Chapter Text
All the difficult hours and minutes
are like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.
— from “All The Difficult Hours and Minutes” by Jane Hirshfield
“Hey, Viktor.”
Viktor looks up from his book, sliding a finger between the pages to hold his place before closing it. Benzo stares down, his expression stricken, cheeks red and slightly puffy. He rubs a rough hand across his face, mopping off sweat and tears.
“Did you hear about Vi?”
Viktor frowns. “Vander’s eldest? No, I didn’t.”
“Big explosion in Piltover. Kids were there. I think she—” He takes a steadying breath, putting his hand on the back of the bench where Viktor is eating his lunch. Viktor quickly stands and lets him have his spot. He doesn’t even get the words out before he begins sobbing into his hands, pulling off his glasses and wiping his nose.
“Just today?” Viktor asks gently.
“Y-yeah.”
Viktor breathes. He puts a comforting hand on Benzo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Enforcers just brought the kids back. She’s—she’s still there. Vander’s trying to smooth things over now.”
Viktor winces. “I see.”
“Figured you might want to know. She was in your classes, wasn’t she?”
Viktor nods. It’s easier than telling the truth — that he hasn’t seen Violet or her siblings in school for weeks now, or that they’re lucky if the school even opens sometimes, with the way things have been. The consequences of peace, tentative or otherwise, often take time to trickle down. School has not been a priority for the children of Zaun for some time.
“Thank you,” he says. “For telling me.”
“Ekko’s a mess. Shut up in his room, won’t come out.”
“I’m sure he’s quite upset.”
“Blames himself for some reason. Can’t see why.” Benzo finally stands. “I’m sure there’ll be some kind of service. If you’ve got anything of hers from the school…”
“I will bring it.”
“Thanks.” Benzo tries to smile, but it only serves to make him look ill.
Viktor sits back down, staring out onto the street, watching people mill past.
The life of a child, snuffed out. It feels impossible to imagine, especially a child of Vander. Viktor looks down at his book — it feels trivial, now. He shakes his head, pressing the heel of his hand against one eye, staving off a headache. The walk home is long, slow. He climbs the stairs to his apartment, pushing himself up past the top step with his cane. For a while, he stands there, staring down at the stairwell below, wondering about the gravity of a fall.
There is a vigil for Violet.
Viktor brings her books and the lone bag she rarely carried to the Last Drop, handing it off to one of the servers to give to Vander. It’s Viktor’s understanding that Vander has smoothed over any trouble. Whatever cost has been paid, whatever consequences have occurred, the whispered rumor in the streets that they’d all be overrun with Enforcers never comes to pass. One of them is at the vigil, in uniform. She keeps to herself.
Viktor lights his candle when it’s handed to him, going up to place it with the others. The children aren’t there, and it’s probably for the best. He stands in the crowd with everyone else, listening to Vander speak about Violet’s bravery, and her persistence. The way she stood up for her family and always kept her promises.
“So I’ll keep mine to her. That Zaun will see better days, and there will be peace.” He lifts a glass. “For Vi. And for Zaun.” He drinks deeply, draining it in one go. It hits the table in front of him and rattles the room. “Let’s put on a song for her then. She hates the quiet.”
Viktor finds himself a table alone after that, having another drink, watching the crowd. They dance and share stories, but he has few to share himself. Vander comes to him later and thanks him for bringing her things.
“If there is anything I can do,” Viktor offers.
Vander puts a broad hand on his shoulder. “You do enough for these kids. It’ll get better, Viktor. You’ll have full classes by next year, you’ll see. Have to open an entire academy, just to compete with Piltover. You’ll be able to make a real wage from it, too.”
“A lofty dream,” Viktor says.
Vander nods. “If we don’t have dreams, we don’t have a damn thing. Have another drink, alright?” Vander releases him, and sends another beer to his table. Viktor takes it and lifts it in his direction, then toward the throng of candles under Violet’s photo.
For you, he thinks. And the version of you I will never know.
Viktor’s mother taught him to read by candlelight, on the worst days.
It will lift you up from darkness, she told him. To find the words to say and to write, to find comfort in a book.
She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t benefit him when he tried to get into the academy, or get a job in Piltover, or do literally anything topside. Viktor had returned, embarrassed and frustrated, but with a renewed sense of purpose. Stories had lifted him from darkness. Poetry and prose, too. He was not so foolish that he believed it was enough. Change would take time and effort, but so long as there were children in Zaun, there should be people to teach them.
So Viktor tried.
It worked and it didn’t. Sometimes his classroom was empty. Sometimes the building he taught in was blocked or occupied. Sometimes it was on fire. He still had to tinker and fix things to get by, but Viktor believed educating was his role, his place. And it wouldn’t be such a bad way to die, he thought, if it was his final act.
Vander’s children came to him the orphans of people Viktor barely knew. Vander was known for taking in strays, so to speak, and he left Violet and Powder in Viktor’s care one morning without much explanation — just a warning.
“She’ll bolt,” he said, pointing at Vi. “And she’ll bolt right after her.” He put a hand on Powder’s head. “Behave yourselves.” With a smile Viktor recalls — Violet rarely did.
He sees Powder for the first time since Violet’s death while he’s at the market, filling his bag. She spots him, too, and gives him a wobbling smile. Viktor lets her approach him.
“Good morning, Powder.”
“Good morning, Viktor.”
“How is today, hm?”
“Today is…fine,” she says. “It’s fine.” She picks up a piece of fruit. “You lit a candle.”
Viktor raises a brow. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I was watching.” She shows the fruit to the vendor who tells her the price. She sets it back down. Viktor takes it and pays for it, handing it to her.
“Here.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She takes a bite of it, juice and seeds running down her chin before she wipes it clean on her shirt. “Vander says I need to go back to school.”
He raises a brow. “I’m glad to hear that.” Powder makes a face. “When you’re ready,” he says. “There is no rush.”
She shrugs, following him through the market. Viktor finishes his shopping and walks her back to the Last Drop.
“You should come by more,” Powder says. “You don’t seem to have many friends.”
Viktor winces. “Between my work and trying to teach you I’m very busy.”
“Vander says excuses are the providence of poorly moraled men.”
Viktor barks a laugh and shakes his head. “Well, I would not want you to think me someone with poor morals. I will make an effort then, if you do something for me.”
