Narcolepsy
Two days later...
The feeling of falling was omni present. There he was. Warwick. Vander. Her father. Falling with her, holding her tightly, his gaze locked with hers. Comforting her on what felt like their final journey together. Now he was dead. Killed by her explosion. Ironically, once again by one of her monkey bombs. But this time, it was final. A merciful ending to a tragic life. Vander had become one of life’s most gruesome and brutal victims. He had deserved so much more - most of all, a happy life with his family. Yet there was no way to save him.
Jinx remembered pulling the pin from her advanced monkey grenade and braced herself for what was to come. She was ready to go. Closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. Then everything happened so fast. Suddenly her reflexes kicked in. Taking over automatically, like an autopilot. The last glimpse of her survival instinct. Almost extinguished and yet still there.
She remembered the loud bang, the explosion, and then the deafening silence that swallowed everything as she plunged downward. The blast, the shockwave, the searing heat—all of it blurred together, like fragments of a nightmare. She was lucky to survive, though the price was steep: countless cuts, bruises, and a few broken ribs. The shimmer coursing through her veins dulled the pain, numbing her—until it returned much later, sharp and unrelenting, like a debt she couldn't escape from.
"No matter what happened in the past... it's never to late to build something new... Someone worth building it for"
Ekko's words lingered in her mind, refusing to let her go off her. Yet, perhaps they were what had reawakened her survival instinct. At least partially. Somehow, his words had reignited something in her she thought was long dead - hope. And yet, she had never truly questioned why Ekko had come back to her after everything that had happened. Was it because they had once been friends? Because, like Vi, he believed there was still something good left in her. That Powder was still there? But maybe, just maybe, they were both total idiots.
She had only returned to fight because Ekko dared to visit her, stopping her from ending her life with the power of his words. At first, she wasn't sure if he genuinely cared for her or if he was trying to manipulate her—using her fighting skills and reputation to rally Zaun for this mission. Despite everything that had happened between them, he still came. With his words, her anger toward him—for fighting against her, for sparing her life only to leave her behind—faded away. She realized she owed her survival to his efforts and his vision: to build something new.
But she didn't joined the fight for his sake. Or Zaun. She did it for Isha. And Vi. Yet, after everything, she realized Ekko had been a true friend all along. And Vi? She was still her sister, the one who loved her so deeply. And vice versa. How could she have been so blind to this for so long? Her love for Vi afterall was one of the reasons why she was so relentless in her pursuit of Caitlyn's life. Her fear of being replaced and no longer loved, being needed.
After she survived, her first instinct was simple: return to Vi. Hug her. Crying in her arms like she used to when she was younger. And even more hugging her. And then what? The sad truth was, she simply couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to come back, to face the people she had hurt. Like Caitlyn. And Vi. She had almost ended her own life if it hadn’t been for Ekko, who, for some inexplicable reason, found the right words to pull her back from the brink. The emotions that surged through her in that moment were strange—both comforting and unsettling.
Running away - or better sneaking - on the first airship heading out of Piltover wasn't one of her best ideas. But at least it got her somewhere. Many times she regreted her decision. After Vi left her, she had become some kind of a one-liner. Until Isha came into her life. And in between all of that, Silco was the only one who genuinely cared for her, who loved her unconditionally, flaws and all. Maybe they were destined to find each other—both abandoned, misunderstood, and shaped by wrong decisions and cruel circumstances. And sometimes just pure badluck.
Of course he used her, once he understood her potential and her intelligence. But it would have been a lie to just assume that this was one-sided. No, she also understood on how to benefit from their relationship. Playing the 'Silco card' was one of her signature moves. Whenever she managed to upset or enrage someone - or simply did once again something erratically she only needed to mention his name. That alone was enough to make almost everyone think twice about crossing either of them.
Ecxept Sevika maybe. But she wasn't afraid of anything. Except herself maybe. Not Vander, not Silco and especially not her or the Piltovians. No. She always stood out. Perhaps Sevika was the real reason Silco managed to hold on to power of the undercity for so long—and so effectively. In the end he may not have gone unchallenged, but he remained unbeaten...
Jinx opened her eyes, her gaze directly locking onto the 'no suicide' graffiti scrawled across the wall and roof. A stark reminder to stay alive, to keep fighting and to honor Isha’s sacrifice. The same dream had haunted her again. The dream—more of a nightmare than anything else—had become a constant torment. It used to come often, but lately, it haunted her relentlessly. She rubbed her eyes slowly, trying to clear her mind.
