Archive of Our Own ^beta

As soon as Vi leaves the bunker, she sets out running towards Zaun.

She does not know where she is going. She does not know where to look. But what she does know is that she will rip both Zaun and Piltover apart with her own bare hands to find Jinx.

Their story can't end like this. Vi still has so many things to say to her. They have so many things to do together. There are so many apologies to utter.

I'm sorry I hit you that night. I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm sorry I couldn't accept you.

And also the answer to the question Jinx has never asked but needed to hear.

And this time, Vi will mean it. It won't be a bunch of words strung together out of desperation; it will be raw and genuine. Her first act of change will be saying it and then committing to it.

Please let Jinx feel the same. Please. For once, Vi wants to pick a person and actually keep them.

What if you picked wrong? a traitorous little voice whispers inside her. It's what kicked this whole mess off, after all.

Vi keeps running, shaking her head frantically.

She picked right. She picked the one who has actually cared for her this whole time. Her care was jagged and awkward and downright weird sometimes, but it has always, always been genuine.

Jinx said that there was no good version of her. Vi realizes she's seen two.

A small girl that cared for her family, her sister enough to go on what was basically a suicide mission, who was brave enough to disobey her, and strong enough to keep loving her, even after her sister struck her for it.

A young woman that could kill as easily as she breathed, but also gave the gentlest touches to a child, looked after her while Vi was getting the life beaten out of her, sought her out so they could find their adoptive father, trusted Vi, who betrayed her, enough to kill her, and left her because she thought it would make Vi happy.

If that doesn't make her good, then Vi doesn’t know what else.

And what did Caitlyn do to express her care? Especially while Vi was practically killing herself in the pits?

Vi finds herself drawing a blank.

She keeps running.

***

Her lungs burning, Vi stops near a house and, whimpering tearfully, takes a few deep breaths.

Jinx is still nowhere to be seen. Not a single sound was heard back at Vi's hoarse screams of her name. And not a single person she happened to run into knew where she could be found.

Gods, what if it's too late? What if she's already— No! No. The mere thought is too much to bear. Jinx needs Vi, and she is going to find her. She will say her piece and will let Jinx say hers. She will let Jinx cuss her out, screech at her, swat at her, and will not make a peep as she does so.

And then she is going to hug her. Kiss her soft and gentle. Tell her that none of what transpired was her fault. And admit that you were right, Jinx; I really am a Fat Hands.

Vi thought that out of the two of them, Jinx needed her the most. When the truth is that Vi needs her just as much.

She inhales a lungful and resumes her search.

***

Not all people of the Undercity are religious. Reason for that? Pragmatism. What's the point of calling out to some goddess out there if nothing ever changes? What does it matter if you paint icons, build temples, or host prayer services when the hellish entities of your life are not affected by them in any way? Why bother if it brings you nothing but ruin in return?

Despite all those questions, every single Undercity dweller has prayed at some point. Whether it was on their knees while crying, whether it was was while dying in a ditch from a wound, whether it was while running for their life.

Vi had gone through the first two, and now it's time for the third, it seems. She chokes down a sob and looks up at the smog Janna was supposed to rid her children of but never bothered to.

I… I still don't know if you can hear me. But if you do, please, just do this one thing for me. Help me find my sister. I can't lose her, I—I just can't. And look, I know, I know I did wrong by her, but I promise I'll do better this time. I'll listen. I'll talk. And, and if she doesn't want me, I'll, I'll…

Vi sobs and steels herself. God, her abdomen fucking hurts.

I'll respect that and back off. But please, please just let me say this one thing to her, this one fucking thing! She needs to know, I need her to know, please! That's all, I don't need anything else.

She stumbles and barely catches herself on a pipe.

After that… do whatever the fuck it is you do. And I have had enough.

She wheezes, almost painfully, and looks up.

The thing about smog is that it pollutes air. It stays in it and doesn't go anywhere unless you reduce the chemical emissions. That's why some regions of Zaun have never felt the sun's embrace.

Maybe it's Vi's panic-induced imagination. Maybe it's the wind. Maybe it's a miracle. But there is a single ray of sunlight peeking through Zaun's polluted air and falling right onto what used to be Vi's home.