“Sure.”
He raises a brow. “When you are ready, you will return to class and take your studies seriously.”
She makes a face. “I knew it.”
“It’s a fair trade, Miss Powder.”
“Fine. But you better be here tonight.”
“I will do my level best,” he says, and turns to walk home.
He makes good on his promise. It’s not every day, but a few times a week, Viktor stops by the Last Drop and has a drink. It becomes like an unofficial classroom some nights. Before Powder and the others are ushered off to bed, Viktor listens to their project ideas and makes notes on their drawings. He brings books to lend and share.
A month after the vigil, the grief is still intense, and palpable, but Viktor brings fruit and poetry to trade for stories and drinks, and it feels like, maybe things might begin to heal.
It’s a month and three days when a stranger walks into the bar.
He’s unkempt, scruff beginning to grow in on the face hidden under the hooded cloak. Viktor spots him immediately when he walks into the bar. The man sits at a table alone, nursing a single drink.
“Evening, Viktor.” Vander wipes a glass clean and begins to fill it. “More offerings?”
“Notebooks, just for ideas and such. Eh—” He points. “Who is that?”
Vander shrugs. “Dunno. Came in a little while ago. Figured I’d let him dry out and see what happens.”
Viktor nods and takes his drink, going over to the table where Powder, Ekko, and the boys are already fighting about some kind of clanging monkey toy Powder rigged up in class that morning. He pulls up his chair and leans his cane against the table, handing out the books.
“For ideas when they are fresh, and perhaps when they are old, too.”
Powder’s is a soft purple. She gives Viktor a knowing smile.
“Now, I thought perhaps we could revisit the poems I shared with you last week? Mylo, you had some thoughts?”
“My thoughts are they’re boring,” Mylo mutters. “Who cares about—”
There’s a sudden commotion from the other side of the room. Viktor looks over and the cloaked man is on the ground, a few regulars standing over him.
“Watch it, Pilty.”
“S-sorry. I just—” He fumbles over himself again, and the hood falls back, revealing a dirty, tired face with hair growing longer than it probably should.
On Viktor’s right, there’s a choking noise, and he turns to see Ekko launch himself from the table, flying at the man.
“You!”
Powder grabs at him. “Ekko!”
“It’s him! It’s him, he’s—” Ekko is on the man in a flash. Viktor gets to his feet, or tries as Claggor barrels past him. He doesn’t make it in time. Vander is already hefting Ekko into the air with one hand as he fights and screams against him.
“That’s enough!”
“It’s him! It’s him!” The man on the floor keeps backing up. The regulars who came in quickly make themselves scarce. “It was his stuff, it was his house, he killed Vi!”
The words suck all the air from the room. Viktor looks at the man sharply, then at Powder. She’s sitting, stock-still in her chair, gripping the table. The only sound is Ekko, fighting to free himself from Vander’s grasp.
“That’s enough, Ekko.”
“It was him!”
“Viktor.” Vander’s voice cuts through. Viktor looks up. “Get him out of here.” He jerks his head towards the man on the floor. Viktor nods, grabbing his cane and crossing the room. Before the man can react, Viktor points.
“Move.”
The man moves. Viktor helps him to his feet and leads him out the side door of the bar, onto the street. There’s a steady drizzle tonight, clean for the first time in a long while. Viktor guides him between buildings, ignoring his blathering and questions. By the time they get back to his flat, the man has finally gone quiet. Viktor locks the door behind him and leans heavily against it.
“That was a bit too much excitement for me, I think.” He wipes the sweat and rain from his brow, finally getting a look at his guest.
He’s tall, tan, and broad shouldered. A little thinner than he probably intends to be, from the way his clothes seem to hang. Viktor steps closer, peering at something…blue peeking out from under his shirt.
“...Was he right?” Viktor asks. “Were you the one they robbed?”
“Does it matter?”
“Quite a bit, actually.” Viktor moves past him. “Please, take off that cloak. It’s quite wet.”
The man looks down. “...Apologies.”
“Eh.” Viktor goes into the kitchen and puts on the kettle. “Tea?”
“If you can spare it.” After that, the apartment is silent. When the kettle whistles, Viktor pours two cups and brings one back into the living room.
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
“What is your name, if I may ask.”
“Jayce.”
“Just Jayce?”
Jayce scowls. “No. But that doesn’t matter.”
“Perhaps.” Viktor sits down on his sofa and gestures for Jayce to take one of the chairs.
Jayce sits stiffly, holding the cup in his hands. He takes a sip. “He is right. It was my apartment. My equipment. I’m the reason—” He takes a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know those kids would be in there. I didn’t even know they were the ones who tried to rob me.”
“I believe you.” Viktor leans forward. “The explosion was over a month ago. Have you been…in hiding?”
Jayce shakes his head. “Prison. The blast nearly killed me—” He pulls his shirt aside, revealing the blue tinged skin Viktor saw before. “They kept me alive and then they exiled me. Destroyed everything. All my research, my life’s work—” He breathes again. “But it was that or an execution. Though I’m not really sure I got the better end of the deal.”
Viktor frowns. “You are alive, yes? That is quite an improvement over being dead.
Jayce scowls. “Well when you put it that way—” He points. “Who the hell are you? I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Viktor.”
Jayce’s brow furrows, like he’s…processing this. Calculating. Then— “Alright. Viktor. Why’d he send me with you?”
“Because I probably won’t kill you.” Jayce flinches and Viktor rolls his eyes. “Please, relax. You’re in no danger here. I hold no grudge against you because you’re a topsider.”
“Not by birth,” Jayce mutters.
“Eh, it doesn’t matter to most people here. Your clothes are filthy, but they stand out.”
“Do you have something else I could wear then?”
“I do not. But I think—” There’s a knock at the door. Jayce nearly spills his tea all over his lap. “Against the wall,” Viktor says. “Over there. Quickly!” Jayce nods and moves out of sight. Viktor carefully opens the door, then relaxes. “Vander.” He turns around. “You can come out, Jayce.”
Vander raises a brow. “Is that our friend’s name?”
“It would seem so.” Viktor steps aside and lets him in.
“Brought him some things. Didn’t think you’d have much here in the way of clothes for him.”
“How thoughtful.”
