Note: Inspired by the Bishop Briggs song 'High Water'
Content Warning: Mental health issues, dead body, grief
It was easy enough to steal the small boat. Both sides of the river had been thrown into chaos by the explosion of Piltover's Council Chambers. The emergency horns blared over the cities, the deep resonant frequency quivering through buildings and bodies alike. Enforcers and citizens flooded the streets, faces turned up toward the blazing and crumbling tower, aflame with oranges and blues. Panicked screams and talk rustled beneath the emergency horns' insistent droning.
"I saw a blue streak in the sky! Thought it was a shooting star!"
"It came from the docks! On the Undercity's side!"
"Those fuckin' mad Trenchers!"
No one would miss a small dinghy.
The sounds of pandemonium slowly faded as Jinx directed the boat away from the warring cities, down the widening mouth of the River Pilt where the water's brackishness intensified as it bled out into the sea towards Bilgewater. She needed to get out far enough to . . . to . . .
Jinx felt a hitch in her throat and she swallowed it down. She squeezed the boat motor's throttle and the machine purred louder, accelerating through the dark water and into the night. Away, away, away from Piltover and Zaun.
Once she was sure the gorge of grief was tamped down, her eyes fell to the body tucked into the bow of the boat. After she had launched her assault on the Council, Jinx had scurried into the wreckage of the cannery, watching her sister and the enforcer. Waiting for them to limp back over the river. Waiting for them to leave again, so she could get . . . him.
Jinx had been surprised at how light Silco felt in her arms after she had cut him loose and hauled him out of the chair. Silco was not had not been a large man, but he had been strong and taller than her. She remembered so keenly his long limbs wrapping around her all those years ago at the same cannery. Caging her, protecting her. He wasn't big, but he felt big.
And now she could carry him as easily as she did Pow-Pow.
She was strong now.
Like she was always meant to be.
Shimmer, she guessed. She could feel it under her skin. Itching and vibrating through her veins. Thrumming behind her new, pink eyes and beating inside her brain like a firelight trying to find its way out of a sealed jar.
It's not just the Shimmer, a voice murmured in the back of her head. She batted a hand behind her ear as if that would dislodge the ghost.
Jinx had carried Silco down to the docks and found the empty boat. She would've liked to have taken him to the sand bar where he 'baptized' her. It would've been meaningful for them both. But she couldn't risk him being found. Couldn't risk his body washing up on Piltover or Zaun's shores.
She wasn't concerned for herself, no.
She worried what they might do to Silco if they got their hands on his body.
Jinx was less certain what Piltover might do. Probably toss him in a crematorium and dump the ashes somewhere unimportant. It would be quiet. Uneventful. Insignificant.
She was more concerned what would happen if the Chem-Barons found him. It wasn't a secret that the relationship between the Barons and the de-facto leader of Zaun was tenuous. They toed the line because they feared him. He had given them just enough to keep them cowed, but they hated him. She knew, had heard it in muttered voices when they left his office. Their hate hadn't bothered Jinx until now. She feared they would defile him. She didn't want to, but her mind (the monster that had never been her friend) drew up horrifying images of Silco strung up, his death presented to all of Zaun. Disrespectful confirmation that his reign was over.
She couldn't let that happen. Not to what she adored. What had adored her.
Adored Jinx.
Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, and muttered to herself. She steered the boat toward higher water.
They would know Silco was dead. Whether Vi and the Piltie told or not, everyone would know. And when no one claimed his death, they would know who it was . . .
Jinx was too far gone to care about her own safety. She never had a great sense of self-preservation anyway. She didn't even really care if they pinned her with the crime; what did it matter when the list was so long? What acutely stung was the fact that the one person who valued, vouched, and protected (and loved?) her was gone.
By her own hand.
Without Silco, no one in the Undercity would think twice before placing a bounty on Jinx's head. She knew, no one liked her. She knew she got away with a lot because of Silco's fondness for her. He had never said it before that night, but she had always suspected he viewed her as his daughter.
There had even been a night – one fraught with nightmares, voices, and ghosts – when he had drew her into his chest tighter than the night at the cannery. It had been a few years since that time and Silco was becoming surer of the physical affection he offered her. He had also learned that the fastest way to guide Jinx out of the dark was to hold her tightly. To squeeze her against his chest until it felt like they were fusing together. When her sobbing had subsided into weak whimpers, she had heard him whisper into her hair to not cry, not fret, because she was his other half. That nothing would hurt her because she was strong and he was there.
Another wave of disbelief pummeled Jinx.
Ikilledhimikilledhimikilledhim.
Again, Jinx squeezed her eyes shut. Her teeth squeaked as they grit together, and the hand that didn't hold the boat's throttle beat against her temple.
She killed him.
Right when she was settling into a sense of being found. Solid. Real.
Even before the tea party, Jinx knew 'Powder' wasn't coming back. She just wanted Vi to pick her. Pick her as she was – whatever her name was.
Silco had picked her. He had picked her with his dying breath.
Had picked her over Zaun.
Had picked her despite the betrayal of killing him.