“Amen,” she whispers and slams through the doors of The Last Drop.

***

It's dark and empty inside. But not in the way a building is abandoned, in the way a building is holding its metaphoric breath, waiting for… what? Something final? Unalterable?

At least, that's what it feels like to Vi as she navigates the bar as familiar as her own breath. But at the same time not, as the place reeks of Silco's long-gone corpse.

Was Jinx here? She had to be. Silco was the only parental figure she had—and where else do you go when you need support?

Vi's gaze falls onto the door of his cabinet. She opens it and freezes.

The floor of the cabinet is covered with hair. Strands of blue, forming a circle around a blank spot, like glass cracks left after a bullet.

Vi is looking at the start of a suicide note.

Out of pure desperation, she surges forward and grabs those fucking strands, those precious blue hairs Vi used to braid, this piece of herself her sister shed and then crawled off to die—

Before she can imagine Jinx's corpse, she hears footsteps. She whips out of the room, looks down…

She's here. Jinx is here, and gods above, she's alive. Vi almost slumps with relief, but it doesn't last when she notices what Jinx is holding. There are two open canisters, leaking gasoline like blood from a bullet wound as she walks around The Last Drop.

So that's where this is going, Vi realizes with horror. Jinx was born in the fire, and now she is going to die from it.

Vi created Jinx in the fire, and now she's going to save her from it.

Her sister doesn't look where she's going. She raises her head when she bumps into Vi, slowly.

Once again, there is a mirror in front of Vi. The woman reflecting in it is weighed down by the world, filthy, and vulnerable. Her hair hasn't been washed or brushed in gods know how long, her eyes are red from lack of sleep and crying, and her cheeks are covered with melting coal-black makeup. Even the numerals on her cheek are there, inverted.

IV. Four. That's precisely how long they stare at each other before Vi clenches the hair strands she's still holding and chokes out:

“No.”

“Get out,” Jinx croaks more than says.

“Please,” Vi's voice breaks at the word.

“I know you're not here.” Jinx walks around her and continues her dousing.

She… she thinks Vi's a hallucination? That she wouldn't come after her? Oh, gods.

Vi rushes after her and tries to break the delusion.

“Jinx, it's me. I'm real.”

It doesn't work. Jinx doesn't even answer this time, fully set on ignoring the supposed hallucination, it seems. Vi needs more discernible proof.

She steels herself, steps towards Jinx, throws her arms around her, and pulls her head-first to her chest. That way Jinx's ear ends up pressed right above Vi's heartbeat.

“There, see? I'm real,” she supplies carefully.

It takes another four seconds for Jinx to catch up. And another. And another. And then…

Something akin to a wail rips right out of Jinx's throat, and she shoves Vi, hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Oh gods, she's crying again, no— “I gave you my blessing! I fucking told you to forget about me and be happy!”

“Jinx, I…” Vi stutters pathetically, still reeling from the fact that not only did Jinx think Vi wouldn't come after her, she also thought that she shouldn't.

“You've made your choice,” her sister drops the canisters, “now let me make mine.” And it's clear by the glow of her eyes that she's about to run.

Frantic, Vi flips through her options with lightning-like speed and can think of only one thing. Her stomach rolls with revulsion at what she's about to do, but if there's any way to stop Jinx, it's to play on her love for Vi.

Jinx turns around and…

“IF YOU DO THIS!” Vi yells to attract her attention.

She halts. Good.

“If you do this,” she repeats at a normal volume, accentuating every word, “I will follow.”

Gods, she feels disgusting. But there's no turning back. The truth needs to be said.

“A world without you is not a world I want to live in,” she declares, “so don't you dare, because I will follow right after; do not fucking test me.”

At first, nothing happens. Everything stopped, awaiting Jinx’s reaction. Then, she sighs. It seems to rattle her whole being. That is the kind of sign one makes when they don't know where they are, what they are, and what the fuck is even going on anymore.