Jayce stands in the center of the living room, looking exhausted and terrified. “I—”
“Don’t worry,” Vander says. “I’m not here to do anything to you. Take these.” He hands a bag to Jayce. “We’ll burn the clothes. I don’t need this coming back on Viktor.”
“...Right.”
Vander runs a hand through his hair. “I think it might be best if he stays here to lay low for a few days. I’ll have a chat with the fellas who were in the bar, and I’ve got Ekko calmed down.”
“How is Powder?” Viktor asks.
“Asleep. She didn’t—she’ll be fine,” Vander says quietly. “But you.” He points at Jayce. “I take it you aren’t welcome topside anymore?”
“I—no. I’m not.”
“Sounds about right.” Vander shakes his head. “We’ll have a longer chat when I can wrap my head around everything. For now though, you’ll stay here. If you cause Viktor any trouble, I will not extend the little grace I have left, understand?” Jayce nods. “Good.” Vander turns to Viktor. “Here.” He presses a bag into his hands. It hangs heavy with coin.
“Oh, I—”
“You’re feeding two mouths. Don’t pretend like you haven’t been going hungry to buy my daughter poetry.”
Viktor’s cheeks flush. “Y-yes. Well—”
“I’ll be back in a few days. Like I said—” He looks at Jayce. “No trouble.”
After he’s gone, Jayce collapses onto the sofa, putting his face in his hands and breathing deep.
“Fuck.”
“Go change. You may use my bedroom, and I have a washroom.”
“I—”
“Go. I will make something to eat.” Viktor turns and goes into the kitchen listening for the washroom door to click shut. He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes deep.
What on earth have I gotten myself into?
Jayce sleeps nearly the entire first day he’s in Viktor’s apartment. He’s burrowed under the blankets on the sofa, snoring softly when Viktor comes out to leave for the day, and he’s still there when Viktor comes back, only waking when the kettle whistles on the stove.
“Wha’time is it?”
“Not too late. Sleep well?” Jayce makes a noise. Viktor brings him a cup of coffee. “Here. A bit more body for you, yes?”
“Thanks.”
Viktor nods and goes back to the kitchen. He hears Jayce pad in a moment later. “I’m making some fish. Is that alright with you?”
“Do you need help?”
Viktor glances over. “You can put some bowls out. I have rice as well.”
Jayce nods. He opens a few cabinets before he finds the right one and sets the table. Viktor turns two pieces of thin whitefish in a skillet and warms up the rice. Jayce hardly ate the first night and Viktor isn’t sure if he found something during the day. When they’re both sat at the table, Jayce stares at his food for a moment before picking up his fork and wolfing down his meal.
Viktor stares.
“…It’s good then?”
Jayce looks up, then back at his bowl. “I—” He flushes. “Sorry.”
“No, no. I would rather you feed yourself.” Viktor flakes off some fish himself. “Were you alone in Piltover?”
Jayce frowns. “No.”
“A spouse? Partner?”
Jayce shakes his head. “My—” He sighs. “My mother.”
Viktor winces. “I see.”
“She—she defended me. Tried to appeal to their sense of…pity, I guess. Told them I was unwell and asked them to send me home with her. Didn’t work.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out when I can get out of here.”
Viktor leans forward. “You mentioned last night you were not born in Piltover. Could you return there?”
“I…maybe. My mother is secure with my father’s titles. She has the house and the forge, it’ll be enough to support her. It’s just my exile she’ll have to carry.” Jayce shakes his head. “Stupid. So stupid. If I could have just convinced Heimerdinger to let me show him.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear this.”
“I do, actually.” Viktor takes another bite. “When it is safe, I can do what I can to facilitate a meeting between you and your mother. If you want that.”
Jayce looks up sharply. “I—yes! Yes, I would.” It’s the first time he’s looked happy since Viktor met him.
He smiles. It’s…nice.
“Yes, well. Once Vander says it’s alright.”
Jayce nods. “He’s good at cleaning up messes, I take it.”
“He cleaned up Zaun. Not alone, and there is plenty more work to do, but the undercity is better off than it was before.”
Jayce picks at his fish. “You’re from Zaun then?”
“I am.”
“So what do you do here? You were gone all day.”
Viktor nods. “Mostly I repair things, machines and such. But I also…try to teach. I have a very small school close by. It is not the most fruitful endeavor, but, eh, it’s what I enjoy doing.”
Jayce perks up at this. “Really? What do you teach?”
“Oh, a bit of everything. Chemistry, poetry, math, applied physics—”
Jayce laughs. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Education is not the sole providence of noble houses.” Viktor finishes the last few bites of his food. “The children of Zaun have great potential and we’ve made great strides since the fighting ended, but my own school can only do what I can do. These things take time, as well.”
“Were there no schools before?”
“There were. When I was young, before…many things, I went to school. A nice one, too. But, you know our history. My mother saw to the bulk of my education and I…” Viktor thinks about Singed. “There was some amount of…supplemental education.”
“Did you ever apply to the Academy?”
“Yes. Several times.” Viktor stands. “You will find Zaun very different from Piltover, obviously. I do not need to explain that to you. But you will find it much easier to process if you do not seem so surprised by the ways we have managed to survive. Progress and change continue, despite the challenges we have faced.”
“I meant no offense, Viktor.”
Viktor looks over. He probably shouldn’t be so hard on him.
“Of course you didn’t. I am not offended, Jayce.” He sighs and opens one of the cabinets, digging into the back and pulling out a small box. Inside is a half-bar of chocolate, broken off in pieces over the last several months. The markets have expanded the last few years, but confections are still hard to get. Viktor is plagued by a near-constant sweet tooth.
“Here.” He hands a square to Jayce and takes one for himself. “I do not know how long you will be in Zaun, but consider this your proper welcome.” He taps the edge of his chocolate to Jayce’s.
Jayce smiles again. “Thank you, Viktor. I don’t—” He sighs. “Thank you.”
“Of course. And, eh, you can do the dishes, if you are looking for a way to make yourself useful.”
Viktor comes and goes from his flat as usual for the next few days. Vander checks in once to take Jayce’s old clothes. There’s a minor disagreement over Jayce’s house pin — he refuses to give it up, so Vander concedes he can keep it if he doesn’t wear it all over the place once he’s free to come and go.
