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She died that day on the bridge. He tried to save her. He really did. Which was ironic and ridiculous as just seconds before that moment, before he looked into her eyes and he saw blue—the bluest of the sky they’d always wished they got to live under when they were young—their years spent together flashed before his eyes, he really did want to get rid of her for good. He’d spent days and nights, telling himself that she had died and Jinx wasn’t the little girl he once knew anymore, as he watched her massacre his friends and people, without being able to do anything. Yet, all it took was just one look into her eyes, and he hesitated.
Not that it mattered anymore. He believed that if she wanted him dead, she could have. She could have done that a long time ago, with all the chances she had. But she never did. Even on that bridge, she gave him a choice, and even though with all his might, he tried to kick away the bomb as fast as he could, she still couldn’t survive the explosion.
It was too close to her body. Caitlyn said. When Ekko learned about it—and Caitlyn told him the way she thought was appropriate, trying to sound saddened by the news, looking everywhere but his eyes—he looked like every cell in his body was ready to snap from the unbearable pain. It’s not like he didn’t know she wouldn’t survive that. Yet there was still a tiny little bit of hope that he found himself desperately clinging on to—maybe he kicked the bomb far enough, maybe her asshole of a family found a way to save her—refused to believe that she would never have gotten away from an explosion that close.
“It will get easier,” Caitlyn told him. She was wrong.
Here's a thing nobody told you about losing someone: you never really get over it. He didn’t even remember what they’d be doing, or talking, after that. He just wanted to get over with his days, really, but he was the Firelights leader and he had things to do. Her death was a victorious achievement for them—he couldn’t deny it—as Silco was too busy grieving his daughter to even try anything.
But then, sometimes, he imagined her there at night, next to his bed, her gun pointing to his head til it left a mark, threatening him to stop trying to intervene with their business. He used to have dreams about Powder, about their oh-so-sweet-and-innocent childhood, but nowadays, all he could see was Jinx, as he wished he had more time to get to know her better, and not just the split second he saw the sky in her eyes on the bridge that day.
-
That was what he thought, until one day, he saw her in his room, staring out at the mural, translucent.
He stopped dead in his place, a sharp chill shot through his body, clutching his organs. She turned to look at him—frozen in his place—tilting her head and grinning a smile.
“So,” she started speaking, and her voice was just as he’d remembered every time he saw her in his dreams, “I don’t know why, but you’ve been chosen—by some kind of twisted gods, or devils, whatever—to be haunted by me. Congratulations. I guess.”
-
He thought it was just a bad dream, until he woke up and she was still there, watching him sleep, looking as bored as she could.
“Little Man,” she said, “good morning.”
He didn’t reply, or move. She still looked dazzling as ever, her hair dangling down his body, revealing her almost-white bare shoulders, as white as the arms gripping on his bed, and the stomach peeking out from beneath the small shirt she wore.
He didn’t know why the gods were toying with him like this. He had tried to make peace with the death of her, for months, to no result. And having her showing up at his place like this obviously wouldn’t make it any easier.
Ekko wondered why she popped up here, in the Firelights base, when she could’ve gone back to her beloved Silco, or Vi, or back to her childhood home, or even haunted Caitlyn as Jinx wanted her dead. Yet, she chose him. He’d imagine he had the least weight on her out of them, as he couldn’t even remember the last time they had a proper conversation. All those years, they spoke through guns, bombs, and the tips of each other’s weapons.
He tried to ignore her as much as he could. To his surprise, she wasn’t really talkative either. He would see her watch him work on the Z-Drive, fix the hoverboard, or teach the kids how to use it, chin resting on her arms.
He told himself not to talk to her, and he really tried, but by the sixth time he saw her stare at the mural, he couldn’t help but ask.
“What’s on your mind?”
There was a long silence, and he watched her body shake sharply.
“A lot.”
“Such as?”
“I’m a ghost now, and yet they still won’t talk to me.” There were dark bags under her eyes, and bloodstains on her clothes. Years earlier, she would have cried. She used to cry about everything, and anything. Crybaby, as Mylo usually said.
“They won’t ever forgive me, will they? Mylo’s rancorous, I suppose, but even Claggor, and Vander?”
“I can’t speak for them,” he tried to find the words, “but you were a child. Don’t be too harsh on yourself.”
She didn’t reply, but she looked at him with those eyes again, all childlike sadness. He swallowed hard. Ekko knew the look in her eyes. It was the same look he saw when he looked at her years ago. It was the look that haunted his guilt when he peered into the mirror every morning. The look that reminded him that the one who killed his friends—was the same girl that he swore he’d protect with his life.
Ekko hated that she made him feel thirteen again, on an impending abyss with no end in sight.
