Relief and Uncertainty
Ekko had barely slept at night, his mind running in circles. By early morning, he found himself standing outside the room where Jinx was again.
It still felt weird having her here, even if she was still unconscious and not a danger to anyone. He wasn’t sure what felt stranger, that she was in Firelights’ territory at all or that everyone had accepted the fact that he had brought her back.
Should I have considered taking her elsewhere?
No, he answered himself immediately. It would have been too dangerous, and she was too hurt for him to take her any farther. In the end, this was the only place. But… What should he do now?
What do I do when she wakes up?
These thoughts had gnawed at him non-stop since things had settled after Jinx had stabilized.
She was still Jinx, still the same girl who had brought chaos, destruction, and grief to him and the people he swore to protect. But at the same time… he wasn’t the kind of person who could just walk away and let her die. Still, having her here felt surreal.
With a quiet exhale, Ekko pushed the thoughts aside and stepped into the room.
Jinx was still lying there, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. She looked… better. Some color had returned to her face, and her breathing was even.
Ekko shuddered at the memory of how lifeless she had felt in his arms, how cold. For a terrifying moment, he’d thought that was it. That he’d been too late.
He grabbed the chair he had been using the night before, the same one he and Vi had taken turns using to keep watch, and dragged it closer to the bedside. His fingers hovered just above the armrest before hesitating, his gaze darting to the restraints.
They weren’t tight enough to hurt her—just a precaution.
Ekko swallowed back the conflicting emotions rising in his chest. It felt wrong to see her tied up like this. But just as that thought crossed his mind, he reminded himself of what she was capable of.
Yet, like this—without the scowl, with her face relaxed—she looked so much younger. For the first time in a long while, he could see traces of the girl he knew in her.
Because at the end of the day, she was both Powder and Jinx. After all, they were the same person.
With a quiet exhale, Ekko sat down and pulled a small notebook from his pocket. His hands moved on instinct, sketching absentmindedly—gears, patterns, rough designs for adjustments. Lost in thought, his pencil moved steadily, filling the page.
What now? he wondered.
He hadn’t thought of a clear plan, no set course for what came next. Vi was only thinking about staying with Jinx so she could try to reach her and keep her there. Caitlyn said she wanted to help, and seemed to have no intention of leaving Vi, but him? He didn’t even know what he should do next.
Ekko’s hand slowed as he felt exhaustion weighing on him, he felt so tired.
He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, the sunlight filtering through the old window had shifted. Yawning, he stretched one arm and reached down, intending to grab his notebook from where it had slipped onto the floor. But the moment he moved, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck—an instinctive awareness, like the feeling of being watched.
Ekko’s body tensed as he slowly turned his head.
Jinx was awake.
She lay completely still, her limbs barely shifting against the restraints, but her big, bright eyes were locked onto him. Wide, unblinking. Not even disoriented—just… watching.
Ekko’s breath caught. For a split second, she almost looked surprised. Like she had been the one caught off guard instead of the other way around.
Had she been awake for a while?
The room felt too quiet. Too still.
Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, as if any movement might shatter whatever this moment was.
Ekko had imagined this in a hundred different ways. He thought she’d wake up kicking, screaming—something loud. But this? This felt... stranger.
What the hell was he supposed to say?
His fingers curled around the armrest, gripping it as he forced himself to keep his breathing steady.
Jinx was the first to move. Just barely.
Her eyes flicked over him, scanning his face like she was solving a puzzle—like she was trying to piece together something that didn’t quite make sense. As if she wasn’t sure he was real.
Ekko swallowed hard, still thinking about what to say.
“How are you feeling?” His voice came out quieter than he intended.
Something in Jinx’s expression shifted the moment she heard him speak.
“Huh. I’ve felt worse,” she muttered, her voice hoarse.
She kept looking at him, then around the room, taking everything in—but not once did she pull against the restraints.
Ekko let out a slow breath. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Didn’t think I’d be the one to wake up to you finally regaining consciousness.”
Jinx smirked. "You say that like you were worried." She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto him. “I’m sure you brought me here because you wanted something.” Her fingers twitched against the fabric binding her wrist. “Where is here, by the way?”
Ekko’s stomach twisted.“I brought you here because you were bleeding out,” he said, sharper than he intended. “And unlike you, I couldn’t just leave. You would have died.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Jinx’s smirk faded, just barely. She stopped looking around and turned her full attention to him, scanning his face—like she was looking for something.
Like she was trying to decide if he was lying.
A silence fell between them again. The brief conversation, if it could even be called that, had run its course.