“If that ever happens,” Jayce snaps.
“You’ll be grateful,” Vander says. “I could have let someone else take you by now. Could have let the people baying for your blood have it. I’ve been generous, Jayce Talis.” Jayce startles at his name. Vander sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, softer now. “It’s—some things are still fragile. I promise, you will be safe here.”
“Do that many people want me dead?” Jayce asks.
Vander looks sheepish. “No. Not many. But you’re a topsider and talking to you for more than a minute will give that away. If your plan is to stay in Zaun, you’ll need to be better acclimated. Which I know you can’t do in here, trust me, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Give me another week, I’ll get things smoothed over.”
“Seems to be what you do best,” Jayce says. He sounds miserable. Viktor feels for him.
“I try.” Vander takes the old clothes in their bag and turns to go. “I’ll be back soon.”
Viktor follows him into the hall. “Eh, Vander. A moment?”
“What is it?”
Viktor pulls the door shut behind him. “Jayce left behind family in Piltover. His mother. She fought against his exile and lost. Obviously he is not safe there, but if there is a way we can arrange a meeting, in the future? Or at least get a message to her now, so she knows he is alive and well?”
Vander nods. “That one I can manage.”
“Ximena Talis,” Viktor says. “That is her name.”
“Alright. Give me some time, I’ll let you know.”
Inside, Jayce has his head in his hands, body bent forward. His shirt is open just enough that Viktor can see the blue marks and bandages on his chest clearer now.
“Do those need to be changed?”
Jayce looks up. “No. I’ve been managing. It’s…mostly healed.”
“Is it? A month does not seem like enough time to recover from such an explosion.”
Jayce opens his mouth to reply. Snaps it shut. “…It’s fine.”
“I suppose they only needed you well enough to stand trial.”
“They weren’t unsympathetic. Heimerdinger fought for longer, but—” Jayce shakes his head. “There was a lot of damage. Other people were injured, too. One of the council member’s daughters…she’s fine, but she got hurt and it was my fault. She’s just a kid and she could have died like Violet. I—” Jayce’s breathing grows faster. Viktor comes over to sit beside him.
“You will work yourself into a fervor, like this.” Viktor puts a careful hand on Jayce’s shoulder. The contact makes him flinch, but he doesn’t pull away. “I imagine it was not easy.”
“I don’t need your sympathy. I was toying with forces I…I had no business having anything to do with.”
Viktor raises a brow. “Yes, actually, I have been curious. What were you doing that caused all this? Unstable metals? Caustic chemicals?”
Jayce shakes his head. “No. You—” He laughs. “You’ll think it’s absurd.”
“Eh, try me.”
Jayce glances at him and sighs. “Alright, fine. I was—what I wanted to do was—” He shakes his head. “I was trying to create magic.”
Viktor starts, raising a brow. “Magic?”
“Yes. With science.”
“Well, now I can see why they may have wanted to execute you.”
Jayce whips his head around. “What?”
“With the history of this world? Yes. If you’d been successful, think of the consequences.”
“I was trying to help people!” Jayce stands. “I was—you don’t know what the possibilities could have been. If we could have harnessed that power for good?”
“That is what all men say, just before they make a weapon.”
“It was never supposed to be a weapon. Magic—” Jayce steps back. “Magic saved me, and my mother. Magic is the reason we came to Piltover at all. We were going to die, we were alone, and he—” Jayce turns away. “Like I said, it’s absurd.”
“Absurd is not what I would call it. If I could see your notes…”
“Destroyed. In front of me.”
Viktor winces. “Ah.” That does sound painful. “I’m sorry, Jayce.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can only move on now, obviously.”
Viktor sighs. “Well, if you are that determined to help people, there are more ways to do so than conducting illegal experiments in your apartment. You have a working mind, and a brilliant one, from what I can tell. If you could apply that to the problems we have here. Perhaps you could do some of the things you hoped to do.”
Jayce shakes his head. “If I ever get out of here.”
“You will not be trapped in my home forever. Vander will work things out, or one of us will kill the other. Whichever comes first.”
At that, Jayce finally laughs. He sits down again and leans back. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I suppose so.”
Viktor pats his shoulder again. “I will make you some tea. You’ll feel better.”
“Is tea and coffee your solution to everything?”
“No, but if given the choice to struggle, or struggle with a cup of tea in hand, I think I prefer the latter.”
After three weeks of having Jayce sleeping on his sofa, two things happen at once — the first is Vander finds Viktor a larger place to live and decides Jayce can come and go, within reason.
“Between the house and the Last Drop. And you’ll be rid of those stairs.”
Viktor is grateful. Things have started to feel a bit cramped.
The second thing — Vander gives Jayce a message from his mother.
He takes it and reads it again and again, sitting on the floor of his empty room at the new house. Some of Vander’s people finish moving Viktor’s meager possessions in at the end of the day. Jayce finally gets up and follows Viktor into the kitchen to help stock the cabinets.
“She’s okay,” he says. “She’s upset, but she’s alright.”
“I suppose that is the benefit of a house name.”
Jayce makes a face. “House Talis isn’t—” He shakes his head. “Forget it.”
“No.” Viktor turns to look at him. “Please. I want to know you better. What is House Talis in Piltover?” Viktor knows very little about the houses, only that they bring privilege and status.
Jayce sets a few bowls in the cabinet. “My father was a blacksmith. He taught me to forge after he married my mother. His brothers are blacksmiths, too. And their children.”
“So the house name lives on.”
“My mother’s place in it is secure. They can’t strip her of her title or anything like that. One of my uncles will take my place as the head of my house, or a cousin. I wanted…I wanted my research to make a name for us,” he says quietly. “Instead I’ve shamed everyone.”
“They will survive. Nobility always does.”
“You don’t get it,” Jayce snaps, turning around. “You think every house in Piltover is dripping with jewels and going to the opera every other night? My family put hammers in the hands of the people. We built the bridge that leads into Zaun. We built buildings and roads and they thanked me with exile. I was living off my patronage. Everything I bought, the food I ate—” He shakes his head. “I was trying to elevate our name. I failed at that like everything else.”
Viktor raises a brow. “…Should I pity you then?”
“No. But if you’re going to lecture me with context about your own past, I feel like I have the right to do the same.” He turns back to the box he’s unpacking.