Jinx didn’t need to check the time; she already knew she’d slept through yet another night and most of the day. Her dry throat and pounding head were prove enough. She slowly stretched herself before she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her eyes scanned the room carefully. Almost afraid of what might be there. No sign of 'them'. That could only mean they were still asleep. Or already busy with whatever they had sent to their minds. For a moment, she toyed with the tempting thought of throwing herself back into bed. But she knew to well, that this was no option.
This condition was completely new to her. As usual, her bed-related struggles were more about the opposite: finding sleep at all. She remembered that in the days after Singed had treated her with his 'special shimmer' dose to save her life, she hadn't been able to sleep at all. Shimmer and adrenaline have been coursing through her veins ever since, giving her amazing reflexes, but maybe poisoning her at the same time. Though the effects of the shimmer may have begun to fade. She could feel her body changing, but she wasn't sure if it was for the better or for the worse. And if her body was changing at all, or if it was just her mind playing the usual tricks on her.
Months ago, everything - just everything - seemed so much easier. Six months ago, she was still Silco's cherished 'spoiled crown princess,' as Sevika had once put it during a visit to Babette's brothel.Jinx knew this because, a few years ago, she had begun sneaking into the establishment, spying on Sevika purely for her own amusement. Since then, she had occasionally returned, stealing glimpses of the delicate happenings inside. Silco knew her as only Vi and Vander did apart from him. In fact, he had known her since she was little. If her parents hadn’t been killed during Vander’s revolution, he might very well have become her uncle. Together with Vander. What a strange and tangled world...
Silco was always there for her during her sleepless nights. Sometimes, he’d stay up late in his office, talking to her as he worked—or pretended to—until she finally drifted off. By morning, she would always wake up in the little apartment he had carefully prepared for her, tailored to her every need after taking her in. Before him, it had been Vander or Vi who helped her through those nights. Ironically, right now her struggle had become the opposite: staying awake instead of falling asleep. Yet right now, sleep was the only place she truly felt safe.
It took a while before her system fully awakened. But then she could feel it. It was indeed the shimmer which now mixed with her blood. Her heart beat rised and she suddenly felt an energy surge. She elegantly jumped up from her bed and began to stroll across the room. Her bladder had decided to be gentle this morning, allowing to first get a sip of something to rehydrate her mind. And most importantly: Her nerves.
She strolled over to her desk, which could best be described as a total mess. Parts, screws and the scattered remains of various materials. It had been a long shift to finally finish the last badge of her order. Her deal with some local mobsters and wannabe criminals—an arrangement that could easily be called downright obnoxious—had kept her afloat. It was an alliance of convenience she wasn't particularly fond of, but with no better options or allies in this part of the world, it was the only move she could make. Converting her proven monkey-bomb design into stun grenades wasn't her most heroic achievement, but it was still far better than selling the real thing. Stun grenades couldn't cause nearly as much damage as her original invention. Sure, they could still be misused for all kinds of nasty or criminal acts, but that was a reasonable compromise. After all, the world wasn’t black and white. Working for money was a relatively new experience for her - if one ignored the times she and her sibling went on burglary raids through Piltover as children, encouraged by Vander. Maybe he wasn’t the best father. Neither was Silco. But they both loved her unconditionally. And she loved them just the same.
Of course, she could have simply returned to Zaun and lived off Silco's seemingly endless wealth. But that was still not an option for her. Only if she managed to stay away from Piltover would Vi have a chance to endure. To survive. So far, everyone she ever cared about has perished because of her actions. Vander, Mylo, Clagger, Silco and now Isha. Losing Isha was by far the most painful. Her sacrifice, combined with Ekko’s words that had taken root in her mind, kept her alive—barely, but just enough to keep moving forward. No, she couldn’t give up now. She had to make amends for all her mistakes.
Her gaze fell on the half-empty bottle of water beside one of her original monkey bombs. She still kept a few of them—just in case. Not that her own life mattered to her anymore. But she had a promise to keep, a debt to repay for her sins. She rolled her head from one shoulder to another before taking a large sip. Water wasn't particular her drink of choice, but due to the fact that she had consumed all of the other drinks from her rations, she had no other choice but to relay on water until her supplies were restocked. Hopefully just in a few hours time. So far, her business partners had always kept their end of the bargain: Dropping off the requested goods at the agreed delivery point and taking the monkey bombs in exchange. There wasn’t really a set schedule. Whenever she delivered the items, usually within a few hours, she received their part of the deal. Quick and easy. No questions asked—on either side.
