere with fewer people watching.”

Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh

The wooden planks of the Syren groaned beneath their weight as Jinx led Ekko deeper into the ship, her grip firm but unhurried. The further they went, the more the outside world faded—the crash of waves, the distant clamor of Bilgewater’s nightlife, the remnants of chaos still smoldering in the harbor. Down here, it was just them.

He didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t need to. The tension in her shoulders, the way she kept her gaze ahead like she was afraid looking back might change her mind, told him she was still figuring that out herself.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door, hesitated just a second too long, then shoved it open.

The cabin was small, lit only by a flickering lantern bolted to the wall. Shadows stretched long across the wooden beams, giving the space a warm, almost unreal glow. A hammock swayed lazily in the corner, a rickety desk was littered with stray bullets and scraps of old blueprints, and a cot rested against the far wall—just big enough for two.

Jinx let go of his hand and stepped inside, fingers grazing the edge of the desk as if stalling for time.

Ekko lingered in the doorway, watching her. “So, uh… you bring all your dance partners here?”

She shot him a look, but the glare didn’t have its usual bite. “You’re so not funny.”

“Nah, I’m hilarious.”

Jinx exhaled sharply, shaking her head. She kept her back to him, drumming her fingers against the desk before abruptly turning, arms crossing tight over her chest. “Look, I don’t—” Her voice faltered. A frustrated sigh left her lips. “I don’t do this.”

He took a step inside, letting the door creak shut behind him. “Do what?”

She gestured vaguely between them. “This. You. Me. Being… whatever the hell this is.”

He studied her in the dim light, took in the sharp edges of her jaw as she clenched it, the way she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. He thought back to the docks, to the way she had nearly hit him—had wanted to, but stopped herself. How she had collapsed against him instead, pressing into him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

This was just another fight.

And Jinx never knew how to walk away from a fight.

He stepped closer, slow enough not to spook her, but close enough that she couldn’t ignore him. “You led me here,” he pointed out.

She let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well… maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Ekko tilted his head. “You never think straight.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my God, you’re annoying.”

He smirked. “Yeah. But you like that about me.”

Jinx opened her mouth—probably to argue, to deflect—but stopped herself. The way she looked at him then, sharp and searching, made his pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

The air between them shifted.

Ekko felt it, that unspoken tension snapping from something uncertain to something inevitable.

Jinx stepped forward, closing the last bit of space between them. Her fingers curled into the front of his vest, hesitating for just a second before she pulled him down into a kiss.

This one wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was heat and urgency, months—years—of something unspoken finally breaking free.

His hands found her waist, steady even as his heart pounded against his ribs. Jinx pressed closer, deepening the kiss like she was afraid he might slip away if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, He rested his forehead against hers. “You sure about this?”

Jinx’s fingers skimmed along his jaw, down to his collar, giving it a light tug. Her smirk was a little shaky, but real.

“For once?” She let out a breath. “Yeah.”

Ekko smiled. “Okay.”

She pulled him toward the cot, fingers curled tight around his, but neither of them rushed.

The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was thick with anticipation, with the weight of everything that had led them here.

Jinx sat on the edge of the cot and pulled him, hands fumbling with the straps of his vest. He chuckled under his breath, but when she shot him a look, he swallowed it down.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, brushing his hands over hers. “Let me help.”

They undressed each other slowly, piece by piece. No rush. No hesitance. Jinx’s fingers skimmed beneath his shirt, tracing the scars across his torso like she was mapping out stories she hadn’t been there to witness.

Ekko sucked in a breath when her fingers brushed over his ribs. “Ticklish,” he admitted.

Jinx smirked. “Noted.”

She pressed a kiss just below his collarbone before tugging his shirt over his head.

He exhaled through his nose, steadying himself as he reached for her in return. His fingers skimmed the edge of her cropped top, giving her a moment to stop him if she wanted.

She didn’t.

When he pulled it over her head, his gaze caught on the ink swirling across her skin.

The cloud tattoos.

His fingers ghosted over them, following the curves and lines stretching across her ribs and shoulders, as if trying to memorize the story they told.

Jinx shivered under his touch but didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into it.

Ekko met her eyes. “Always liked these,” he admitted softly.

Jinx let out a breathy laugh, something warm flickering behind her usual sharp edges. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He traced a slow circle over one of the clouds, his hand settling against her side. “They suit you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “You just like touching me.”

He smirked. “That too.”

She kissed him again, harder this time, tugging him down with her. The cot creaked beneath their weight, but neither of them cared.

They explored each other with slow, deliberate touches—hesitant at first, testing, learning. Jinx wasn’t used to letting someone this close, to being seen without her walls up. But Ekko had always seen her, even when she didn’t want him to.

His hands traced her back, down her spine, over her hips, and she sighed into his mouth, fingers threading into his hair.

He moved lower, kissing a line down her neck, lingering at the hollow of her throat. She arched into him, breath stuttering when he pressed his lips to the spot just above her heart.

“Ekko…”

He hummed in response, looking up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah?”

Jinx swallowed hard, searching his face. Then, softer than a whisper—“Don’t stop.”

So he didn’t.

The cot groaned beneath them as Jinx pulled Ekko down with her, their bodies pressed close, hands tracing familiar paths with new intention.

The world outside had gone silent.

No waves. No distant shouts. Just the sound of their breathing, ragged and uneven, filling the space between them.

Ekko kissed her slowly this time, giving her room to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t.

Jinx’s fingers skimmed up his back, nails dragging lightly along his skin before gripping onto his shoulders, grounding herself. She let out a breathy sigh against his lips, her body responding before her mind could second-guess what they were doing.

Ekko tilted his head, his lips grazing along her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. He lingered there, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just above her heartbeat.

She shivered.

His hands wandered—careful, reverent—trailing over her ribs, thumbs tracing the curves of the cloud tattoos inked across her skin.

Jinx swallowed hard. She wasn’t used to this. Not just the physicality of it, but this—the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. Like she was something cherished.

She tugged him back up, stealing another kiss, something desperate creeping into it now.

Ekko felt it—the weight behind it. The way she kissed him like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

His hands slid lower, fingers teasing the hem of her pants before pausing. He searched her face, silently asking.

Jinx’s breath caught. She exhaled slowly, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I want this.”

Ekko held her gaze for a beat longer before helping her out of the last of her clothes, peeling away the layers that separated them.

She did the same, palms skimming over his skin, tracing old scars and fresh bruises, learning the feel of him.

No rush.

No hesitation.

Just the slow unraveling of space between them.

Jinx let out a shaky breath as Ekko settled over her, their bodies flush, heat radiating between them. She squeezed her eyes shut, something raw clawing at her chest—something she didn’t have words for.

Ekko cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her cheek. “Look at me,” he whispered.

She did.

His gaze was steady, warm, anchoring her to this moment.

He kissed her again, softer now, deeper. She melted into it, fingers curling onto his locs as he pressed into her, fitting against her in a way that felt right.

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as they moved together, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.

Ekko held her close, his touch mapping out every part of her, like he was memorizing her in ways words never could.

Jinx shuddered beneath him, her breath catching as she clung to him, letting herself feel—letting herself have this.

No past.

No ghosts.

Just them.

Ekko pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling, and whispered, “I got you.”

Jinx swallowed hard, her hands gripping onto him, pulling him closer.

For the first time in years, Jinx let herself feel safe.

Chapter Text

“It’s time—I want her dead.”

The words weren’t loud, but they didn’t need to be. They landed heavy, deliberate. No stutter, no second-guessing.

Sarah Fortune didn’t flinch. She leaned back in her chair, swirling the amber liquid in her glass like it could show her the future. She hadn’t taken a sip. Too busy watching him.

Ed.                                                                        

The scarred bastard. Gangplank’s old dog—before he started wagging his tail for her. A man who’d built his life in the shadows of worse men and survived them all.

The tavern was quiet, the hour too late for fools and too early for drunks. A few murmured conversations clung to the corners, but none dared near the Pirate Queen’s table.

Ed sat across from her in the flickering lantern light, his ruined face a map of old grudges. He didn’t look angry. He looked ready.

Sarah tapped a finger on the rim of her glass, her voice casual. “You sure about this?”

Ed’s stare didn’t waver. “You asking if I’m committed? Or if I’ll keep waiting?”

Sharp bastard.

Sarah smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Both.”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “You know who I am.”

She let her chair tilt back, balancing it on two legs. “I know who you were.”

He didn’t blink. “I waited. Watched the boards. Listened to the rumors. Then she showed up. Here. In your house.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “You think now’s the time?”

“She’s under your flag. If anyone has a shot at her, it’s me. Now, before she disappears again.”

She sipped her drink. Finally. The burn steadied her. “She’s not the same girl you remember.”

Ed leaned in, voice quiet but lethal. “I don’t care who she is. I care what she did.”

Sarah exhaled through her nose. Bilgewater was made for men like Ed. Cold. Waiting. Dangerous not because they burned fast—but because they didn’t burn out.

Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “Not yet.”

His brow twitched. “You’re hesitating.”

“No,” she corrected. “I’m calculating.”

Ed’s fingers tapped once on the table. “You remember our deal?”

She met his gaze, sharp and flat. “You mean the one where you gave me intel on Gangplank? Fed me his crew’s weaknesses, helped me sink him?”

His voice didn’t shift. “The one where you promised me Jinx when it was done.”

Silence stretched like wire.

Sarah leaned forward, elbows on the table. “She’s got people. Ekko. Vi. Even Caitlyn. You make a move on her now, you’re not just lighting a match—you’re lighting a damn powderkeg.”

Ed didn’t flinch. “That’s not what you said before.”

“No. It’s not.”

Sarah let the pause stretch long enough to say everything she wasn’t sure about.

“You’re not here to ask,” she said. “You’re here to see if I’ll stop you.”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it either.

Then, with all the calm of a man unbothered by blood, Ed leaned back. “I’ll wait.”

Sarah lifted her glass in a slow, mocking toast. “Smart man.”

But the moment he stood, the room felt colder.

Not because he wanted her dead.

Because he didn’t need to rush it.

And Sarah? She wasn’t sure whose side she'd be on when the reckoning came.

In another life, in another world...

The old water tower creaked in protest, its rusted frame swaying against the night wind like a drunk refusing to collapse. From the outside, it was just another decaying husk in the Undercity skyline—forgotten, half-swallowed by the smog. But inside, among soldered metal and soot-stained blueprints, it was hers.

Powder’s hideout.

A single lantern flickered overhead, casting restless shadows across a cluttered workbench. The air was thick with oil and old firepowder. But she wasn’t working.

She sat still, hunched over a warped drawer, fingers hovering above its jagged edge. Someone—her—had carved a single name into the wood, messy and raw.

Vi.

Her breath caught. She opened the drawer.

Loose Hexgems glinted inside, sharp and uneven. And there—half-buried beneath scrap—was what she’d come looking for.

A necklace.

Delicate silver chain. A spinning pendant at its center. She lifted it slowly, letting the weight settle into her palm. The pendant caught the lanternlight and turned. First, it was a rose—blue, intricate, petals curled like a secret. Then, with a familiar click, it unfurled.

Inside, two figures. Intertwined.

Her chest tightened.

Memories hit like shrapnel.

The mural—the one he’d painted of the other Vi, watching over them in colors too bright to be real. A tribute, he’d called it. She called it a fucking haunting.

The Z-Drive. Building it together. Grease under their nails, sparks in the air. His laugh when she cursed. His silence when he watched her work.

The dance. Bare feet on cool metal. Music humming low. His hand wrapped around hers like it belonged there.

The kiss. Breathless. Clumsy. The moment everything shifted, and neither of them said a word.

Then the anomaly.

Then he was gone.

With the Z-Drive. With everything.

The pendant stilled.

She gripped it tight.

She’d told herself it didn’t matter anymore. That she’d buried him—buried it all—under smoke and chaos and steel.

But the truth?

She never really wanted it to stay buried.

A creak at the door snapped her out of it.

She shoved the necklace back into the drawer and stood sharply. “Ekko, if you’re here to—”

Her words died.

It wasn’t Ekko.

It was Professor Heimerdinger.

He looked like a ghost out of place—singed fur, frayed coat, but those familiar amber eyes still sharp, still maddeningly calm.

“Ah,” he said, like he’d misplaced his tea, “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

The tea in her hands had long gone cold.

She hadn’t touched it. Just sat with it. Staring.

“So,” she said finally, voice small. “You’re... back.”

Heimerdinger nodded. “Indeed. It appears yordles are... resilient, when it comes to dying.”

She let out a dry laugh, low and humorless. “Guess we’ve all got our talents.”

Silence stretched thin between them.

She tapped the mug. Avoided his eyes.

He was here. Alive. The Heimerdinger from the other timeline. The one who left with the other Ekko.

The one she watched vanish.

She forced herself to look at him. “You knew you’d come back, didn’t you?” her voice dropped. “When you sent him home.”

“I hoped,” Heimerdinger said gently. “But hope is not a guarantee.”

She set the mug down with more force than necessary. “Figures.”

He studied her quietly. “Are you alright, Ms. Powder?”

She wanted to scream. To snap. To throw the mug across the room.

Instead, she breathed in. Slow. Sharp.

“Things changed after he left,” she muttered. “This Ekko—my Ekko—he didn’t ask questions. But he knew. And I could see it. The way he looked at me.”

Her fingers curled around her sleeves. “Like I betrayed him. Like I picked the other Ekko.”

A beat.

“But that’s not what happened.”

Another.

“It didn’t matter.”

Heimerdinger said nothing at first. Then, calmly: “What’s broken can often be repaired.”

She glanced sideways—at the monkey on her bench, cracked and motionless.

“Not always,” she muttered.

A pause.

Then, his voice shifted—brighter, but focused. “Actually... I came here because I need your help.”

She blinked. “You what?”

“I need your help to recreate the anomaly. We need to build a new Z-Drive.”

The air changed. Like a thread had snapped.

She turned fully toward him, hands on the bench. “You just got back. And now you’re already planning to leave?”

He gave a soft, regretful smile. “This timeline isn’t mine, Ms. Powder. My place is in the one I came from.”

Her throat clenched.

That place. That Ekko.

That life.

“Well, good luck,” she said. “Because I don’t have the gems. Or the parts.”

Heimerdinger’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Are you certain?”

Her body stiffened.

He knew.

He knew about the drawer.

“Come now,” he said, not unkindly. “You’ve been collecting them. Those residual Hexgem signatures—hard to miss.”

She folded her arms, jaw set. “I wasn’t gonna use them.”

“But you could,” he said lightly. “And I can show you how.”

She scoffed. “What, you wanna mentor me now?”

“I’m offering to teach you—both of you. You and Mister Ekko. To build properly. Safely. Power without recklessness.”

She hated how much she wanted that.

How much she’d always wanted it.

“...You’re serious.”

Heimerdinger nodded. “Entirely.”

Then—

A voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Powder.”

She turned.

Ekko.

Arms crossed. Eyes unreadable. Voice low.

He looked at her like he hadn’t decided if he was angry or hurt.

“What’s going on?”

She forced a grin, leaning back. “Oh, you know. Time machines. Old men with weird hair. Just your average Tuesday.”

He didn’t bite.

His voice was quieter. “You’re really gonna help him?”

The words hit like a punch.

She glanced at Heimerdinger. At the drawer.

Then looked back.

“I had a dream,” she said.

Ekko frowned. “A dream?”

“Too real.” Her arms tightened. “I was on a ship. Blood. Salt. That other you. There was this woman—blue hair, tied up like mine. We were playing Russian roulette.”

Ekko’s jaw tensed.

“And I was laughing.”

She didn’t mean to say it out loud. But there it was.

Ekko didn’t speak.

“It felt real,” she whispered. “Like a memory. Not mine—but mine.”

He just looked at her. Searching.

And she hated that look most of all.

“I need to know what’s happening to me,” she said. “Because it’s in my head, Ekko. And I don’t know why.”

He let the silence stretch. Then finally, “Powder... maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Her chest went tight.

But before she could snap, Heimerdinger cleared his throat. “This is remarkable. If it’s a true memory, then the anomaly may have left a cognitive imprint. A tether.”

“Tether?” she repeated.

“Between timelines,” Heimerdinger said. “A lingering psychic link.”

Powder snorted. “So the anomaly fried my brain.”

“No,” he said, smiling faintly. “It may have opened it.”

That didn’t make her feel better.

She looked at Ekko.

And he was still looking at her—but it wasn’t judgment.

It was fear.

She looked away, throat thick.

Because if she really was tethered to that other self...

She didn’t know who that made her now.

Meanwhile in the current world...

The cabin was quiet, save for the steady creak of the Syren’s hull.

Faint morning light leaked through the cracks in the wooden walls, slanting gold streaks across the cot. The air carried the scent of salt and gunpowder—Bilgewater, even here.

Jinx lay on her side, watching the rise and fall of Ekko’s chest.

He was still asleep, one hand resting loosely over his stomach, breaths deep and steady. Sometime in the night, she’d curled in closer, her leg draped over his. His skin was warm against hers.

It was weird.

Not the sex. That had been… good. More than good.

It was this.

The stillness. The warmth. The way her body had relaxed into him without thinking—like it wasn’t waiting for the next explosion, the next chase.

Her fingers hovered near his shoulder, torn between tracing the sharp lines of his collarbone and slipping away before he woke.

Jinx didn’t do this.

Didn’t do quiet mornings. Didn’t do waking up next to someone.

Didn’t do waking up safe.

Something uneasy curled in her chest.

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

Last night had felt like a decision. A real one.

And that was the part that scared her.

A sleepy mutter broke the silence.

“Y’thinkin’ so loud I can hear it.”

Jinx startled slightly, snapping her head to the side. Ekko was still half-asleep, one eye cracked open, watching her with a lazy sort of amusement.

She smirked, masking the flicker of nerves. “Damn. You got a setting other than full-speed ahead?”

“Not when I’m awake.” Ekko stretched, groaning as his muscles adjusted. He turned onto his side, fully facing her now, voice softer. “You okay?”

It was an easy question. A simple one.

Jinx hated how deep it cut.

She forced a grin. “What, you worried I’m gonna bolt?”

Ekko didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her.

Jinx clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. “Relax, Boy Savior. Not gonna disappear into the night. Again.”

Ekko huffed a quiet laugh, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t say you would.”

“But you thought it.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, voice still light. “But you’re still here.”

Jinx opened her mouth, ready to toss back some cocky remark—something sharp, something that would keep this from feeling like a real conversation.

But she hesitated.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

She was still here.

Ekko reached out, fingers brushing the tattoo on her shoulder—slow, familiar, like last night, tracing the swirling ink as if it held answers.

Jinx swallowed. “You do that a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ekko smirked, voice warm with amusement. “Maybe I just like touching you.”

Jinx huffed. “Dumbass.”

He didn’t press her for more. Didn’t ask why she was still here. Didn’t try to turn this moment into something heavier than it already was.

Instead, he just lay back down beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

The silence stretched—not tense, not heavy. Just there.

Jinx let out a slow breath.

Maybe she didn’t have to figure everything out right now.

Maybe, for once, she could just be.

“…You hungry?” Ekko asked eventually.

Jinx snorted. “Are you?”

“Always.”

She rolled onto her side again, poking a finger into his ribs. “Bet I could beat you to the galley.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s like that?”

Jinx was already moving, reaching for her discarded clothes. “Try not to cry when I win.”

Ekko chuckled, dragging himself upright. “We’ll see about that.”

She was halfway to her pants when she felt a sudden yank—Ekko grabbing her by the ankle and pulling her back onto the cot with an undignified oof.

Jinx twisted, eyes wide. “Cheater!”

Ekko grinned, pinning her down for a second, his weight warm and solid against her back. “You started it.”

Jinx squirmed, half-heartedly trying to shake him off, but he was faster, already rolling away and pulling his shirt over his head. He shot her a smug look as he did. “Better catch up, slowpoke.”

Oh. Oh, it was like that?

Jinx bolted upright, yanking her pants on in record time. Ekko was at the door now, reaching for the handle—

Not a chance.

She lunged, nearly slipping as she scrambled over the mattress, grabbing his wrist at the last second. They tumbled against the doorframe in a mess of tangled limbs and laughter.

“You little shit!” Jinx cackled, trying to wrestle past him.

Ekko just grinned, pressing a quick, cocky kiss to her nose before shoving the door open. “See you in the galley, loser.”

And then he was gone, sprinting down the narrow hall.

Jinx blinked, momentarily stunned.

Then she growled. “Oh, hell no.”

She shoved her boots on and took off after him, bare feet pounding against old wooden floors.

Ekko was fast. Too fast. She caught glimpses of him between flickering lantern lights, weaving through the narrow hallways of the Syren with infuriating ease.

Jinx grinned.

She didn’t need ease.

She just needed a little boost.

The shimmer in her veins answered before she even had to think. The world blurred at the edges as her body surged forward, muscles snapping into motion faster than humanly possible. She shot past hammocks, ducked under low beams, and practically teleported past a very startled deckhand carrying a bucket.

Then she saw him—Ekko, turning a corner ahead, completely unaware of what was coming.

Jinx pushed harder.

She closed the distance in a blink, fingers brushing his vest—

And then she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked.

Ekko yelped as he stumbled, arms flailing for balance. Jinx used the momentum to spin around him, planting herself squarely in front of the galley door.

She slapped both hands against the wood, breathless and grinning. “Winner.”

Ekko skidded to a stop, hands braced on his knees. He looked up at her, still panting, eyes narrowing.

“…You used shimmer speed, didn’t you?”

Jinx smirked. “Nope.”

Ekko stared at her.

She held his gaze.

Then he sighed. “You definitely used shimmer speed.”

Jinx’s grin stretched wider. “I tactically outmaneuvered you.”

Ekko huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Jinx leaned in, nudging his cheek with her nose. “What can I say?” she whispered against his skin. “I like winning.”

Ekko chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Yeah? Well, next time, no shimmer.”

Jinx pouted. “You’re no fun.”

Ekko smirked, pulling her closer. “You like that about me.”

Jinx rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the galley with a grin.

“C’mon,” she said. “I’m starving.”

And just like that, they walked in—together.

The galley smelled like fried fish and warm bread, thick with the sounds of clanking dishes and the occasional bark of laughter from Sarah’s crew. Morning on the Syren wasn’t exactly peaceful—pirates drank like they had nothing to do, and maybe they didn’t—but it was a familiar kind of chaos.

Jinx could handle that.

What she wasn’t ready for was—

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

Vi.

Jinx barely had time to register the smugness in her sister’s voice before she spotted her—already slouched in a chair, arms folded, shit-eating grin locked and loaded.

Across from her, Caitlyn was more composed, sipping from a chipped porcelain cup. But even she had that slight, knowing look—small smile, sharp eyes.

Jinx suddenly wished she’d stayed in bed.

Ekko, to his credit, looked like he was about to pivot and leave.

Jinx grabbed his wrist before he could.

Ekko exhaled through his nose. Resigned to fate.

Vi, making a show of it, kicked out a chair for Jinx with her foot, exaggeratedly casual. “Have a good night, sis?”

Jinx plopped down without making eye contact. “Slept great,” she muttered.

Vi’s smirk widened. “Uh-huh. Bet you did.”

Ekko made a noise in his throat—half a cough, half a please don’t do this.

Jinx ignored him, snatching a hunk of bread off the nearest plate. “You’re real chatty for someone who looks like they got drop-kicked off the docks.”

Vi barked a laugh, raking a hand through her messy hair. She did look like hell—half-dressed, bruised knuckles, that telltale sluggishness of too much drink and not enough sleep. “Yeah, well, some of us spent the night drinking with pirates. Others”—her gaze flicked between Jinx and Ekko, slow, deliberate—“were doin’ other things.”

Ekko visibly regretted being here.

Jinx snapped off a bite of bread, leveling Vi with a look. “You got a lotta nerve, considerin’ your history.”

Vi grinned, all teeth. “What? I’m just sayin’—”

“You never just say anything.”

