Chapter Text
The attic is still bathed in a soft dimness, the air calm, as if suspended between two moments.
Ekko doesn't know what time it is.
But he knows they should already be up, that the day has probably started without them.
And yet he doesn't move.
He stays there, lying on his back, eyes open, turned toward her. Powder sleeps against him, her breathing slow and steady, settling against his chest, her skin pressed to his beneath the warm blanket.
She looks at peace.
Without even thinking about it, Ekko slowly lifts his hand. His fingertips brush her arm with infinite delicacy, sliding along her skin in a caress as slow as it is absent-minded. He follows its curves up to her shoulder, then up toward her neck, where his gesture slows even further.
The marks are still visible.
His fingers graze them carefully, letting their pads trace the ridges before continuing their path to the hollow of her neck.
A slight shiver runs through her.
The breath she lets out is tinged with quiet amusement.
«That tickles…»
Powder's voice is still veiled with sleep. Without opening her eyes, she gives a barely perceptible smile and instinctively curls a little closer to him, seeking his warmth.
Ekko lets a faint smile of his own escape. Without pulling his hand away, he simply lets it rest against her neck while the other comes to wrap around her a little more gently, holding her against him just enough for her to feel he's there.
«We should get up…» he murmurs in turn, his voice soft, still marked with fatigue. «You're going to be late.»
Powder simply shifts in response, pressing closer, rubbing her face against him as if to chase his words away.
«I don't care…» she finally breathes, her voice half muffled against his skin.
Ekko lets a silence pass.
His fingers keep tracing slow movements on her arm, without really thinking.
«Really?» he murmurs, a little amused.
She grunts weakly in response, without opening her eyes.
«Really…»
Another silence.
And instead of insisting, instead of forcing her back to reality, Ekko lets his head fall back against the pillow.
«Alright…» he finally breathes.
His hand comes to rest against her, gently holding her against him.
«Five more minutes…»
But even he knows those five minutes never really last. For a week now, the same ritual has repeated every morning, settling between them with disarming simplicity. A silent routine they've never needed to name, so naturally has it taken hold.
And he'd be quite incapable of complaining about it.
Deep down, he has no desire for these moments to end.
Time nevertheless keeps moving forward, slowly, until it reclaims this parenthesis they'd granted themselves. After a long moment spent listening to the silence of the room, disturbed only by their still-lazy breathing, Ekko lets out a light sigh before sitting up slowly. A hand immediately gets lost in his still-disheveled hair, which he mechanically tries to smooth down without much success.
The movement makes the blanket slide down his chest.
It's only then that he realizes he's still completely naked.
An embarrassed smile flits briefly across his lips as his gaze sweeps the room. Yesterday's clothes are scattered all around the mattress, abandoned in a disorder that leaves little doubt about how the night ended. A sleeve pokes out from under the blanket, a sock lies near the trapdoor, his pants rest in a heap a little further off.
Yet, despite this familiar mess, something is missing.
«Powder…» he breathes in a voice still veiled with sleep. «Have you seen my boxers?»
Still curled against the pillow, she doesn't answer right away.
She simply turns slowly toward him, taking obvious pleasure in drawing out her silence. Her eyes meet his, gleaming with a mischief he recognizes at once, while a smile is already beginning to form at the corner of her lips.
She lets him search for a few more seconds.
Then, without saying a word, she delicately grabs the edge of the blanket and lifts it just enough to reveal the fabric she's wearing at her waist.
Ekko's gaze stops there at once.
His boxers.
Powder's smile widens, satisfied with the effect she's produced.
«…Are you stealing my underwear now?»
His voice wavers between surprise and an amusement he no longer even tries to hide.
Powder lets out a small laugh, her face half buried in the pillow. Her shoulders lift slightly as she briefly closes her eyes, clearly very pleased with the effect.
«We're one, aren't we?» she murmurs, shrugging with disarming naturalness. «What's yours is mine…»
She pauses briefly, just long enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes shine with quiet mischief.
«…and what's mine is also mine.»
A laugh escapes Ekko.
«Ah, there it is… The rules change whenever it suits you.»
«Exactly.»
She answers with such perfectly feigned seriousness that he shakes his head, unable to hold back his smile.
The silence that follows has nothing awkward about it. It settles between them with the same gentleness as the previous mornings, carried by their smiles and their gazes that keep meeting without ever really letting go.
She sits up slightly, the blanket sliding slowly down her body, revealing in fragments a little more of her skin still marked by the night, without her trying to hide it, while she raises her arms toward him with disarming simplicity, without the slightest hesitation.
She stretches at length with a satisfied sigh before turning her head back toward him.
«Come on…»
Her voice is still veiled with sleep.
She holds out both hands, palms open in a silent invitation.
«Shower?»
Ekko glances down at their hands, then back up at her.
«You really think that's going to convince me?»
«It's worked pretty well so far.»
Her smile widens.
«And besides, you won't even have to look for your boxers.»
Ekko lets out a resigned laugh.
«I should have known…»
Without another word, Ekko leans toward her and slides his hands under her body. In one fluid motion, he lifts her against him with an ease that pulls a small surprised laugh from Powder.
The blanket tightens around them in the movement, refusing to slide to the floor. It wraps clumsily around their legs and shoulders, enveloping them in a shared warmth as Ekko regains his balance.
Powder wastes no time clinging to him. Her arms close around his neck with disarming naturalness, while she nestles her face against his shoulder. For a moment, neither of them says a word.
Ekko feels her breath brush his skin.
Then a kiss lands on his forehead.
Another follows, slower, gentler, at the corner of his temple, and on his cheek.
She takes her time, as if each kiss were a different way of saying good morning.
Ekko briefly closes his eyes, letting out a breath.
«You planning on keeping this up much longer?»
In answer, Powder smiles against him.
Her lips find his face again, lingering this time near his jaw before moving down to his neck.
A slight shiver escapes him despite himself.
«Powder…»
His voice betrays as much amusement as resignation.
She lets out a small satisfied sound, right against him, before curling deeper into his arms. The closer she gets, the more it feels like she's trying to disappear into him.
He instinctively adjusts his grip under her legs and along her back before straightening up completely.
The blanket remains caught on them, trailing behind their steps as he walks slowly toward the stairs, careful both not to let it fall and not to trip over it. Every step makes Powder's warm skin brush against his, her light and yet so troubling weight in his arms.