Had picked her hadpicked her hadpickedher hadpickedherhadpickedherhadpickedher
She hated that she lost him when she didn't feel lost anymore.
A choking breath hiccupped at the back of Jinx's throat. Her eyes drifted back to his body. She had wrapped his coat around him like a swaddle, and gently stowed him in the crook of the dinghy's bow. His head leaned onto his left shoulder, the unmarred side of his face gleaming under the moonlight.
He looked like he was sleeping.
She wished he was sleeping.
Jinx looked behind her. Piltover and Zaun were pinpricks on the horizon. Deciding it was far enough, she steered the boat towards a small beach off to the right. The belly of the vessel ground against the river's sandy bottom before hitting the actual coastline. That was fine. Jinx released the throttle and the boat's motor rumbled to a stop. Carefully stepping over Pow-Pow and Fishbones, she maneuvered to the bow. With stiff legs, she knelt down next to Silco. Her hands twitched with hesitation before reaching out to gently cradle his head.
Just like she did when he was dying.
Jinx's throat tightened and her tongue suction-cupped to the roof of her mouth as she looked over his slack face. The wrinkles on his face were made softer by death. Her gaze traveled over to his Eye. It had dimmed, the fire inside having been extinguished. She looked into it carefully, willing it (she knew, fruitlessly) to spark back to life. Looking for any sign that she didn't have to let go of him.
A whimpered 'please' eked out through her bitten lips.
Water lapped lazily at the boat, softly rocking it side to side. A salty breeze wafted through the air. And Silco remained dead. Jinx's fingertips tightened against his face and she tilted her warm forehead to his cool one. The ridge of his long nose pressed into the tip of hers.
"I'm sorry," she hissed in a cracking voice.
His scent filled her nose and she committed it to memory. A spicy, earthy base (his own scent permeated by all the Noxian cigars he had smoked); a musky body (his cologne); a sweet, metallic top note (Shimmer).
"I lo-" the sentiment caught in her throat and the choking sobs that had threatened her the entire boat ride gushed out. Jinx dropped her head onto Silco's shoulder and held tightly to him, grief rattling through her.
Holdmebackholdmebackholdmebackpleasepleaseplease
He didn't.
When her tears passed, she lifted her head off his shoulder. Her new pink tears had collected on the wide lapel of his coat. Jinx bit her lip in consideration before carefully unwrapping the coat from around Silco's body. Another surge of grief and guilt jolted through her when the bullet holes in his chest were revealed.
With far more care and reverence than she'd ever given anything, Jinx folded the coat and gently placed it on the boat's middle bench. Next to Fishbones.
The next bit was a little tricky, despite her newfound strength. Awkwardly, Jinx lifted Silco back up into her arms and ungracefully jumped into the water. She gripped him tightly, not wanting to lose him.
Not yet.
The water came up to her hips.
It needed to be higher before she could let him go.
Jinx adjusted her hold on Silco, letting his legs and torso drift and float in the water as she held him underneath his arms. Slowly, she began to walk back towards the deeper part of the river.
Jinx was hoping that being this far downstream would mean the current would continue to carry Silco's body out to sea. He had told her repeatedly that he had died and was reborn in water, it seemed fitting that it should be his final resting place.
She knew he would agree.
As the water rose up to the hem of her top, a forlorn smirk cut across Jinx's lips. Maybe one of those leviathans he admired would swallow him up. He would like that, too, she thought.
When the water was high enough to lick at her armpits, Jinx stopped. Her boots sunk in the sand a bit. She stared out at the dark, watery expanse before them. It was calm, but she could feel the river's current flowing passed her sweetly. She could see it in the way it tugged and cradled Silco's body, gently coaxing him away from her only if she'd let go.
Her fingertips tightened on instinct. Everything had been pulled away from her already, whether it be by fate, Piltover, or her own hands. A gentle unfurling of her fingers would take away her last thing. After this it was just bombs, bullets, chaos, and, eventually, death.
Jinx took in a sharp breath and looked down at Silco. His head lulled in the water. His Eye looking up at her. One by one, Jinx's fingers uncurled from under Silco's armpits. She gasped when the current pulled him under and away. For a too brief moment she was able to follow his body's gentle progress. Then the night and the water swallowed him up.
Jinx unstuck her boots from the bottom of the river and waded back to the boat. She clambered back in and rested her weary, grieving body against the curved inside. She felt numb. Truly, for the first time, she had no one. Even the ghosts in her head were blissfully silent.
Jinx didn't know how long she sat in the small boat. A while, she supposed. But it was still night when she finally moved. She got up and carefully unfolded Silco's coat. She held it out in front of her, assessing it. She remembered when he first got it. She had still been little and had taken to hiding behind its long front, her skinny body safely tucked between it and her protector father. If she had been feeling extra silly, she would stand on his boot and wrap her gangly arms around his thigh, making him carry her with a stilted gait.
A fond smile dared to tug at Jinx's lips and she slipped her arms into the coat. It was far too big, but it was perfect.
Jinx pulled the motor's ripcord and directed the boat back toward Piltover and Zaun. She might as well. No matter where she went, she was always going to be in high water.
Notes: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment on the way out :)