Caitlyn sighed, setting her cup down with an air of long-suffering patience. “Vi, don’t start.”

Vi, absolutely starting: “I mean, look at ‘em! Walked in here like a couple of guilty teenagers sneakin’ outta—”

Ekko dragged a hand down his face. “Vi.”

“—like, damn, Jinx, at least pretend you—”

Jinx slammed her fork down, rattling the table. “Vi.”

That finally shut her up.

For a second.

Then Vi smirked, slow and shameless. “You’re real defensive for someone who supposedly slept great.”

Jinx groaned and dropped her forehead onto the table with a solid thunk. “Hells. Just kill me already.”

Across the table, Ekko muttered into his drink, “Should’ve jumped overboard.”

Vi reached out and clapped him on the back—hard enough to rattle his plate. “C’mon, relax. I’m just messin’ with you.”

Jinx, still face-down, waved her fork vaguely in Vi’s direction.“Last time you drank this much—which, yes, was exactly a year ago—you woke up next to that random girl who looked way too much like Caitlyn.”

Vi froze mid-chew. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Ekko choked on his water. Caitlyn went stiff, then reached for her tea with a blank expression and zero comment.

Jinx finally lifted her head, grinning like a fox in a henhouse. “What was it you said again? ‘I can quit whenever I want, but hey, while I’m at it, might as well make the worst possible choices’?”

Vi pointed a warning finger at her. “I will end you.”

Jinx leaned back, smug. “You could try. But you’re hungover. And you hit like a wet sponge when you’re hungover.”

Vi groaned and slumped in her seat. “I. Hate. You.”

Jinx smirked, stealing a piece of toast off her plate. “Hah. Fat chance, sis.”

Before Vi could come up with a comeback, The table eased into something looser. Vi muttered her way through some half-baked memory of arm wrestling a pirate twice her size, while Caitlyn quietly corrected her from across the table, inserting facts with surgical precision.

Jinx tuned them out.

Let the background chatter fade into ambient noise—the clink of cutlery, the creak of wood under shifting waves, the low hum of the ship. She didn’t need the words. She just needed the moment.

She glanced sideways.

Ekko.

Still beside her. Still here.

Like he could feel it, he turned. Met her gaze. Said nothing, but there was something in the corner of his mouth. That half-smile. Like he was remembering the way her fingers had curled around his collar last night. The way they’d moved together like they still knew how.

Jinx rolled her eyes, but the edge of her mouth betrayed her before she looked away.

The warmth broke as the galley shifted.

Not much. Just a ripple.

Heads turned. Voices dipped.

Sarah Fortune had entered the room.

She didn’t need weapons to command attention. She walked like the air moved around her—coiled confidence in loose pants and a fitted corset, auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. No pistols today. No gloves. Just presence.

Rafen followed in her shadow, silent and unreadable.

“Morning,” Sarah said, easy and bright. But her eyes? They were already reading the room.

Jinx, still chewing, lifted a hand in a lazy half-wave. “Yo.”

Sarah’s gaze swept the table. It paused—fraction too long—on Jinx and Ekko. Then her smile curved, sly and amused.

Vi groaned. “Great. Another one.”

Sarah ignored her. “Hope I’m not interruptin’ anything… intimate.”

Ekko shot Vi a look that read please shut up before turning to Sarah. “Something up?”

Sarah gestured toward the door. “Need a word, Jinx. Captain’s quarters.”

Jinx raised a brow. “That serious?”

Sarah’s smile sharpened. “You tell me.”

Jinx sighed and shoved another bite of bread in her mouth. “Alright, alright. No need to get dramatic.”

She stood, grabbed her jacket, and gave the table one last look.

Vi was still grinning like she knew more than she should. Caitlyn offered a subtle nod. Ekko didn’t say anything, but his eyes lingered.

Jinx tapped the table twice, like a punctuation mark. “Y’all behave.”

And with that, she followed Sarah out, boots hitting the deck with her usual chaotic rhythm—leaving behind a breakfast that was, like most things in her life, too loud, too messy, and just real enough to sting a little.

The cabin smelled of aged wood, salt, and the lingering burn of last night’s rum. Sunlight slanted through the wide windows, carving golden streaks across the polished desk where Sarah Fortune leaned, arms crossed, watching.

She hadn’t spoken yet.

Rafen stood to the side, unmoving. Silent, but tracking every move with those sharp, assessing eyes.

Jinx, perched on the arm of a chair, picked absently at the frayed hem of her gloves, pretending boredom.

She didn’t like this.

Didn’t like being called in like a kid caught sneaking rum from the reserves.

Didn’t like the way Sarah was looking at her—like she saw something in Jinx that Jinx hadn’t agreed to show.

Sarah smirked. “First off, thanks for your help with Gangplank.”

Jinx shrugged, flicking her gaze to the window. “Yeah, well.” She waved a dismissive hand, her bracelets clinking. “Wasn’t just for you.”

Sarah chuckled, but there was something heavier in the sound, something worn and walled off. The creak of wood, the rhythmic crash of waves, the distant calls of the crew above—small, steady sounds filled the space between them.

“Vi and I talked last night,” Sarah added. “Started with whiskey. Ended with truths. A whole lotta Vi in between.”

She smirked faintly. “Didn’t hate it.”

Jinx’s nose wrinkled. Her scowl came easy. “Yeah? Let me guess—Zaun stories? How she 'raised me,' how I was some tragic little gremlin before I blew it all up?” She scoffed, swinging one foot idly. “Vi’s got a real talent for storytelling. Especially when she’s the damn hero.”

Sarah tilted her head. “Everyone rewrites the past when they’re trying to survive it.”

Jinx stilled, for just a second. Then looked away, jaw clenched.

Sarah let the silence linger.

“I lost everything once,” she said, quieter now. “Let it hollow me out. Let it fester into rage. Revenge. Thought if I made enough people bleed, it’d fill the hole.”

Jinx’s gaze flicked back. The name hovered in the air between them.

“…Gangplank.”

Sarah nodded.

“You and I—we learned how to survive before we ever learned how to live.”

Jinx’s fingers twitched.

She didn’t like where this was going.

Sarah straightened, folding her arms again. “So. What now?”

Jinx raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Sarah’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now that your sister’s here. Your friends. You got plans?”

Jinx shrugged, noncommittal. “I usually go where the chaos takes me.”

“That why you keep waking up in ruins?” Sarah asked lightly.

Jinx gave a toothy grin. “Hey, I leave a mark.”

Sarah didn’t smile back. “There’s a difference between making noise and making choices. One gets you killed. The other keeps you dangerous.”

Jinx tilted her head. “That supposed to be deep?”

Sarah let the words settle before continuing. “Your explosives on the Deadpool? Effective. But sloppy. Could’ve taken the whole ship down. Could’ve taken you, Caitlyn, and Ekko with it.”

Jinx’s fingers tightened. Then she scoffed. “Didn’t hear anyone crying when Gangplank went boom.”

Sarah stepped forward slowly, tone quiet. “I’m not crying. I’m asking what you were aiming for.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Fire. Ash. One less problem.”

“That’s not a plan. That’s a death wish.”

Jinx’s grin sharpened. “Guess I’m hard to kill.”

“Not if you keep treating yourself like you don’t matter.”

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the softness buried under the steel.

Then Sarah tossed her revolver. Jinx caught it midair, eyes narrowing.

“Shoot the rope,” Sarah said, nodding toward a rigged barrel.

“Really?” Jinx asked. “Is this your version of therapy?”

“Shoot while I’m talking.”

Jinx pulled the trigger.

She missed.

Sarah didn’t blink. Rafen didn’t move.

“See?” Sarah said.

Jinx scowled, flipping the gun in her hand. “Tch.”

Sarah stepped beside her. “That’s what happens when you fire out of instinct. You let the moment control you. You survive by knowing when not to shoot.”

Jinx leaned back, rolling her shoulders. “So what—you offering lessons now?”

Sarah holstered the gun. “No. I’m offering something you’ve never had. Control.”

Jinx blinked.

That hit different.

Sarah didn’t soften. “You’ve got all the tools. You just haven’t figured out where to aim.”

Jinx scoffed, but there was less bite. “And you have?”

Sarah smirked. “Still here, ain’t I?”

The room shifted. Just slightly.

Jinx’s voice dropped. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Sarah tilted her head. “You want honesty?”

Jinx said nothing.

“I’ve buried girls with your fire. Girls who could’ve rewritten the world if they didn’t burn out first.”

Jinx forced a laugh, hollow. “And what—now I’m your charity case?”

“No. You’re a loaded weapon. I just want to make sure you don’t shoot yourself in the process.”

Jinx leaned forward, eyes sharp. “You don’t get to play mentor, Fortune. Not when I can smell the blood on your boots.”

Sarah’s smile thinned. “Exactly why I’m qualified.”

They stared at each other. Neither blinked.

Then Sarah pulled back. “That’s not why I called you here.”

“Right. Business.”

“Gangplank had a warehouse off the docks. Not just guns. Hextech. Possibly something worse. We hit it tonight.”

Jinx arched a brow. “Sounds messy.”

“It will be. Which is why I want you with us.”

Jinx leaned back. “You sure that’s not a death wish?”

Sarah shrugged. “You want to prove you’re more than the chaos? Then show me.”

Jinx hesitated.

She hated that she hesitated.

Sarah tilted her head. “Well?”

Jinx muttered, “You really don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

Sarah grinned. “Nope.”

Jinx exhaled, dramatic. “Fine. I’m in.”

“But I’m bringin’ Ekko.”

Sarah’s brow ticked. “He listens to my orders while he’s in the field.”

Jinx barked a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Sarah didn’t smile. “Then you better keep him close.”

Rafen finally spoke, voice dry. “I’ll tell the crew we’re taking on more trouble.”

Jinx stretched as she stood. “Wouldn’t be Bilgewater without it.”

She paused near the door. Glanced back.

Sarah turned back toward the window.

Her silhouette was calm, but her fists were clenched against the edge of the desk.

Jinx saw it.

She didn’t call her out.

But the grin on her lips slipped, just a little.

Something was coming.

And Sarah was already bracing for it.

Chapter Text

In another life, in another world...

Powder stood by the narrow window, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on the rust-stained skyline of the Undercity.

The flickering coilbulb above cast erratic shadows across the room, throwing her silhouette against solder-scored walls and half-finished dreams.

She wasn’t just unsettled.

She was caught—torn between the world in front of her and the one behind her eyes.

Ekko watched her in silence.

The chaos of the room—burned circuits, tangled wires, copper dust thick in the air—felt like a mirror of her mind. Of his, too, if he was being honest.

She was still Powder.

But not just his Powder anymore.

Finally, he stepped closer. Not enough to crowd her—just enough to be felt.

"You’re not her,” he said softly. “The Powder from your dreams. That’s not you.”

She didn’t turn right away.

Her voice came low, even, but threadbare at the edges. “I know. But it feels like… I’m living through her eyes. Like her memories aren’t just visions. They’re mine.”

Her arms tightened across her body. The way they always had when things didn’t make sense—when the world tried to split her open and expected her to hold the pieces.

Ekko took another step, slower this time. Careful. “It’s just residue. A glitch from the anomaly. An echo, that’s all.”

She turned to him then.

Her expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t broken.

It was searching.

“Then why does it feel like I’m losing sight of my own memories?”

He had no answer.

Not one she’d believe, anyway.

Instead, he offered the one thing he could still hold onto. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her voice was quieter now. “You keep saying that. But sometimes it feels like you’re looking through me. Like I've… let you down by having memories of that older VI—that other you.”

Ekko’s jaw tightened. Just a little.

“You’re not her,” he said again. “And I’m not him.”

A beat passed.

“But we’re still us.”

She studied him, brow furrowed, like she was trying to find the version of him she remembered. The one who used to build beside her. The one who didn’t carry this kind of weight in his eyes.

But that version didn’t exist anymore.

And maybe neither did she.

He didn’t look away.

Didn’t stop her from imagining—just for a second—that things hadn’t changed. That timelines hadn’t bled into each other. That some part of what they used to be could still be patched back together.

But deep down, they both knew better.

Because now, there was space between them that had nothing to do with distance.

And Ekko?

He wasn’t just thinking about her dreams and visions.

He was thinking about the other him—the one she saw when she closed her eyes.

The one she kissed without guilt.

The one who didn’t have to fight for her attention.

And somewhere beneath his breath, behind his careful voice and calm hands, he felt it rise:

That bitter, brutal truth.

That he was already losing her.

And if he couldn’t be the version she wanted—

Then maybe he’d have to become the one who could take it all back.

Meanwhile in the current world...

The galley still smelled like leftover rum and regret.

Grease sizzled on a cast-iron skillet, smoke curling toward the ceiling vents. The kind of breakfast that begged for bad decisions or cured them—depending on how you looked at it.

Caitlyn sipped her tea too slowly to enjoy it. Vi nursed her coffee like it had insulted her mother.

Ekko sat across from them, quiet, elbows on the table, spinning a fork between his fingers. He looked too alert for someone who hadn’t slept much.

Because he hadn’t.

Not alone, anyway.

The silence stretched just long enough to be suspicious.

Then Vi leaned back in her chair, smirking like she’d found contraband in someone else’s drawer.

“So,” she said, casual as a cutthroat with a secret. “You and Jinx, huh?”

Ekko’s fork froze mid-spin. “Damn. can't you just let it go?”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “Vi.”

“What?” Vi shrugged. “Man’s got the posture of someone who found religion between the sheets.”

Ekko sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Please don’t.”

“C’mon. You’ve got that... glow.”

“I’m black.”

Vi grinned. “Glowing and defensive. Confirmed.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly. “Can we—just once—have a meal without interrogating someone’s sex life?”

A quiet cough came from the corner.

From a tall, lean man with a jagged burn that ran from his brow down across his cheek.

Still lingering near the galley door, arms crossed, pretending to check something on his wrist.

Polite. Present.

Like furniture you’d be an idiot to underestimate.

Caitlyn glanced at him. Something flickered behind her eyes.

Faint. Incomplete.

Familiar—but not enough to name.

This time, when he caught her stare, he didn’t just nod.

He smiled.

Small. Measured.

Too polite.

Like he knew a secret.

And was biding his time to use it.

The moment stretched.

Then passed.

Sevika shuffled in like she’d been resurrected too early. Hair a mess, shirt inside-out, a cigar tucked behind one ear she probably wasn’t ready to light yet.

“Smells like overcooked shame,” she muttered, flopping into a chair.

Vi leaned over with the gleam of gossip. “Ekko and Jinx.”

Sevika blinked. Then again. Then slowly turned to Ekko.

“Seriously?”

He didn’t answer.

She raised a brow. “Guess you weren’t just dancing last night.”

Ekko let his forehead drop to the table.

Vi cackled into her mug. “Damn, he really did fold like laundry.”

Sevika smirked. “Hope she didn’t bite too hard.”

“She didn’t,” Ekko muttered.

“Amateur,” Sevika said, stretching out.

Caitlyn sighed and pushed her plate away. “Are we done? Or do I need to start keeping a tally of inappropriate breakfast topics?”

Vi grinned. “That depends. What’s our next inappropriate topic?”

“Politics,” Caitlyn said. “But that might actually be worse.”

Ekko perked a brow. “Sarah’s queen of the harbor now. That didn’t take long.”

“One day,” Caitlyn said. “Not even a full twenty-four hours.”

“Long enough to paint a target on her back,” Sevika added.

Vi nodded. “She’s sharp. But this place eats sharp for breakfast.”

“She’ll need to navigate Piltover, Zaun, and a city full of pirates who only followed Gangplank out of fear,” Caitlyn said.

“And now they’ve got hope,” Ekko muttered. “Which can be even more dangerous.”

That quiet settled again.

Not heavy.

Just uncertain.

Unwritten.

Vi clinked her mug against Ekko’s. “Here’s to you surviving your first Jinx hangover.”

Ekko smirked, clinking back. “Here’s to you minding your own business.”

Caitlyn stood, brushing imaginary lint from her coat. “I’ll check in with Sarah—assuming she’s found both her footing and her shoes.”

Sevika stretched. “I’ll tag along. I need air. And maybe a smoke. Or three.”

As they left, Vi stayed seated, tapping her fingers against her cup.

Ekko raised a brow. “You’re not gonna follow them?”

Vi shrugged. “Nah. Figured I’d stay here and stare you down a bit longer.”

He gave her a flat look.

He stared into his mug. “Can we not do this?”

She smirked. “Do what?”

“Talk about something we both know you’re not neutral on.”

“Neutral?” She laughed. “Ekko, I was rooting for you. I just didn’t think you’d actually pull it off.”

Ekko gave her a look. “What makes you think I have?”

Vi tilted her head. “Because you look like someone who’s still figuring out if that was a mistake or a miracle.”

He didn’t deny it.

She straightened, voice softening just a notch. “She’s not easy. She never was.”

“I know.”

Vi didn’t respond right away. Just watched him over the rim of her mug.

“You’re good for her,” she said finally. “Even if she doesn’t know what the hell to do with it yet.”

Ekko’s reply was quiet. Measured. “I’m not trying to fix her.”

Vi’s mouth twitched into something like approval. “Good. She’d break your nose for trying.”

She pushed off the table, stretching lazily, boots thudding as she crossed to the hatch.

Then she paused—looked over her shoulder with that trademark smirk.

“Oh, and by the way…” Her tone sharpened. “You hurt her?”

She held up her fists. “You’re dealing with these.”

Ekko smiled into his mug. “Fair warning.”

“Not a warning,” Vi said, already walking out. “Just fact.”

And then she was gone.

Ekko sat alone in the galley, steam curling from his mug, the ship creaking around him—metal groaning beneath the weight of the tide and the quiet that followed.

The galley had mostly emptied.

Steam no longer curled from his mug. Plates scraped clean, mugs half-drained, chairs pushed back in crooked lines. The ship creaked beneath him, slow and rhythmic, as if even the tide had taken a breath.

Ekko stayed behind. 

He set the mug down and reached into his bag.

His fingers moved through it like muscle memory—past tools, wires, a folded schematic worn soft at the edges.

Then he felt it.

Cool metal.

His hand closed around the shape without thinking. Familiar. Inevitable.

He pulled it free.

The broken Z-Drive.

The same one that had taken him beyond four seconds—far past the safe threshold—and into a moment that ended a war.

He had thrown it at Viktor like a final act of defiance. Of faith. Of desperation.

Now, it was dead weight in his palm.

Scuffed. Scorched. Barely holding together.

The etchings along the casing were burned dull, the core cracked through like a spine.

No glow. No pulse. No hum.

Just silence.

A relic of a victory that had cost too much to feel like one.

But it was still his.

Still real.

He turned it over slowly, thumb grazing the seam where the casing used to open cleanly. The etching was dull now,

barely catching the light. Gears locked. Wires loose. The thing looked more like a broken keepsake than a miracle.

Four seconds.

That’s all it ever gave him.

Not enough to change the world. Not enough to save anyone.

Just long enough to undo a mistake—if you were fast. If you were lucky. If you were willing to burn through everything just to try again.

He'd learned the limits the hard way.

Time wasn’t generous.

It just let you bleed slower.

Ekko exhaled through his nose, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye. He should’ve scrapped it. Should’ve let it stay buried back in Zaun.

But somehow it kept following him.

Or maybe he kept carrying it.

Not because he needed it.

Because he still didn’t know how to let go of what it used to be.

What they used to be.

Powder’s voice surfaced in his memory—not Jinx, not chaos, not broken. Powder.

The version of her that had looked at the Z-Drive like it was something beautiful, not dangerous.

Like it could fix more than metal.

Like it could fix him.

And for a while, it had.

Ekko stared at the lifeless device in his hand, thumb pressing against the dead center of its core.

“It used to work,” he murmured.

But not just because of him.

Because of her.

Not Jinx. Not the one with grease under her nails and a laugh too sharp to hold.

The other one.

The one from a world that didn’t belong to him.

The one who shouldn’t have trusted him—and did anyway.

He closed his hand around the device.

Tight.

Like maybe holding it hard enough would bring it back to life.

Flashback – AU Zaun, one year ago

At first, Ekko hadn’t meant to steal his doppelgänger’s body.

Hadn’t meant to get stranded in a world that wasn’t his.

But that didn’t change the truth.

He had wanted out.

Had wanted to escape his own Zaun—its blood, its grief, its ghosts—and landed in this impossible place where everything was almost right, but fundamentally wrong.

And then he saw her.

Powder.

Whole. Healthy. Happy.

In this timeline, Vi was gone. A robbery gone wrong, A childhood accident. No vengeance. No war. No Silco.

And without Silco, there had been no insurgency. No shimmer poisoning the streets. No Jinx. No Piltover crackdown.

Just peace.

Zaun had thrived.

At first, Ekko told himself none of it was real. That it wasn’t his fight, wasn’t his world, wasn’t his Powder.

But the more time he spent here, the harder it became to ignore what this place showed him.

Jinx wasn’t a lost cause.

Zaun wasn’t a lost cause.

He had seen the proof.

Especially when he’d spotted Silco and Vander—alive, unscarred, leaning on a rail together like old friends. Laughing.

"The greatest power in the world is to forgive," Silco had told him.

Ekko hadn’t known how to answer.

He found Heimerdinger the next day—his Heimerdinger, displaced like him. They worked quietly on a way home.

Started building again.

Powder had joined them without hesitation.

She was brilliant. Faster than his thoughts sometimes. Solving circuit problems mid-sentence, rerouting feeds before he could blink.

She had always been smart.

But here? Untouched by trauma?

She thrived.

And he let himself enjoy it. The hours. The days. The banter. The way her smile wasn’t hiding anything underneath.

When the prototype was done, Heimerdinger insisted they rest.

“Go to the party at The Last Drop,” he said. “Just for one night. Let her see you before you vanish.”

Ekko hadn’t planned to stay long. His thoughts were still with the anomaly, the path home, the Z-Drive’s stability.

But Powder had dragged him to the floor, arms hooked in his, breath sweet with cider and laughter.

And he had danced.

Just once.

Just long enough to pretend it wasn’t complicated.

Later, on a rooftop ledge overlooking this clean, unfamiliar Zaun, the night turned still.

The air between them changed—charged and uncertain.

He felt it.

Knew he shouldn’t.

Knew this wasn’t his world.

Wasn’t his Powder.

But then she looked at him.

Open. Unguarded.

Like she already knew how the story ended—and wanted to change it anyway.

She leaned in.

And Ekko let her.

The kiss started soft. Hesitant. A question asked in breath and instinct.

When she sighed into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt, something inside him cracked open.

The kiss deepened.

Slow. Searching.

Not desperate. Deliberate.

They pulled each other in, not to escape, but to anchor. To feel something real before it disappeared.

And for a moment, he let it happen.

Let himself pretend.

Until guilt hit him like a shockwave.

He’d taken someone else’s life.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Wasn’t supposed to be the one she kissed.

His hands faltered at her waist.

She noticed.

Pulled back slightly, blinking up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “I…”

She studied him—eyes sharp, quiet.

“You think I don’t know?” she said.

He went still. “…Know what?”

“That you're leaving.”

Her voice didn’t shake. 

Just stating a fact she’d already made peace with.

“You move like him. Think like him. But when you look at me…” She hesitated. “It’s different.”

There was no anger.

Just understanding.

“And when I saw your notes for the Z-Drive…” she said, softer now, “I knew for sure.”

Her eyes didn’t flinch.

“You’re trying to find your way back.”

Ekko closed his eyes. Exhaled slow. Rubbed the back of his neck like it might anchor him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I can’t stay.”

The words echoed louder than they should have.

Powder didn’t move. Didn’t react.

She just tilted her head, watching him like she was trying to catch something in his expression before it vanished.

“I knew that,” she said. “That you couldn’t.”

A beat.

Then, softer—too soft:

“But did you want me to think you could?”

His gut said no.

His heart stayed silent.

Because it had danced with her tonight.