He's barely gone a few meters when another kiss makes him falter.
He lets out a hoarse laugh, almost a growl, shaking his head gently as she amuses herself tormenting him. Powder slowly lifts her face, her half-closed eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. Her gaze lingers on his lips before her tongue comes to brush them, warm and wet, tracing their outline with deliberate slowness, demanding entry.
Ekko keeps his mouth closed for a moment, a smirk on his lips, savoring her impatience.
So she moves lower, planting burning kisses along his jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath his ear, letting out small sighs that caress his neck.
He finally gives in with a low growl, finally opening his lips for her.
Their kiss instantly deepens, becomes ravenous. Their tongues seek each other, tangle in a wet, feverish dance. Powder's breath quickens against his mouth.
Ekko freezes completely.
He stays there, still, his heart pounding hard against his chest, his eyes locked on hers, dark with restrained desire.
Then, without a word, he pivots and heads back the way they came with a determined stride.
In the motion, the blanket finally slides off their shoulders and falls to the floor with a soft rustle, fully revealing Powder's body. She's wearing nothing but his boxers, far too big for her, sitting low on her slender hips.
She doesn't even try to hide herself.
On the contrary, a triumphant, almost feline smile lights up her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses. She knows exactly what she's just provoked.
Ekko lays her down on the mattress with controlled gentleness, contrasting violently with the raw hunger burning in his gaze. He stays leaning over her, arms on either side of her head, his body taut, vibrating to the extreme.
«You're going to regret provoking me so much…» he murmurs in a low, hoarse, almost threatening voice.
And Powder couldn't be more delighted.
Much later, once they reach the bathroom, the light is sharper, more real.
Ekko stops for a moment, then leans slightly to set Powder down on the floor.
The instant her feet touch the cold tile, she lets out a small squeal of protest, before immediately pressing close again, sticking to his back as if the distance, even minimal, were unbearable.
Ekko smiles without turning around.
«Seriously…?» he murmurs, already busy adjusting the water temperature.
She doesn't answer.
She just stays there, holding onto him, her arms wrapped around him, her forehead against his shoulder blades.
The water starts to flow, lukewarm at first, then gradually hotter, filling the room with a light haze of steam.
Ekko quickly checks the water temperature, letting his fingers linger a second under the stream to make sure it's neither too hot nor too cold.
Then he turns to her and crouches slightly, his movement calm, almost methodical, as if following an already familiar routine.
He gently grabs the waistband of the boxers, briefly glancing up at her eyes.
Powder understands without a word.
She lifts one leg, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance, her touch light, instinctive. Ekko slides the fabric down her leg, unhurried, then repeats the motion with the other.
They step under the water.
The contact is immediate.
The warmth glides over their skin, slowly erasing the last traces of sleep, of cold, of the night.
For a few moments, he simply stays there, still, letting the water run over him, eyes closed, breathing slowly.
Powder, for her part, doesn't move away.
She stays against him, following each of his movements, slightly complicating the simplest gestures, unconsciously refusing to give him any space.
When Ekko finally reaches for the soap, he has to twist himself a little to reach his own arms, then hers, letting out a small amused breath at this constant closeness.
«You're really not helping…» he mutters under his breath.
She lets out a light laugh, muffled against him.
But doesn't move away an inch.
So he adapts.
His movements become slower, more precise, washing their arms, their shoulders, with a calm, almost soothing attention.
Once done, he sets the soap down and simply lets himself relax under the water, his head tilted slightly back, eyes closed, savoring the warmth that finally fully relaxes his body.
Silence returns.
Disturbed only by the steady sound of running water.
Then, gently, he feels Powder's lips brush his back. A light kiss, almost timid, that freezes him in place.
Her slender arms then slide around him, her hands sliding slowly down his abdomen, lower and lower.
«Powder…» he murmurs in a hoarse voice.
Ekko catches her hands gently, stilling them in place. He takes a second, breath short, before turning slowly to face her.
The moment he turns, Powder presses close instantly and rests her head against his chest, listening to the frantic beating of his heart.
Then she looks up.
Her eyes shine with raw, unfiltered desire, striking him full force.
«Ekko… I need it,» she breathes in a low voice, almost a whisper.
«I need you.»
Those words knock him out completely.
Utterly overwhelmed, Ekko places a trembling hand on her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. A vulnerable, almost pained smile stretches his lips.
Powder sees that smile and rises onto her toes.
She kisses him with a restrained urgency, losing herself completely in the warmth of his mouth. Their bare bodies press against each other, skin against skin, as if trying to fuse together.
When they finally part, breathless, Ekko rests his forehead against hers.
Their breaths mingle.
«You're going to drive me completely insane…» he murmurs against her lips.
Powder smiles, eyes half closed, and answers in a trembling breath.
«That's the idea.»
In Caitlyn's office, calm reigns, but it no longer has anything restful about it. It's a charged, tense calm, like the silent wait before something inevitable.
Sitting behind her desk, a still-warm cup of coffee in her hands, Caitlyn watches the city through the large window.
The sky slowly sheds its dark hues to make way for a sharper, colder light, one that harshly reveals the outlines of Piltover.
Her eyes aren't really looking at the landscape.
They're thinking.
They're assembling.
The dark surface of the coffee trembles slightly when her fingers tighten around the cup, betraying a tension she doesn't let show otherwise.
Then, suddenly, there's a knock at the door.
Caitlyn doesn't turn around immediately.
«Come in.»
The door opens carefully, and Maddie appears in the doorway. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping in, as if becoming aware of the weight of what she's about to announce.
«Caitlyn—» She corrects herself at once, straightening slightly. «Inspector Kiramman… I think we've finally found irrefutable proof.»
Those words are enough.
Caitlyn slowly sets her cup down on the desk, without haste, but with an almost calculated precision, then finally turns to her.
Her gaze immediately lands on the object Maddie is holding.
A phone.
Sealed inside a plastic bag.
The silence that follows is different this time.
Denser.
Heavier with consequence.
Caitlyn approaches slowly, her steps measured, her gaze fixed on the device as if it were a central piece of a puzzle she's been waiting far too long for.
Then, against all expectation, a slight smile appears on her lips.
Cold. Satisfied.
«This is perfect, Maddie.»
She reaches out without touching the bag, as if simply looking at it were already enough to grasp its potential.
«With this… I think I can make him confess.»
Her voice is calm, perfectly controlled, but something harder surfaces beneath it, a cold, almost unyielding determination.