Viktor eventually comes to stand next to him. “…Forgive me. I have—we are both fighting decades of prejudice. If we are going to survive each other, it might be good to know one another better.”
Jayce glances at him. “...Makes sense.”
“How about we get a drink, hm? Vander said you could go to the Last Drop. I think it would be good for your head.”
Jayce nods. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
Viktor smiles. “You will find I often have them.”
Jayce laughs and follows him out of the kitchen. He tugs on the coat Vander brought him and a cap over his head. It’s cold out, but they’re also trying to keep a low profile. Viktor has Jayce stay outside before he goes in to clear everything with Vander.
“Got you a table right by the bar,” Vander says, and Viktor ushers Jayce inside.
The kids aren’t there. It’s late, and Viktor honestly hasn’t seen them outside of class since Jayce showed up. He misses their chats.
“How's the new place?” Vander asks. He brings over two beers.
“Very accommodating,” Viktor says. “I do not miss the stairs.”
Vander chuckles. “And you, Jayce?”
“It’s more than I deserve.”
Vander shakes his head. “None of that talk, son.” He clasps Jayce’s shoulder. “If you have a message for your mother, I’ll have someone deliver it.”
Jayce sits up straight. “Yes. Thank you, for doing that.”
“Family should stick together. I’m sorry you’re apart.”
Jayce drags a thumb through the sweat on his glass. “Yeah, well. She tried.”
“You’re alive,” Vander says. “And I’m sure she’s thankful for that every day. I’ll get you some paper.”
Mom —
It was a relief to get your message. I’m glad you’re alright. So long as you aren’t punished for what I did, I can rest easy. If that ever changes, you have to tell me. I’ll find a way to make it right.
I’m sorry for everything. I know this isn’t what you hoped for me, or for our house, but I’m grateful that you fought for me at the trial. I wish things had gone differently, I wish I was home, I wish maybe we could have left together, but Piltover is the safest place for you, and I will do my best to make my home here. I swear, I won’t go back. And I won’t go far.
I’m not alone. I don’t know if you met Vander, but he’s working on a way for us to meet, and I’ll wait for that day. He’s arranged for me to live with a local, Viktor. He’s a good man, and I’m thankful that he’s been so willing to put up with me. I haven’t been the easiest house guest.
I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can understand what I wanted for us, for our house and dad’s legacy. I never meant for any of this to happen, but I’m not going to give up on myself. You saved me. You kept the worst from happening. I won’t throw that away or waste it. I swear.
Please, be safe and be well. I love you.
Always your son,
Jayce
It isn’t easy, to be a blacksmith without a hammer. Jayce spent his childhood and teen years in the Talis forge, learning to work and shape metal and heat. He’s colder now than he’s ever been, realizing that he would often spend the winter working on projects to avoid the chill. Zaun feels colder than Piltover somehow, but he’s learning to live with it.
It helps that Viktor could blow over in a strong wind and puts a lot of effort into warming the house.
“Are you not freezing?” he asks one night at the bar. Jayce had left his scarf and hat at home.
“I think you have some kind of deficiency,” Jayce says with a laugh.
“Oh, certainly.” Viktor waves him off. He does that a lot, does a lot of speaking with his hands, his shoulders, the tilt of his head. Jayce likes to watch.
“Evening, gentlemen.” Vander comes over with their drinks. “Enjoying our newfound freedom?”
Jayce nods with relief. He’s finally been allowed to go places besides the Last Drop. Yesterday he and Viktor went to the market. It was thrilling.
“Thank you,” he says, for probably the thousandth time. Vander’s done a lot for him, and Jayce wishes he could figure out a way to repay him.
“It’s fine, Jayce.” He pulls up a chair and sits with them. “Since you’re here, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Alright.”
“You need work. Can’t sit in the house all day, your hands need to be busy, and you need to contribute.”
“Yes,” Viktor says. “I’ve thought about that. If Jayce was teaching with me, I could expand—”
“We don’t have the students, Viktor. Outreach on that front is slow. You’re going to see more growth, I promise, but for now, I’m thinking Jayce might be more useful in a place where I can keep an eye on him.” He leans closer. “I’m not saying this to frighten either of you, but I’ve gotten word there’s some commotion up top. People looking for you.”
Jayce frowns. “Why? I had a trial, it was fair. The council voted on it.”
“Some of them are making noise.”
“Is it the Kirramans? If someone could let me explain—”
Vander holds up a hand. “It’s not. Some other councilor, throwing his weight around. I don’t think it’s going anywhere, but I’d like to keep an eye on you, and I can’t be in a thousand places at once. If you’re here, then I can have other folks keeping tabs.”
Jayce shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What, you’ve never worked in a bar before?”
“Is it that obvious? But…no, I just mean—” He sighs. “The kids.”
Vander nods. “I’ve thought of that. As far as I’m concerned, this is where you’re staying for the foreseeable future, right? Not running off?” Jayce shakes his head. “Then if you have to get used to us, we have to get used to you. That includes the kids. I’ve talked to them, and they’re doing alright, but Ekko’s going to need time to adjust. He’s…you got him real worked up that first night. It’s been a challenge helping him find some peace.”
“Perhaps I could speak with him,” Viktor offers.
“You could try. Powder misses you something fierce.”
Viktor smiles. “I will be happy to begin our extra lessons again.”
“So you want me…what? Pouring drinks?” Jayce asks.
Vander laughs. “Ha! You’re a riot. You’ll start by cleaning. It’ll give you something to do and I can make sure you don’t get killed.”
“Glad to know it still seems to be on the table.”
Vander shakes his head. “People get angry. They think they want violence, but what they want is closure.” He gets up. “We’ll work out the details. Come by tomorrow afternoon and I’ll put you to work.” He turns and heads back to the bar.
Viktor rests his chin in his hand. “Well, that wasn’t what I hoped for, but it’s a start.”
“Yeah. Probably for the best.” Jayce takes a long drink of his beer.
“...Are you alright?”
“Kinda have to be.”
“You don’t.” Viktor runs a finger along the edge of his glass. “But I am glad you’ll have something to do. I think it will make you feel better.”
“I feel fine.”
“You don’t,” Viktor says, “and that’s okay.” He sighs. “Well. Shall we finish? I have something I’d like to do tonight.”