Had kissed her.

Had wanted.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small pendant.

A delicate metal rose—blue enamel laced into the petals. Its shape simple at first glance, but when she brushed her

thumb over the side, the internal mechanism clicked.

The rose unfurled.

Inside: two tiny figures. Intertwined. Etched in silver and black.

No names.

But she recognized the meaning.

Powder blinked, throat tight. “What is this?”

He forced a faint smirk. “A gift. For putting up with me.”

She didn’t take it right away. When she finally did, her fingers brushed his.

The air shifted again. Not charged this time—heavy.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

She stepped in slowly and wrapped her arms around him.

He held her.

Her voice, small against his shoulder: “Whatever happened between you and the other me… it’s never too late to build something new.”

He didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

He just stood there, arms wrapped around a girl who wasn’t his, in a world that wasn’t his.

Wanting to stay.

Knowing he couldn’t.

The Z-Drive felt heavier now.

Ekko sat alone at the galley table, thumb tracing the edges of its scorched casing. Same dead weight. Same hairline fractures. But after the memory—the kiss, the goodbye—something in the silence had shifted.

The air felt denser. Like the past hadn’t let go yet.

He barely registered the footsteps until the boots hit the deck beside him.

Jinx.

She just strolled in like the place owed her rent—shoulder-length hair mussed and unbrushed, her long fringe falling across her right eye like a veil. Soot still smudged across one cheek. Shirt half-buttoned like she’d started getting dressed and lost interest halfway through.

Her gaze found the Z-Drive instantly.

She didn’t say hello.

Just tilted her head, a faint grin tugging at her mouth. “You still babysitting that thing?”

Ekko blinked—memory and reality grinding against each other like mismatched gears. “Something like that.”

Before he could stop her, she reached across the table and plucked it from his hands.

“Hey—”

“Relax.” She’d already flipped it over. “Looks like your flux coil’s been fried since last month. Or... last year?”

Her fingers moved fast—too fast. Thumb on the release latch. Panel off with a twist. No hesitation. No glance at the schematic tucked beside it.

She just knew.

Ekko straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing.

Jinx grabbed a half-charred tool from the end of the table, wedged the contact points apart, and muttered, “Seriously, were you trying to ground this with spit and a prayer?”

He stared.

“You’ve worked on the Z-Drive last year,” he said—low, certain. Not a question.

She didn’t look up. “Nope.”

“Then how—”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It just... makes sense.”

Like she was fixing a busted toaster. Not rewriting time.

But Ekko’s breath caught.

Because she was moving the exact way Powder had moved. Same confident grip. Same muttering under her breath.

Same flick of her wrist when the alignment clicked back into place.

It wasn’t mimicry.

It was something buried—familiar in her fingers but foreign to her mind. A memory that didn’t belong to this world,

but still knew how to move.

“You’re staring,” she said, finally glancing up.

Ekko didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust himself to.

She handed the Z-Drive back like it hadn’t just stirred ghosts across two timelines.

“There,” she added, already turning toward the hatch. “Not dead yet.”

He followed without thinking. “You really never tinkered with the Z-Drive before?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

She paused halfway up the stairs. Looked over her shoulder.

There was a flicker then—something unreadable behind her grin.

“Wouldn’t I have blown something up by now if I had?”

Ekko opened his mouth. Closed it.

Fair.

But before she turned away, she added, almost too casual:

“…Feels familiar, though. Like muscle memory that ain’t mine.”

Then the grin came back—crooked, sharp, masking something deeper.

“Come on, genius” she said. “We’ll do the rest at the workshop. I’ve got better tools. And fewer people staring.”

And just like that, she vanished into the corridor, fringe swaying across her cheek.

Taking the ghosts with her.

Ekko looked down at the Z-Drive.

It pulsed once. Faint. Like it remembered her too.

He followed.

Later in another life, in another world...

The lab was dim, lit only by a flickering light that sputtered against the dark like it was fighting to stay alive. Outside, the storm battered Zaun’s skyline, rain hissing down rusted gutters, thunder low and constant—distant, but closing in.

Inside, it smelled of ozone and soldered dreams.

AU Ekko hunched over the workbench, fingers blackened with oil, posture taut with singular purpose. His secret project before him wasn’t just machinery.

It was confession.

It was defiance.

It was grief, molded into copper and quartz.

Every piece clicked into place with mechanical precision—but underneath, he was splintering.

Behind him, AU Powder hovered in the doorway, her silhouette trembling faintly in the flickering light. Not from fear. From pressure. From knowing.

“Heimer’s got a plan,” she said, her voice cutting through the static of fans and electricity. “He thinks recreating the anomaly might help stop the visions. Help… stop me from seeing her.”

Ekko’s fingers stilled above a capacitor.

The mention of Heimerdinger—the displaced genius, the one who’d helped his other self—landed harder than it should have.

“Great,” he muttered. Not sarcasm. Just sharp-edged restraint wrapped in brittle calm.

“And I think I could help,” she added, softer. “With your project.”

Ekko didn’t turn. “What project?”

Powder stepped in, boots scuffing the floor, her presence unmistakable now.

“Don’t insult both of us,” she said. “You’ve been rebuilding it. Hiding it like it’s something sacred.”

His jaw ticked. “I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

“You mean lie to me about it.”

Now he turned. Slowly. Eyes dark, not with anger—but something deeper. Sadness, maybe. Or something much colder.

“I started after your dream of the other you seemingly falling to her death,” he said. “The one with Vi. Older. Different.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. “So you’re chasing ghosts too.”

“I’m trying to control something. Anything.” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t crack. It just… flattened. Like he’d been rehearsing it for months.

Powder’s expression shifted—tightening at the corners. “You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to protect you.”

She stepped closer. “From what?” Her voice was sharper now. “From the truth? From the other you?”

Ekko’s gaze dropped to the incomplete project, its inner coils exposed, half-assembled and humming faintly with dormant power.

“From losing you,” he admitted.

Silence took the room.

Heavy.

Electric.

“By the way, you're missing a flux coil,” she said suddenly, her tone clipped, sharp with tension. “And do you even know about the crystals?”

Ekko’s brow knit. “Crystals?”

“Forget it.” She shook her head, more to herself than him. “The visions are getting louder. They’re not just dreams anymore. They’re… echoes. Memories that don’t belong to me.”
Her voice dipped. “Her life bleeding into mine.”

Ekko took a slow step toward her, his face carefully neutral—but his eyes too still.

“Visions of him?” he asked, voice low. Too calm.

Too controlled.

“Not just him.” She looked up at him now, her eyes shining—not with tears, but with the weight of too much truth. “Other places. Other lives. But they don’t change what I feel. Here. Now.”

She reached out, resting her palm over his chest—feeling the beat beneath metal and regret.

“I miss you, Ekko,” she said, voice low but unwavering. “You. The one who used to laugh. The one who raced me across the undercity without looking back. Not this... ghost, haunting his own machines.”

Something cracked in his posture.

Not much. Just enough.

“I’m still here,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Trying to fix what he broke.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“Is that what I am now?” she asked softly. “Something broken?”

He flinched—not visibly, not enough for most to notice. But she’d always known where to look.

Their gazes held—longer than they should’ve.

Grief. Guilt. Want. All bleeding into the space between them like something volatile.

Then—slowly, without a word—she stepped forward.

And he didn’t stop her.

Their lips met—not like a spark, but like a fuse that had been burning for far too long.

The kiss wasn’t frantic. It didn’t rush to prove anything.

It just was.

Heavy. Familiar. Fragile.

The kind of kiss that remembered every version of them that didn’t make it.

When they pulled apart, Powder lingered close, her breath still brushing his lips. Then, gently, she reached up and touched his cheek.

“You’re not a shadow, Ekko,” she whispered. “Not to me.”

But even then—even then—his eyes drifted.

Just a flicker.

Back to the incomplete Z-Drive.

And she saw it.

The silence that followed said everything neither of them dared to.

He was still hers.

But only mostly.

Because whatever version of him stood in front of her now—loving, desperate, brilliant—he wasn’t all the way here.

Not anymore.

He was already halfway gone.

Meanwhile in the current world...

The streets of Bilgewater moved like a thing with teeth.

Salt-stained boards underfoot. Ropes crisscrossing like webs. The scent of brine, rust, and cooked spice coiled around every corner. Vendors shouted in three dialects. A skiff loaded with stolen shimmer crashed into a dock post and drifted on, unbothered.

Ekko kept close behind her.

Jinx didn’t slow.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look back—but he could tell she knew he was there.

People stepped aside just slightly as she passed, without knowing why. That twitch in her step—half-chaotic, half-coiled—made space in the crowd like instinct. And Ekko?

He followed.

Boots behind hers.

Straight into the chaos.

The workshop was a mess.

Not the kind that meant neglect—no, this was lived-in chaos. Tools scattered across benches. Bomb casings cracked open beside half-drunk bottles. Diagrams pinned over bullet holes. A boot nailed to the wall for reasons Ekko didn’t want to know.

And in the middle of it all: the Z-Drive, gutted.

Wires spilled across the floor like veins. Its exposed core pulsed faintly—dim but not dead. She’d already taken it apart before he could say a word.

Jinx crouched beside it, tongue poking between her teeth as she twisted a copper coil into place.

Ekko knelt across from her, pulling his own satchel open. “You stripped the timing relay.”

“It was garbage,” she said. “Looked like it’d short out if you breathed on it.”

“That’s because you installed it sideways.”

She snorted. “Yeah. On purpose. To stress test the resonance feed.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m full of solutions,” she shot back. “And maybe a little rum.”

He handed her a replacement relay.

Their fingers brushed.

Neither of them mentioned it.

Jinx plugged it in without missing a beat. “Try not to screw this one up, Genius.”

“Pretty sure I invented it.”

“Pretty sure I fixed it,” she muttered, elbow-deep in circuitry again.

They worked in sync without meaning to. Tools passed back and forth with barely a glance. Notes mumbled under breath. At one point, she shoved a resistor into his palm and snapped, “This one, not the fat one,” before he even looked up.

Ekko paused. Just watched her for a second.

The way she moved. The way her hands didn’t hesitate.

He remembered this.

Not here.

Not her—not like this.

But somewhere.

Jinx caught his stare. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes, then clicked her tongue. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you get all intense like you’re about to say something deep... then punk out at the last second.”

Ekko smirked. “Maybe I’m just admiring your very reckless wiring.”

She smirked back. “Good. I like my science dangerous and barely legal.”

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “You really don’t remember building anything like this?”

Jinx gestured at the half-gutted Z-Drive. “This?” She scoffed. “Not unless I was blackout, sleepwalking, or possessed by a version of myself with better impulse control.”

Ekko didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t joking.

Not entirely.

And she didn’t need to know what it meant.

Not yet.

Jinx sat cross-legged now, grease on her jaw, eyes tracking the capacitor’s pulse.

She hummed softly—off-key and low—while he adjusted the stabilizer.

For a few minutes, they didn’t speak.

Just built.

Together.

And something in Ekko’s chest quieted.

Not gone. Not fixed.

Just… aligned.

The Z-Drive was quiet now.

Its core pulsed faintly—steady and low. Not active, not dead. Just… waiting.

Jinx sat with her back against the wall, legs stretched out, one boot idly nudging a coil of wire. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Not frowning either. Just quiet. Somewhere between distracted and far away.

Ekko wiped solder from his fingertips with the edge of his shirt. He didn’t push her. Not yet.

She spoke first.

“Sarah has a raid planned.”

Ekko looked up.

“Warehouse,” she added. “One of Gangplank’s old ones. She thinks it’s still got smuggled hextech inside.”

He tilted his head. “You going?”

“Already told her I would.”

He nodded once.

Then—just barely a beat late—“Cool.”

Jinx turned her head toward him, eyes unreadable. “Told her you’re coming too.”

Ekko blinked. “You what?”

She shrugged, too casual. “Figured you’d say yes anyway.”

“And if I hadn’t?”

“Then you’d be predictable and boring, and I’d have to go steal someone else’s brain to carry the payload.”

He couldn’t help it—he smiled. Just a little.

She didn’t.

He studied her for a moment. Then said, voice even, “After the raid… I have to go back.”

Her expression didn’t change.

But her hand stilled. The wire she'd been toying with slipped from her fingers.

“To Zaun,” he added. “Firelights need me. There’s still a lot of rebuilding to be done, and if there are any issues…”

“You have to be there,” she finished.

A beat.

Then another.

“Right,” she said, quiet. “Makes sense.”

Ekko leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not saying goodbye.”

Jinx didn’t look at him.

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not hearing it.”

It sat between them, heavy and fragile.

Not a promise.

Not a plea.

Just two people trying not to name the thing that might break if they did.

Ekko nodded once, like that was enough.

Jinx reached for a wrench and flicked it toward him—softly. It clinked against his knee.

“Still got work to do,” she muttered.

He caught the wrench.

And stayed.

They didn’t speak for a while.

The workshop buzzed faintly—old wires rattling in the ceiling, a pipe hissing in the corner. Outside, gulls shrieked over the harbor, and the distant clang of Bilgewater carried up through the floorboards.

But in here, it was still.

Jinx sat beside him on the floor, knees up, arms draped over them. Not coiled. Not twitching. Just... there.

Her shoulder brushed his.

At first, Ekko thought it was accidental.

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t lean away.

Didn’t crack a joke.

Didn’t fill the space with noise.

And that was how he knew it mattered.

She let the silence stretch—not heavy, not awkward. Just honest. Like something fragile resting between them that neither of them wanted to startle.

Ekko didn’t push.

He just sat with her.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Breath to breath.

No blueprint.

No backup plan.

Just this.

Jinx hadn’t moved.

Her shoulder still pressed into his. Not leaning. Just there.

She stared straight ahead at the Z-Drive’s shell—half-assembled, half-forgotten—its quiet hum the only sound between them.

Then, softly:

“I don’t know if I can go back.”

Ekko didn’t turn his head. Didn’t ask what she meant.

She kept talking.

“I don’t even know if I should.”

Her voice didn’t crack. But it was quieter than before. Like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say it out loud.

“I’m not Powder anymore,” she said. “Not the way they remember. Not the version they want.”

A beat.

Then, flat: “I don’t think I ever was.”

Ekko exhaled, slow. He could feel her tension—tight under her skin, hiding just beneath the calm.

“You don’t have to be,” he said.

She looked at him then. Really looked. Like she was checking if he meant it or just didn’t understand.

Ekko held her gaze. “They’ll try to put a label on it. Make you pick a side. A story. A version of yourself that makes sense to them.”

He tilted his head. “Fuck ‘em.”

Jinx blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected.

“I’m not scared of you,” he added, softer now. “I never was.”

Her jaw clenched. Like part of her wanted to believe him—and part of her didn’t dare.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” she muttered.

“I know enough.”

“You think I’m not broken?”

He shrugged. “So what if you are? Most of us are. Doesn’t mean we can’t build something anyway.”

Jinx’s eyes dropped to the floor.

She didn’t answer right away.

Just sat there, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants like she was trying to hold something in place.

Then—barely audible:

“I want to believe that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was waiting.

Shifting.

Something inside her shifted with it.

She didn’t lean into him.

Didn’t speak.

She just didn’t pull away.

The Z-Drive hummed low.

Not urgent.

Just present.

Jinx still hadn’t moved from where she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath warm through his shirt.

Ekko had stopped counting how long they’d been sitting like that.

It didn’t matter.

The moment stretched—soft and fragile—and he let it.

Until she moved.

Not far.

Just a tilt of her head.

Her cheek brushed his jaw. Her hand slid over his, fingers threading between his with a gentleness that felt…uncharacteristic.

Not hesitant.

But real.

She didn’t look at him when she whispered,

“You’re still here.”

It wasn’t a question.

He turned his head, close enough now to catch the edge of her breath.

“Yeah,” he said. “Still.”

Jinx’s thumb moved across his palm—a slow stroke, absentminded but intimate. Then her other hand lifted—rough with calluses, fingertips still faintly smudged with grease—and touched his collarbone.

She didn’t kiss him right away.

She just looked at him.

Searched his face like she was waiting for something to break. For him to flinch. To say the wrong thing. To end it before it began.

He didn’t.

So she kissed him.

No heat. Not at first.

Just pressure.

Intent.

The kind that didn’t ask for permission because it already knew the answer.

Ekko let his hand slide up her spine—slow, steady, grounding. His other stayed where it was, fingers still curled through hers.

Her breath hitched.

She kissed him again—deeper this time.

Less careful.

Like muscle memory had finally caught up to want.

She shifted into his lap without asking.

And he let her.

Let her knees slide to either side of him.

Let her hands find the hem of his shirt.

Let her tug it up and over his head with a quiet urgency that made his pulse stutter.

He helped—slowly.

Letting her lead.

Letting her set the pace.

Her mouth moved from his lips to his neck. Her teeth grazed the line of his throat, and something in him cracked open.

“Jinx—”

“Don’t,” she whispered, mouth still against his skin. “Don’t talk like it’s fragile.”

He didn’t.

Not with words.

Just with hands—on her hips, her waist, her back.

Mapping old scars. New tension.

Relearning her like a language he hadn’t spoken in years but never forgot.

Her fingers slid into his locs, tugging just enough to make him bite back a sound.

She grinned against his jaw. “You make that noise again,” she muttered, “and I’m not responsible for my actions.”

He kissed her before she could tease him more.

Not to shut her up.

To answer her.

Because for once, she wasn’t deflecting.

She was choosing this.

Clothes came off in stutters. Not tossed.

Just discarded.

Shed like layers they didn’t need anymore.

She moved over him like she knew how this was supposed to feel—but had never trusted herself to feel it before.

And he let her.

Let her guide it.

Let her take control.

Until her breath caught.

Until she slowed.

And then—

He asked, quiet:

“You sure?”

She didn’t joke.

Didn’t flinch.

She just looked at him and said, “If you stop now, I’ll kill you.”

His smile was crooked. “Noted.”

She pulled him back down, and this time—when they moved—it was slow.

Measured.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Just real.

Like every movement meant something.

Every shift of her hips.

Every breath he exhaled into the crook of her neck.

Every time his hands gripped tighter—not to take, but to stay.

It wasn’t about need.

It was about choice.

About trust.

About not running.

And when she came undone in his arms—breath caught, nails digging in, voice low and unfiltered—he held her through it like it was the only truth that mattered.

No armor. No masks. Just this.

When he followed—body tightening, breath stuttering—it wasn’t with a gasp or a cry.

Just her name.

Whispered into her skin.

Like a promise he hadn’t dared make until now.

The air had cooled.

Or maybe everything else had just slowed enough for them to notice.

Jinx lay half-sprawled across his chest, one leg tangled with his, breath still evening out. Her palm rested flat against his ribs—fingers twitching now and then like her nerves hadn’t decided if they were done yet.

Ekko didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

One hand traced lazy circles along her back—faint and grounding, not for comfort, not for reassurance. Just there.

The Z-Drive pulsed faintly in the corner.

Still alive.

Still waiting.

But in this moment, neither of them cared.

Jinx’s voice came soft. Blunt. Like it had been sitting in her throat too long and finally slipped out.

“You think I can be good at this?”

She didn’t clarify what “this” meant.

Didn’t need to.

Ekko didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pause to weigh the answer.

He just said, “You already are.”

She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t laugh.

Didn’t shove him off.

She just stayed where she was.

Still.

Her thumb moved once against his skin.

That was the only answer he got.

Jinx pulled her shirt back over her head, the fabric clinging slightly to the sweat cooling on her skin.

She didn’t look at him right away.

Too much eye contact and she might do something reckless. Like say thank you. Or worse—mean it.

Ekko sat on the floor, half-dressed, locs a mess, shirt forgotten somewhere behind them. He looked… calm.

Unnervingly calm.

Jinx snatched a rag off the table and wiped her hands. Tossed it aside like it had personally offended her.

“Well,” she said, cracking her neck, “definitely the second-most productive thing we’ve done on this floor.”

Ekko blinked. “Second?”

She smirked. “You did forget the capacitor first.”

He rolled his eyes. “That was a power regulator.”

“Same difference.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

“Oh, you will be—once you realize you moaned louder than my cooling fan.”

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“…That’s objectively false.”

She snorted. “Mmhmm. Sure.”

They fell into movement again—natural, easy. The Z-Drive waited where they’d left it. Still unfinished. Still wanting.

Jinx twisted a loose bolt back into place with a flick of her wrist. “So,” she said, casually, “you gonna get all weird on me now?”

Ekko raised a brow. “Define ‘weird.’”

“Like… stare into my soul and say shit like ‘this meant something’ with your tragic-hero eyes and your too-good-for-me energy.”

He gave her a look. “First of all, my eyes are great.”

“Too great,” she muttered. “Suspiciously soulful.”

He chuckled. “Second, if it meant something, I wouldn’t need to say it.”

That actually made her pause.

Just a beat.

Then she looked away, tapping the casing of the Z-Drive with the edge of a wrench. “You wanna finish the Z-Drive or what?” 

“Isn’t that your job now?”

She shot him a look. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You say that like it’s new information.”

She rolled her eyes and turned toward the device on the bench, still glowing faintly—alive, but waiting.

He stepped up behind her, gently resting a hand between her shoulder blades.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pull away.

Just let it stay there—for a second. Maybe two.

Then shrugged him off with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Hands off, loverboy. We’ve got shit to do.”

Ekko laughed, picked up a soldering tool, and got to work beside her.

They didn’t speak for a while.

Didn’t need to.

The clink of metal, the low hum of the Z-Drive, the shared rhythm of hands moving in sync—It was more than just rebuilding a machine.

It was the beginning of a second chance.

Outside, Bilgewater kept moving.

The docks groaned beneath the weight of anchored ships and unsaid debts. Salt spray hissed against warped wood. Oil-lamps flickered in the wind, casting halos across slick stone alleys.

Somewhere, a vendor cursed the rain.

Somewhere else, a knife hit bone.

The city pulsed with life that didn’t care who ruled it—only that it kept bleeding forward.

And just beyond the firelight, in the shadows no one watched, something shifted.

Something deep.

Something that hadn’t drowned.

Pain came first.

Thick and crawling. Buried deep in his bones, winding through every breath like wire.

Then came heat—raw, sticky, radiating off burned skin.

He tried to move.

A mistake.

Agony tore through his ribs, ripping a sound from his throat he barely recognized. He stilled. Eyes open to darkness.

Air sharp with incense and salt.

He was alive.

He shouldn't be.

His last memory was smoke and fire. The cannon’s kick. Miss Fortune’s hand on the trigger. Her eyes—cold, final.

Then the sea.

Pulling him down.

Welcoming.

Merciless.

He should’ve drowned.

Instead, he was here.

Alive.

Barely.

The room spun—walls carved with runes, flickering shadows cast by low-burning braziers. The stink of brine and blood mixed with something older.

Gangplank’s fingers twitched.

One hand was wrapped in gauze. The other—numb. He couldn't tell if it was still whole.

He gritted his teeth. Pushed through the fog in his head. Took stock.

Ribs: broken.

Leg: maybe fractured.

Pride: shattered, but burning.

His body was wrecked.

But his will?

Still intact.

Footsteps echoed.

Slow. Purposeful.

He turned his head with effort, eyes narrowing at the figure stepping into the light.

Tall. Broad. Steady as stone.

Illaoi.

Her arms crossed over her chest, shadowed by the firelight, her presence calm but unyielding.

Gangplank let out a hoarse breath—half cough, half laugh. “You again.”

She nodded once. “You’re safe.”

His voice rasped like rust. “For now?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

He tried to sit up. Failed. The pain made everything white for a second. When it passed, he was sweating, shaking.

“You let me live,” he said.

“I didn’t let you do anything,” she replied. “The sea chose.”

His lip curled. “Thought you were done with me.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m never done with what the tides return.”

The silence that followed stretched deep—thick with history, regret, and something older than either of them wanted to name.

Gangplank exhaled slowly. Voice low. Gutted but not hollow.