Maddie stays silent for a moment, her gaze resting on Caitlyn with unusual attention. She really watches her, as if trying to read beyond the words, to understand how far she's willing to go.
She seems to want to say something, ask a question perhaps, but thinks better of it.
Then, after a brief breath, she decides to speak.
«The Zaun police headquarters also sent us a message.»
Caitlyn doesn't react right away.
Maddie continues, a bit more tense.
«They're demanding the immediate transfer of their citizen to their territory, since they consider him illegally detained.»
A pause.
«We're going to have some very big problems if this keeps up.»
This time, Caitlyn lifts her chin, her gaze hardening slightly. She seems neither surprised nor particularly worried, only annoyed by this setback.
«Don't worry.»
She pauses, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair.
«He'll talk.»
The simplicity of the answer clashes with the gravity of the situation.
As if, for her, nothing else mattered as long as that goal wasn't achieved.
She grabs her jacket, slips it over her shoulders in a quick motion, then picks up the phone.
«Bring him back to the interrogation room.»
Maddie looks at her one last second, this time with more visible concern, but doesn't argue.
«Alright.»
Together, they leave the office.
The hallway, now more animated, contrasts with the silence they leave behind them.
Glances turn, conversations briefly stop, everyone senses that something is unfolding.
Arriving in front of the interrogation room, Caitlyn slows her pace, just enough to observe the scene without being noticed.
Two agents open the door.
Finn is brought inside.
His wrists are bound, his movements a little heavier than before.
A week in a cell has left its marks, in his posture, in the fatigue carving into his features, but not enough to break what truly defines him.
His smile.
Less broad, less provocative… but still there.
Caitlyn watches him in silence, arms crossed, leaning against the hallway wall.
And she can't help but think that Zaun's methods would be faster, and more effective.
A few well-placed hits, and that smile would disappear.
A few minutes might be enough to make him talk.
She closes her eyes, then breathes out slowly, to push away that thought before it takes up too much space.
When she opens her eyes again, only control remains.
She pushes the door open and enters.
The sound immediately catches Finn's attention. Sitting at the table, he lifts his head… and seeing her, a snicker escapes him.
«I guess you've fallen for my charm, inspector… given how often we're seeing each other lately.»
Caitlyn doesn't react to the provocation. She walks in calmly, pulls out a chair, but doesn't sit down right away. Her fingers tap lightly on the table's surface, a slow, steady rhythm.
«I imagine you still don't want to talk, do you?»
Finn shrugs vaguely, a smirk on his face.
«Why would I talk? I have absolutely nothing to confess.»
Caitlyn watches him for a few seconds without answering. Her gaze is fixed, almost heavy.
Then she finally sits down.
«Alright, Finn… I know exactly what you're thinking.»
She folds her hands in front of her.
«You think you're not risking anything. That whatever happens, I'll have to hand you back over to Zaun police sooner or later.»
Finn's smile widens slightly, as if she'd just confirmed exactly what he expected.
Caitlyn releases a quiet breath.
Then, without taking her eyes off him, she slowly pulls out a plastic bag and sets it on the table, between them.
Inside, the phone.
Finn freezes.
Just a fraction of a second.
But Caitlyn sees it.
«Honestly…» she continues calmly, tilting her head slightly, «I know it was you who orchestrated this kidnapping.»
She pauses, letting the silence settle, weigh down.
«And now, I have all the evidence I need to prove it.»
Her tone stays even. Almost detached.
But her eyes never let go of Finn for a single second.
«But that's not what interests me.»
A silence.
«What I want is to find Ekko.»
She leans forward.
«All you have to do is tell me where Ekko is, and this whole thing can end quickly.»
Caitlyn's voice is low, controlled, but each word seems to carry weight, almost cutting.
«I don't think you killed him… so tell me where you're hiding him.»
Finn doesn't answer.
His gaze drifts to the table, then to the phone sealed in plastic, before falling again.
Caitlyn doesn't move.
Upright in her chair, hands resting in front of her, she stares at him without blinking. Her gaze is still, fixed on him like a constant pressure, invisible but impossible to ignore.
The seconds pass.
Then the minutes.
The silence stretches slowly, until it becomes nearly oppressive.
All that can be heard is the faint hum of the lights on the ceiling, the muffled creak of a chair somewhere in the hallway… and Finn's breathing, heavier than before.
Sitting crooked in his chair, he keeps his eyes lowered.
His fingers fidget nervously with the ring on his finger, spinning it around and around his knuckle in a mechanical motion that betrays far more agitation than he'd like to show.
The metal sometimes taps softly against his skin.
A tiny sound.
But in the silence of the room, it nearly ends up echoing.
He still doesn't speak.
And Caitlyn doesn't look away.
She waits.
She knows that silence, sometimes, does more than words.
After a long while, maybe twenty minutes, maybe thirty, Caitlyn finally releases a quiet breath.
Then she stands.
As if, for her, the interview were over.
Without another word, she walks around the table and heads for the door.
Her hand rests on the handle.
Then—
«Release all my guys…»
Finn's voice is hoarser than before, as if it had to fight its way out.
Caitlyn freezes.
«…and I'll tell you everything.»
Silence falls again at once, but it's no longer the same.
Caitlyn stays with her back to him for a second, motionless, then slowly turns her head. Her gaze comes back to him, colder still, more attentive.
She releases the handle, and sits back down across from him, without taking her eyes off him.
«You have my word,» she says calmly. «We'll release them all.»
A brief pause.
«All of them… except you.»
Finn manages a faint, tired smile, but accepts with a nod.
«Fine.»
He runs a hand over his face, as if to wake himself up, gather his thoughts.
«It's true, we planned… and kidnapped Ekko.»
Caitlyn doesn't react outwardly, but her gaze hardens slightly.
«But…» Finn adds, finally looking up at her, «we don't know where he is anymore.»
A beat.
Caitlyn frowns, unable this time to fully mask her confusion.
«What do you mean?»
Finn breathes in slowly.
«A little over a month ago… one of the younger guys in the gang freed him from his cell.»
He pauses, as if the memory is coming back to him in fragments.
«No one saw it coming. He acted alone.»
Caitlyn leans forward.
«And then?»
Finn's gaze wavers for a moment.
«Then… Ekko escaped.»
Caitlyn stays still for a few seconds, taking in what she's just heard, but an inconsistency lingers, snagged in her mind.