“Sure.” Jayce drains his glass and they get up to go home. It’s a bit of a longer walk to the house than Viktor’s old place, apparently, but Viktor is happy not to have stairs to climb. In their back and forth, Jayce learned Viktor’s leg was damaged during his birth, and that it nearly killed his mother. He wears a brace under one pant leg most days, and one for his back. The walk is longer, but Viktor seems to enjoy it more. It takes them past some of the market stalls, and he stops to get a few things before they close.
“Here.” He hands Jayce some kind of bun. “It’s sweet inside.”
Jayce laughs. “You can’t resist, huh?”
“I work very hard.” Viktor doesn’t make money from the school — he makes his money from fixing things, things which are scattered around their house or the little building Viktor teaches out of. Sometimes he’s fixing things during class, or carries them to the bar. Jayce has often gone to bed and Viktor is still hunched at the table, tools scattered under his work lamp, repairing a clock or machine. All of Jayce’s offers to help have been rebuffed. Viktor prefers to work alone.
“It’s a form of therapy,” he said the first time Jayce offered.
Now though, Jayce can help. He wishes he were doing something with his hands, maybe down at the docks. They seem busy enough. But this will do. It’ll be good for him, even as he’s filled with dread over seeing the kids.
“What was it you wanted to do tonight?” Jayce asks as Viktor pulls out the house key. “Got a project to finish?”
“Eh, no.” Viktor turns on the lights and gestures to the kitchen table. “Sit, sit.”
“...Okay.” Jayce does as he’s told. After a moment, Viktor appears with a towel and a pair of scissors. “Viktor.”
“You need a haircut,” he says simply. “You look worse than you did when you got here. I don’t think your hair is supposed to be this, eh, unkempt, yes?”
Jayce runs a hand through it. It’s uneven, for sure. He usually keeps it short, but he hasn’t exactly had a reason to look any better or different. “Yeah, I guess not.” He glances over his shoulder. “It’s alright, though. If it’s…longer.”
“Mmm. And the beard?”
Jayce laughs. “Yeah, I think it could use a trim.”
“I’ll let you do that,” Viktor says gently. He wears his own hair shoulder length and often keeps it pulled back. Jayce has only seen it down a few times. “Ready?”
Jayce nods. “Ready.”
It’s not as bad as Jayce thought it would be.
Actually, it’s really not bad at all.
Jayce cleans and keeps his head down. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor ignore him the first few days, but when Mylo asks Vander, “Are you keeping him, too?” and Vander nods, they seem to warm up to him.
Ekko doesn’t come down to the bar. Viktor always says the kids really shouldn’t be there anyway, but when it’s empty enough he spreads out books and diagrams for them, lets Mylo hammer away at some gadget or another he needs to fix. Jayce sits with them when he has a break, but it only makes him miss all his books, now ash scattered to the wind.
“I could visit Piltover,” Viktor offers. “I know a few used book sellers. Maybe if you wrote down some titles?”
“If you take my money,” Jayce insists. Viktor shrugs. Today is a rare day off. Viktor usually spends them alone, away from the house for most of the morning and afternoon before coming back to make dinner. Today though, he’s still walking around the house with his hair down at nearly ten in the morning, and Jayce can see him favoring his right leg.
“Everything alright?” Jayce asks.
Viktor makes a soft noise, waving him off. Outside, someone shrieks, and Viktor startles, grabbing his cane and going to the door.
“What was that?”
“I think just—”
Viktor throws open the door, peering outside. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. The weather is cool and crisp and Jayce thinks there’s a snowbite in the air.
Outside, children are playing in the street. Viktor stares at them in wonder.
The kids stop what they’re doing and stare back.
“...Good morning, sir.”
“I…good morning.”
“Did we wake you up?”
“N-no.” Viktor shakes his head. “I only worried someone was injured. Please, carry on.” He steps back and closes the door.
Jayce clears his throat. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“I have…not for some time,” he says quietly.
“Vander said…he said the council voted to end the fighting just after he adopted the girls. That was six years ago. You really haven’t heard kids playing outside for six years?”
“The recovery process has been…long. Daunting. I spent my time in and out of Zaun, trying to…make play at being a topsider, I suppose.”
Viktor doesn’t talk much about that. The rejection. The disappointment. He mentioned briefly to Jayce that he’d interviewed to be Heimerdinger’s assistant some years before, but it hadn’t panned out. Obviously, he’d drawled.
“It is nice to know there is joy here,” Viktor says quietly. He sighs. “Would you like to go somewhere with me today? There is someone I’d like you to meet.”
Jayce nods and leaves to get dressed. This…feels like a privilege, and he can’t explain why. They put on boots and warm clothes, waving goodbye to the children playing in the street as they go. Viktor’s pace is a little slower, but if his leg bothers him, he doesn’t say anything. Jayce stays at his side, enjoying the quiet stillness of the late morning.
“This used to be a swimming hole,” Viktor says eventually. In front of them is a pit that’s mostly filled in. People are building on it. Vander says it will be new houses and shops. “When I was a boy, I would come here and play.”
“Seems like a nice spot to be with friends.”
Viktor snorts. “I did not have friends, Jayce. Not many.” He points to a stream flowing in front of the pit. “This way,” he says.
“V, be careful.”
Viktor stops, glancing at Jayce before he lowers himself down to a flat stone. “V?”
Jayce rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh—it just came out. I won’t do it again.”
Viktor shakes his head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. I’ve never really had any nicknames.” He reaches the bottom and gestures for Jayce to follow him, following the thin, trickling stream of water down until they reach a cave entrance. “Just a bit further.”
“Uh, is this safe?”
“No. It’s quite slippery. Please be careful.” Viktor steps slowly, in places he seems to know. Jayce goes after him, like trailing someone through the snow, putting his foot where Viktor does. They both have to duck to avoid hitting some lower hanging rocks, but eventually, it levels out into a cave. There’s old, dilapidated…lab equipment here, Jayce realizes. Machines that no longer work, tubes and wires that go nowhere. Viktor walks past all of it, further into the cave. He stops to pluck strange flowers from an outcropping in the wall, handing some to Jayce. “She enjoys these,” he says, and continues on.