Jinx didn’t pull against the restraints, didn’t lash out. She simply turned her head away, shifting just enough so that she was no longer facing him.
Ekko exhaled slowly, watching as her gaze fixed somewhere distant, somewhere he couldn’t follow.
There was nothing more to say.
So he sat there, the weight of his own choices pressing down on him. Taking her had been an instinctive decision, driven by feelings he didn’t fully understand—or want to acknowledge.
Now, the reality of the situation was settling in. He had tried to think it through while she was unconscious, but every possibility led to another problem.
And then Caitlyn and Vi had returned.
The moment Vi found out her sister was here, alive and safe, Ekko knew there was no world in which she’d let Jinx out of her sight again. Not when it meant risking losing her for good. But even Vi didn’t have a plan. She wasn’t thinking beyond that—just holding on, desperate not to lose another member of her family again.
But things weren’t that simple.
What happened when Jinx got better?
They couldn’t keep her tied to a bed forever, but Ekko didn’t trust her to let her go free, either. Even if she didn’t hurt anyone, she could still leave. And even if she didn’t mean to, she could reveal their location. That was a risk he couldn’t afford.
He let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to get out of here. Just for a moment.
Ekko stood, pushing himself up from the chair and headed for the door. He glanced back once, but Jinx didn’t move. Her gaze was fixed on the wall, distant and unreadable. He had no idea what was going through her head. It had been a long time since he even remotely understood what she was thinking.
Stepping outside, he was immediately met with the cool, open air of the hideout. Ahead the massive tree stood tall, its towering form visible through the scattered structures built around it. The familiar hum of life carried through the space—distant voices, the soft rustle of leaves.
One of the Firelights posted by the door turned as Ekko shut it behind him.
“Could you go get Vi?” Ekko murmured. “She’s awake.”
He didn’t need to explain further. They nodded and left without hesitation.
It wasn’t long before he heard hurried footsteps approaching.
Ekko opened his eyes and pushed himself up from where he had been sitting on the steps, waiting.
He turned his head just in time to see Vi running toward the room, tears already forming in her eyes.
“Is she—?” she started, her voice shaking.
“She’s okay,” Ekko said simply, stepping aside from the door.
The moment the words left his mouth, Vi didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the doorknob and, trying not to tear the door off its hinges, threw it open and rushed inside.
“Powder!”
Ekko clenched his jaw as he watched Vi collapse onto the bed, wrapping her arms around Jinx as if afraid she’d slip away again. Jinx didn’t move at first. Her body remained stiff, unresponsive. But Vi only held on tighter, whispering something too soft for Ekko to hear.
As he left, after instructing the two guards to stay alert but give the sisters their space, Ekko decided to let his mind rest—for now—from the endless thoughts circling around Jinx and everything that came with her.
He turned away, his feet carrying him toward the workshop on instinct.
He had already spoken with Caitlyn and Vi after their return and he had already listened to what they had to say about how things were unfolding in Piltover. But there was one person he hadn’t had the chance to really talk to yet.
Viktor.
Since Viktor had arrived, Ekko had barely had the chance to really talk with him. They had spoken the day he returned, exchanging words about how things had gone, and they’d had a few brief conversations since. But that was all—surface-level talk, nothing more.
At first glance, Viktor seemed fine. Lately, though, he was always caught up with Heimerdinger—building, fixing something, or buried in one of the books he had brought back from his lab. That wasn’t surprising. Before, Viktor had always preferred to bury himself in his work than interacting with other members of their group.
But something had changed. Ekko could tell.
What they hadn’t talked about—what Ekko hadn’t asked—was what Viktor thought about all of this. Not just the facts, but his opinion. His perspective as someone who had lived in the Undercity but also experienced life in Piltover.
Because to be honest? Ekko still didn’t trust Caitlyn. Not completely.
He knew now she wasn’t a bad person, but she still didn’t understand life down here. She had grown up privileged, and even if that wasn’t her fault, it had shaped her view of the world. Her world had always been Piltover, not Zaun. She was trying, sure—but trying wasn’t enough.
And Vi? She had been locked up for years. She didn’t know how much things had changed since they were children.
Ekko needed a different perspective—someone who understood their struggles, but could still look at things rationally.
For all his quiet and analytical nature, Viktor gave a damn. He had spent his life trying to find a way to make things better, even while Piltover continued to dismiss him.
Ekko exhaled, his pace picking up. If anyone could give him a clear answer on what they were dealing with, it was Viktor.
And right now, that was exactly what Ekko needed.