«But if that's the case… why hasn't he come forward?»
Caitlyn's voice has gone lower. She's no longer trying to corner him; she's simply thinking out loud, trying to piece together a puzzle that stubbornly refuses to take shape.
Finn shrugs slightly without meeting her gaze.
«That… I have no idea.»
He lets a few seconds pass, time to gather his thoughts, before continuing in a graver tone.
«But, honestly… I'm already surprised he managed to escape in his condition.»
This time, Caitlyn's eyes snap up to him immediately.
«What condition?»
Finn hesitates for a moment. He breathes in slowly before answering.
«Right after he ran, I sent two of my men after him.»
His gaze drifts for a brief moment.
«Neither of them came back.»
The silence that follows is heavy.
«One was found dead.»
He pauses again, longer this time.
«And the other… just vanished. No trace of him at all.»
Caitlyn doesn't say anything right away. She slowly straightens in her chair and folds her hands in front of her, eyes fixed on Finn as the implications of his words settle into place in her mind.
«I know about the shooting death,» she finally says calmly. «You think they killed each other?»
Finn immediately shakes his head.
«You can forget that theory.»
A silence.
Caitlyn looks away, thinking, reassembling the pieces in her mind.
«So that means someone else took care of it…»
Caitlyn leaves the sentence hanging, her gaze lost for a moment in front of her. Hypotheses follow one after another in her mind at a speed she struggles to keep up with, each raising more questions than answers.
«This whole thing keeps getting more complicated…»
As she thinks out loud, Finn stays silent. He seems to hesitate, as if wondering how much further he can talk without worsening his own situation. Finally, he lets out a long sigh.
«There's something else.»
Caitlyn's eyes snap to him at once. She says nothing, but her full attention is now on him.
«What?»
Finn runs a hand through his hair with unusual discomfort. For the first time since their conversation began, he actually seems ill at ease.
«Ekko is… how do I put it… amnesiac.»
For a second, Caitlyn thinks she's misheard.
«Sorry?»
The word almost escapes her against her will.
She stares at him, incredulous.
«What is this story now?»
Finn briefly looks away before continuing.
«When we kidnapped him… at first, we just wanted to squeeze money out of him.»
Caitlyn stays impassive, but her gaze doesn't let go of him.
«Except he refused. Flat out. Even when we started to… intensify our methods.»
Caitlyn doesn't react, but something hardens in her features.
«So we changed approach,» Finn continues, more slowly. «We tried drugging him. With Shimmer. To make him more… cooperative.»
The word rings false.
«But we messed up the doses.»
He lowers his eyes.
«From there, our plan fell apart,» Finn continues. «He didn't remember anything anymore. Not us. Not even himself.»
His voice has grown a bit hollow.
«At first, we thought we'd wait. Until he got his memory back. Then let him go… threatening him to keep quiet.»
He lets out a small, joyless laugh.
«But you know the rest.»
Finn looks up at Caitlyn.
«There, now you know everything.»
Caitlyn stays still, as if frozen in the moment.
Finn's words still echo, but they don't come together right away. They float, disordered, fragments she can't yet connect to one another.
And yet…
The more she thinks about it, the more something begins to emerge.
Slowly a scenario takes shape in her mind, piece by piece, like a truth she hasn't yet accepted, but which insists.
Her gaze goes slightly blank.
Then, without a word, she raises her hands and presses her face into her palms. Her fingers gently press her temples as she breathes deeply, trying to slow the flood of racing thoughts.
A breath.
Then another.
When she finally lifts her head, her gaze has changed. Colder. Sharper.
«Out of all this… there's at least one thing that's certain.»
Her voice is low, measured.
«Whoever killed your man… is surely the same person who took Ekko.»
Finn doesn't answer right away, but his silence is confirmation enough.
Caitlyn presses on, without looking away:
«You really don't have any other information about this guy? The murder happened near your hideout. Someone must have seen something.»
Finn frowns slightly, searching his memory for a detail he might have overlooked until now.
«Maybe…»
He stays silent for a few moments, his gaze distant, before an idea seems to finally resurface.
«In the weeks before… there was a car near our hideout.»
Caitlyn's head snaps up at once.
«A car?»
Finn nods slowly.
«Yeah. It drove by almost every night. It stayed in the area without ever really getting close. At first, we didn't pay attention… I figured it was just someone who'd gotten lost. But after seeing it come back so often, I started to find it strange.»
Caitlyn leans forward slightly.
«Do you know the model?»
Finn shakes his head.
«No. It was always too dark to make out the brand or the plate.»
He thinks for another second before adding.
«What I am sure of, though, is that it wasn't some wreck like you see everywhere in Zaun. The kind of car few people here can afford.»
Silence falls again.
Caitlyn slowly closes her eyes.
And this time, it's no longer to think — it's to contain herself.
Then, abruptly, she stands, in a sharp, almost clipped motion, as if staying seated one more second risked making her doubt. She doesn't even look at Finn anymore, already turned toward the door, already elsewhere, her decision made before it was even put into words.
«We'll release your men today,» she says firmly, without slowing down.
She only stops once she reaches the door, her hand coming to rest on the handle.
«But you… you're staying here.»
Her voice leaves no room for negotiation.
«Inspector…»
She freezes.
That single word is enough to halt her movement. Slowly, she turns her head toward him, almost against her will.
Finn isn't smiling anymore.
Every trace of provocation has vanished from his face, as if erased by something deeper, heavier. He's no longer trying to play games or defy her. He looks at Caitlyn with a new gravity, unusual, almost unsettling coming from him.
«The two men… the one who died… and the one who disappeared…»
His voice wavers slightly, as if the words are struggling to come out.
«They were very good friends.»
A silence settles, but this time, it isn't tense. It's charged with something else.
«I've never liked the police,» he continues after a moment, without looking away. «And I doubt that'll ever change.»
He pauses, longer this time, as if weighing what he's about to say.
«But right now… more than ever… I hope justice gets done.»
Caitlyn doesn't answer right away.
She holds his gaze a few seconds longer, as if to make sure what she's sensing is real… then gives a very slight nod.
«I'll do everything I can.»
Her voice softens, losing the cutting hardness it carried until now, giving way to something calmer, more human.
Then she opens the door.
And leaves.
The contrast is immediate.
The hallway feels almost aggressive after the contained silence of the interrogation room.