Eventually, the cave grows bigger, and Jayce realizes if they go much further, they’re going to be going far below Zaun. But Viktor finally holds up a hand, purses his lips together, and whistles a little tune.
There is a chittering noise, the sound of dozens of feet slapping against wet stone. Viktor kicks one part of the wall, and a wave of bioluminescence erupts around them, revealing the source.
“Are these…”
“Waveriders,” Viktor says, smiling. “They come in the from bay. There’s a waterway further down, but accessing it would be suicide. They eat the algae on the walls. Rio, where are you?” He whistles again. The waveriders don’t pay Viktor any mind. They happily laze upon rocks and lick at the algae or each other. A few flop off and into the water below. Suddenly, a pink blur wizzes past, and comes to a skittering halt in front of them. It knocks Viktor off his feet, but all he does is swear, then laughs. “There you are.”
A pink waverider pulls back, looking at Viktor expectantly.
“This is who you wanted me to meet?”
“Yes.” Viktor reaches out and runs his hands over the top of the creature’s head. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
She is, Jayce thinks. She’s also covered in scars, her body marked in several places. She looks like she’s been attacked maybe, or even —
The tubes, Jayce thinks.
“Was she—”
“Yes.” Viktor feeds Rio the flowers. “I met her when I was a boy. For a time, I was under the tutelage of a man who once worked with Heimerdinger. Singed. I don’t know if he ever mentioned him.” Jayce shakes his head. “He taught me a great deal. About biology, about science and genetics. About loss, too.”
Jayce sits on a rock beside them. “I remember there was a scientist who was exiled. Heimerdinger was upset about it.”
“Yes, I suspect he was. My understanding is they had once been good friends.” Viktor motions for Jayce to feed her the flowers. She wraps her entire tongue around his hand, leaving behind a sticky residue. “Rio is a rare mutation. She was also dying when I met her, but Singed was…he was alternatingly cruel and honest. I am unsure if she’ll live, based on what I was able to do for her. To keep her alive merely for the mutation’s sake seems fruitless. But so far, she has continued to thrive.”
“Have you seen others like her?”
“No.” Viktor smiles. “She’s one of a kind.”
After the explosion, Jayce woke handcuffed to a hospital bed, his body alight with pain. It radiated through his chest and torso, a searing, white-hot ache that did not subside until someone realized he was awake and dosed him with pain killers until he blacked out.
Heimerdinger came to see him once, keeping his distance.
“I remember the day I met you at the academy, Jayce. So bright and fiercely dedicated. You reminded me of myself.” He sat in a chair. “A scientist ready to forge a new vector of experimentation. But sometimes…we venture too far, Jayce.” He sighed. “The young Miss Kirraman is injured. She will live, but she has sustained substantial injuries that will require time to heal. And there is the matter of one of the thieves…”
“They were—” Jayce winced. “I heard kids, I think.”
“Indeed, they were quite young. Tragically, one of them did not survive.”
Jayce fought against his handcuffs, chest seizing.
“Calm yourself, Jayce.” Heimerdinger hopped off his chair. “You need to heal, and then there will be a trial.” He looked at the bandages on Jayce’s chest. “I’ve argued for three months, but it will only be a few more weeks, I think.”
“Sir—professor.”
“What were you trying to do, Jayce? Be honest.”
“I—magic, sir. A way to harness it through science. If I could show you—”
Heimerdinger frowned. “Jayce. That is very serious.”
“But I—”
“The Arcane is dangerous, Jayce. And with such consequences as these, I don’t know how much I can protect you.”
“But if I could just—” Pain wracked his body again. Jayce cried out, gritting his teeth and breathing through it. A nurse came in with another needle, but Jayce wrenched away from her. “No! No more, I can’t even think—”
“There will be a trial in a month, Jayce. I will do what I can to temper the outrage, but…you should expect heavy consequences, my boy.” A single hand rested on Jayce’s. A cold comfort. “I’m…sorry. Truly. But there are some mysteries that are better left unsolved.”
Today, the real mystery is how Jayce is going to finish his shift when he’s in this much pain.
He takes his break outside, breathing in the cold air, hoping it will numb him. Behind him, the door opens and shuts, and Jayce says quickly, “I’ll be right there. Just need a few more minutes.”
“Why are you out in the cold without a coat?” Ekko asks. “I didn’t know you were stupid.”
Jayce turns and looks down at him. “Ekko!”
Ekko slides his hands into his pockets and looks up. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
“I—nothing. Just. It’s been a long day.”
Ekko rolls his eyes. “You’re bad at lying,” he says. “Vander sent me out here, said he was worried about you. I told him I didn’t care if he was worried, and he told me I needed to get used to the fact that you live here now and grow up.” He sniffs. “He also said it’s fine if I wanna be upset, but he doesn’t think it’s good for me, so.”
“...Right.” Jayce sighs and sits on the cold stone steps. “My chest hurts,” he says quietly. “My injury…it didn’t heal right.”
Ekko glances at him. “From the explosion.” Jayce nods. “Got it. So you’ll wind up with some cool scars and Violet dies. Seems fair.”
“That isn’t—” Jayce pinches the bridge of his nose. Why is he arguing with a twelve year old? A twelve year old who overcharged him and actively hates him? “You’re right,” he says. “It isn’t fair. None of this is.” He glances over. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”
Ekko hesitates, then sits down beside him. He kicks at one of the trash cans. “...I told Vi about you. After you came in and bought all that stupid stuff. I thought you were some dumb, rich Pilty. I didn’t know you were doing science, or whatever.”
Jayce nods. “Viktor says you like science, too.”
“I do. But lately…”
“Lately you’re worried it’s dangerous.” Ekko nods. “It is,” Jayce admits. “And it isn’t. Sometimes it does things we wish it didn’t. Other times…” He thinks about Rio. About Viktor’s smile. “Science can help people. That’s what it’s meant to do. That’s why I always wanted to do it, anyway.” He nudges Ekko’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, what happened to Vi.”
“So who’s fault is it?”
Jayce looks up. The stars seem further away in Zaun, but Viktor always says the view has never been clearer.
“You know when you knock something down, and it knocks a bunch of things over with it?”
“Like dominoes?” Ekko says dryly.