Then the last bit of strength she mustered up to quite literally stand follows right after said breath, and just. Stops. She lies on the floor yet untouched by gasoline and stays there. Vi's heart breaks all over again.

Nineteen-year-old Jinx curls up just like twelve-year-old Powder used to. Twenty-two-year-old Vi walks around her sister and lies on the floor too, facing her, just like fifteen-year-old Vi used to.

“Can we talk?” Her voice is but a whisper.

Pink irises barely make an effort to look at her.

“About what.” The answer won't even reach the tonality of a question.

“Anything. Everything.”

“Tried that. Didn't work.”

That's the thing—they didn't. Every interaction they had was interrupted, derailed, or simply avoided. As terrible as this sounds, this might be their first real chance to actually sit and talk shit through. And Vi is not going to waste it, not this time.

“No, we didn't, actually,” she counters gently, “and I think it's high time we do. Please?”

Jinx averts her gaze, as if looking into Vi's eyes physically pains her.

“I'm tired of talking.”

“Take your time,” Vi answers kindly, hoping that didn't sound too pressuring. But there's no way she's letting Jinx do this to herself. She adds, for good measure, “I'm not going anywhere.”

And so she keeps mum. And waits. Lying on the remains of their bloodstained childhood, giving her sister space to be herself.

It's something she should have done a long time ago. But their edges, shaped jagged and sharp by trauma, simply didn't fit together. Maybe Vi's playing a losing game trying to glue them back together, but godsdammit, she has to at least try.

Otherwise Mylo's, Claggor's, Ekko's(?), Vander's, Isha's deaths will be in vain. Even Silco's, as much as she loathes to admit it.

After what seems like forever, Jinx finally says:

“I killed her.”

“You didn't,” Vi contradicts softly, but Jinx doesn't seem to hear her. She chokes out a laugh that is more akin to a sob.

“I-I told her, y'know? That it's what I do. Kill things. And she still followed. She still took the shot.” She then sobs for real and whimpers, “Why?”

Vi flashes back to the hugs, the drawings, the bite, the protective stances, the non-verbal communication. There is only one conclusion.

“Because she loved you,” she whispers.

“And it got her killed,” Jinx snorts wetly. “I jinxed her.”

“You didn't—”

“I did.”

“Do you really think Isha would have wanted you to—”

That gets her a reaction. Jinx's eyes snap toward her like a whip.

“Don't you dare,” she hisses, “use her against me. You didn't fucking know her.”

Vi does not avert her gaze and answers just as firm:

“Yeah, I didn't. But I lived with her too, Jinx. I saw her smile and heard her laughter. You made that girl very happy.” She then takes a breath and says, “And she did not save your life just so you could end it yourself.”

Jinx opens her mouth… and then closes it. Vi's words have struck a chord. She averts her gaze again.

After a couple of seconds, Vi allows herself to speak again. This one will be even harder to accept.

“It wasn't your fault.”

Jinx gives a full-body flinch and shakes her head, tearing up again.

Vi immediately lowers her voice, but still repeats:

“It wasn't your fault.” Please, you have to believe me.

“Everything is my fault,” her sister whispers tearfully. “Vi, I don't fix things. I break them. You just don't want to admit it.”

“Yes, because it's not true.”

“That why you followed me all the way here?” She sniffs. “News flash: You weren't supposed to. You don't know me.” Not anymore goes unsaid.

“Of course I followed.” Vi tries not to sound hurt. “And… I knew the look.”

“What look?”

“The one you gave me.” She adds, quietly, “I see it in the mirror.”

Her sister's eyes snap to her again. Vi almost regrets confessing, because she can practically see them fill with self-loathing.

“Just let me go, Vi,” she whispers. “I'm not Powder, and you don't want Jinx.”

Vi shakes her head.

“I don't care. Powder, Jinx, fucking Wharfy the Wharf Rat—I don't care, I want you.”

“And who is you, Vi?” she challenges.

“My sister.”

Jinx once asked if they were still sisters. Vi answered that nothing would ever change that. And it's time for her to explain why.

Before Jinx gets a chance to reiterate, Vi takes the leap and reaches out to take her hand.