She walks on regardless, mechanically, hardly paying attention to the figures she passes or the voices around her, because her mind is already elsewhere, far away, too far to come back so easily.
Thoughts race through Caitlyn's mind at a dizzying speed. At first they seem to have no connection to each other, but little by little, a logic begins to emerge, quiet, almost unsettling.
Ekko.
Then that voice she'd heard through Powder's phone.
Then the chemtech powder found near the body… exactly the same as what Zapper releases after every shot.
And now this car, far too luxurious to be driving around Zaun, that could match the vehicle Silco gave Powder.
She briefly closes her eyes.
The pieces fall into place on their own, as if drawn to one another.
And yet, she still refuses to draw a conclusion.
These are just coincidences.
They could all have independent explanations.
They must have one.
But one question keeps coming back to her regardless.
How could Powder have known the location of Finn's gang's hideout?
The place wasn't a complete secret, sure, but it wasn't the kind of address you got just by asking around the streets of Zaun, either. Even someone who'd grown up there would have had no reason to know precisely where that hideout was… unless they'd been led there, or had a particular reason to look for it.
Caitlyn remains silent, brow slightly furrowed, gaze lost on some invisible point in the hallway.
And suddenly…
Something surfaces in her memory.
«Ah… he used to swim.»
Zeri's words.
About her brother.
The missing brother.
Caitlyn feels a shiver run down her spine.
Everything fits together perfectly.
Her pace slows almost against her will, as if every new connection weighs her steps down a little more, until she finally stops completely in the middle of the hallway.
Her body refuses to go any further, blocked by what her mind is coming to understand, or maybe to accept.
Her hand slides slowly into her jacket pocket.
She pulls out her phone and the screen lights up.
A cold light illuminates her face, revealing the tension she's still trying to contain.
Her fingers scroll through her contacts, slowly, before stopping on a name.
Powder.
The name appears on the screen, still, almost mundane in appearance… and yet crushingly heavy, as if it alone contained everything Caitlyn still refuses to face.
She doesn't move.
Her gaze fixed on those few letters, unable to look away, as if ignoring them might make the truth even more tangible.
Around her, the hallway keeps living — footsteps echo, voices rise, doors slam — but all of it reaches her muffled, distant, as if drowned behind the dull pounding of her thoughts.
Her thumb slowly moves toward the screen.
Very slowly.
It stops right above the name, suspended in a fragile balance, as if this simple gesture could tip everything over.
«I'm probably wrong…»
The words escape her in a breath, barely audible, as if she isn't even sure she's actually said them, before putting her phone away.
After lunch, the apartment settles into an almost cottony calm, as if suspended between two moments. The afternoon light slides through the windows and comes to rest on the couch, on their shoulders, on the wood of the guitar.
Ekko is sitting, slightly slouched, the instrument resting against him, his fingers running over the strings with an almost troubling ease. The notes flow effortlessly, fluid, natural, as if his body remembers in his place.
Powder, meanwhile, is curled against him, almost nestled into the crook of his shoulder, her head tucked against his neck. She barely moves, except to slightly adjust her position with each movement of his hands on the guitar.
«It's impressive how well you still play… even without your memories,» she finally murmurs, her voice soft, carried by the music.
Her lips barely brush his skin as she speaks.
Ekko gives a slight smile without stopping playing.
«I guess some things stick around…»
He doesn't really finish his sentence.
He doesn't need to.
Powder lets out a breath.
«But honestly…» she adds, barely lifting her head, «I think that except for Caitlyn… everyone agrees your real specialty is rap.»
Ekko slows down slightly.
Then stops.
His fingers stay resting on the strings, still, as the last note fades softly in the room.
He turns his head slightly toward her, his nose almost brushing her hair, and breathes in without really realizing it.
The scent of vanilla that rises from her pulls a quiet, soothed breath from him.
«Caitlyn…?» he repeats, simply.
Powder's body tenses slightly against him. Then she sits up a little, just enough to look at him, still wedged between him and the guitar, her legs tangled with his.
«I…» she begins, before stopping herself.
She lowers her eyes for a moment, then lifts them back to him, more resolute.
«I don't want to lie to you anymore.»
Her voice is calm.
«Does it bother you if… I just tell you I'm not ready to answer yet?»
Ekko looks at her for a few seconds.
Then his expression softens.
He tilts his head and presses a kiss to her lips, slow, tender, without insistence.
But when he pulls back, she follows almost immediately.
As if drawn.
Her lips seek his again, without restraint this time.
Ekko lets out a breath against her, surprised, but doesn't push her away. His hand leaves the guitar to come rest against her cheek, steadying the movement.
When they finally part, just a few centimeters apart, he keeps his forehead against hers.
«I'll wait as long as it takes,» he murmurs.
A soft silence follows his words.
Powder looks at him for another second, then a smile slowly stretches across her lips. She lifts her hand and taps twice against his chest, gently, a little signal between them.
Then she reluctantly shifts away.
Ekko instinctively loosens his arms to let her go, his fingers lingering on her a moment before pulling away completely.
Powder stretches at length as she sits up, arms above her head, her back arching slightly in a movement still marked by fatigue… and something lighter.
«Well…» she breathes, landing back on her feet. «Time for me to go get ready for work.»
Ekko watches her from the couch, one eyebrow slightly raised.
«Aren't you going to get in trouble showing up…» he glances around, as if that could tell him the time, «more than three hours late?»
Powder lets out a small laugh.
«No, not at all.»
She turns to face him, stepping back a few paces, then raises her hand to make a V with her fingers, a mischievous smile on her lips.
«My uncle is literally the boss.»
She tilts her head slightly.
«So I'm not risking much.»
Ekko lets out an amused breath, shaking his head slightly.
«Convenient…»
Powder shrugs, feigning innocence.
«My coworkers might talk behind my back a little…» she adds, already heading toward her room. «But hey. Nothing new.»
Her voice fades slightly as she walks away.
Then she finally disappears to get ready, leaving behind her a different kind of silence.
Once ready, her coat neatly settled on her shoulders, Powder stays still for a few seconds in front of the front door, her hand already resting on the handle without lowering it.
As if something is still holding her back.
Then she turns around.
Without warning.
And comes to hug Ekko.
Her arms close around him with unexpected gentleness, but she holds on, a little longer than necessary, her face coming to rest against his shoulder. Ekko stays surprised for a moment, then his hands naturally find her waist, drawing her slightly closer.