With her throat still a little dry, she looked at the handmade calendar she had crafted to keep track of her deliveries. But in truth, she had created it for a different reason. It had been 97 days since the battle of Piltover. And it already felt like a whole eternity. Like another live. Throughout most of her life, she hadn’t minded being a loner. Even during the past three months, apart from a few quick trips to a nearby town, she’d been alone. But for the first time ever, she truly felt lonely. Now that Silco, Vander and Isha were gone she had only Vi remained. And as much as she loved her, much more than she ever did and wanted to admit, she knew that she couldn't come back. Not now. Maybe never. Isha's death left scars on her soul that would likely never heal - scars so deep that she hated herself for ever wishing to forget her. That little girl who had, quite literally, fallen into her life and changed it in an instant. Isha had sacrificed herself for her without hesitation. She couldn't shake off the last memory of Isha smiling at her and forming a playful finger gun. Sadly, it was the only memory of her that kept rising unbidden to the surface of her mind.
Staying away from Vi was the better choice—for both of them. She couldn’t risk her sister sacrificing herself for her as well. The cycle of self-sacrifice had to end, but deep down, she knew that it probably never would. Neither she nor Vi were able - yet strong enough - to break it. They would always give everything for each other—a truth both comforting and heartbreaking. Vi would, without a doubt, throw herself in front of any bullet fired at her. The only exception ever was during their fight in the temple, when Caitlyn aimed directly at her. Jinx had seen the conflict and sadness in her eyes as she dodged, deliberately giving Caitlyn a clear shot at her. But that was a different Vi. And a different Jinx.
Jinx sank slowly into her chair, rubbing her temples before running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. How would Vi even react if she suddenly showed up in person at… "Where exactly?" Well, that was probably a stupid question. Vi had most likely moved into Caitlyn's mansion, making her highly officially a residential Pilty. For some reason, Jinx just knew they would stay together. After everything. If she couldn’t separate them, then nothing - and no one -ever could. So that was a pretty easy guess. And in general, Vi was relatively easy to find. If one knew where to look. How hard could it be to find a girl with a "Vi" tattoo on her cheek?
But the real problem was, that Vi most certainly believed that she was dead—gone in the explosion alongside Vander, their father. Jinx never intended to cause Vi such pain. That realization hit her only later, long after she had left the battlefield and Piltover behind. Vi had Caitlyn, after all, and had managed to move on from her once. Vi was probably fine. But still, only a short trip back to Piltover could truly reassure her. So would she be angry, disappointed or just relieved and hug the hell out of her? Most likely the latter, with elements of the former.
But there was another, almost more important letter on her desk. It was filled to the brim with gold coins. Along with a small note addressed directly to the recipient.
"Ren. I'm very sorry for your loss. I know this isn't much, but I'll try to help you out as much as I can. Don't let the world get you down"
Her eyes flitted over the scrawly written short lines."Don't let the world get you down" Jinx thought about the sentence once again. "Too thick?" She asked herself, regretting for not paying further attention to the lessons Silco's carefully selected private teacher had once taught her. "No, just right. The world still is shit, most of the time..." She contentedly approved the contents of the letter. Ren, the little daughter of Piltovers former Sheriff Marcus, who was killed as a result of her breakdown at the bridge. Another destroyed life, thanks to her. Another tick on the list, another notch on her gun. "Yep, in terms of kill count, no one can hold a candle to me so quickly"
Her left hand gently brushed over the letter one last time before her gaze shifted back to her unfinished words for Vi.: "I'm not ready for this..."
A sad and frustrated sigh left her lungs. "Why can I write a letter to some orphan Pilty child, but not to my own sis..." She hissed angrily at her own mind.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" A scream of pain tore through the room. Jinx clutched her head, her heart aching with the weight of missing her sister.
But she couldn't do it. She just couldn’t. For five days now, she'd been struggling to find the right words—words to explain everything to Vi, to let her know she was alive, safe, but not ready to talk. The half-written letter lay crumpled on the desk, mocking her with its incompleteness. "Maybe just a quick reunion?" she muttered to herself, but the doubts crept in, spreading like wildfire through her mind. "What should I even say to her? Hey sis... Long time no see? Am back and alive?" "Right... sounds so stupid..."