“Took you long enough.”

Chapter Text

The docks had that restless, angry quiet of a place waiting to burn.

Caitlyn tugged her coat tighter against the chill blowing off the sea, her breath clouding faintly in the brine-thick air. Bilgewater stretched out before her, streets bathed in silver-grey twilight and tension - the whole city a powder keg, waiting for the smallest spark to ignite it.

And yet here they stood - waiting.

Waiting for Jinx, she corrected herself. Always waiting for Jinx.

She resisted checking the timepiece in her pocket again, knowing it wouldn’t change the facts. The plan had been set, and carefully laid out, 

Behind her, Sarah Fortune stood still, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the far end of the dock. She radiated impatient authority, the kind of restrained menace that didn’t need pistols to remind people why they listened. At her side, Caitlyn could feel the faintest hum of tension from Sarah - like she was holding back a storm of her own.

“Any day now,” Vi muttered from a stack of crates behind her, foot tapping impatiently against splintered wood.

“She’s making us wait on purpose,” Sevika said, smoke curling around her face, the glowing tip of her cigar highlighting the hard lines of her scowl. “She does it every damn time.”

“Because she likes it,” Vi replied, stretching her knuckles with an audible crack. “Drama’s her love language.”

Ekko sighed softly, perched atop a rusted crate nearby, busying his hands by twisting and retwisting a screwdriver. “It’s theatrics. She’ll show.”

“Late and loud,” Vi said, shaking her head, but her voice carried a reluctant fondness she didn’t quite manage to bury. “Every single time.”

Caitlyn glanced sideways at Vi, noting the restless shift of her weight, the unspoken tension in her partner. There was always an edge in Vi’s voice whenever Jinx was concerned - a blend of frustration, affection, guilt, and something rawer that Caitlyn didn’t fully understand.

Or perhaps didn’t want to.

Movement caught Caitlyn’s eye-a flicker of shadow sliding into place at Sarah’s left.

She turned slightly, one hand near her sidearm out of instinct, eyes narrowing as a scarred man stepped smoothly into view, like he’d always belonged there.

Sarah stiffened-not visibly, but enough. A hitch in her breath. The faintest hardening of her jaw. It passed quickly.

“Evening,” the man said with unnerving calm, eyes flicking briefly to Caitlyn, just long enough to acknowledge, not long enough to invite.

Caitlyn studied him. “Do I know you?”

He offered a polite smile, the kind that gave away nothing. “I don’t believe so.”

“I’ve seen your face before,” Caitlyn pressed. “Not here. Piltover, maybe. Or Stillwater.” Her tone wasn’t accusing. Not yet. But sharp enough to make it clear she didn’t like shadows that spoke too smoothly.

The man paused, then smiled again-just a degree too polished. “I get that a lot nowadays.”

Caitlyn didn’t move. But her instincts stirred. Years of interrogations, of tracking voices that didn’t match hearts, trained her to spot the wrong kind of stillness. This man wore control like a uniform. He wasn’t hiding nerves-he was hiding intent.

Sarah’s voice cut through the quiet, low and laced with steel. “You’re not on the clock tonight, Ed.”

There it was. The name. The familiarity she hadn’t acknowledged with a glance.

Ed inclined his head, unfazed. “Didn’t realize this was formal.”

Sarah met his eyes for one long second, then turned away. “Then stay out of my way.”

Her voice held no anger-but the distance in it was practiced. Too practiced. Caitlyn caught it: a flicker of something behind Sarah’s eyes, gone the moment it surfaced. She didn’t recognize the expression-but she recognized the effort it took to hide one.

Ed didn’t flinch. He stepped back, swallowed effortlessly by shadow. But not far. Just far enough to observe.

Caitlyn adjusted her eyepatch. “I saw him this morning,” she murmured. “He was watching Ekko. Watching Vi. And me.”

Sarah didn’t blink. “Plenty of bastards in this city watch things.”

“He’s not from here.”

Sarah tilted her head, not looking at her. “And you are?”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, not at first. Her jaw tensed. The point had landed.

“Who’s he working for?”

Sarah took her time lighting a cigarillo, shielding the flame with one gloved hand. The flare caught the scar that curved behind her ear-Gangplank’s mark. She didn’t flinch when it lit up.

She took a drag, exhaled toward the docks.

“Not every blade belongs to a hand. Some carve their own way. Some just want to see what bleeds.”

Caitlyn eyed her. “You sound like you know him.”

A pause. Sarah turned-slow, composed. But Caitlyn saw the hesitation. The pause before the pivot. Quick. Contained. But there.

“I know men like him,” Sarah said. “Lost something. Think bleeding the world might bring it back.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Sarah’s shoulders didn’t move-but her voice dropped. Rougher now. “I’ve buried people who chased the idea of being right. You’re not the first to love someone who breaks the rules of survival.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. But the tension in her spine gave. A breath she didn’t realize she was holding slipped out between her teeth.

“I just want to help Vi keep her sister safe,” she said.

Silence answered her. Not hostility. Just the weight of too many things unsaid.

Sarah studied her like she was parsing a blueprint under pressure. Watching the gears strain.

“Jinx doesn’t need to be protected,” she said. “She needs to make her own choices.”

Caitlyn turned slightly. “And you think you’re giving her a choice? Dragging her into raiding a warehouse that used to belong to the man who nearly killed her via Russian roulette?”

“You think I dragged her?” Sarah asked. Flat. Almost bored. “She volunteered. Like you. Like Vi. Like Sevika.”

She flicked the end of the cigarillo over the dock’s edge. A faint hiss as it hit seawater.

Then, without warning:

“Tell me something, Caitlyn.”

Her voice had changed. More surgical. Like testing the edge of a blade.

Caitlyn narrowed her eye. “What?”

“How do you do it?”

“…Do what?”

“Sleep beside Vi every night, knowing her sister put your mother six feet under.”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch.

But the silence that followed cut deeper than any reaction might’ve.

Her jaw tightened. Her breathing stayed steady, but shallower.

She didn’t answer. Neither of them did. Not right away.

Before anyone else could speak, a sharp clang echoed across the dock - metal on metal, sharp enough to snap everyone’s head around.

Caitlyn reached reflexively toward her rifle as her gaze snapped upward -

And there was Jinx.

Perched atop a rust-stained cargo crane, silhouetted dramatically against the fading sky, jacket flapping open, pistols gleaming in their holsters, blue hair wild around her shoulders. Her eyes glittered with mischief and something darker, something that always lingered just beneath her chaos.

“Miss me?” Jinx called down brightly, spreading her arms wide as if welcoming applause.

Vi groaned audibly, shaking her head. “For fuck’s sake.”

Sevika blew smoke in a dismissive cloud. “Right on schedule.”

Ekko gave the smallest smirk, nodding to himself as if he'd just won a private bet. “Told you.”

Caitlyn suppressed a sigh, half relief and half frustration, dropping her hand back to her side. She’d learned long ago not to rise to Jinx’s theatrics - though she still felt the prickle of tension between her shoulders each time.

“You realize we had a timetable?” Sarah said, cool and sharp, eyes locked upward.

Jinx grinned, teeth flashing. “Timetables are more like...guidelines.”

Vi folded her arms, exasperation threading through her voice. “You couldn't just walk up like everyone else?”

Jinx shrugged elaborately. “Could. Didn’t.”

Ekko stepped forward, breaking the tension gently. “Can we skip to the part where you come down here and pretend you’re on board with the plan?”

Jinx sighed dramatically, eyes rolling skyward. “Fine, spoil my fun.” She jumped from the crane, landing easily atop the highest stack of crates, balanced perfectly as if gravity simply chose not to bother with her.

She looked down, gaze suddenly sharper, more serious. “Alright, kids. Did I miss anything besides your constant whining?”

Vi tilted her head, lips quirking into a smirk despite herself. “Only your cue by half an hour.”

Jinx flashed an exaggerated look of hurt, hand to her chest. “Wow. Next time I'll bring you a box of tissues.”

Ekko interrupted gently, voice firm but calm. “Jinx. Focus.”

Her gaze settled on him briefly, softening just enough to remind Caitlyn of all the unspoken connections tying this group together - the invisible threads binding their chaos into something dangerously close to family.

Sarah stepped forward, commanding attention once more. “Everyone clear on the plan?”

“Clear as Bilgewater mud,” Sevika muttered, cracking her neck with a grimace.

Sarah didn’t slow. “Quick and quiet. This warehouse used to belong to Gangplank. If he left us a gift, it won’t be the fun kind.”

“Define fun,” Jinx muttered, fingers twitching over her pistols like they had their own opinions. “Booms? Screams? Dead men forgetting how to stay dead?”

Vi grunted under her breath. “Pretty sure your version of fun ends with me losing another eyebrow.”

Jinx shot her a grin over her shoulder. “Aw. You still keeping count?”

“Only when it smells like burnt hair,” Vi deadpanned.

“Rude,” Jinx pouted, then smirked. “But fair.”

The banter eased something in Caitlyn’s chest, even as she recognized it for what it was: a distraction, a way of coping. They laughed to mask the deeper ache, the simmering tensions beneath their bravado. It was familiar, fragile, and dangerous - exactly like the girl now bouncing impatiently on her heels atop the crates.

Ed watched Jinx with unnerving quiet, expression unreadable. Caitlyn noticed his fingers twitch slightly at his side - a rare tell. He was interested. Too interested. It made her skin prickle uncomfortably.

She mentally noted it, alongside the other inconsistencies about him, the quiet menace beneath his careful façade.

Sarah finally moved, breaking the charged moment. “Alright. Move out in five. No mistakes.”

As the crew dispersed, Caitlyn glanced once more at Jinx, who now balanced lazily on one foot, humming some half-remembered tune. Vi moved quietly up beside Caitlyn, voice low enough that only she could hear.

“She does it on purpose, you know,” Vi murmured. “Just to prove she can.”

“I know,” Caitlyn replied quietly, her voice neutral but layered with understanding.

Vi hesitated, voice dropping further. “Think she’s ready?”

Caitlyn didn’t reply immediately. She considered the question carefully, gaze fixed on the impossible girl now juggling grenades like toys.

“No,” she finally admitted, softly. “But when has that ever stopped her?”

Vi gave a quiet huff of agreement, turning back to the group. Caitlyn stayed another moment, eyes lingering on Jinx as the girl abruptly caught her gaze.

A small smirk crossed Jinx’s lips, bright and sharp.

Then Jinx leaped down from the crates, landing gracefully before strolling toward them with a swaggering ease that belied the chaos beneath her skin.

“Stop worrying,” Jinx said lightly, catching Caitlyn’s cautious gaze. “I’m fine.”

Caitlyn arched a brow slightly. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn't have to,” Jinx replied, walking past, close enough Caitlyn caught the scent of gunpowder and storm-washed skin. “It’s your loudest tell.”

Caitlyn watched her walk away—confident, reckless, terrifyingly fragile.

The girl was right, after all.

Caitlyn never said it.

But she worried all the same.

Caitlyn had run operations like this before. Dockside seizures, smuggler nests, rooftop chases across the polished spires of Piltover. But tonight, the air tasted different. Thick with salt and ozone. Like something old was being disturbed. Like the city was holding its breath.

She crouched low beside Ekko as they crept up the eastern alley, each footfall measured. He moved with the precision of someone who’d done this a hundred times - which he had. Three paces ahead, two fingers raised. Then a fist.

Across the lot, Sarah, Sevika, and Vi fanned west, weapons drawn. Jinx had vanished into the dark fifteen minutes ago. Not gone - just dispersed. Like a pressure waiting to snap back into place.

Sarah’s voice crackled through the comms. “East and west, call status.”

“North side’s clear,” Vi replied, clipped but steady. “No patrol. Which is weird.”

Ekko flicked his goggles on, lenses glowing faint violet. “Power’s still flowing. Arc-light hum in the conduits.”

Caitlyn traced the faint green lines running across the warehouse’s metal exterior. “That’s not a dormant grid. Someone’s keeping it alive.”

“Friendly of them,” came Jinx’s voice, dry as iron filings. “Leaving the lights on like they’re expectin’ guests.”

Sarah snorted. “Split and sweep. Ekko and Caitlyn take the left. Sevika and I go right. Jinx - charges. Vi, sweep the northern corridor and double-check entry points. Everyone else, check your corners.”

Caitlyn checked the bolt on her rifle. “Copy,” she said quietly.

The side door hissed open without resistance. No rust, no groan. Like it had been expecting them.

Ekko input a hex-code through a panel that should’ve been fried years ago. The lock disengaged with a low hum.

Inside, the air reeked of machine oil and colder things—disinfectant, shimmer, maybe blood. The floor gleamed faintly beneath scattered crates and powered-down drones. Too clean. Too staged.

Caitlyn advanced in a low crouch. “Clear,” she murmured.

Ekko knelt near the wall. “Power line’s warm. Someone’s been here. Recently.”

“Warehouse, my ass,” Sevika growled over the comms. “This is a lab with delusions of grandeur.”

They swept deeper. Caitlyn caught sight of crates marked with an old Zaun crest - Silco’s, scratched halfway off. Something hollow curled in her gut.

Then they found it.

A chamber opened up in the center of the compound, wide and circular, with scaffolding and catwalks ringing the walls. In the center, a massive console pulsed faint green, wires running like veins to every corner of the facility. Some of them still glowed.

“Shit,” Ekko said under his breath. “This isn’t salvage. This is live.”

Jinx appeared beside them, silently. Her eyes found the console like it had called her name. She didn’t speak for a beat.

Then: “I’ve seen this.”

Caitlyn stepped closer. “What is it?”

“Blueprints. Silco had sketches for dispersal tech. Stuff he thought could reshape zones with hexfields. Never finished it. Or maybe he did and just didn’t tell me.”

Her hand hovered near the console. She wasn’t trembling. But something about her shoulders said she wanted to be.

“Was he building weapons?” Caitlyn asked carefully.

Jinx gave a bitter laugh. “Aren’t we all?”

Then the lights died.

Total blackout. The kind that crawled into your mouth and ears. Then came the static - comms choking to silence.

Caitlyn’s instincts surged. Rifle up. Back to wall. HUD flickering in and out.

A sound - metal on metal, heavy. Doors above. Then more. Locking.

“We’re sealed in,” Ekko muttered.

“Yeah, no shit,” Sevika said. Her voice was steady. But Caitlyn could hear it too—the thrum of something bigger.

Red emergency lights flickered to life, drowning the room in blood.

And Jinx - was gone.

Caitlyn stiffened. “Jinx?”

From a duct overhead: “Relax, Cupcake. I brought party favors.”

Then a muffled whump - one of her charges. Smoke spat through a grate. Chaos beginning.

Footsteps echoed on the upper catwalks.

Caitlyn scanned upward. Dozens of them. Uniform. Disciplined. Well-armed. Not gangsters. Mercs.

And then-

“Well, look who finally arrived.” The voice was deep, cruel, and unsettlingly familiar.

Gangplank leaned on the railing above, bandaged, bruised, yet disturbingly alive. Beside him stood a woman Caitlyn recognized from briefings -

broad-shouldered, fiercely calm, Illaoi’s tattoos snaking like living ink.

Caitlyn’s blood ran cold. She stepped into the open, rifle raised. “You!?”

Gangplank grinned. “Yes,” he said, voice dry. “Me.”

Sarah emerged from cover, twin pistols drawn. “Didn’t you sink with your goddamn ship?”

“I did.” His eyes flicked to the woman beside him. “Her gods had other ideas.”

Sarah raised her weapon. “I should’ve finished the job.”

Gangplank chuckled as a click echoed from behind. Caitlyn turned.

Ed stood in the shadows behind Sarah, one foot braced, pistol already raised and trained between her shoulder blades.

Caitlyn’s gut turned cold.

His voice cut through the tension, low and certain.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Sarah didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Her voice, when it came, was flat steel. “You treacherous little shit.”

Ed’s expression didn’t change. “That’s rich—considering how many bodies we both agreed to step over to get here.”

Sarah slowly, deliberately lowered one pistol—but only an inch. Her other stayed locked on Gangplank.

“I knew you were planning something,” she said. “But this?”

“You changed the terms,” Ed said, tone quiet, reasonable. “We had an understanding.”

“No,” Sarah said. “You had a grudge and a death wish. I had leverage. That’s not the same thing.”

He took a slow step forward, eyes steady. “The deal was simple. You give me the girl. I help you take control of Bilgewater. Instead, you hesitated. You protected her.”

Sarah’s nostrils flared.

Behind her, Caitlyn shifted her weight. Slowly. Rifle still up. Her finger brushed the trigger guard.

“You’re working with him now?” Sarah said, venom in her voice. “You think Gangplank gives a shit about your vendetta? He’d bleed you dry and use your corpse as a warning.”

“I don’t need longevity,” Ed said calmly. “Just closure.”

A beat of silence.

Then Sarah laughed-quiet and humorless. “You always did confuse blood with absolution.”

Ed’s smile didn’t waver. “Everyone plays a part. Yours ended the second you broke our deal."

His voice dropped, cutting like ice.

"You were supposed to hand over the blue-haired psycho.”

Before anyone could react—

Jinx’s voice rang out from above, echoing across the metal beams:

“Me? Psycho? Wow. You really do know how to make a girl feel special.”

All heads turned upward.

She was perched on a catwalk in full spotlight—arms stretched, grinning wildly.

“Sure, I’m unstable. But let’s not throw labels around. I mean, I haven’t blown up anything important. Yet.”

Her eyes cut to Sarah. Not playful now. Wary. Hurt. Calculating.

“So this was the play?” Jinx said coldly. “To hand me over to this creep?”

Sarah didn’t answer. Her jaw was locked tight.

Jinx scoffed, but it came out hollow.

“Classic Fortune.”

Below, Gangplank let out a low, rasping chuckle. He staggered slightly, blood still weeping through the bandage at his ribs.

“Shame,” he rasped. “Could’ve been a real party.”

He gestured toward the mercs, tone almost casual.

“…but I’ve got a very important business transaction in Piltover that needs my attention.”

He turned.

“Kill them.”

And then—

Hell.

Gunfire erupted. Flashbangs cracked. The air filled with smoke, fire, and chaos.

“MOVE!” Ekko roared, leaping for cover as a hail of bullets tore into the crates around them.

Caitlyn dove behind cover, rolled, took a shot -center mass. One merc dropped.

Ekko blinked out of existence, Z-Drive flaring blue, and reappeared ten feet to her right.

Sevika let her cannon thunder, knocking bodies back like dolls.

Sarah didn’t hesitate. She moved like betrayal was a rhythm she’d rehearsed - each shot precise. Furious.

Caitlyn slapped her comms. “Vi? Do you copy?”

Only static.

Then—“—sealed—trap—watch your—!”

Cut off.

Jinx landed beside Caitlyn in a blur of smoke and fire, twin pistols cracking like thunder. Her grin was too wide, too sharp.

“I told you I brought party favors!”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch, still firing. “You timed this?”

Jinx laughed, ducking behind a crate. “What’s a party without an entrance?”

“You’re insane.”

“And yet - here we are,” Jinx chirped, reloading. “Working side by side. Again.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer.

Ekko reappeared beside her, breathing raggedly, Z-Drive sparking. She glanced at him quickly. “You alright?”

He shook his head sharply, swallowing hard. “Ask me when it’s over.”

The building twisted . Like something under the floor was trying to breathe. A low groan rattled through the beams.

Then—impact.

A wall exploded inward. Water. Smoke. Roaring.

Caitlyn coughed, eyes burning, lungs stinging. “Everyone still—”

“Up,” Ekko finished, dragging himself behind a tipped-over console. “Barely.”

The floor shuddered beneath them again. Once.

Then silence.

Too much of it.

Caitlyn looked up—and froze.

Jinx had vanished from her side.

Now she stood alone above them on the upper catwalk, one hand clenched white-knuckled on the railing. The other held a rocket launcher—Rhino.

“JINX!”

A roar answered her.

It crashed into the chamber like a god forged from nightmare:

Skin stretched taut over grotesque muscle. Veins pulsing bright violet. A jaw plated with steel. Shimmer hissing through tubes embedded in its spine.

Twice the size of any man. Eyes wrong. Breath wheezing like broken machinery.

It didn’t pause.

It charged.

Jinx didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Her smile widened—slow, feral.

“Big guy,” she whispered. “Catch.”

She pulled the trigger.

The launcher sang.

And the whole room exploded in light.

The explosion wasn’t clean.

Fire licked up the catwalk, splitting beams like bone. Shimmer vapor hissed through broken pipes, choking the air with violet smoke and iron heat.

Vi’s voice crackled through the comms—sharp, urgent: “Fall back to the bridge—now!”

They ran.

Jinx hit the ground first, coughing hard, her boots skidding through scorched debris. Ekko limped after her, blood wet at his side, Z-Drive flickering in warning tones. Sarah and Caitlyn covered the rear, fire snapping at their heels.

And the brute—

The brute didn’t die.

It followed.

"Move!" Sarah barked, pistol already drawn, eyes cold with precision. Caitlyn sprinted alongside her, rifle tucked tight, scanning their flank as smoke bloomed around them. Ekko’s pulse hammered in time with the uneven hum of the Z-Drive at his back-too hot, too sharp. Four seconds max, he thought grimly. Any more and reality might just tear itself apart.

Jinx reached the base of the bridge first, staggering slightly, blood trickling from a jagged cut above her brow. Wild-eyed, soot-streaked, panting like she'd clawed her way through hell and enjoyed half of it.

Then the bridge splintered beneath their feet, timbers shuddering like old bones about to give way.

"Shit!" Vi’s voice snapped across the comms as a monstrous, guttural roar shredded the air.

Jinx narrowed her eyes, annoyance shading her voice. "Oh look, it's big, dumb, and hideously punctual."

The brute barreled toward them, a hulking nightmare of Shimmer-enhanced flesh. Caitlyn fired instantly—one clean, controlled shot. Center mass. The brute didn’t even slow. Sarah emptied both pistols, face darkening when the brute shrugged the bullets off.

Ekko rushed forward, swinging his clockblade hard. The sword glanced off armored skin like dull metal. He saw the massive fist swing just in time—yanking the Z-Drive’s chain, feeling the familiar pull of four seconds of time rewinding. He blinked back into position, chest tight, breath shallow.

"It's pure Shimmer," he yelled. "Engineered—not junkyard juice."

The brute lifted a shipping crate effortlessly and flung it across the docks. Metal and splinters erupted, scattering the team.

Sarah ducked beneath shattered rigging, reloading in sharp, angry snaps. "Where the fuck did Gangplank dig this thing up?"

Caitlyn reloaded beside her, jaw tight. "This isn’t a thug—it’s a goddamn prototype."

Across from them, Jinx’s pulse surged painfully. Shimmer buried deep in her veins stirred awake. She blurred forward, vision fracturing at the edges. Her body moved too fast to track, carried by shimmer and muscle memory.

She struck the brute’s side with a fist—no effect. Before she could blink, it swatted her away like an insect, and she skidded across splintered wood, tasting blood and dirt. She spat out both, already laughing as she scrambled back upright.

Then came the unmistakable crunch of metal against bone.

"Miss me?" Vi growled, stepping confidently from the smoke, gauntlets hissing, eyes blazing.

Jinx blinked through the blood, then grinned wide. "Took you long enough, sis."

Sevika emerged beside her, cigar ignited from the brute’s debris. "That thing is ugly as hell," she muttered, rolling her shoulders. "Let's kill it."

The brute lunged again.

Vi met it head-on, a furious strike low into its torso. Shimmer hissed from beneath a loosened armor plate.

“There!” Ekko shouted from above, breathless, balanced on a high beam. “Base of the neck - that’s its core!”

The shimmer brute roared, swiping wide. Vi ducked low, sliding through the mud and grit with practiced ease.

“Coordinate!” she barked. “Melee front, ranged cover. We trade - now!”

She yanked off one gauntlet and flung it toward Jinx with zero ceremony. It thudded hard against her chest.