They stay like that.
Without speaking.
The silence settles in, but it isn't heavy. It's full of what they're not saying, of what they still feel too strongly to put into words.
Powder breathes in softly.
As if trying to memorize this moment.
«What if… I called in sick?»
Her voice is muffled against him, almost serious… almost.
Ekko lets out a laugh, light, before pulling back just enough to look at her.
«Ah, no.»
He places his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her toward the door.
«Definitely not.»
Powder sighs, exaggerating the gesture, rolling her eyes like an upset child.
«You're really heartless…»
But her smile betrays the opposite.
She finally turns, opens the door, letting in a current of fresh air.
She stops one last time on the threshold, and turns toward him.
«See you tonight.»
Her voice is softer this time.
Less playful.
Ekko nods slightly, a small smile at the corner of his lips.
«See you tonight.»
She looks at him one more second.
Then she leaves.
And the door closes softly behind her, followed by the sound of the lock.
Ekko's smile stays on his face a few moments longer.
Then, slowly, it cracks.
Something shifts in his gaze. The lightness disappears, replaced by a duller tension, harder to ignore. He stays motionless in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the closed door.
Then he starts moving.
With a determined stride, he crosses the apartment without stopping, without really watching where he's stepping.
Arriving in front of Powder's bedroom, he stops dead.
His hand hovers above the handle.
He breathes in, opens the door, and immediately lowers his gaze.
He walks in without looking up, closes the door gently behind him, and moves into the room, tension visible in his every movement.
At first glance, if you set aside the walls covered with pictures of him, nothing seems particularly unusual. The room is bigger than it appeared from outside, almost too vast for the few pieces of furniture it holds. In places, it even feels strangely empty, as if part of the space had never really found its purpose.
Ekko stops for a moment.
He doesn't quite know what he's come looking for.
Or even if he's really looking for anything specific.
And yet, his body moves before he does. His hands start searching, moving objects.
His movements lack method, guided more by a confused intuition than any real logic, as if part of him is convinced an answer lies here without being able to tell him where to look.
It's finally near the bed that a detail catches his attention.
Leaning against the wall is a large basket overflowing with spare parts, tools, and machine fragments piled on top of each other in a disorder that nonetheless seems perfectly under control. Ekko crouches in front of it, letting his gaze sweep over the gears, the metal plates, the springs and components he can't identify.
He moves closer slowly, drawn despite himself to this heap of metal and mechanisms. His gaze slides from one piece to another as his fingers absently brush over the various objects, following their worn shapes, their cold edges, and the many repair marks that testify to countless hours of work.
Finally, his hand stops on a metal device with irregular shapes. He picks it up carefully and slowly turns it between his fingers, instinctively trying to understand how it works. The object is completely unfamiliar to him, but something about its design strikes him as strangely logical, almost intuitive.
Without really thinking, his thumb comes to rest on a small button on the side.
He presses it.
Zzzzzzz—
An electric crackle immediately runs through the mechanism, accompanied by a brief but powerful enough vibration to travel up his palm and into his forearm. Ekko flinches slightly in surprise and stares at the device with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
A cold sweat slowly slides down his back, while a shiver runs through him, fast, uncontrollable.
He sets the object back in the basket a little too hastily, as if simply holding it any longer had become unsettling, then straightens up and stays still for a moment in the middle of the room, his gaze still avoiding the walls he refuses to look at.
His gaze slowly leaves the basket to settle on the desk against the wall. Without really knowing what draws him to it, Ekko approaches and slides his fingers over the wood before opening the top drawer.
The soft creak of the drawer echoes in the silence of the room.
Then he freezes.
Inside, medication boxes fill almost the entire space. They're everywhere. Some are carefully stacked on top of each other, others lie loose at the bottom of the drawer, empty, opened long ago. The whole thing gives off a strange impression, far from a simple box forgotten after a treatment.
He picks one up and turns it slowly.
«Sertraline…»
The name stirs a vague sense of familiarity in him. He feels like he's heard it before, without being able to place where or under what circumstances.
He sets the box down and picks up another.
«Quetiapine…»
Then a third.
«Lamotrigine…»
The names go by one after another as his gaze sweeps over the drawer's contents. He doesn't really know these medications, but their sheer accumulation is enough to stir a growing unease. He's no longer facing a few scattered treatments in a piece of furniture. He's uncovering the traces of years of prescriptions, renewed again and again, until they filled an entire drawer.
His throat tightens.
Without understanding why, he senses that these boxes tell part of a story of Powder's she's never told him. A heavy, painful part, significant enough that she left behind this mountain of empty packaging instead of throwing it away.
He stays still for a few moments, a box still in his hands, before setting it down carefully. The drawer closes with a soft wooden sound, but his attention doesn't really move on. His gaze already drifts to the one below, where it lingers for a moment. Hesitation runs through him. Then he finally grabs the handle and opens it slowly.
This time, it isn't the contents as a whole that catch his attention, but a detail that immediately jumps out at him.
The photo from the living room.
The one that had disappeared.
It's carefully tucked inside, as if someone had wanted to keep it safe rather than get rid of it.
Ekko's heart starts beating a little faster.
Next to the photograph sits a small, perfectly sealed bottle of powder, which he barely glances at before another object captures his full attention.
A ring.
It's simple, without any stone or particular decoration, but nothing about its placement seems left to chance. It seems to have been set there with almost precious care.
Ekko picks it up delicately between his fingers. The metal is cold, surprisingly heavy for such a discreet object. He slowly turns it between his thumb and index finger, studying the fine scratches left by time, until the inside of the band comes into view.
Two letters are engraved there.
A C.
A V.
His movement stops at once.
He stares at the initials without looking away, feeling a strange tension grip his chest. They don't stir any specific memory, no clear image, and yet they produce a deep unease in him, that persistent feeling of having come very close to a truth.
Time seems to slow around him.
And then—
«Vi…»
The name escapes him.
It's already there, at the edge of his lips, like something he's never forgotten… even though he doesn't know where it comes from.
And immediately, a dull pain settles behind his temples.
Not strong enough to make him stagger, but enough to cut his momentum short.
Ekko closes his eyes slightly, his jaw tightening as he tries to push the sensation away.
His instinct tells him not to push it. Not to dig any further.
Not now.
He slowly opens his eyes again, holds the ring between his fingers for a few more seconds, then sets it back exactly where it was.