And he thought he was getting better at moving on.
-
“Please don’t tell Vi about me.” She said as she watched him fixing a hoverboard one day, her voice almost a whisper.
Ekko didn’t stop his motion. He wasn’t gonna tell Vi, or anyone, about her anyway. Telling a grieving sister that you've been seeing, and talking, to the ghost of her little sister isn't the most appropriate thing to do. On top of that, he didn’t know where she was. Caitlyn said they should give her some time, and he wasn’t planning on looking for them, either. They were all dealing with Jinx’s death in their own ways, with their own versions of her. Turned out, no one really knew her at all.
“I won’t, but why? Don’t you think she’d feel better hearing about you?” He replied.
“I have jinxed her life enough already,” her expression was masked, but there was obvious pain in her eyes, “this is the only thing I can do for her now. I would ask you to not tell Silco too, but it’s not like you two are gonna sit down and have a talk about me.”
She did make him chuckle a bit. Death, it seemed, had given her a twisted sense of humor. He put down the pincer and looked up at her.
“Don’t worry, I get to keep you all to myself this way, and I’m not planning on changing this anytime soon.”
She stared at him like a startled deer, and he could swear he saw her cheeks got a tiny bit redden. “You’re ridiculous,” she replied, and her eyes were on everywhere but him, he could hear a tiny “sorry, and thank you” from her before she ran away. At that moment, he truly thought that it wasn’t so bad at all, having her ghost with him.
-
Since she had apologized to him, and they had been living together harmoniously, he would say, Ekko thought he should apologize to her too. Maybe he should start now.
But the words ‘I’m sorry' couldn’t leave his throat, they stuck there like broken glasses, opening up old wounds, and sometimes he forgot how to breathe with all these unspoken words swelling in his lungs. He told everyone to not blame themselves for what happened, yet he couldn’t do it. Hypocrite.
He had always been better with actions than words, anyway, he decided. And she wasn't going anywhere any time soon. It had been quite some time, and he had gotten comfortable with the idea of having her around—too comfortable, that people around him began to worry that his mind had deteriorated—as if she never died that day. Apart from the fact that he could not touch her.
Professor Heimerdinger was one of the few people that asked him whether he wanted to talk about anything, but he insisted he was fine and all, really, he didn’t think they’d ever been in love. At least, not the kind of love he was experiencing—he had hurt her over and over again, but all he’d ever wanted was to see her smile.
Yet, she didn’t feel the same.
It was after dinner, and he was strolling around the base, when he saw her stand under the tree, looking at the mural again, floating like lines of silver. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he could see her body diminish a little.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” he asked, stepping closer to her, noticing that she had faded visibly. He could barely see the bloodstains on her little shirt.
“Ekko, I’m going to pass on.”
It took him a moment to fully process what she said. A chill spread over his body, as if he could feel ice-cold liquid running through his veins. “You want to?”
“I have to,” she turned to face him, “at first, I was equally as confused as you. Why am I a ghost? Many people had died down here, Ekko, and only I returned. I suppose I have some unfinished businesses, but those people, they’re better off without me. Having Jinx in their lives would only make them more miserable. And then I realized, maybe it was because I felt that I owed you.”
“I was jealous of the life you were leading, thinking about what could’ve been every time I looked at you. So I did my best to hate you. But Little Man, as much as I tried to kill you, and you tried to kill me, we both know that we never could do it. It’s time we stop pretending we hate each other, or maybe this is where I should say I love you?”
She was circling the matter, going nearer and nearer to the main point, like a carnival ride. He thought he knew what she was getting at, and he wished he didn’t. “You didn’t owe me anything, don’t ever say that.”
She chuckled. “That’s what I love about you, my boy savior.”
“I love you.” He didn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice.
“I…” The smile faded from her eyes, “I’m dead, Ekko, you can’t be stuck with me forever like this.” She pursed her lips together, wanting to say something, then stopped. In the end, only two words came out.
“Kiss me.”
So he did. All assertive and no hesitation. Her fingers curl into the front of his jacket as he places his hands on her shoulders, hugging her closer and closer; and it was only a matter of milliseconds until they were kissing again.
"I wish we did this more often,” she drew back, gasping against his face, as he attempted to cling on to the sensation of her breathing.
He opened his eyes, and she was gone.
-
Going through the grief of losing someone you love, for the second time, is unbearable. He still cries out her name from time to time after that night. He would come into his room, expecting a grin that no longer exists. It never gets easier, but he’s learned to live with it. Some years in the future, he does find himself a girl. She is sweet, and wonderful.
But from time to time, he still looks at the mementos of her, everywhere in his house, his base, his life, and he’d smile, thinking to himself. I will see you someday.