“Listen. Please, just… listen, okay?”

She does. She doesn't wrench away.

“There’s something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you over and over.”

Vi breathes in and spills her heart, implementing her first act of change.

“I choose you.”

Her sister's eyes light up with something inexplicable. Pain? Hope? Fear? All of the above?

“I know I hurt you. I created Jinx, spoke it into the world. I wasn't there when you needed my protection the most. I cut out a part of myself just to…” she snorts bitterly, “fit in. And I am so, so unbelievably sorry for that. But…”

She laughs, wiping stray tears.

“I don't deserve it. But I realized that you've never left me. While I was in prison, while I was in the pits—that was you, right?—fuck, even when we lost our fucking parents!” She smiles, remembering the feeling of little hands hugging her neck. “Jinx, you're one of the strongest and realest people I know. I'd be a fool if I didn't choose that.”

Finished, she gives Jinx a careful look to see the effect her words caused. And what meets her is… Sadness? Frustration? Denial? All of the above?

“That's…” her sister finally separates their hands, shaking her head, “that's the fucking problem, Vi.”

“What?”

All of a sudden, Jinx reaches out to touch her. Her thin, filthy, beautiful little palm lands on Vi's cheek like the lightest butterfly in the world and strokes in a gesture so familiar it hurts.

“You'll choose me, but you won't choose yourself.” Her voice is pure glass shards. “You'd do anything for me, break yourself apart into itty bitty pieces just to do good by me. I could hurt you as many times as I like, and you'll still come back.”

And just like that, the butterfly disappears along with Jinx's hand.

“I don't want that kinda love.” Her voice rasps. “It hurts.”

Vi opens her mouth… and then closes it. Can't exactly argue with the truth, now can you? Vi loves like a dog: deeply, unconditionally, loyally. And no matter how much you hurt her, no matter how many guns you wave in her face, no matter how many insults you throw at her, she’ll always find it in herself to come back. That’s how it has always been. Her protectiveness, her fear of change, her fear of abandonment seeped deep into her bones as soon as she saw her parents' corpses.

This is the moment, she realizes, to implement her second act of change.

“Okay.” She swallows. “How—how do you want me to love you?”

Jinx's eyes widen just a smidgen, like she didn't expect the question. Vi wonders, pained, if anyone's ever asked it before. The answer is most certainly no, and it's precisely why she needs to do this. To give Jinx the ability to affect their relationship means to trust her with it.

Jinx closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Then she says:

“Don't worship me.”

Vi raises her eyebrow.

“I don't—”

“You do.” Jinx doesn't let her finish. “You were talking like I was some—some goody-two-shoes. Some abused kid that did nothing wrong in their life ever. And I'm… I'm…”

She looks at Vi with quiet desperation and sorrow.

“I'm not any of those things. You didn't fucking create Jinx; I did. I shot at you, bashed you over the skull with my gun, tied you up, and made you think I cut ya girlfriend's head off just to test you. Oh, I also worked for the man that killed Vander and tried to kill you, can't forget that one. You telling me you think that shit's normal?”

Vi finds herself disagreeing with some points, because Jinx was—is—an abused kid, and half of the stuff she did came out of her not being in her right mind, but other than that… she's right. Vi listed all she loved about her and completely neglected the things she hated. Granted, she was making a big step in her character development, but still. She needs to acquiesce to this. Jinx must know that her love is not blind.

“Fine, you have a point. I guess I do kinda worship you.” Vi looks away and shrinks a little. Pushes Vander's breathy, pre-dying request and days spent in Stillwater solitary out of her mind. “But… can you blame me? You were the only thing keeping me going.”

“See?” Jinx, expectedly, takes this the wrong way. “That's why I need to go.”

“You really don't—”

“I do!” She bangs her fist on the floor weakly. Vi almost smiles at the familiar action, despite herself. “You were supposed to stay and think of yourself for once!”

“I did think of myself, Jinx. And that's precisely why I couldn't stay.”

Jinx's face scrunches up.

“You'd finally be happy.”

“In Piltover? All alone?” Vi parries, realizing that Jinx, despite her big, clever brain, did not think this through at all.