“What the hell?!” Jinx staggered, catching it just before it clocked her.

Vi grinned, eyes blazing. “You break things. So go break that monster’s skull with me.”

Jinx scoffed, but her fingers were already locking into the gauntlet, shimmer flaring across the plates. “This better come off clean.”

From his perch on his hoverboard, Ekko's Z-Drive blinked and buzzed behind him. “Vi, catch!”

He hurled one of his spare clockblades down to her, then turned - already tossing another toward Jinx.

She snatched it mid-spin. “You really know how to spoil a girl, little man.”

Ekko grinned. “Just don’t cut your own damn arm off.”

He reached behind and unlatched the heavy weapon strapped across his back - Rhino. The custom hybrid of rocket launcher and Gatling gun gleamed with fresh mods.

He hesitated—then sighed. “Sarah!”

Fortune turned mid-fire. “You better not be giving me what I think you are—”

Ekko launched the weapon toward her. “Handle it. She’ll kill me if you break it.”

Sarah caught Rhino effortlessly, the weight familiar in her grip. Her grin was all teeth. “Oh, I’m already offended by how excited I am.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes. “You scratch it, I’m blowing up your ship.”

Sarah winked back. “We’ll call it even.”

Then - she tossed one of her twin pistols to Ekko without missing a beat. “Trade’s fair, pretty boy. Make it sing.”

Ekko caught it clean, weight familiar in his grip. “Oh, I will.”

Caitlyn, already moving into cover, raised her rifle and glanced at Jinx. “You lending or trading?”

Jinx tossed her a smaller pistol with a wink. “Temporary trust exercise. Don’t make me regret it, Cupcake.”

“You already do,” Caitlyn replied, taking aim with clinical focus.

In seconds, they formed ranks:

Vi, Jinx, and Sevika at the front—raw power in motion.

Caitlyn and Sarah behind—precision and artillery.

Ekko above, Z-Drive blazing, slicing through air on his hoverboard like a ghost on rails.

The brute bellowed, shimmer pouring from its wounds.

“Push now!” Vi shouted.

She launched forward, clockblade slicing as she slammed Ekko’s blade deep into its shoulder. Sparks exploded as metal met corrupted bone.

Sevika’s arm punched into its side, hydraulic force shattering armor.

Jinx cackled, the gauntlet crackling as she surged into the fray—every punch detonating like a mine.

Caitlyn fired once - twice - each shot finding its mark: the joints, the exposed shimmer veins.

Sarah cranked Rhino into Gatling mode. The barrels roared, mini-rockets screaming overhead as she strafed the monster’s flank in a blaze of gunfire and smoke.

Ekko rode the hoverboard like it was part of him, blinking through reality, landing clean shots mid-air, the borrowed pistol barking fire as he zipped overhead.

Below, the brute reared back, arms swinging wide. The cargo pile shook—metal crashing around them.

“Jinx! Heads up!” Ekko called, spotting his hoverboard skidding loose, half-buried in wreckage.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Mine now,” she muttered.

Jinx bolted. Her shimmer-fueled legs carried her like a slingshot—grabbing the board, kicking it into gear, and launching herself skyward in a burst of velocity and flame.

“NOW, JINX!” Vi roared.

Vi tackled the brute from behind, dragging it into the heap of rusted crates.

Jinx came down like a missile, gauntlet glowing, clockblade whirring, and slammed into the brute’s back with a sickening crack. The impact split the air.

Shimmer exploded from the wound.

Sevika followed up, her punch landing like a piledriver into exposed tissue.

Caitlyn clipped the brute’s knee—its leg buckled.

And Sarah stepped forward through the haze, Rhino on her shoulder, completely unfazed.

She leveled the launcher, one hand steady on the trigger.

“…Boom,” she whispered.

The final rocket tore through the brute’s spine in a scream of metal and fire.

It dropped.

Hard.

Smoke curled. Blood pooled. The storm above them felt quiet by comparison.

For a moment, no one moved—only the sound of their breathing. Ragged. Spent. Alive.

Jinx dropped heavily to the ground next to Vi, coughing. "Gotta admit, those bitch-mittens? Pretty sweet."

Vi let out an exhausted laugh. "Don’t get used to it."

Sevika rolled her shoulder painfully, sneering at the wreckage. "Everyone still standing?."

"Barely." Caitlyn stepped carefully forward, returning Jinx’s pistol with a small, weary smirk. "No scratches."

Sarah wiped soot from her cheek, eyes fixed on Ekko. "You owe me a gun, pretty boy."

But Ekko wasn’t listening.

His heartbeat hammered oddly. The Z-Drive pulsed unevenly, warning him. He scanned the dark, uneasy silence that had fallen over the dock.

"Something’s wrong," he whispered.

They all turned sharply toward him, suddenly tense.

The Z-Drive lit up.

Too bright.

Like it was reaching across the edge of the real.

Jinx stepped forward. “Ekko?”

He turned toward her. Eyes wide. “It’s pulling something through—”

The Z-Drive flickered again.

Time bent.

Reality warped.

For a moment, the bridge shifted—like another version overlapped it.

And then—three shapes.

A blue-haired girl. A white-haired boy. A Yordle in dusty goggles.

Just for a breath.

Then gone.

And the fire roared back in.

Vi stepped beside Jinx. “You saw that, right?”

Jinx nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Did it… feel familiar?”

Jinx’s hand curled into a fist. “Too familiar.”

Ekko shook his head before glancing once more at the Z-Drive. “This - this can’t be…..”

Then-a single gunshot.

Ear-splitting. Sharp.

Jinx staggered, breath catching as a hot, biting pain seared her left side. She stared down, eyes wide at the sudden dark bloom soaking through her clothes. Blood.

“Jinx!” Vi’s voice cracked like a whip, panic surging through the smoke.

Time seemed to break in half.

Ekko’s heart dropped clean out of his chest.

His body moved before his brain caught up—toward her, toward danger, toward the scream building in his lungs—but his legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough. The Z-Drive at his back pulsed erratically

Jinx’s eyes snapped upward, searching the shadows, furious and betrayed.

Ed stood quietly apart, gun leveled steadily at her, his eyes emotionless in the darkness.

"You—" Jinx hissed, voice shaking with fury and something rawer beneath. 

Caitlyn moved instinctively, rifle rising toward Ed—but he was already stepping back into shadow. Her breath hitched. “He shot her. He actually—” She stopped herself, eyes narrowing. “He was watching us the whole time.”

Sarah cursed and pivoted, twin pistols already up. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding—”

Ed vanished into shadow before her finger reached the trigger.

Sevika stepped forward with a snarl, metal fist clenched tight. “Stupid bastard just made this personal.”

Vi was already at Jinx’s side, one hand outstretched, voice tight. “You’re hit. Hold up—don’t move—

But Jinx didn’t hear her. Or if she did, she didn’t care. She looked at Vi—but through her.

She clenched her teeth, adrenaline drowning the pain. Before anyone could stop her, she lunged to her feet, shimmer still pulsing in her veins, eyes locked murderously on the man who had just crossed a line he couldn’t take back.

“Jinx—” Ekko called, his voice ragged, broken around the edges. His hand half-raised, as the Z-Drive hummed at his back. Dangerous and unstable. “Please—don’t—”

She met his eyes - for a second. Long enough for him to see it.

Not fear. Not pain.

Resolve.

She bolted forward, blood smearing underfoot, chasing Ed as he disappeared swiftly into shadow.

“Jinx!” Vi shouted again, lunging forward instinctively - but Sarah held her back, eyes locked on the chaos unraveling around them.

“Don’t,” Sarah snapped. “She’s not chasing. She’s hunting.”

“She’s bleeding—!” Vi growled.

“And it’s just a graze - she’ll be fine.”

Vi shook her off violently, rage and panic flashing hot behind her eyes—but didn’t follow.

Caitlyn stepped forward slowly, her rifle lowering. Her breathing was tight, uneven. “She’s going to kill him.”

Ekko didn’t respond. He was frozen.

“We have to go after her,” he said hollowly.

The fire behind them roared higher. Wooden beams split with shrieks of pressure. The bridge—what was left of it—buckled.

Jinx didn’t look back.

She couldn’t.

All she saw was Ed’s retreating silhouette—and the bridge burning behind her, flames rising, cutting off any chance of turning back.

The line had been drawn, clearer than ever. There would be no going back tonight.

She knew she shouldn’t have chased him alone. But should never did a damn thing for her anyway.

The corridor opened like a wound ahead, lined with spools of cable and crates still warm from recent movement. Jinx slowed, her boots silent. Her side burned, the pain a steady, pulsing reminder of her own reckless impulses.

She palmed her pistol, grip slick with sweat and grime.

"Hey, Scarface," she called out, sing-song, taunting. "Gonna keep running, or wanna see what your ribs look like on the outside?"

No response.

Just silence. Deep, suffocating silence.

Then—

A flicker. The lights trembled once. Reality rippled for half a heartbeat, stuttering like a skipped memory, and then steadied again.

Her breath hitched. Not fear—anticipation. Anger. Something hot beneath her ribs.

His voice emerged from the shadows behind her, calm and sharp-edged:

"Tell me something, Jinx."

She spun, pistol raised.

Ed stood ten feet away, the scar slashing his face catching the dim red glow like a fresh wound. His weapon was lowered—but he didn’t need it raised. His words were blades enough.

"Do you remember everyone you've killed?" he asked, voice unnervingly soft.

She felt the question in her bones, but she wouldn't show him that. She never did.

Jinx stared him down, jaw set. “That’s a pretty long list, champ. You wanna narrow it down, or just stroke your trauma until I’m bored?”

He didn't flinch. Didn't blink.

“Did you ever see the results of your murderous actions…”

The breath snagged painfully in her lungs. She forced her stance to stay loose, but her pistol trembled slightly.

"Funny how grief works," he continued, stepping closer. "It’s not always loud. Sometimes it’s just silence. A quiet room that never fills again."

She clenched her jaw, lip curling. "You done with the sob story, or should I fetch tissues?"

Ed didn't react, his voice staying flat. "The night the council tower was shot by you, almost two years ago, the remaining survivors said some bodies weren't even recognizable. Pieces of them stuck to the marble floor."

The hallway tilted. Memories surged—smoke from firing a rocket from fishbones at the council tower, and Caitlyn and Vi's horror-filled eyes.

She scoffed bitterly, voice raw. “Oh…You lost someone.”

A beat. 

"So what?" She laughed bitterly, defiant. “You think you’re the only one crawling out of wreckage? I’ve lost people too—hell, I’ve orphaned myself three times over. You want a medal for grief?”

Ed continued softly, unbothered.

“You killed my father,” he said. “A bastard, sure—but he was still my father.”

Jinx didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. But in her mind—flashes. Silco’s rasp. Vander’s warmth. Both long gone. Both loud ghosts.

Ed’s voice dropped. “He used to hum when he worked. Off-key. Annoying as hell. I’d give anything to hear it again.”

Her chest ached—tight and sudden. “I didn’t know there were still people in that building—”

“You don’t get to explain yourself,” he cut in. Soft. Deadly.“To me, you’re still just an unhinged killer.”

He stepped closer. “A rabid animal. That needs to be put down.”

The words hit like a slap—but Jinx didn’t back away.

Something cracked beneath her ribs—quiet and sharp.

“Yeah. I’ve killed people,” she said. Voice hoarse. Low. “A shit ton, actually. And if I add you to the pile…”

She raised her gun, but her hand trembled. “It won’t even make a splash.”

Ed smiled coldly. Not smug—finished.

He turned his back, started walking toward the central bay.

“That’s the thing about ghosts, Jinx,” he said. “You never know when they’ll show up… or how loud they’ll be.”

Then, fast as a spark—

He spun.

Steel flashed.

Jinx fired, but too slow.

His fist connected brutally with her wounded side, ripping a scream from her throat. Her pistol flew from numb fingers, skidding beyond reach. She reached inward for shimmer, but agony crippled her veins, nerves seizing and rebelling.

Useless.

He lunged, knife gleaming as it plunged toward her heart—

The world blinked blue.

Ekko appeared instantly in front of her, a flickering, desperate shield.

The blade sank deep into Ekko’s side instead, an awful wet sound echoing through her ears.

"NO—EKKO!" Jinx screamed, her voice breaking, raw.

Ed’s eyes widened briefly, surprised but unbothered. He ripped the blade free, blood dripping, and vanished into shadows before she could reach him.

She didn't follow—couldn't.

Her hands caught Ekko instinctively as he collapsed, his weight slumping into her trembling arms.

"Ekko—Ekko, why?!" she gasped, panic choking her voice. "Why did you do it?"

He stared up at her, eyes wide, glazed with shock. Blood poured from his side, warm, too warm. "Dunno… my body just moved on its own—"

Then he went limp.

"Ekko!" she cried again, voice ragged, pleading. "You promised—don't fucking do this!"

Footsteps pounded behind her—Caitlyn and Vi arrived in a blur of movement. Caitlyn knelt immediately, pressing fingers to Ekko’s throat.

"He's alive," Caitlyn said, voice tight but steady. "But he's losing too much blood. We need to move him."

Vi helped lay him gently to the floor. "Stay with us, little man," she whispered fiercely.

Jinx dropped to her knees beside him, shaking, tears burning tracks through the soot on her face. "You idiot," she choked out, grief choking her throat, "not like this—not for me."

A shadow fell over them. Sarah stepped close, gun holstered, eyes cold with concern. "Pretty boy—shit. How bad?"

Fury surged in Jinx’s veins. Before she realized it, she'd surged upright, fist flying, cracking hard against Sarah’s jaw. Sarah staggered back, lip split, eyes shocked.

"Stay the fuck away!" Jinx snarled, her voice raw with betrayal. "You knew. You knew about Ed. You should've given me a heads-up!"

Sarah rubbed her jaw, eyes darkening. "I didn't—"

"Don't fucking lie," Jinx spat, voice trembling with rage. "You knew he wanted me dead, and you let him walk. You gambled. You used me."

Sarah didn't respond. Silence fell like ice.

Vi stepped beside Sarah, expression unreadable. "Fortune—explain yourself."

Sarah’s jaw tightened, eyes heavy. "It wasn’t supposed to go like this."

"Yeah?" Jinx hissed bitterly, kneeling back beside Ekko, hands shaking as she pressed against his wound. "How was it supposed to go?"

Sarah’s eyes met hers, no excuses left. "He changed the rules. I never thought he'd risk everyone else."

"Well, he did," Jinx snapped, voice breaking. "He fucking did."

Sevika growled low, dangerous. "We can deal with blame later. Right now, the kid’s bleeding out."

Jinx’s fingers pressed harder, feeling Ekko’s blood seep between them. She looked down at his face—so still, so pale. Her breath rattled harshly in her chest.

Vi’s hand settled firmly on her shoulder, grounding her. "Jinx—focus. We’ll get him through this."

But all Jinx saw was blood and ghosts, mistakes and consequences. All the chaos she'd ever made catching up at once - flashes of Mylo, Claggor, Silco, Vander, and Isha.

She bent low, forehead touching Ekko’s as her voice fell to a whisper:

"Wake up, Ekko. Don't you fucking leave me—not like everyone else."

But the silence that followed was colder than death.

Jinx stared at the Z-Drive—blood on her hands, on Ekko’s chest—every second stretching thin as wire.

Her breath hitched.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

She reached for it. Fingers trembling. Grimy. Slick with his blood.

“I know the limit’s four seconds,” she muttered, voice fraying. “You said that. You warned me.”

Her thumb brushed the dial. Past the etched mark. Past logic.

“But I’m not losing you.”

Click.

The Z-Drive pulsed once—then stuttered. Like it knew what she was about to do.

She yanked the chain.

And time didn’t rewind.

It snapped.

Like a nerve stretched too far. Like a timeline cracking under grief it was never built to carry.

The world exploded in blue -

- and everything vanished in the scream of fractured light.

Chapter Text

One second, Jinx was yanking the chain on the Z-Drive, her face twisted in that wild, broken way Vi had seen once before—back on that ledge, a monkey bomb in her hand and nothing behind her eyes but grief.

The next, the world ruptured.

No sound. No flashbang crack. Just an eruption of incandescent blue that didn’t explode so much as erase . Light bleached the air until everything looked wrong—unreal. It wasn’t loud, but Vi felt it. Bone-deep. A pitch that didn’t touch her ears but split through her ribs and reverberated up her spine like a scream she couldn’t hear but couldn’t escape.

Then nothing.

No fire. No steel groaning. No breath. Just a humming, absolute void . Like the entire warehouse had been swallowed whole and spat back out minus the sound, minus the air, minus everything.

And then—

Silence came crashing back, jagged and too loud.

Red emergency lights buzzed to life overhead, glitching through smoke and ruin, painting everything in blood and flicker. The air reeked—ozone and something chemical and wrong, like scorched circuitry and burnt sugar. It clawed down Vi’s throat, thick and stinging.

Her ears rang. Her lungs stuttered. No one moved. They were just… there. Shadow shapes in the wreckage. Frozen.

What the fuck was that?

Not a bomb. Not Hextech. Not anything she’d felt before. The thought sliced in, sharp and cold and wrong.

And then Vi's brain snapped into motion.

“Jinx!”

The name ripped from her chest, raw and bloody, like it’d been trying to claw its way out since the moment this nightmare began. She stumbled forward, boots sliding on a smear of something slick. Her gauntlets felt heavier than they ever had—like dragging anchors across a sea of blood.

Jinx lay slumped over Ekko, her body limp, her blue hair matted with soot and streaked across her cheek like war paint. She wasn’t moving.

No. No, no, no.

Vi hit her knees hard, metal slamming stone. Her hands hovered uselessly, trembling above Jinx’s side. The jacket was torn, the fabric singed and soaked, but it wasn’t just blood. The wound pulsed— glowed —a sickly, unnatural blue, as if someone had wired Hextech into her veins and set it humming.

Wrong. All of it.

Not again. Not like this.

Vi’s breath caught. Her chest caved.

“Jinx, come on,” she whispered, her voice cracking open around the edges. “Open your eyes. Say something. Anything.”

The memory of that rooftop slammed into her—Jinx trembling, ghost-pale, holding that bomb like a prayer. The way she hadn’t looked at her, not really. The way she’d looked past her, like she’d already fallen.

Vi couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t watch her go cold in her arms again.

Across from them, Caitlyn had dropped to Ekko’s side. Her hands were steady, but Vi saw the tremor in her jaw.

“He’s breathing,” Caitlyn said tightly. “Barely. Pulse is thin.” She pressed her hand to his chest, then pulled back as the blue glow pulsed under his skin too. “It’s... reacting to something. This isn’t standard Hextech.”

Vi looked up, heart hammering. Caitlyn wasn’t calm. She was calculating. And scared.

Sarah Fortune stepped forward, pistols lowered, the glow from her brass casings reflecting red in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to the Z-Drive lying between the two bodies—cracked, sparking, its core dark.

“That thing,” Sarah muttered, nudging it with her boot. “She pushed it too far. Whatever she was trying to do... it broke.”

Sevika barked a curse and slammed her fist against the sealed blast door. The clang echoed, too loud.

“We’re locked in,” she growled. “Ed’s gone. Gangplank’s dogs are still out there. We’re trapped.”

But Vi wasn’t hearing her.

She reached out, brushed a strand of hair from Jinx’s face with a gauntleted knuckle. Her sister’s skin was cold. Too cold.

“She’s not waking up,” Vi whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. They weren’t panic. They weren’t anger. Just... hollow.

She looked between them—Ekko, pale and bleeding, the wound glowing faint and sick beneath Caitlyn’s hands; Jinx, not even stirring, as if whatever had happened had burned her soul halfway out of her body.

After everything. After the fight, the promises, the rage, the aching almosts...

Vi's voice cracked.

“Cait... what do we do?”

For once, Caitlyn didn’t have an answer. Her one good eye met Vi’s, and in it—nothing . Not composure. Not command. Just loss.

“I don’t know.”

The lab wasn’t asleep. It was holding its breath.

Old pipes ticked in the walls. Rain hammered the rusted steel roof of her hideout, a steady, rhythmic drumming that usually calmed her nerves. But not tonight. The Z-Drive on the main workbench hummed—low, syncopated, a second, artificial heartbeat under the storm. Across the room, AU Ekko had buried his hands in a tangle of calibration wires, his jaw set too tight, a silent storm of jealousy and fear rolling off him in palpable waves. Heimerdinger, perched on a crate, muttered over fractured energy casings, chalk scratching out equations like nervous handwriting.

None of them said it. But the air had shifted. Ever since the other Ekko had left, their quiet, shared world felt like it was sitting on a fault line.

Then—

The nausea hit. Sharp. Violent.

Powder gripped the bench as her vision bled sideways. Blueprints warped into static. Heimerdinger’s concerned words collapsed into a mosquito whine in her ears.

Gunshot.

The word wasn't heard. It was felt. Pain, white-hot and tearing, erupted in her left side. She gasped, her hand flying to her ribs, clutching at overalls that hid no wound.

But the phantom agony was absolute. Her knees buckled.

Flashes hammered her, jagged and merciless fragments of a life that wasn't hers—
– a small, silent girl’s hand tugging a sleeve, eyes wide with fierce, mute loyalty.
– the roar of a monstrous Vander.
– the flash of Hextech, bright and self-destructive.
– the feeling of a body dissolving into light, a sacrifice so profound it stole the breath from Powder’s own lungs.
– the weight of grief, black and suffocating, the kind that hollowed you out from the inside.

A sob, raw and broken, tore from her throat. It wasn't her memory. It wasn't her loss. But it was undeniably her pain, a ghost limb that had just been set on fire.

"Professor—!" Her voice broke as she hit the bench hard, the impact rattling a line of empty glass jars.

Heimerdinger spun, his large eyes wide with alarm and a flicker of dawning horror. "The tether! The feedback is uncontrolled! My dear, it is not just a memory—it is the event, in real time!"

Before he could reach her, the Z-Drive on the workbench pulsed. It wasn't the soft, steady glow of a machine warming up. It screamed, a high-pitched, harmonic shriek that vibrated through the metal of the floor. The core flared, not with controlled energy, but with the raw, untamed agony pouring through the tether from another timeline.

Ekko—bleeding. My Ekko. My fault.

The thought wasn't hers, but the grief behind it was a tidal wave.
Grief. Desperation. A cold piece of metal. A choice. A terrible, final choice. I’m not losing you.

"No, don't!" Powder whispered, her hand reaching out as if she could stop a ghost worlds away from making a terrible mistake.

"It’s synchronizing!" Heimerdinger yelled, his fur standing on end as sparks flew from the Z-Drive’s overloaded coils. "The energy spike is creating a sympathetic cascade! It is pulling you to the source!"

The word 'pulling' was too gentle. This was a violation. Powder felt her own reality tear at the seams, the familiar lines of her workshop smearing into streaks of blue light. Her body became weightless, her vision fracturing. Her last coherent thought was a flash of her Ekko’s terrified face as he finally lunged for her.

Too late.

She was ripped clean out of her own life, dragged sideways through time and space by a thread of shared grief, an unwilling passenger on a journey into the heart of the storm.

Waking up wasn’t soft.

It was like clawing her way out of static—teeth bared, lungs locked, some part of her still screaming even though Jinx couldn’t hear it.

There was no sound. No light. Just the sense of being launched upward through something thick and cold and endless. Like falling in reverse. Like rising through syrup made of broken glass.

Her mind came back in pieces.

The warehouse.

Ed.

The gunshot—bright pain, white-hot, ripping through her side like lightning.

And then—

Ekko.

That look. Right before the blade landed. Not fear. Not surprise.

Acceptance.

Like he knew.

Like he’d already decided.

His weight hitting hers. The sick sound of steel punching through flesh. The way his hand slipped, fingers curling against her like maybe he’d meant to hold on, but forgot how.

Her scream never made it out.

Jinx’s consciousness snapped back like a rubber band across her chest.