But what if Caitlyn were the one to find the letter first? What if she burned it before Vi ever had a chance to read it? The saddest thing was that she couldn't even blame her if she did. The thought made Jinx’s stomach churn. And still, she sat there, unable to write a single word more. Her right hand hovered over the paper, trembling - just one impulsive move away from crumpling it and erasing it forever. "I suck with humans... But maybe I just suck with everyone..." That sounded more reasonable. More like her. She closed her eyes, letting the tranquillity of this place wash over her. This abandoned airship, nestled in the snowy mountains of nowhere, had become an unlikely—yet now almost perfect—refuge for her fractured self. It hadn’t been her first choice. Initially, she had planned to hide out in Bilgewater. But fate—or rather the course of the airship—had steered her to this remote corner in the eastern regions of Valoran.
Slowly, she realized how much her heart was racing, each beat loud and insistent. Soon, the pounding radiated to her head, swelling into a subtle yet persistent ache. She squeezed her eyes shut, retreating into the safety of an old habit, and began humming the melody Vi used to hum—a gentle tune that once eased her fears and sang her into dreams. "When I can't see you, you can't see me..."
She opened her eyes hesitantly. They were standing behind her. Again.
Piltover, at the same time
The atmosphere in the bedroom felt suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words. It was the hardest day since coming back home from Noxus. The angry oil slick was back—this time without the gloomy dyed hair. Vi sat on their bed, her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance as if trying to avoid Caitlyn’s worried gaze. The smell of cheap alcohol was unbearable. Vi wasn't a picky drinker. She wasn’t a picky drinker—anything strong enough to drown her grief, regret, and anger would do. Caitlyn lingered in the doorway, her gaze heavy with pity and sorrow. This wasn’t the Vi she fell in love with—the relentless force who would cross any line, including leaving her behind, to find her sister. The girl who usually took the initiative, who had faced Sevika and emerged victorious, now sat before her a broken shell, a shadow of her former self.
She had seen it before, during her visit to Jinx’s prison cell after the battle at Victor’s Enclave. Losing Isha had shattered her will to live. What Caitlyn saw there wasn’t the deranged killer who had taken her mother’s life and so many others, but a hollow shell of a person. No, this was Powder—the girl Vi had always believed was still there. And now, it seemed, she had returned. Jinx might be gone, but Powder wasn’t. Caitlyn began to understand: Jinx wasn’t one or the other. She was both—a victim and a perpetrator, just like so many others in this tangled web of pain and choices. If there were any choices at all. Probably yes, but now it didn't mattered any more.
Jinx’s indifference to her own life was deeply unsettling. Caitlyn had entered the jail cell ready to pour out her hatred, sharp and poisonous like a snake’s bite. But then she saw her—broken, shattered, barely a shadow of the monster she had imagined. And she froze. Was it reason? Or mercy? Either way, the line between justice and vengeance blurred that day, and only now she realized how close she had come to ending Jinx’s life. Caitlyn knew, if she had gone through with it—if she had killed Jinx—Vi’s hatred would have been inevitable. Perhaps even her vengeance. By now, Caitlyn knew that Jinx wasn’t just important to Vi; she was untouchable, a line no one should dare to ever cross.
As she observed Vi, Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a sibling of her own. Would it feel the same—a bond so deep, so unbreakable? Or was it something unique to where they came from, forged in struggle and survival? Was blood truly thicker than water? Perhaps it was.
Jayce had always felt like a brother to her—a confidant, her best friend, even her soulmate in a way. But now that he was gone, everything about their relationship seemed different, almost fragile in hindsight. They had been inseparable, yet their bond had never matched the unyielding connection between Jinx and Vi. It was a bitter truth to face, one that left her questioning the nature of their closeness.
Every day in Piltover seemed to pull Vi further into a downward spiral. The drinking got worse. The fighting got worse. Coming back to Piltover was meant to be a chance for them to heal—to work on themselves and their relationship. Instead, it felt as though it had completely shattered her. Her emotions simmered beneath the surface, building pressure until they finally burst forth, unstoppable and scalding, like a boiling kettle. Everywhere she went, Jinx was there—etched into walls, immortalized in paintings, even reenacted in street games. Her little sister had become more than a memory; she was a legend in Zaun. The city was like a living museum, with Jinx as its most celebrated exhibit. A hero to her people. A symbol. And the reason Vi couldn't return home. She couldn’t face the memorials, the stories, the myth of her sister. So much that it kept her from visiting old friends or stopping by Jericho’s for one of those questionable dishes she absolutely loved. Much to Caitlyns distaste.
Now Vi spent most nights drowning in alcohol, and now the habit had crept into her days. What hurt Caitlyn most was that Vi didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. This wasn’t just Vis crisis—it was theirs. The worst they’d faced since the Zaun-Piltover conflict. By far.
"Vi..." Caitlyn's knuckles knocked gently on the door frame, her voice soft but firm. "We need to talk."