“You wouldn't be alone! You'd have Caitlyn—” And Vi can't help it. She snaps.

“Caitlyn won't grow me another family!”

“But… weren't you happy with her?” She sounds so genuinely lost.

She really does not know.

“No! What made you think I was?”

Only now, it seems, does Vi realize the depth of this statement. She was never happy with Caitlyn. There were moments of connection that made her feel less alone than she was, but happy? More than that: safe, seen, heard? No. They both hailed from completely different worlds, and what they had was… wishful thinking at best. And when push came to shove and both showed their true colors, Vi realized something important.

Love does not cure prejudice. It can help you overcome it, but it does not cure it. For that, you need to actually do shit.

Caitlyn, unfortunately, did not. She chose to listen to a war general and to think that throwing enough soldiers at the problem will magically fix it.

Gods, she feels so stupid. Ashamed, Vi rolls onto her back and stares into the ceiling.

“I wasn't happy,” she repeats, raspy. And then, she spills like a dam broken. “I just… I thought… Caitlyn, she was kind to me; she let me out of Stillwater, and it's so fucking cold in there, Jinx, you have no idea. And Caitlyn… she was warm. She was the only thing I thought I could hold and keep. But then she… she…”

She inhales to keep tears at bay.

“I thought I could make it work,” she whispers, confessing. “After the rocket, I thought I'd be able to… to help.” She doesn't notice Jinx wince. “Both of you. So I stayed. And…”

She hugs her forearms.

“And then she started calling our people all those names, Jinx. Animals. Criminals. Thugs. She's changing, and I can't do anything about it. She springs an enforcer badge onto me, and I can't do anything about that either. She uses the Grey without telling me, and I still can't fucking do anything, because what's one little trencher voice against Piltover's precious justice?!”

She hides her face in her palms. And then she hears a tentative, prodding, “You didn't know?”

Vi peeks through her fingers. Jinx is staring at her attentively. Too attentively for Vi's comfort. She slides her palms down, but looks away again.

“No. She didn't tell me. I-I did confront her about it, but she said something about necessary sacrifices, that it's our ace against the Chembarons and you…” Vi swallows. “I had no choice but to go along. I thought I'd still be able to play this in my favor, but then you… and Isha…”

Jinx closes her eyes, hard. Vi rushes to explain:

“I wasn't gonna kill you, Jinx; I couldn't kill you, I realized that even before I pinned you down. And I would never hurt Isha, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Jinx whispers, alleviating some of Vi's fears.

“A-and after you ran off, she said it's… it's your blood in my veins.” Vi clenches her teeth. “I heard that and just… snapped. I yelled. I said that so is her mother's in hers—all pretty on words and hurt on actions. And she…”

Here, she stops. Breathes in through loose tears and then pathetically whimpers:

“I don't want to think of her anymore. I just want to make her go away.”

She doesn't notice the tautology of those words. What she does notice is that Jinx's stare has become as intense as the aim of a sniper gun.

“What did she do?”

Vi bites her lips. She doesn't want to say it out loud. That betrayal will always be fresh, it seems.

“Vi,” Jinx's voice is steel now, “what did she do?”

Vi covers her face with her forearms, as if trying to keep the memories of what happened and what followed after out of her head. It takes her a good moment to rip the confession out of her chest.

“She hit me. With the butt of her rifle. Like an enforcer.”

The reaction is not immediate, and that's what makes it truly scary. Jinx inhales, then exhales. Then, her fingers twitch, as if out of control. She drags her nails on the floor, her lips a flat line, magenta absorbing her pupils completely while she's burning a hole in the ceiling. It's like there's something inside of her, begging to be let out, but she's forcing it down. Her eyelid twitches, and she inhales again.

“…Jinx?” Vi calls out carefully.

And then, with no warning at all, Jinx swings her fist with all her Shimmered-up might and makes a hole in the floor.

“Jinx!” Vi exclaims, panicked. “Your hand!”

It's bleeding dark red with streaks of pink. Vi makes a move to grab it, but Jinx sits up and starts banging herself on the head.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she shrieks with every hit.