But this wasn’t the warehouse.

This wasn’t anywhere.

She was floating—suspended in a sea of colorless static, veins of blue light pulsing through the void like living circuits. Threads. Vines. Arteries. Wrapping around her arms, her legs, her throat. Not tight. Just there.

Below her, chunks of the Zaun bridge drifted like debris in space—suspended in a gravity that didn’t belong. Shattered concrete and rain-slicked steel twisted like bones in slow motion.

To her left, the rooftop. Their rooftop.

It flickered in and out of existence, like a memory being redacted by someone who didn’t believe in mercy.

She looked down at her hands. They were real. Solid. But they didn’t feel like hers. They felt like remembering hands.

The pain in her side was gone.

The blood, the burning—it had all vanished.

“What the hell…” she thought—but there was no sound. Just the panic crawling up the back of her neck.

And then—

“Jinx?”

The voice hit her like a punch to the chest.

She spun, heart stuttering, eyes wide—and there he was.

Ekko.

Whole. Breathing. Standing on a piece of the warehouse floor that floated like a chunk of dead time. No stab wound. No blood. No gurgled breath leaking from a collapsed lung.

He looked as wrecked as she felt—eyes scanning the impossible horizon, hand pressed to his ribs like he couldn’t believe what wasn’t there.

She took a breath that didn’t feel earned.

“Ekko, you’re—” Her voice cracked, inside her own head. “You’re okay.”

The relief was sharp enough to hurt.

And right behind it— guilt , heavy and bitter and old.

He almost died. Again.

Because of her. Again.

Just like back then. The rooftop. The monkey bomb. The rewound seconds he never let her see.
His hand on hers, stopping the countdown. His voice in her ear, always pulling her back.
And she’d thanked him by dragging him into another bloodbath and getting him stabbed.

She didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Just stared.

He took a step forward—form flickering at the edges, like reality was buffering. “I think so. Are you?”

She touched her side. Still whole.

“Yeah,” she said, though her voice sounded like someone else’s. “But… you were— I saw you—”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers with that unnervingly calm stare. “I saw it too.”

They stood suspended in a space that wasn’t space, surrounded by the junkyard of their memories. Ghosts of rooftops. Bridges that never held. Blue veins of light pulsing around them like someone had dissected the moment and left it bleeding.

And the weight hit her.

She didn’t save him.

She didn’t fix anything.

She pulled the chain and dragged them both straight into hell—just another version, another mess, another fracture.

Behind Ekko, the rooftop shimmered again.

For a heartbeat she saw them—ghosts locked in a desperate embrace. Her head resting against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair. A kiss—brief, aching, and never enough.

A memory pretending to be a goodbye.

“Where are we?” she asked finally, voice small, as she tore her eyes away from the past.

Ekko looked around—at the bridge, at the rooftop, at the veins of light that pulsed in time with something deeper than breath.

His brow furrowed.

Not with fear.

With focus .

“I don’t think it’s a place,” he said slowly. “I think it’s a moment. The moment everything broke.”

Powder hit the ground hard. Air punched out of her chest.

She shoved herself upright, blinking through smoke and chaos. The air was thick with salt, fire, blood. Her ears rang.

And then—him.

Ekko. Not hers. Bent wrong. His chest rose shallow. And her other self who laid beside Ekko, her body also limp.

What the...

Her throat locked. “...No.”

Bootsteps behind her. Heavy. Certain.

She turned.

Vi. Whole. Breathing. Standing.

Powder’s lips parted. Her heart stuttered. “...Oh shit, you’re real.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed. “...Jinx?”

The name hit like a blade. Powder shook her head fast, voice breaking. “No... I’m not her.”

The others loomed behind Vi, shapes out of place, too sharp in the smoke—

A tall woman in a Piltie uniform, rifle lowered but gaze cutting.
Another with a steel gauntlet and a scowl, but no shimmer, no burns.
And a redhead—calm, cold, predator stillness, hand brushing her holster.

None of them hers.

Powder couldn’t breathe. She staggered to her knees, mud smearing her arms, hair plastered to her face.

Her eyes locked on Vi again. A face that had never been hers to keep.

Tears slid hot and helpless.

“...I can't believe it's really you.”

Then the world shuddered.

A pulse rolled under her skin—low, electric. A tether tightening.

Blue light bled in around the edges, burning away smoke and ash. The ground rippled like water, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Wait—” she gasped, reaching toward Vi, desperate. “Don’t—”

The plea never finished.

Light tore her out of the moment. Out of them.

Out of herself.

The smoke cleared too fast, leaving the warehouse raw and hollow again. Only the echo of the light remained—burnt into their retinas, seared into the air.

Vi’s voice cracked first, ragged and furious. “Tell me you saw that.”

“I saw it,” Caitlyn said, low, measured, though her hands still trembled against the bench. “She looked like Jinx. But—” She shook her head. “Not her.”

Sarah’s voice cut from the shadows, calm but sharp. “And she looked at Violet like she knew her.”

Vi’s jaw locked. She turned back to Jinx’s stillness, refusing to answer, but her knuckles were white against the concrete.

“She’s a jinx!”

“You are not my sister.”

Jinx winced, wrapping her arms around herself. The air around her trembled, filled with the static sting of old ghosts wearing familiar voices.

"Okay," she muttered through her teeth, the words a razor wrapped in deflection. "New rule—no more tragic backstory montages. We get it. Childhood sucked."

Ekko stepped onto her platform—his form stabilizing with each stride. Real, or real enough. His weight changed the gravity around her, the kind of presence she’d come to recognize as the opposite of chaos. “They’re just echoes,” he said. “They can’t hurt us.”

“Yeah?” Jinx pointed to the thing drifting past them. “Tell that to that little bastard.”

A monkey bomb.

Old model. Blue-lipped smile painted on wrong. Still and silent, but its glassy eyes pulsed faintly with Hextech light.

Jinx’s breath stuttered. She felt the cold weight of it in her palms. Heard the tick-tick-tick of the wind-up key. That quiet hum before everything went wrong. Before Ekko would yank time backward and force her to live again.

Again and again.

Before Ekko could speak, the thing blinked.

Its eyes flared white.

It shrieked—no sound, just pressure—and shot toward them.

“ Move! ” Ekko lunged, muscle memory kicking in like instinct. He slammed into her, and they hit the floor hard. The bomb detonated midair—not with fire, but with a psychic gut-punch that crushed her chest.

Silco.

The weight of him in her arms.

His body going slack.

Her own sob, strangled in her throat.

Gone.

She shoved the memory down like she always did—into the vault, into the dark. Lock it. Forget it. Don’t look too long or it starts to look back.

She rolled, gasping, and spat out a curse. “Okay. So maybe they can hurt us a little.”

They kept moving.

The void morphed as they walked—memories turning hostile, reshaping space into nightmare architecture.

It weaponize their shared past: Phantoms of a younger Vi slapping Young Powder calling her a jinx flickered in the corners of their vision. Silco unleashing Deckard as a shimmered hulking beast to kill Benzo as young Ekko stood and watched filled the non-existent air.

Then the bridge from two years ago pulsed beneath their feet—flickering with phantom shadows. Her. Him. Locked in combat. Jinx’s finger on the trigger. Ekko’s bat mid-swing. The worst version of their story frozen in motion.

Jinx stared at it, jaw tight. “Oh great. This scene on loop. Who’s directing this shitshow, huh? You?”

Ekko didn’t flinch. “We wrote this mess together.”

He paused. That signature pause of his—the one that meant the gears were turning.

“I think…” His eyes narrowed. “I think we’re in the anomaly.”

Jinx blinked. “You mean we’ve been sent to the realm of heebie-freakin’-jeebies?”

He nodded once. “Looks that way. Based on the runes, the feedback, the tether... it created a gateway. A psychic one.”

She let out a low whistle. “So the Z-Drive glitched reality into a trauma-powered hell dimension. Cool. Love that for us.”

Ekko crouched behind a floating shard of hexgate debris, scanning the unstable horizon. His voice tightened. “This place is feeding on us. On our emotions. Our memories. The more we react, the more real it gets.”

Jinx peeked over the edge. “Yeah, well. Feeling nothing isn’t exactly my strong suit, Little Man.”

“Then we find the anchor,” he said. “Whatever’s keeping us here.”

That’s when they saw her.

She stood alone on a shard of Zaun’s Lanes—bathed in soft, steady glow that pushed back the grey. Her posture was straight. Still. Familiar in a way that made Jinx’s stomach twist.

Blue hair. Cleaner cut. Clothes practical. Calm radiating off her like warmth from a dying fire.

“Who the hell is that?” Jinx whispered, reaching instinctively for a pistol that wasn’t there.

Ekko froze.

His breath caught.

“…Powder,” he said, like it hurt.

The girl turned.

And Jinx’s heart dropped.

Her face.

Her eyes.

But not broken.

Not twisted by years of loss and fire.

She looked at them—Ekko first, then Jinx—and her expression shattered into recognition. Horror. Sadness.

Jinx’s knees almost gave.

No.

No, no, no.

Not her.

Not that version.

Not the perfect, unbroken ghost.

“Not real,” she muttered, stumbling back. “She’s not real.”

But the girl took a step forward. Her voice, when it came, was soft. Fractured. Terrified.

“Ekko? You’re here. But—” her gaze shifted, locking on Jinx, “—what is this place?”

Ekko stepped forward, planting himself squarely between her and Jinx.. “It’s… complicated. I've got a theory, but it ties back to the crystals that powers the Z-Drive.”

Powder blinked, her voice trembling. “That would mean… our universes are linked. Through the Z-Drive.”

Jinx barked out a short, humorless laugh. “No way. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Her? Out of all the places in the goddamn universe—here?”

Ekko didn’t respond. His attention still fixed on Powder.

And Powder—AU Powder—was staring at Jinx with the kind of empathy that made her skin crawl.

“So Powder...” Ekko’s voice was sharp, disbelieving. “How the hell did you end up here—in the anomaly?”

Her eyes darted between them, unsettled. “One moment I was in the lab with my Ekko and Heimerdinger—the next, I was pulled in. And… I saw things. Flashes. You. Your Vi.” Her gaze shifted, trembling, as she pointed at Jinx. “Her. I saw some of her worst moments too.”

Jinx’s mouth twitched into a lopsided sneer. “Fantastic. Guess I’ve got a multiversal stalker now.”

“Jinx,” Ekko said, soft but steady, his gaze cutting toward her. “She’s trapped...same as us.”

“I don’t care!” Her voice cracked. Her mask slipped. “I don’t want her near me. I don’t want to see her face. I’m not— that .”

She couldn’t stand it. The symmetry. The softness. The version of herself that had survived with her soul intact.

The void reacted.

Whispers rose—distorted and sharp.

A younger Vi appeared before Powder, flickering like a broken projection. Her hands—on fire—grabbed Powder’s face.

“You’re a jinx!”

The word echoed.

Over and over.

Jinx. Jinx. Jinx.

Powder cried out, stumbling backward.

Ekko moved—fast, instinctive—to shield her.

Jinx saw it.

The same move.

The same goddamn reflex he’d always had.

But not for her.

Not this time.

Something cold broke loose in her chest.

Something sharp twisted and settled behind her ribs.

Time in the warehouse had gone heavy.

The only rhythm was the blue flicker pulsing out of Jinx and Ekko’s wounds, slow and steady like a dying heartbeat. Hours blurred, shadows shifting with Caitlyn’s single lamp, nothing else moving.

Vi hadn’t left Jinx’s side. Knees screaming against the concrete, gauntlets cold against her skin, she sat there, staring. Sometimes she’d reach out, press a hand to Jinx’s cheek—just to feel something. Just to make sure she was still here, even if the skin was too still, too cold. It felt like grief déjà vu. A year of pit fights, whiskey, and waking up numb. This was the same ache.

Across from her, Caitlyn worked the problem like it was math. Bent over the dead Z-Drive, scavenged tools spread out in neat lines, face locked into that mask she wore when the world needed her steady. She was the eye of the storm, but Vi could see the cracks—hands too tight, shoulders too stiff.

Silence stretched until Vi’s chest couldn’t hold it anymore. Grief rotted into anger, sharp and jagged.

“You even doing anything?” Vi’s voice was raw, a growl from somewhere deep.

“I’m trying to map the signature,” Caitlyn said, not looking up. Calm. Too calm. “If I can isolate the frequency—”

“Frequency? To fucking hell with frequency.” Vi surged to her feet, joints stiff. “Look at them. They’re not machines. You don’t fix this with a damn screwdriver.” She jabbed a finger at Jinx’s hollow stillness. “They’re dying.”

“They’re stable,” Caitlyn said, clipped, like she was reading a report. Councillor voice. Not her voice.

“Stable?” Vi’s laugh was bitter, sharp. She stepped closer, shadow swallowing Caitlyn’s bench. “She looks the same way she did after Isha died. After she gave up. Gone. And you’re sitting here—playing.”

That made Caitlyn finally look up. Dark eyes, rimmed red with exhaustion, but steady. “And what would you have me do, Vi? Hit something until it fixes itself?”

The words hit bone. Vi flinched, fists curling.

“I should’ve been there,” she muttered, low, half to herself. “When Ed cornered her. Should’ve been faster.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Caitlyn said, softer now.

“But you could have.” Vi’s gaze snapped up, accusation hot and bitter. “You knew she was alive. For months. You had files, reports, bombs with her damn handwriting on them. You knew about Isha, about what Ekko had to do. And you didn’t tell me a thing.”

Caitlyn’s jaw locked. She set her tools down, knuckles white on the table edge. “This isn’t the time.”

“It’s the only time.” Vi’s voice cracked, rising sharp, grief bleeding out like open wounds. “Maybe if I’d known—maybe if I wasn’t still stuck mourning someone who wasn’t even dead—I wouldn’t have frozen when I saw her on that ship. Maybe I would’ve had her back. Maybe Ekko wouldn’t be bleeding out on this floor!”

The shout echoed through the cavernous dark. Sarah turned, unreadable. Sevika didn’t blink.

Caitlyn rose slow, her composure a brittle shield. “And what would you have done, Vi? Stormed into Bilgewater, dragged her out kicking and screaming? Back to a city that nearly killed her? That almost killed you?” Her voice dropped, dangerous in its quiet. “I kept it from you because you were starting to breathe again. Because I knew seeing her would break you. And I was right.”

Truth cut deeper than anger. Vi’s glare faltered, leaving nothing but the ache beneath. “You didn’t have the right to choose for me.”

“And she didn’t have the right to blow up the council and kill my mother.” Caitlyn’s voice snapped, control gone, grief raw in the cracks. “But she did. And now we all choke on the fallout of choices we never made.”

Silence. Heavy. They stood on opposite sides of it, ghosts between them, ground beneath their feet feeling cracked and treacherous.

Vi dragged a hand down her face, the fight draining out, leaving only hollow exhaustion. “I can’t lose her again,” she whispered. Small. Barely more than breath. “I can’t.”

Something in Caitlyn softened. The Councillor gone, just Cait. Just the woman who had held her through sleepless nights. “I know,” she said quietly. “That’s why you have to let me work.”

She didn’t apologize. Vi didn’t ask. The wound was too fresh, too deep. Caitlyn turned back to the Z-Drive, shoulders squared, focus locked.

Vi stood there a moment longer, then dropped back down beside Jinx. Back against cold steel, eyes on her sister. The silence pressed in, fractured and unfinished. No neat ending. Just the raw weight of everything unsaid.

Silence weighed heavier than gunfire. It pressed in, thick, suffocating, every groan of stressed steel and tick of cooling pipes magnified until it felt like the whole warehouse was holding its breath.

Vi didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She was a statue at her sister’s side—slumped shoulders, fists limp in her lap, storm brewing behind her eyes but walled off where no one could reach.

Caitlyn buried herself in the Z-Drive. Fingers moving steady, deliberate. Observe. Analyze. Hypothesize. A process she could trust. Logic and engineering were languages that never betrayed her, even if the rest of the world had. Her fingertips traced burnt circuits, mapping impossible geometry into her mind. Jayce had once told her she’d be wasted as an enforcer. Her mother had said the same. Funny how both were right, and how little comfort that gave now.

A scrape of boots pulled her head up.

Sarah Fortune leaned against the console, arms folded, watching. Expression calm, neutral, but her eyes—sharp, measuring—missed nothing. Not the tremor in Caitlyn’s fingers. Not the hollow curve of Vi’s back.

“Find anything, Kiramman?” Sarah’s voice slid through the silence, low but cutting.

“Hextech cores weren’t built for recursive temporal feedback,” Caitlyn muttered, half to herself, eyes fixed on the fractured crystal. “He must’ve bypassed every failsafe. Jinx didn’t just overload it. She made it break its own laws.”

Sarah arched a brow. “And in Bilgewater tongue?”

Caitlyn exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s broken in a way nothing should be. I don’t think it can be fixed. It has to be… undone.”

That hung like smoke.

Sarah’s gaze shifted to Jinx and Ekko, their shallow breathing barely moving their chests, blue light painting the walls in restless shadows. “And if you can’t undo it?”

Caitlyn’s throat tightened. “Then they might not wake up.” Saying it tasted like ash.

Sarah’s silence stretched, gaze sweeping barricades, exits. “Ed’s still out there,” she said flat, as if listing the weather. “He knows we’re cornered. He’ll wait. Supplies thin, nerves snap. He doesn’t kick doors—he poisons wells. Lets people turn on each other and rot from the inside.” Her eyes flicked toward Vi. “Looks like it's working.”

The jab was surgical. Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. “Vi is simply anxious about her sister's condition.”

“She’s also isolating you,” Sarah countered, voice cool, clinical. “When you’re the one who might get us out. That’s destabilization 101.”

Caitlyn didn’t bite. She turned back to the machine. “I need a diagnostic suite. Piltover labs—”

“You’re not in Piltover,” Sarah cut in, tone iron but not unkind. “You’re in Bilgewater. My city. My crew bleeding in the streets. You’ll use what’s here.”

Caitlyn looked at the scavenged tools, the gutted power cell. Futile. “It isn’t enough.”

“Then make it enough.” Sarah’s voice sharpened. “You convinced me not to kill Gangplank on the Dead Pool. That means you can make anything work. That trinket bends time. Find a crack. Wedge it open.”

Absurd. A loophole in physics. But Jinx would’ve thought the same way. Break the rules, then break what’s left. Caitlyn’s fingers hesitated over a loop of circuitry she’d dismissed before. A feedback line—not output, but recoil. Maybe not repair, but resonance. An echo. A trace.

Her mind quickened, possibilities snapping together.

Heavy footsteps approached. Sevika loomed, shadow falling over the bench. She studied Caitlyn’s drawn face, then Vi’s rigid back. Weariness deepened her features. She pulled a battered flask from her coat and held it out.

“Drink,” Sevika said. Not a suggestion.

Caitlyn blinked. “I don’t—”

“Didn’t ask,” Sevika interrupted, pushing it into her hand. “You look like Silco’s chemists after a three-day shimmer binge. Brain’s no good if it burns out.” She cast Sarah a pointed look. “And better numb than listening to someone confuse motivation with insults.”

Sarah’s lips twitched. She let it slide.

Caitlyn stared at the flask. The closest thing to concern Sevika had ever offered. She uncapped it, took a sip. Fire burned down her throat, raw but clarifying. She coughed, then nodded thanks. Sevika gave the smallest grunt in reply, moving back to her post.

Caitlyn set the flask aside. Stared at the broken Z-Drive. Sarah was right—this wasn’t Piltover. No pristine labs. No polished theories. Just wreckage and desperation.

Logic wouldn’t save them. But maybe a loophole would.

She bent back over the machine, tools steady in her hands, the weight of their survival pressing down but no longer crushing. Just heavy enough to hold.

Jinx’s outburst acted like a tuning fork, and the Anomaly resonated with her rage.

The air turned cold. Not the damp chill of Zaun’s Lanes or the salt rot of Bilgewater—this was sterile, surgical. A laboratory’s kind of cold, the kind that smelled like metal and regret.

The fractured scraps of Zaun and Bilgewater faded, and in their place a workshop bled into being—too clean, too perfect. Piltover lines, all sharp edges and gleaming brass, hung ghostlike in the void.

At the center, two figures flickered into focus like faulty projections. At first, nothing but skeletal outlines woven from the same blue light that threaded through the Anomaly. Then—details. Shoulders squared with practiced nobility. A cane glinting with the shimmer of a brace. Movements sharp, feverish, as if every second of their lives was spent racing an unseen clock.

Ekko froze. His voice was barely a whisper. “Jayce. Viktor.”

AU Powder tilted her head, eyes wide, her confusion naked. “Who are they?”

Jinx didn’t answer. Her fists curled until her nails bit her palms. She knew that hum. That intoxicating vibration that lived in the marrow of every Hex Crystal she’d ever stolen, every weapon she’d ever built. It was the sound of the stone that had ruined her life twice over—once as a child, once as an adult.

The phantoms moved in their loop, mouths opening, voices distorted.

“The resonance is unstable! ” Viktor rasped, his voice shredded by static, his eyes locked on a sphere of sickly blue light suspended midair.

“We just have to control it, ” Jayce countered, his booming voice full of brittle confidence.

That word— control —made Ekko’s jaw clench. He’d heard it all his life. Piltover’s favorite lie.

Jinx’s breath hitched. The crystal pulled at her like a lodestone. Fishbones’ phantom weight pressed against her shoulder, the cold bite of a trigger under her finger. Her chest tightened.

Viktor leaned closer, eyes alight with zeal. “ Imagine, Jayce. A world without hunger. Without suffering. We can change everything.”

The words landed like a curse. Change everything. Silco’s voice. His promises. The same ones she had believed in until they rotted through her.

Jayce’s ghost pressed a hand to Viktor’s, their forms flickering together. “ Together. For the good of all.”

Ekko’s lip curled. His fury was quiet, coiled, but absolute. This was it. The seed of every gilded cage Piltover had built, every war Zaun had bled through. Two brilliant men, blind to the bodies their dream would grind beneath its gears.

The crystal’s glow sharpened, stabilizing into a sphere so perfect it hurt to look at. Not warm. Not promising. Just cold. Absolute. Cancer made light.

It pulsed.

The wave cracked the void and images split loose:

—Her monkey bomb, screaming with Hextech fire.
—The Council chamber obliterated in an instant of light and ash.
—And then—too fast, but unmistakable—Isha. Her small hands jamming gems into Jinx’s pistol. Her face defiant, unafraid. And gone.

Jinx stumbled back like the memory had struck her physically. Her breath hitched, breaking into a ragged sound that wasn’t quite a sob. The Anomaly wasn’t just mocking them—it was stitching the origin of her sins to the moment of her greatest loss. All roads led back to this. To the stone.

The ghosts dissolved. Only the crystal remained, a cold, judgmental eye hanging in the dark. Its light pressed on her like a verdict.

AU Powder trembled, clutching her own arms. Her gaze swung to Jinx—terror in it, and pity that cut deeper than any blade. “That’s… where it came from?” Her voice was thin, breaking. “All of it? The fighting, the bombs, the explosions—it all started with them?”

Ekko’s voice was flat, heavy with the kind of anger that didn’t burn out. “They didn’t know what they were unleashing. They thought they’d found a solution. They never cared about the cost.”

The crystal pulsed once more—a final judgment—and blinked out. The void swallowed them again, this time thicker, darker. The air clogged with the stench of shared ruin.

“Jinx—” Ekko started, reaching toward her.

She jerked away. Her eyes were wide, wild, sparking with rage and something uglier. She looked at him. At Powder. At the space between them.

And something inside her finally cracked.

“So that’s it, huh?” Her voice was low, dangerous, almost a growl. “You found a better version. One that didn’t get everyone she loves killed. That’s what you meant, right? Back then—when you told me she wasn’t the one you wanted to save. Was that it? Or you just lied so the broken toy wouldn’t smash herself to pieces?”