His gaze then drifts over the rest of the drawer and naturally lands on an object placed right beside it.
A notebook.
Thick, worn at the edges, its cover bearing the marks of time and repeated handling. There's nothing exceptional about it on the surface, and yet something about its mere presence immediately holds his attention.
Ekko reaches out and gently pulls it toward him.
When he opens it, the first words written on the page jump out at him at once.
Powder's Journal.
His breath catches.
His fingers stay resting on the paper as he stares at those few words without turning a single page. A silent struggle immediately begins within him. He knows he should close this notebook and put it back exactly where it was. This journal belongs to Powder, and its contents are hers alone.
And yet, another thought won't leave him.
Since he woke up, he's been moving through a maze of questions no one seems able to answer. Everything he discovers only thickens the mystery surrounding their story. If answers exist, they might be here, between these pages. Maybe here he'll finally discover who Powder really is, what happened to her… and why he himself feels like he's living in the middle of a life whose essence he's forgotten.
He glances down one last time at the cover.
Then slowly closes the notebook.
He stays still for a few moments, his hand still resting on top, before lifting his gaze to the bedroom door.
Then, with a resolve mixed with guilt, he carefully pushes the drawer back, then the others, until each finds its place again. The soft click of wood echoes gently in the room before calm settles back in.
Ekko finally clutches the notebook to his chest.
He knows he shouldn't take it.
But he also knows he can no longer turn back.
Without a sound, he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
When he comes back into the living room, the calm feels different.
Ekko sits down slowly on the couch, the journal still in his hands.
He holds the closed notebook in his hands for a few moments, thumbs pressed against the cover. A long breath escapes him as his gaze stays lost on it. One last hesitation runs through him, then he finally gives in to the curiosity that's been gnawing at him since he found the journal.
The first pages surprise him immediately.
He expected an actual diary, but finds something far more chaotic. Scientific notes follow one another with no real structure, covered in arrows, calculations, and unfinished diagrams. Sketches of machines with improbable shapes sometimes take up an entire page, surrounded by notes scribbled in the margins, some carefully boxed in, others angrily crossed out before being rewritten a little further along.
Everything seems chaotic.
And yet, this chaos has its own logic.
Slowly turning the pages, Ekko also finds drawings scattered between two inventions. Some have the touching clumsiness of a sketch made without thinking, others reveal instead a surprising precision. He can easily picture Powder jumping from one idea to another without ever really stopping, unable to let her mind rest.
A faint smile eventually appears on his face.
He keeps reading, more and more absorbed, until a different handwriting suddenly catches his attention. The letters are more even, more careful, as if written without haste.
—-
Ekko says I should use my journal for something other than work… or making paper airplanes…
—-
His smile widens despite himself.
He slowly turns to the next page.
——
…but I don't have much to write so hi, future Powder.
——
He lingers on this first page for a few moments, his thumb absently sliding along the edge of the paper. He tries to picture Powder at the moment she wrote these few lines, sitting at her desk, pen in hand, probably convinced she had nothing interesting to say.
As he continues reading, the following pages carry the same sense of spontaneity. They're filled with drawings, ideas scribbled down on a whim, projects abandoned mid-sentence, but also small fragments of her daily life. Some take only a few lines, others span several pages, but they never lose that natural tone that makes it feel like she's writing only for herself, without trying to dress up or correct whatever crosses her mind.
The dates carefully written at the top of some pages quickly become his reference points. They let him follow the passage of weeks, then months, to see the periods when she writes almost every day and those where several days go by without a single line being added. Little by little, an actual timeline takes shape before his eyes.
And, through that timeline, he discovers a version of himself he doesn't know.
To his great surprise, Powder talks about him far more often than she talks about herself. His name comes up constantly, sometimes in a passing remark, sometimes at the center of an entire page. He appears in her successes, in her doubts, in her anger, in the most insignificant moments as well as the ones that seem to have mattered more.
Without even realizing it, Ekko speeds up.
He turns the pages one after another, unable to stop. An irresistible curiosity drives him to keep going, to understand how their story began, how it evolved, and above all, how it could have led them to today. The further he goes, the more he has the unsettling feeling of discovering his own life through someone else's eyes.
But that feeling eventually fades.
As he moves further through the journal, something gradually changes, almost imperceptibly at first. There's no obvious break, no precise moment where everything shifts, but Ekko notices that the pages no longer tell the same story.
The tone becomes different.
The handwriting, once lively and spontaneous, gradually loses its steadiness. Some sentences seem to have been written with difficulty, the words sometimes crossed out several times before staying on the page, and some thoughts stop midway, abandoned before even being finished.
The drawings gradually disappear, giving way to pages that are much fuller, darker, where scientific notes and personal reflections blend together with no real separation. The energy that seemed to run through the first pages gives way to something heavier, harder to carry.
Even the dates change.
They appear less often, separated by increasingly long intervals. A few days become weeks, as if keeping the journal had become a task she could no longer manage with the same ease as before.
Then Ekko stops on one particular page.
This time, he doesn't turn to the next one right away.
A few lines are enough to hold his full attention.
—
Lately, I don't have the energy to do anything anymore. Therapy isn't working, and the medication just makes me feel like I can't feel anything at all.
—
He stays still, leaning over the journal, unable to tear his eyes from those words.
His fingers slowly tighten around the edge of the page, then, after a brief hesitation, he turns it.
The words that appear before him are different from the previous ones. Heavier. Harder to read.
——
Every time I meet Vander's or Silco's eyes, I get this feeling that they're disappointed… that it was me who survived, and not you, my sister.
Ekkois here, at least… But honestly, seeing him doesn't bring me any comfort anymore.
I'm even afraid the pain has ended up swallowing my love for him too.
——-
Ekko stays silent in front of these few lines.
His hand slowly leaves the journal to come rest on his face, his fingers sliding over his forehead as he tries to regain his composure. And yet, he can't tear his eyes away from the page. Every sentence seems to carry a share of suffering he'd never suspected.
So he continues, his face closed, almost drained of expression, as if trying to put distance between himself and what he's reading. His eyes move across the pages with a new rigor, seeking less to feel than to understand, to piece things together, to draw something coherent out of this chaos.
At first, he barely reads anymore.
His fingers turn the pages almost mechanically, driven by a dull urgency, a need to keep going no matter what.
But very quickly, he's forced to slow down.
Because the words no longer tell a story.
They no longer build anything.
They fall.