“No, Jinx, c'mon, no, you're not—” babbles Vi, sitting up as well and trying to catch her sister's hands.

“I am, Vi!” Jinx stops just as suddenly as she began. She slumps and drops her head in her palms. “I am just so— Oh my gods! Fuck!”

“What?” Vi puts a hand on her shoulder and rubs it comfortingly.

Jinx looks up with something akin to sobriety in her eyes.

“Your monsters are my monsters.”

Vi doesn’t know what that means. Not completely. But she can hazard an assumption.

“I guess.” She shrugs slightly.

The next thing she knows, she's scooped into a hug. She stills, not expecting comfort. But Jinx shuffles closer, and it doesn't feel like Powder's hugs, but at the same time it does, because she wraps both of her hands around her neck and rests her chin on her shoulder, but then she puts her palm on the back of her head just like Vander used to do, and…

“I'm sorry,” Jinx whispers, her voice all tears and sorrow, “I'm sorry I was gonna leave you with them.”

Vi can't help it. She breaks. She crushes her beautiful, wonderful, perfectly imperfect sister in her embrace and sobs. Because they did it, they finally talked and heard each other. More than that, they saw each other's fear, pain, anger and decided to stay.

They're not doomed. There's still hope for them; there will always be hope for Vi and Jinx.

So when Vi begs, like the scared child she still is:

“I'm sorry. Please, please don't give up on me.”

And Jinx answers:

“Wasn't planning to.”

Vi believes her with all of her being.

It's not over. There's still talking to do and things to be done.

But for now, they sit and let themselves cry. Untethered, battered, raw, ugly—but seen.

***

It's unknown how much time has passed. But when they walk out of The Last Drop, tired, dusty, teary, and bloodstained, it's gotten darker than before. They stop in front of it and look back. The building is looming, dark and old, a monument of an era long gone.

Jinx is the first to break the silence.

“So… What do we do now?”

Vi gives her a tentative look and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“If… if you want,” she swallows, “we could bury Isha.”

Jinx's face cracks like a dropped dish, leaking vulnerability.

“But… the body…”

“That's okay,” Vi squeezes her shoulder, not hesitant with her comfort anymore. “She—she had other stuff she wore, right? We'll go get it and then give her a proper burial. And then…”

She looks back to steel herself in her decision.

“I suggest we burn this place.”

Jinx snaps her eyes open and looks at her.

“You… you want to finish what I…”

“Yeah.” Vi nods.

"Why?"

Vi takes a moment. She thinks of Caitlyn, her brothers, Vander, Powder and then shrugs.

“Sometimes moving forward means leaving a few things behind.”

Jinx keeps looking at her. Then, after seemingly reading something on Vi's face, she nods.

They bring Isha's old clothes, the ones she wore when she met Jinx. Vi wishes they could find her helmet, but it's probably back at the commune. That's fine, they'll revisit the place and fetch it. Just… not now. Once they're ready.

Jinx puts the clothes of a little girl that wormed her way into her heart, into Vi's heart, onto Silco's armchair and lingers, stroking them with her fingers. She sniffles and wipes at her eyes. Vi wordlessly squeezes her shoulders and hugs Jinx.

Isha's death won't be in vain. They'll make sure of that.

Jinx wipes her nose, produces a match, and lights it. Then, she flicks her sloppily bandaged hand and throws it. The armchair slowly begins to burn.

“Good night, kiddo,” Vi whispers and takes a match of her own.

She goes up to the nearest puddle of gasoline. One spark—and everything will go down in flames.

For some reason, she thinks of Piltover's council building and the way it was coated in blue before the rocket went off.

Jinx is watching her. Vi goes on to say, still thoughtful:

“I thought I could love you like I used to too, you know. But it's just like you said—that kind of love would only hurt.”

She rolls the match in her fingers, kinda like Jinx rolls around her gun.

“Because both of us have changed and will keep changing. And that is okay.”

She lights the match.

“So… To the new us, eh?”

And then she drops it.

When Vi and Jinx are moving forward from what used to be, they hold hands, and they do not look back.