“That’s not what this is,” Ekko said quickly, pleading—but the Anomaly was already answering for him. It coiled tighter around her, whispering, feeding.

Jinx wasn’t listening. Couldn’t. The storm was inside her now, all claws and teeth. Rage, jealousy, grief, self-loathing—every part of her that hated what she saw in Powder’s face.

The void churned, mirrors shattering into memories, each more vicious than the last. And at the center of it stood three fractured souls bound by a single, impossible thread—one none of them knew how to sever.

Hours bled into the warehouse until it felt less like shelter and more like a tomb.

A scavenged lamp threw harsh light across Caitlyn’s hands as she worked, its generator coughing in uneven rhythm with the drip-drip-drip of unseen water. Beyond the shattered entrance, Sarah stood guard, gaze sweeping in steady arcs, her calm a blade waiting to be drawn.

Vi hadn’t moved. She sat with her back pressed to cold steel, knees hugged to her chest, her silence heavier than the shadows around her. She looked less like a fighter than a statue carved out of grief—every muscle taut, her stillness more agonizing than any brawl. The border between her and Caitlyn felt absolute.

Caitlyn leaned into theory, into the impossible comfort of schematics. A feedback loop. Residual echoes. She traced wires and fractures, muttering equations under her breath, when the Z-Drive hissed.

A sharp, serpentine sound.

Caitlyn jerked back, swearing under her breath. Smoke slipped from a hairline crack in the crystal, curling upward in a deliberate spiral. It wasn’t the stench of something burning out. It was the exhale of something stirring.

Vi was on her feet before Caitlyn could breathe. “What was that?” Her voice was rough, jagged, but alive again after hours of silence.

“Kiramman.”

The voice came low, urgent. Sevika. She was crouched at Ekko’s side, her usual iron mask fractured by grim urgency. “The kid,” she said, gravel low in her chest. “Something’s wrong.”

Caitlyn bolted across the floor, dropping to her knees. Ekko’s chest wasn’t rising steady anymore—it hitched shallowly, spasms racking his frame, body jerking like a live wire.

“Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, sharp with alarm.

Vi was already reaching for Jinx, her fingers trembling as they pressed against her sister’s throat. Her expression collapsed, horror whitening her face. “She’s cold, Cait.” Her voice broke into a whisper. “Colder. Her pulse—” Her throat locked. “It’s slipping.”

The glow from their wounds began to flicker. No longer the steady light that had sustained them—now frantic, uneven, erratic. Like twin stars dying out of sync, sputtering against the void.

The Z-Drive answered. A low hum rattled through Caitlyn’s abandoned workbench. Its cracked crystal lit in sympathy, pulsing in rhythm with their failing bodies. Smoke rose thicker, swirling above the device—not dispersing, but shaping.

A blur first, like heat shimmer off Zaun’s pavement on a brutal day. Then it sharpened.

Jinx’s face.

But not their Jinx. Softer. Her expression wrecked with empathy so raw it hurt to look at. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks, her eyes bottomless with a pain that wasn’t hers but she carried anyway. For one impossible heartbeat, she hovered there like a ghost.

And then she dissolved.

The room fell silent again, except for Vi’s ragged breathing. She stared at the empty space where the image had been, her mouth half-open, blood drained from her face. “What… what the fuck was that?”

Sarah’s hand went to her holster on instinct, though the image had already vanished. “Another visit from ‘I’m not’ Jinx.”

Caitlyn’s chest constricted. She forced the words out. “It looked like something was…pulling her.” She hesitated. “That definitely wasn’t Jinx… She looks different.”

Vi’s breath came rough, shoulders rising and falling. She shook her head hard, as if she could fling the thought away. “She looked like… her younger self. Before she became Jinx.”

But her voice wavered. Vi didn’t sound like she believed herself.

Caitlyn had no answer, only fragments: Ekko’s spasms, Jinx’s fading pulse, a device that refused to die quietly, and the impossible image of a girl who shouldn’t exist. The connections twisted together into one cold certainty.

She looked at the Z-Drive—its pulse syncing with their bodies, its crack yawning wider.

It wasn’t simply a time-machine anymore.

It was most likely slowly killing Jinx and Ekko.

Ekko shifted, planting himself not just in front of Powder but squarely between Jinx and the storm, every line of his body taut, protective. His shoulders braced as if he could hold the Anomaly back by will alone. Fractured memories ground against each other like broken glass, the void leaning in to listen.

Jinx wasn’t watching either of them. Her stare was locked on the space where the phantom Hex Crystal had been, her whole frame wound tight, breath caught in her chest. The Anomaly had shoved a mirror in her face, and the verdict burned in cold fire: failure.

A jinx, Mylo’s voice hissed through her skull.
A loaded weapon, Sarah’s warning overlapped it.

Not echoes. Sentences.

Her chest hollowed. That furious mind of hers—the same genius that built bombs from scrap, the same genius that had rebuilt Ekko’s toy into a multiversal time-and-space machine—lit up with an awful clarity. The Anomaly fed on pain. On trauma. Powder was nothing but a conduit, a feedback loop in borrowed skin. Not a person. A component. A weak link waiting to snap.

“Jinx?” Ekko’s voice cut through, soft but steady, threaded with the same worry he’d carried for her since they were kids. He angled toward her, reaching, ready to catch her before she shattered. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes finally blinked, snapping to him. The wild energy was gone. What replaced it was worse—a razor-sharp calm. A brittle smile cut across her lips. “Okay?” she echoed, tone flat. Then her smile sharpened. “I’m fantastic.”

She stepped toward Powder. Deliberate. Predatory. Powder shrank back, clutching at Ekko’s sleeve.

“Jinx.” Fear edged his voice as he shifted to block her path, shoulders squared like a wall. “What are you doing?” His hand hovered, torn between holding her back and pulling her in.

Jinx’s gaze never wavered. “It’s her,” she said, clinical, detached. “She’s the tether. The anchor. This whole circus runs on us, right? But her pain isn’t real. She’s a copy. A shadow. Weakest link in the chain.” She began pacing, words spilling faster, terrible brilliance building. “Break the link, break the system. She shatters—we go home.”

Powder’s voice cracked. “You… you wouldn’t.”

Jinx laughed—high, brittle, splintering like glass across the void. “Wouldn’t I?” Her gaze cut back, feral now. “You said you saw my pain, didn’t you, Pow-Pow?” She bared her teeth in a mock grin. “Then class is in session. Time for the real fucking lesson.”

Ekko moved instinctively, arms flung wide to shield Powder. “Jinx, don’t—” But the void had already bent to her will.

The mist hardened, scenes rising like knives: rain-slick metal, Silco’s body gasping its last, Vi’s horror painted across her face. The memory wrapped around Powder like barbed wire.

“The first rule,” Jinx’s voice echoed, clinical and cold, “is you’re always alone. Everyone you love? Bombs waiting to blow. And guess who’s always holding the match?”

Powder cried out, stumbling. Ekko lunged to pull her in, to break the vision’s grip, but his hands passed through smoke. Trapped, powerless, he slammed a fist into the void, fury bleeding through.

The scene tore away, collapsing into another. Isha’s face. Silent. Brave. Her hands glowing with Hextech light as she overloaded the pistol, sacrificing herself in a blinding flash.

“The second rule,” Jinx whispered into the blast, voice hollow, “is that the ones who believe in you… they’re the ones who die first.”

The void shuddered. Powder buckled, her outline fraying.

Jinx stepped closer, voice rising, eyes burning like twin furnaces of grief and fury. “Her name was Isha. Brave. Loyal. She never said a word—not once—but she chose me.” Her jaw locked, trembling. “And then she died… for me.” Tears glassed her eyes but refused to fall. Her voice cracked into a blade. “And the worst part? I let her.”

The vision lingered: Jinx kneeling in mud, staring at empty space, hollowed by guilt. Her real voice cut across it like steel. “This is what faith buys you. Coffins.”

Powder’s scream split the Anomaly. Her body flickered, destabilizing. Jinx’s plan was working.

“Stop it!” Ekko’s voice tore through the void, raw with desperation. He spun toward Jinx, fury blazing. “Look at her! Look at yourself! You’re not saving us—you’re destroying yourself!”

“I’m doing what it takes to live!” Jinx snapped, calm fracturing, agony ripping through every word. “You don’t get it, Ekko! You rewind. You fix. You undo. But me?” Her voice broke, sharp with grief. “I burn. I break. Some things only end in fire!”

She raised her hands, shadows coiling like weapons, ready to crush Powder under another wave.

Ekko’s body solidified, anchored by sheer will. He planted himself in front of Powder, arms spread, but his eyes were locked on Jinx.

“No,” he said, voice ringing like iron. “Not this. I won’t let you—” his throat caught, the words breaking raw—“not just because of her. Because of you. You don’t see it, Jinx, but this… this will eat you alive. And I’m not letting you destroy yourself. Not like this.”

Her head tilted, that brittle smile twitching, tears catching in her lashes. “I know,” she whispered, almost tender. “You’re a protector. That’s your thing, isn’t it? Always playing hero.” She stepped closer, shadows unfurling behind her like broken wings. “You saved me. Over and over. Dragged me off the edge when I was ready to end it.”

Her smile cracked, breaking into something raw, jagged. “So go on, Boy Savior. Save me one last time... Before—” her gaze cut to Powder, sharp as a knife, “— I break her.”

The Anomaly shuddered, convulsing around them. The air split open. The void braced for detonation.

Chapter Text

The storm hadn’t let up.

Rain pounded the roof like it had a grudge, each hit a countdown tick slamming through the rust-warped hideout. Every pipe clanged in protest. The Z-Drive on the bench wailed—low, syncopated, like it was mourning something that hadn’t happened yet.

AU Ekko stood motionless in the center of it all. Hands clenched. Knuckles bone-white. Jaw locked so tight it ached.

Heimerdinger paced. Chalk scratched desperate equations across salvaged sheet metal, numbers looping like they were chasing their own tails. “The feedback loop is destabilizing,” the professor muttered, mostly to himself. “Energy spike accelerating every twelve seconds. If the tether inverts the anchor—”

“She’s in there.” Ekko’s voice cut through like a blade—quiet, flat, deadly. “Alone.”

Heimerdinger didn’t look up. “And without a stable bridge, entering the Anomaly is tantamount to—”

“I don’t care,” Ekko snapped.

The shout cracked the room in half. Tools rattled off the shelves. A soldered board skidded off the bench and shattered on the floor. 

Ekko didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

He was staring at the Z-Drive like it owed him something.

“I’m not doing this again.”

The words weren’t for Heimerdinger. They weren’t even for the room.

He was back there—on a rooftop nine years ago. Smoke twisting from a Piltie apartment. Steel crying out where it bent wrong. Powder’s face, cracked open by grief and denial, staring at him like he'd held the match.

He’d given her and Vi the tip. Called it a clean score. Said Jayce Talis was out.

Then Vi had touched his shoulder. And everything after that had come down in fire.

He hadn’t moved then either.

Hadn’t blinked.

Just watched.

The same way he’d watched Powder’s face contort last year when another version of him wore his skin like a mask—looked at her with desperation that wasn’t history but hunger. The same way Powder had looked back. Confused. Wanting. Familiar.

And not his.

That feeling—of being piloted, erased, violated—coiled now in his chest like a snake. It wasn’t fear. Not anymore.

It was something sharper.

Something weaponized.

Heimerdinger’s hand on his arm was meant to steady, to plead.

It landed like a cage.

“You’re not thinking clearly, lad,” the professor tried, voice thin with urgency. “The Anomaly isn't spatial—it’s psychic. Entering without an anchor risks total disintegration. You wouldn’t just lose yourself—you’d tear the bridge in both directions. The damage could be—”

“Catastrophic,” Ekko finished, deadpan. He yanked his arm free—not violently, but with finality.

“I watched someone else live my life for three days,” he said, voice low, flat, like he was reading off a grave marker. “I watched my Powder stare at a stranger in my body like he was a better me.”

He turned to face the Z-Drive. Its glow pulsed in erratic gasps now, like it couldn’t decide whether to live or die.

“I failed her once when Vi died in that freak accident because of my intel,” Ekko muttered. “And then I failed both of us by letting someone else pretend to fix it.”

He stepped toward the power conduit. Every breath of air felt sharp, electric. Like reality itself was warning him not to touch it.

He touched it anyway.

“If this thing can open a door, I’m walking through.”

Heimerdinger’s voice cracked behind him. “And what of the cost? You open that rift—what happens to this world? To hers? The timelines are fraying as it is. If you widen the tear, you risk bleeding—”

Ekko turned. Just once. Just enough for the professor to see his eyes.

It wasn’t genius anymore.

Wasn’t grief either.

It was clarity. Cold and surgical. A boy raised in the rubble now stripped down to something unrecognizable.

“Then let them bleed.”

The Anomaly had stopped pretending.

It wasn’t a void anymore. Not neutral. Not chaotic.

It had picked a side.

Jinx’s.

Every psychic blow she hurled at Powder didn’t just hit—it reverberated. The space around them stopped drifting and started reshaping itself, twisting in real-time to mirror her intent. The memories that once floated like static had calcified into jagged walls of broken glass—shards of past and future and never-was, each one reflecting Ekko’s face cracked down the middle.

He lunged to reposition, body taut, shielding Powder with every ounce of instinct he had left.

The floor twisted under him—slick with phantom rain. Steel bent itself into familiar geometry.

The bridge.

That bridge.

Firelight masks smeared in blood. Flash of shimmer. His own shout drowned by gunfire.

He slipped, caught himself, tasted iron on his tongue that wasn’t there.

The Anomaly wasn’t just remembering.

It was reenacting.

He could feel it now—Jinx’s grief turned weapon, fed through the tether, amplified and spat back out as multiversal entropy. She was a node in the storm. But he—

He was the conduit.

Each strike bled through him like wire wrapped too tight around bone. A phantom pressure behind his ribs. The moment Silco's body had crumpled in her arms. The heat of Isha’s light blooming in the dark. Not visions. Not echoes.

Residue.

Ekko’s breath hitched. His defenses frayed at the edges, flickering. He wasn’t just blocking anymore.

He was absorbing.

“Jinx!” he yelled, voice hoarse, throat raw. “You’re tearing this place apart!”

The Anomaly twisted it. Warped it. Threw it back in his face.

Not as her voice.

As his own.

You’ll hurt them again, Powder.

The words landed like a punch to the sternum.

He turned—barely—just enough to see her.

Powder.

Flickering.

She looked like a candle in wind—translucent at the edges, phasing in and out like a memory that didn’t want to be remembered. Her eyes locked on his, panicked, pleading—but fading.

He was losing her.

His logic, his shield, his strategy—all of it meant nothing here. The harder he fought, the more the Anomaly fed. It wasn’t just matching him.

It was evolving.

And it was using her pain to do it.

His pain.

Their pain.

He looked back.

Jinx stood at the center of the storm like it was a cathedral built in her honor.

Arms out.

Head tilted.

Hair wild in the psychic wind, her boots planted in ash that hadn’t burned yet.

She wasn’t grinning anymore.

She was radiant.

The chaos didn’t consume her—it amplified her. The energy that had once made her a powder keg in human form was now focused. Streamlined. Like the Anomaly had handed her a brush and said: Make something beautiful out of your ruin.

And she had.

And Ekko realized—too late—that he wasn’t her counterweight.

He was her sharpening stone.

The more he protected, the harder she hit. The more he tried to save, the more she refined her destruction.

He was her echo chamber.

And she was thriving.

He stared at her.

Jinx—arms slack, eyes wild, the Anomaly pulsing around her like it was alive and starved. For a second, just a second, the static pulled back. The psychic winds quieted. And into that stillness, something worse poured in.

Not sound. Not light.

Memory.

The noise of his past, sharp and unrelenting, played in brutal, unskippable cuts.

A slap.
The sharp sting of young Powder’s hand across his face. “I don’t need to be saved”
His face has been grabbed by the same hand. “Powder fell down a well… I’m Jinx now.” The heat in her eyes—not grief, not even confusion—just fury. And underneath it, betrayal.
Not at the world.
At him.

Then—
The bridge.

Moonlight slicked across shimmer-stained steel. The night his hope bled out.

He saw himself again—fifteen, raw, desperate—owl mask trembling in his hand.

“Powder,” he’d said, like the word alone could fix everything. “Come with us. We can help you.”

She had laughed.

Not cruel. Not kind. Just... broken.

“Get a grip, Boy Savior.”

A beat.

“Powder. Is. Gone.”

Then the trigger. Then the flash. Then the cold.

He flinched—now, here—his breath ragged in the Anomaly’s electric air. That old pain never dulled. That phantom recoil never faded. She’d answered his offer with a bullet. And even after all this time, she still was.

He blinked—
—and the memory snapped again.
The bridge again, this time on fire. Firelight bodies broken and scattered. Her silhouette against the blaze, laughing like the apocalypse was a punchline. The girl he’d grown up with, gone. Replaced by a ghost with a trigger finger and a mouthful of chaos.

She’d aimed at him.

Steel-blue eyes like a storm with nowhere to land.

And then she’d missed.

She always did.

And still, every shot had landed somewhere else. In someone else.

He’d told himself it was a game of survival. But it had always been a dance of deflection. She killed the Firelights. She never killed him. And he never stopped her.

He hated it.

Hated her for becoming something he couldn’t recognize.

Hated himself for being the boy who let her.

But then—

Another crack in the reel. A different life bleeding in.

The other Powder.

The timeline that hadn’t bled dry. The version of Zaun where no bridges burned, where no one broke. The one he had to leave. Not because it was too perfect—but because Powder and Zaun were thriving. Not twisted. Not lost. 

It gave him hope.

“It’s never too late,” the memory whispered—Powder’s voice, not his—spoken in another world, from lips that had never tasted gunpowder.

That hope had led him back to his Zaun.

To the ledge. To her. His Jinx

He remembered it like the present. Her body curled on the edge, trembling. Braids gone. Eyes blown wide with shimmer and grief. A monkey bomb clenched to her chest like a prayer with a trigger.

“Why won’t you let me go, Ekko?” she’d whispered. Fragile. Final.

And he had crouched beside her, hand steady on the bomb’s casing.

“Because it’s never too late to build something new…”
A breath. A choice.
“With someone worth building it for.”

And for a second, it had worked.

She’d smiled. A flicker of Powder through the Jinx.

They’d tried.

They had rebuilt something. Quiet mornings. Firelight murals. Hope.

She had listened when he told her about the other world.

“You saw me?” she’d asked, voice tight with disbelief. “A good version of me?”

“Yes,” he’d answered. No hesitation.

But that wasn’t the truth, not all of it.

That same night within the firelight headquarters, in his room—her curled against him like a wound in sleep—she’d asked:

“Why’d you leave that world, if it was so perfect?”

And the lump in his throat, the fear in his gut—it had made the truth harder than anything else.

“Because it wasn’t real,” he had said. Then softer. “And because the other Powder... wasn’t the you I wanted to save.”

“You’re an idiot,” she’d whispered, cracking a smile into his shirt.

“Maybe,” he’d murmured back. “But I’m your idiot.”

And now here he was.

Still her idiot.

Still trying to save her.

Still getting it wrong.

The final memory cut deepest.

The rooftop.

After the blood. After the loss. After the war.

The night she left.

“Why?” he’d asked her, hands open like peace was still possible. “Why is leaving the only answer?”

“Because staying means falling back into the same old cycle,” she’d said. Her voice was barely audible beneath the sound of the city. “Pain. Loss. Revenge. You know me - I’m good at those.”

“You’re more than the chaos you’ve caused, Jinx. I see you.”

“I don’t need people to fix me,” she’d said, eyes glinting wet. “I need to figure out how to live without being someone else's project.”

He hadn’t stopped her.

Because he hadn’t known how.

But now he did.

In the screaming, shifting heart of the Anomaly, it all crashed into place.

He couldn’t save them both.

Not Powder. Not Jinx.

And every second he shielded one, he condemned the other. Every wall he built to protect what was innocent made her—Jinx—the threat. The chaos. The thing to be locked away.

He was the one writing her role.

He was the one keeping her in it.

His gaze slid to Powder—flickering behind him, trembling, fading like she’d never existed.

A ghost of peace. Of might-have-beens.

Then his eyes snapped back to Jinx.

Blood-wild. Brilliance soaked in spite. Standing in the center of her own destruction with fire in her veins.

The girl who danced on the docks with him.

The girl who held a gun to her temple and dared fate to flinch.

The girl who was now trying to annihilate the last shred of herself, because the pain of seeing an innocent version of her was worse than the pain of destruction.

And in that moment, he understood.

He could not fix her.

Could not cage her or contain her or rewind her pain.

All he could do was choose her.

Not the version that hurt less.

Not the version that made sense.

Just her.

All of her.

He couldn’t shield her anymore.

He could only support her through it.

His choice had never been a choice at all.

She was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

And somehow, still the best.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The words barely crossed the air.

But the girl behind him felt them.

And the girl in front of him heard them—like a wire snapping in her chest.

And in that breathless, broken second, the Anomaly held its breath too.

He straightened.

The choice wasn’t a weight anymore—it was ballast. An anchor keeping him from drifting into the same current that had swallowed her whole.

He turned. One step. Then another. Away from Powder. Away from the girl trembling in his shadow.

And toward Jinx.

No rush. No shield. Just his body cutting a line into the center of her storm, steady as a clock counting down to zero.

The Anomaly stuttered. The walls of fractured glass hesitated mid-collapse. Memories flickered like bad film stock. For the first time, her chaos looked breakable.

Jinx faltered. Her arms, spread wide like a conductor orchestrating destruction, dropped an inch. Her grin twitched, fractured, folded into something raw.

“What… what the hell are you doing?”

The words hit without teeth. Not a threat. A plea.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He closed the space between them until there was no more void—just heat. The wild voltage of her fury pressed against him like static that wanted to bite. He didn’t raise his hands to stop her. Didn’t grip, didn’t restrain. He touched her like she was something human, fragile, breakable.

His palms cupped her face. His thumbs swept over skin that wasn’t wet but felt like it should’ve been—phantom tears catching on ghostlight.

Her breath stuttered.

“You’re right,” he murmured, voice steady, low, carving through the void like gravity. He leaned in until their foreheads collided, soft but final, sealing them in the same pulse. The maelstrom froze. The screaming glass went silent.

“This place runs on pain. Ours.”

His eyes shut. His breath mingled with hers.

“So let’s burn it. Together.”

And he let go.

Not of her.

Of the walls.

He poured everything into that touch. Every death. Every mistake. The ashes of Benzo in his lungs. The echo of Firelights who’d never come home. The sting of watching her slip into someone he couldn’t reach.

But he didn’t stop there. He fed it more.

The laughter in the workshop when her grease-stained fingers flipped him off mid-spark. The way their bodies had fit in the quiet dark of the Syren, skin on skin, breathing like they’d stolen time itself. The grip on her wrist when she’d dangled off a ledge, ready to fall, and the silent promise he’d made when he refused to let her.

He didn’t reject her storm. He met it. Matched it. Poured his own into hers until there was no telling whose grief belonged to who.

And for a breathless second, the Anomaly stuttered.

It convulsed. Shuddered. Fed not trauma, not corrosion, but something messy, untranslatable—something it couldn’t weaponize. Love. Anger. Hope. Fear. All tangled into the same impossible language.

The void twitched on itself. Negative space glitching under pressure.

The Anomaly screamed.

Not a sound, not really—more like glass splintering inside bone, like time itself tearing its vocal cords raw. Ekko’s gamble had done more than destabilize it. He had cracked it open.

For one impossible heartbeat, pressed forehead to forehead, he felt her shock. Jinx. The silence of someone caught off guard, breathless in the eye of her own hurricane. For a flicker of eternity, they had balanced.

Then the fault line ruptured.

The void split. A wound tore jagged across the air, vomiting raw, radioactive time. Blue-white light poured like blood.

And something came through.

Not a ghost. Not a memory.

Himself.