Like marks carved into time.
—
July 930
I don't deserve to be alive.
—
August 930
I tried to end it… but I failed.
Since then I can't forget the way Ekko looked at me when he found me in the bathtub…
He looked at me like I'd torn his heart out.
—
November 930
It's been a month since I've been locked up at Silco's.
Sevika plays prison guard. She barely says anything, but she never leaves me alone for a second.
I miss Ekko.
I want to go home.
—
The letters are slightly heavier here, almost pressed into the paper, as if that one word, "Ekko," had taken more effort than all the others.
Without really realizing it, Ekko brushes the handwriting with his fingertips, slowly following the uneven curves of his own name, as if he could find something more there, a trace, a sensation, a fragment of memory still escaping him.
These pages were never written to tell a story, or to remember, or even to explain. They exist only in those moments when everything overflows, when the weight becomes too heavy to carry in silence, when there's no one left to turn to.
So she wrote.
Not to preserve.
But to survive.
And what he's holding in his hands… isn't a series of memories.
It's a series of falls.
Until everything that remains is recorded there, between these pages he probably should never have opened.
Open in his hands, but his gaze no longer really reads. The words keep spinning in his head, overlapping, colliding with one another as if they're all trying to surface at once.
And then the pain comes back.
Something brutal, physical, cutting through his skull in one sharp blow, like too much pressure, too sudden to be contained.
He grits his teeth.
His breath catches.
His fingers let go of the journal without him noticing.
For several minutes the pain intensifies, pulses behind his temples, floods everything, blurs his thoughts until they become nearly unusable.
His eyes fill with tears despite himself.
Tears that rise without warning, that he doesn't even have time to understand before they spill over.
His body sways.
And he collapses.
Onto the couch.
The journal sliding slightly from his hands, abandoned beside him, while he stays there, folded in on himself, breath short, unable to silence what's rising in him without yet knowing exactly what it is.
When Powder comes home, the apartment is plunged into an almost total dimness. Only the light from outside filters faintly through the curtains, casting blurry shadows on the walls.
She closes the door behind her without a sound, letting her fingers linger a few seconds on the handle, her gaze already caught by this unusual silence that seems to weigh on every wall.
Then she moves forward, slowly, taking off her coat without really thinking about it, her footsteps muffled by the apartment's unusual silence.
Arriving in the living room, she reaches for the light switch, hesitates for a fraction of a second, then flips it on.
Light floods the room.
And reveals him.
Ekko is there, sitting on the couch, his back slightly hunched, head down, shoulders still, in a posture that doesn't suit him.
Powder's heart tightens without her understanding why.
«Ekko…?»
She approaches slowly, step by step, her gaze locked on him.
«Is everything okay?»
He doesn't answer.
But just as she gets closer, he stands up abruptly.
He rises suddenly, as if pulled out of his thoughts, and within seconds he's already in front of her.
She doesn't have time to read his expression, or even to step back, before his arms close around her with a force that surprises her.
The impact knocks the breath out of her slightly.
Her arms stay suspended for a fraction of a second, surprised, before closing around him by reflex.
«Ekko… what's wrong…?»
But he doesn't answer.
Her steps stumble backward under the pressure, off balance, and he moves forward with her without really controlling the motion. They pivot awkwardly around the living room, clumsy, disordered, until their legs tangle.
They trip.
And fall.
Ekko presses her against the couch in the motion, his weight over hers, his arms still firmly wrapped around her.
Powder's breath catches.
Her heart races instantly, pounding violently against her chest, her cheeks warming under the sudden closeness, under the heat of his body against hers.
She finally looks up.
And what she sees freezes her instantly.
Ekko's eyes are filled with tears.
They overflow, silent, sliding down his temples, disappearing against his skin without him making the slightest move to wipe them away.
Powder's heart skips a beat.
Her hands rise almost instinctively, coming to frame his face.
«Ekko… what's happening…?»
Her voice wavers.
She searches his face, panicked, her breath already shorter.
«Are you hurt?»
Worry rises all at once, brutal, uncontrollable, and she's already sweeping his face and shoulders with her eyes.
Her own eyes fill in turn, without her realizing it.
Without answering right away, he slides his hands around her and, in a slower motion this time, much more controlled than before, rolls them both over.
His back meets the couch, and Powder finds herself against him, nestled on his chest, still held in his arms.
He briefly closes his eyes, letting out a longer, calmer breath, his fingers coming to rest against Powder's back with a gentleness that contrasts with the earlier tension.
«It's nothing serious, Pow…» he finally murmurs.
«Sorry for scaring you.»
They stay a moment without speaking.
The living room is calm, almost too calm, as if the rest of the world had been pushed back behind the apartment's walls.
Ekko's breathing is still a little uneven at first, but it slowly steadies, matching the rhythm of Powder's presence against him.
Finally, his voice rises, lower than usual, tinged with a strange fatigue.
«Are you hungry?»
Powder doesn't answer right away.
Then she lifts her head, stares at him for a second, and gives him a sharp tap on the chest.
«You managed to kill my appetite scaring me like that.»
Her voice is annoyed, but without real harshness.
She settles back against him, seeking his warmth with disarming naturalness, and slides her hands under his shirt without even thinking about it, her cold fingers meeting his skin.
Ekko shivers slightly, but doesn't move.
On the contrary, he lets her.
She breathes softly, her forehead coming to rest against him.
«I'd rather we just stay like this…»
Ekko smiles gently and lets his hand slide into Powder's hair, his gaze lost for a moment on the ceiling, but his attention entirely turned toward her.
«Pow…?»
A small sound answers him, barely audible, a distracted confirmation that she's listening.
«Are you happy?»
The question falls without preamble.
Powder lifts her head, surprised, not expecting something this simple to be asked out loud.
Her eyes lock onto Ekko's.
He doesn't look away.
He waits.
Calm.
Still.
As if the answer mattered more than anything else.
So, slowly, she sits up a little and presses her lips to his.
A soft kiss.
Unhurried.
When she pulls back just barely, her voice is lower, but perfectly clear.
«I've never been as happy as I am right now… here, with you.»
The words hang in the air for a fraction of a second.
And Ekko looks at her.
Really looks at her.
Something trembles in his eyes. Not hesitation, not doubt… but a raw, complete sincerity, running through everything she says without her being able to control it.
He feels a smile appear on his face.
A strained smile.
Because he knows he can't tell her.
Not now.