AU Ekko hit the ground like a weapon fired from a cannon, fury carved into every line of his face. His eyes locked on Ekko’s hands cupping Jinx’s cheeks.

“You don’t deserve any version of her,” he snarled, voice shaking with venom. “Even if yours is an infection.”

The tackle was instant. Flesh slammed into flesh, but it wasn’t just impact. It was psychic—a surge like a live wire shoved into Ekko’s soul.

The bleed hit.

Not memory. Not echo. Live feed.

He felt it.
The suffocating claustrophobia of being a prisoner in his own skin. The horror of watching a stranger wear his body like a costume, live his life, look at his Powder with eyes that weren’t his. The burn of betrayal he hadn’t earned but carried anyway.

It gutted him.

The violation buckled his knees. His chest convulsed, breath gone, guilt no longer a ghost but a solid weight grinding his ribs into dust.

He staggered back, gasping. Connection snapped.

And when his eyes lifted—when he looked at himself—he didn’t see a rival. Not anymore.

He saw a man he had broken.

But the other Ekko had no such clarity.

AU Ekko surged to his feet, finger outstretched, trembling with venom. His voice cracked like a whip soaked in acid.

“You!”

The word spat like a curse.

“You come into my world, you wear my face, you poison her! Look at what you’ve done to her!”

His gaze cut sideways—past Ekko—fixing on Powder. The girl flickering like a candle’s last breath at the edge of the void. His fury ignited into purpose.

“I was trying to help,” Ekko rasped. His own throat raw with guilt. The words tasted like ash.

“Help?”

AU Ekko laughed. The sound was hollow, bitter, sharp enough to wound.

“You dragged your sickness here. Your trauma. Your Jinx.” His lip curled around her name, venom and grief entwined. “And now you’ve infected us. Her.”

He stepped forward, accusation boiling into finality.

“I’m here to cut out the infection.”

Sickness.

Infection.

The words still hung in the space between them—sharp and deliberate, like scalpels.

Jinx had been called worse. By strangers. By a sister. By herself. But hearing it now—from that face, his face—felt different.

Felt final.

Like a verdict.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek, fingers twitching at her side like they were waiting for something to shoot.

And then—

“He’s wrong.”

The voice didn’t cut through the tension.

It threaded through it.

Soft. Hesitant. Cracked at the edges.

Jinx’s head snapped toward it.

AU Powder had stepped away from the warped shard of the workshop—barefoot, flickering, arms wrapped around herself like they were the only thing holding her together. But her eyes—big, blue, and glossy with something too real—locked onto Jinx with surgical precision.

“You’re not an infection,” Powder whispered. “You’re a survivor.”

Jinx scoffed. A short, humorless bark of sound. “Wow. Adorable. That from your little trauma poetry journal, or did one of your bedtime books write it for you?”

But Powder didn’t flinch.

Didn’t retreat.

“I know what it’s like,” she said, the words fragile but solid. “To lose someone. To be the one left behind.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no offense, princess, but your vibe is a little too intact to be lecturing me on trauma.” She gestured vaguely at her with both hands. “Perfect hair. Perfect voice. Perfect fidgety sad-girl posture. Spare me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not perfect,” Powder snapped—something sharp finally cracking through. “I’m afraid of myself. I design things I never finish. I draw and then burn the pages. I freeze every time I think I might mess up. And you—”

She took a step forward.

“You do everything I’m too scared to. You build. You destroy. You risk. You live.”

Jinx blinked, slow. “So what’s stopping you?”

The Anomaly paused.

Literally.

The floating echoes around them stilled—crystals frozen mid-shimmer, fractured memories locked like paused tape. Even the thrum of psychic static seemed to quiet.

Powder’s hands dropped to her sides. Her voice dropped too.

“Remember the explosion?” she said. “The one at a Piltover apartment? The progress guy with the crystals?”

Jinx’s mouth twitched. “Oh, that one. Yeah. The day I found those crystals... It ended up eventually blowing my whole life to hell. It cost me my family, my sanity - Thought I was saving them. Instead, I killed them”

Powder’s eyes filled, her face pale. “But your Vi didn’t die.”

Jinx blinked. “...Wait. What?”

Powder’s palm hovered over her own chest like something still ached there.

“During the heist… I dropped the crystals. I was too excited. Clumsy. I scattered them across the floor.” Her voice cracked. “And it went off. Wrong. Too wrong.”

She looked up.

“My Vi didn’t survive.”

Jinx’s grin vanished.

“…What?”

“She was caught in it,” Powder whispered. “Blown clear across the room. Crushed by debris. Gone before I could even scream. Vander tried to say it wasn’t my fault. Said it was an accident.”

She turned, eyes flicking toward her own Ekko.

“But he…”

AU Ekko stood frozen. That raw fury from moments ago—stolen by silence.

“…he blamed himself for giving us the intel for the heist.”

Powder looked back to Jinx.

“He never forgave himself. He thinks it’s his fault she’s gone. He won’t let me take the blame.”

Jinx stared. Her jaw ticked once. Twice.

Then she barked out a laugh. Dry. Tired.

“Typical fucking Ekko behavior. Martyrdom by guilt spiral. They’re practically wired for it.”

Powder laughed too. A breathy, shaking thing. “Yeah. Guess we both pulled the same brand of self-sacrificing idiot.”

The shared silence that followed was strange. Not peaceful. Not tense. Just real.

Then Jinx’s smile flickered, faltered, melted into something softer.

“Hey… sorry I went full vile villainess on you earlier. Nothing personal. "A beat. She rolled her eyes at herself. "Okay, maybe a little personal. I was just… y’know. Drowning in my own shit.”

Powder’s mouth tugged up, tired but honest.

“Yeah. No worries. I probably would’ve done the same shit too - if I were you.”

Her voice changed again—lower now. Honest in a way that bled.

“You’re not just a survivor.” She hesitated, then stepped closer. “You’re what happens when the wound never closes. When it keeps getting sliced back open every time you almost start to heal.”

The words didn’t hit like a slap.

They hit like an embrace she didn’t know she needed.

No pity.

No judgment.

Just understanding.

Jinx felt it—this flicker of connection, terrifying in its softness. Like a match in a hurricane.

The rage in her chest didn’t vanish. It didn’t flare.

It settled.

An ache now. Heavy. Hollow. And—for the first time in what felt like years—shared.

The words hit the void like shrapnel. Small. Quiet. But they rewired everything.

Ekko saw it—two versions of the same girl, circling each other, finally colliding in the only truth he’d never been able to shield them from.

Loss.

The kind that didn’t care about timelines.

The kind that hollowed you out the same way, no matter which world you belonged to.

Then the guilt hit harder than any punch.

But his double didn’t wait. AU Ekko came again—grief sharpened into fury, swinging with the kind of rage only betrayal could carve.

Their fight wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t grace. It was ugly, desperate, mirrored violence. Every strike Ekko threw was caught. Every hit he landed ricocheted back across his own skin like punishment. Two bodies locked in a loop, breaking each other in the same breath.

“Stop it! Both of you!”

Powder’s voice—thin, terrified—cut through. But they didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

And the Anomaly couldn’t take it.

The void convulsed. Shuddered. Became more than memory. It turned into a battlefield.

Walls of nothing tore wide with visions. To the left—his world: Zaun burning, the bridge fight stretched into infinity, fire frozen mid-scream. To the right—his double’s world: a thriving Zaun, sunlight slanting over open classrooms where Heimerdinger’s chalkboard stood, peace not as fantasy but fact.

The worlds bled together.

His wreckage eating into that sunlight, fire licking over cobblestone streets. The thriving Zaun cracking beneath the weight of his broken one.

They weren’t just fighting each other.

They were tearing their homes apart.

“Look!” Ekko roared, his voice shredding in his throat. He pointed at the fissure where burning girders from his world splintered into the marketplace of the other. “Our fight—it’s ripping them both down!”

And then he saw them.

Jinx. Powder.

Flickering at the edges of chaos like faulty projections. Their bodies thinning, outlines glitching. Not just watching—erasing. The Anomaly, destabilized, was unmaking them first.

Ice water sluiced through his chest. It froze the fight mid-swing.

And he saw it in his double’s eyes too. That same grief. His own face warped with dawning horror.

“We’re also hurting them,” AU Ekko whispered, voice stripped down to bone.

The words gutted the air between them.

AU Ekko’s fist loosened, still trembling but without momentum. Ekko’s own arms dropped, his chest heaving ragged, shallow breaths.

They stood apart.

Not rivals. Not enemies.

Two inventors staring at a machine seconds from detonation, with everything they loved inside.

The truce wasn’t spoken. It didn’t need to be.

It was written in the fear bleeding out of both their faces—the only kind of understanding born in the shadow of annihilation.

The truce hung between AU Ekko and his other self—thin, trembling, already fraying at the edges. No words passed. They didn’t need to. The fight had burned itself out, leaving nothing but the hollow ache of bruised ribs, fractured timelines, and truths that had come too late.

The Anomaly still screamed at the seams.

But in the center of it, something quieter formed. Not peace. Not yet. Just space to breathe.

And in that breath, AU Ekko saw her.

Powder stood alone on a floating shard of what looked like her old workshop floor, jagged glass and splintered tile levitating beneath her bare feet. Her arms wrapped tight around herself, but it wasn’t fear anymore. Just... sadness. Quiet. Heavy. Exhausted. Like she’d already lived through this moment once and still wasn’t sure if it would break her again.

AU Ekko stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Every limb felt heavier than it should. His double didn’t stop him—just watched, silently, the fury in his frame cooling into something brittle and distant.

This was his to fix. Or at least, face.

“Powder.” His voice cracked like a fault line. Just saying her name felt like reopening a wound.

She looked at him. And for a second—just a second—he saw her. Not the flickering outline. Not the tethered echo. Just her. The girl in the lab. The one who had once stared at him with red-ringed eyes and whispered, “Is that what I am now? Something broken?”

He hadn’t answered then.

He hadn’t known how.

“Can’t believe you’re here, buster,” she said softly. Her voice was tired but real, steady in a way the void wasn’t.

Ekko swallowed hard. “I told you I wouldn’t lose you.” The words tasted like ash. He’d meant them. Back then. But promises made in fear had turned into cages. He hadn’t protected her. He’d hidden her—from himself, from Jinx, from the part of her he couldn’t control.

Powder stepped closer. Her eyes searched his face like she was still trying to solve an equation she’d already solved in another life.

“When the other you was in your body,” she began, quiet but firm.

AU Ekko froze.

“He said he’d given up on his Zaun,” she continued. “And on… his other me.” A pause. “But I told him that you—the Ekko I knew—wouldn’t. You never give up.”

She looked down, then back up. Her voice trembled, just once. “I told him… whatever happened between him and his other me, it’s never too late to build something new.”

The words weren’t a wound. They weren’t even a challenge.

They were a question.

Do you get it now?

“I know,” AU Ekko said, barely breathing. His throat felt like it was being held shut from the inside. “I saw it. I saw her.”

His eyes flicked past Powder to where Jinx still stood, a flickering silhouette of defiant ruin. Not a monster. Not even a mistake. Just a girl built from grief, surviving the only way she knew how.

“I was so focused on keeping you from becoming her,” he said, turning back to Powder, “that I didn’t see I was the one fracturing you. I thought I was saving you… but all I did was make you go cold on me.”

He exhaled like it hurt. “It’s now that I realize that the other me didn’t break you.”

He swallowed hard.

“I did. By trying to keep you away from a ghost… I turned myself into one.”

Powder didn’t flinch. She stepped in, her face softening, and her voice—when it came—was barely more than breath.

“You’re not a shadow, Ekko.”

Her own words, mirrored back at him. The ones she’d once whispered into his chest when the tether first frayed.

“Not to me.”

She reached out, fingers hovering in the space between them.

Not forgiveness. A second chance.

But even here, even now—the void was already starting to unravel again. The scream at the edges was returning. Their moment of stillness was a closing window.

AU Ekko looked at her hand. Looked at the fading workshop floor. Then at the burning girder slicing through the sky like a falling star. The ghost of his own timeline beginning to crash into hers.

He smiled, soft and small and shatterable.

“Stay here,” he said gently. “I have to get us home.”

She opened her mouth, but he didn’t wait.

He turned before she could say anything. Not because he didn’t want to hear it. But because if he heard it, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

His steps were slow, steady, cold with clarity.

He walked toward his double with the kind of focus that didn’t ask permission.

He wasn’t running anymore.

He was building.

A wall between their worlds.

The other Ekko turned away from Powder.

The moment broke like glass.

Jinx saw it—the shift. It wasn’t just in the set of his jaw or the squaring of his shoulders. It was in his silence. The heavy kind. The kind you didn’t fill. The kind you carried. He wasn’t a pissed-off rival anymore.

He was a variable.

And together—two versions of the same boy, aged by different ruins—they turned to face the screaming heart of the void.

“The core’s the anchor,” her Ekko said quietly. “That’s what’s holding the rift open. We can’t shut it. We collapse it. Force the timelines to snap back to their native states.”

“A directed overload,” AU Ekko nodded, eyes locked on the pulsing lattice of blue-white fracture light. “But the blowback will be absolute. Anything at the epicenter will be erased.”

His gaze drifted. Not to Jinx. To Powder.

“I can shield them. My Z-Drive’s stable enough. I can make a localized time shell—it’ll hold for maybe four seconds. Just enough to keep them from being vaporized in the collapse.”

Jinx’s blood iced.

And then she saw it—heard it—in her Ekko’s voice, soft and final.

“And I can trigger the collapse.”

He said it like it was already decided.

She looked at him. Really looked.

Then his gaze snapped back to her—just once, just long enough to gut her.

And there it was.

That look.

The one she hated.
The one she knew too well.

The “I’m gonna risk it all” Ekko expression.

The kind of look that made her want to punch him and beg him to stay in the same breath.

No fear. No fury. No resolve.

Just quiet.

Final.

An apology.

A goodbye.

She knew that look.

She’d seen it painted across too many faces.

Silco—blood bubbling in his throat, his last words pressed like a brand into her chest.

Isha—small, defiant, eyes glowing as she chose to burn instead of run.

The kind of look that always came right before she lost someone.

Again.

And something snapped inside her. A storm surged up, raw and feral, more than grief, more than rage.

No.

Not you.

Not him.

Her life was already a graveyard.
Every stone bore the same inscription.
They died because of you.

Mylo. Claggor. Vander. Silco. Isha.

Chains she carried so long they fused into her bones.

She would not carry him too.

This wasn’t about timelines.
This wasn’t about fractures or multiversal calculus.
This was about breaking the one pattern that had always defined her: everyone she touched turned into a ghost.

Ekko turned to his double. Gave him a nod.

Then he lunged. A blur of sacrifice, every line of him sharpened by intent.

And she lunged too.

But a voice caught her mid-motion.

“Come with us.”

The other Ekko.

Jinx blinked. The words hit strange. Like someone had offered her an extra heartbeat.

“What?”

“When the core collapses,” AU Ekko said, stepping forward, voice low but urgent, “I can pull you through. I can shield Powder. I can shield you. Bring you to our timeline.”

Jinx stared at him like he’d cracked in half.

“And then what?” she scoffed. “I move in? What, I’m your new trauma rescue pet?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. No anger. Just that same raw sincerity that made her want to spit. “You come with us so we can help you. The people you lost—they’re all there. And once you're ready... we help you find your way back. Fix your Zaun. Fix your future.”

It hung in the air like a bribe she wasn’t allowed to take. A warm, safe place wrapped in a lie that tasted like hope.

A world where she could heal.

A world where someone else cleaned up the blood.

She looked at AU Powder. The girl’s hands were curled to her chest, eyes wide and desperate—offering her something Jinx had forgotten how to recognize.

Hope.

It made her nauseous.

“Your Powder - she’s right, you know,” Jinx said. Her voice rasped, dry and serrated. “Said I’m a survivor.”

AU Ekko nodded, too fast. “Survivors can heal and rebuild. You just need space. Time. A world that can help you have both.”

A bitter laugh carved its way out of her throat.

“Help me?” she scoffed. “You think I’m some busted machine? Swap the wires, replace a gear, and ta-da—I’m fixed?”

Her gaze didn’t land on him. It landed on him. Her Ekko.

On his way to the core.

He never offered to fix her.

He offered to burn with her.

Her gaze hardened.

She turned fully now—toward her Ekko. The one who knew what she was. Who had seen the wreckage. And still stood there, ready to die in it with her.

“Your world’s a lie to me,” she said, voice low but sharp. “A pretty fantasy. Mine—and his—comes with scars. You know which one raised me.”

She then looked back at AU Ekko.

And smiled.

Not cruel. Not mocking.

Just… sad.

Terrifyingly certain.

“And I don’t think I could stay — even temporarily — in a world without Vi.” Her gaze slid to AU Powder. “No offense, princess.”

AU Powder huffed out a laugh, soft and broken. “None taken. I miss her so much it hurts. The things I’d trade to get her back…”

Silence hung for a beat.

Then AU Ekko stepped forward.

“I get it,” he said, nodding to her. “And you have my word that we’ll come to your Zaun. Help fix it. No matter what happens to you—or the other me—in here.”

Jinx tilted her head. Grinned. One brow raised, one eye gleaming.

“And if we do meet again…”
She winked.
“I’d love to know more about you, Mister perfect boy.”

Then she turned her back on him—on the offer, on the safety, on the ghosts she never got to keep—and lunged.

Straight for her Ekko.

At first, he didn’t even see her. His hands reached for the light, reaching alone.
“Go—I’ll handle this,” he barked, desperation leaking through the cracks.

“Fat chance.” She wasn’t stopping him. Wasn’t pulling him back.
“Can’t let you have all the fun, genius.”

“This could be it, Jinx, ” he ground out, eyes locked on the roaring core. “Please go with the other Ekko and Powder. You will be safe with them. They have a way out with their Z-Drive.”

Her stare cut him open. Cold, furious, unyielding. 

“You don’t get to leave me behind, Ekko.”

“For the love of Janna—” He snapped, voice caught between rage and panic. “This could be the end, okay? Just go, dammit.”

She smirked at him. “Nope. Not happening. Being in a precarious situation is basically part of my brand. You’re stuck with me, buddy.”

Ekko then sighed heavily. “...shit.”

The Anomaly roared, pulling them both into its gravity.

And when his hands closed over the core—hers slammed down too. Their grip locked. Defiant. Unbreakable.

Together.

The chaos bent around them, jagged shards of memory flashing like knives. Vi’s slap. Silco’s blood. The Firelight bridge. Gunfire. Laughter. Betrayal. The bombs she never stopped building. The ghosts he never stopped burying.

And in the middle of it—truth slipped out. Not tender. Not pretty. But theirs.

“Why won’t you go…” He whispered in resignation.

“Because… ” She blinked, shaking. “I - I hate you. 

Her lips trembled, voice ragged, storm-shredded

“I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head. Every goddamn second. Like a splinter I can’t rip out.”

His laugh was bitter, hollow, cracked open from the inside. 

“Yeah?” he rasped. “I hate you more.”

He didn’t look away.

“I hate that I can’t stay away from your self-destructive bullshit. Hate that no matter how many people you’ve hurt, I keep—”

He swallowed hard.

“—choosing you anyway.”

Her breath caught—half a sob, half a manic laugh.
“You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he shot back, voice breaking like glass.

The storm swallowed the rest, but the confession lingered, louder than the roar. Their hands locked on the core. Neither letting go.

Not this time.

The shrieking void, the psychic static, the splitting of timelines—gone. Swallowed whole by the light beneath their palms.

No heat. No burn. No pain.

Just connection.

Like every jagged shard of her had slammed into every measured piece of him, and for once—finally—the edges fit. Not fusion. Not surrender.

A circuit, closed.

She felt it spark through him. His shock, sharp and electric. The disbelief of someone who had never expected her to follow.

And then—acceptance.

His fingers curled tighter around hers, a grip that wasn’t restraint but agreement. No words, no vows, just the raw truth of two kids who had spent their lives defined by fracture finding, for one impossible heartbeat, sync.

Not Jinx and Ekko.
Not ghosts of Powder and the boy who couldn’t save her.

But something else.

Creation inside destruction.

She lifted her eyes.

And his—steady, grounded, unflinching—met her storm without flinching. He wasn’t afraid of the ruin in her. He wasn’t sharing his sacrifice; he was trusting her with it.

The core’s light didn’t consume them.

It came from them.

Her grin broke, small and cracked and real—the kind she hadn’t felt since before everything burned. Not manic. Not painted on.

Free.

Then the light surged. White, absolute, a flood that erased edge and shadow alike.

The world dissolved into it. Him, her, the ghosts, the storm—everything swallowed in one impossible, peaceful blaze.

A clean slate.

The blast didn’t sound like anything.

It was pressure—pure and primal—that detonated from where Jinx and Ekko had been. Not a boom. No fire. Just silence that collapsed the air in on itself.

Caitlyn hit the ground hard.

Red emergency strobes sliced through the warehouse as the pressure in her skull screamed, her ears ringing with a sound that hadn’t come from outside. Her body ached like it had been folded in half.

The main blast doors—solid steel, triple-reinforced—ripped off the hinges like paper. She caught one through blurred vision, tumbling end over end into the rain-dark night. Gone.

And then: silhouettes.

Flooding through the wound in the wall like ants in formation.

Ed’s mercs.

“Breach! Light ’em up!” someone barked—clipped, sharp, too close.

The muzzle flashes came instantly. A brutal, strobing rhythm.
Crack-crack-crack.
Sound returning like a whip across the jaw.
No hesitation. No warning.

Caitlyn’s body moved before her thoughts caught up. Training buried beneath the ringing. She rolled, rifle already up, but it didn’t matter. The angles were bad. They were outflanked. No cover. No chance.

“Vi, get—!”

She never finished.

Because the world bent.

The air thickened—like it had gone liquid. Sound warped, pitch-dropped, warped into a sick, throaty drone.

Ekko was standing.

He shouldn’t have been.

The sickly blue rot at his side—gone. No blood. No wound. Just him, alive, upright, glowing. His eyes weren’t brown anymore.

They were green. Burning.

And he lifted a hand.

That’s all.

And time shattered.

Caitlyn watched bullets crawl through the air. Each one twitching mid-flight, their trails tracing arcs like spiteful insects frozen in glass. Muzzle flashes hung, unmoving. The entire world turned syrup-thick and dream-wrong.

This wasn’t tech.
This wasn’t magic.

This was a violation.

This was him.

And then a blur. Something fast—but almost instantaneous.

Jinx.

One moment she was beside Ekko. The next, she was in front of Caitlyn, too close, eyes wild with glee, a hand grabbing her arm like a lifeline.

“Hold on tight,” Jinx grinned, teeth gleaming in the frozen light.

And then they were gone.

It wasn’t motion. It was removal.

Like being yanked sideways out of the universe by the spine.

No up. No down. Just white heat and velocity and a scream that didn’t come from her throat but underneath her ribs.

And then—

Impact.

They slammed behind a generator console hard enough to knock the breath from her chest.

And reality slammed back in.

The thundercrack of time resuming was deafening. Bullets slammed into the spot they’d been a second before, shredding the console in a hellish shriek of metal and fire. Sparks exploded. Shrapnel bit at her boots.

Caitlyn gasped on the floor, her heart trying to escape through her teeth, her lungs full of cordite.

Vi was next to her. Alive.

Staring.

Not at the console.

At them.

Ekko and Jinx.

On their feet.

Jinx rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck. That grin—cocky, bloodthirsty, electric—spread like a slash across her face. “Round two?”

Ekko stood beside her, steady. Calm. Changed. That same light still bleeding from his eyes, but it wasn’t wild.

It was measured.
Cold.
Final.

He didn’t raise his voice.

“…Round two?” A pause. Then—
“Nah. This is the final round.”

Vi’s voice broke beside her. Whispered. Shaking.

“What the…”

Caitlyn met her gaze. Chest heaving. Rifle forgotten. Voice hollow.

“…bloody hell.”