Jayce laughs. “Okay, yeah. Dominoes.” He picks up some rocks from the ground and lines them up, knocking one into the others. They scatter. “A long time ago someone used magic to save me. If they hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here. And maybe Vi would be alive, but maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe other things wouldn’t have happened. Maybe before that something else happened. We don’t know. But the point is—” He puts a hand on Ekko’s shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault. I take responsibility for what happened. I was experimenting with things I didn’t understand, and because of me, people got hurt.”
Dominoes and consequences.
“I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore, Ekko. And I don’t want you to be afraid of something that makes you happy. Powder misses you when Viktor comes by after work.”
“She does?”
“Yep. She told him.”
Ekko sighs. “Okay. I’ll…think about showing Viktor some of my drawings, I guess.”
“Good. Now come on, help me up.” Jayce holds out his hands and Ekko laughs, hoisting him to his feet. “We better get in before Vander has our hides, huh? It’s freezing out here.”
“I’m not the one who came out without a coat.”
“Guess I am a little stupid,” Jayce says, and follows him inside.
The pain doesn’t get much better. Midweek, it’s bad enough that Jayce can barely lift his arms, and he needs to change his bandages. He’s been in their only washroom for nearly half an hour. Viktor knocks on the door.
“Jayce, if you are struggling in there that is fine, but perhaps we could speed things up?”
“I—” Jayce groans, pitching forward and nearly retching into the sink as another wave of pain hits.
“Jayce! Please open the door.”
Jayce does as he’s told.
Viktor flinches. He’s aware of Jayce’s injuries, he’s seen as much as Jayce will allow, but with the bandages off, he stares. At first, Jayce thinks he’s disgusted by them, but then he realizes — it’s…fascination.
“Your experiment certainly left its mark, didn’t it?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“And this is just from the residual effects of the crystals destabilizing?”
“Destabilizing isn’t really the word I’d use for what happened but…they did do that, yes.” And then blew up.
“Hm. Interesting. And you were bedridden for a month?”
“Off and on. They didn’t want me escaping, but I needed to move to encourage healing.”
“Not enough, I would say.” Viktor sighs. “You have not seen a doctor since you’ve been here, I realize. This is an oversight on my part and I will remedy this immediately. However, we do not currently have the time for a consultation. You need fresh bandages, yes?” Jayce nods. “Give them to me.”
“You don’t—”
“Lift your arms,” Viktor says coolly. Jayce attempts to do so. “You should not be working today. If you’d like to rest, I can stop by and explain the situation to Vander. He will be sympathetic.”
“I should work.”
“You should be recovering. Honestly, you should still be in a Piltovian medical facility, but they seemed to be in quite a rush to punish you.”
“A girl died, Viktor. Zaun and Piltover might have gone to war again.”
“You think your experiment could have caused that?” Jayce shrugs, which is a mistake. He lowers his arms and Viktor scowls. “Hold still.”
“Stop asking questions!”
Viktor rolls his eyes and unravels the bandages. “I concede, it could have caused further issues. I’m not sure if that is what Vander smoothed over. I believe he has a decent working relationship with a handful of Enforcers. They probably wanted to arrest someone.”
“They were kids.”
“I am not sure that matters to some. But, perhaps your exile was enough to quell their bloodlust.”
“Maybe—” Jayce flinches. “Careful!”
“Do you want it to feel better? It’s…leaking. That is not a good sign.”
“It’s healing.”
“I’m not sure that’s the case, actually.” Viktor sighs. “Right.” He finishes the last wrap, eyes flitting up to Jayce’s as he does so. “I will tell Vander you need the day off and a proper physician. He will take care of the rest.”
“No, V. I already owe him too much.”
Viktor arches his brow at the nickname again, but he says nothing. “Vander has invested a great deal of time and effort into keeping you safe. If you die because a wound that a real doctor couldn’t take care of gets infected, he’ll take it personally. Go lie down. Someone will likely be here in the afternoon.” Jayce nods. “...Jayce, please go. I need to shower.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Jayce flees the washroom.
He goes back to bed and sleeps until there’s a heavy knocking at the front door. A little man carrying a black leather bag rushes in, ushering Jayce back inside and onto the sofa. He pronounces the wound “mostly, if poorly healed” and tells Jayce disappointingly that it will scar “quite horrifically.” He washes it with something that burns so bad Jayce nearly punches his lights out, but it seems like bad form to hit the doctor who’s seeing him for free. He leaves Jayce with a small bottle of pain meds and something to wash his chest with at night.
“Another day off, I should think. That nerve feedback is something awful, I can tell. Vander will understand.” He packs his things and disappears nearly as quickly as he arrived.
In the evening, Viktor comes home and inspects the doctor’s handiwork.
“Very efficient, yes?”
“Uh, yeah. Extremely.”
Viktor smiles. “And? Does it feel better?”
Truth be told, it does. Jayce nods and pulls part of the bandage aside to inspect it. “Better than it has in a while, honestly.”
Viktor nods. “That’s good.”
It’s then Jayce realizes — he’s standing, shirtless, in the living room, and Viktor’s hand has been covering his heart for nearly a minute.
They both step back at the same time.
“I’ll make dinner,” Viktor says, blushing furiously and disappearing into the kitchen. Jayce quickly goes to put on a comfortable shirt and lie down until the moment passes.
A few months after Jayce starts working at the Last Drop, one of the regulars tries to recruit him to the mines.
“You look like a strong fella,” he says, leaning against the bar. Jayce raises a brow and keeps cleaning glasses. He doesn’t feel as strong as he used to, but he exercises as best he can, especially now that his chest is healed. “You’re wasted in a place like this.”
Vander puts himself between the man and Jayce. “Stop poaching my people,” he says sternly. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here recruiting anyway. Man wants to work the mines, he can go down and apply with the foreman himself.”
“S’not as dangerous as it was, Vander, you know that! And they stopped lettin’ the kids do it ages ago. Real shame, they were good at gettin’ in the cracks.” He finishes his drink and pays. “Well s’like Vander said. You wanna do some real work, see the foreman. He’d be happy to have ya.”
Jayce waits until he’s gone before he asks, “Is it? Safe?”
“It’s mining, Jayce. It’s never safe.”
“Right. But—”
Vander turns around to look at him. Not for the first time, Jayce feels very young and stupid under his gaze. “I know you want different work. I’ve no intention of you being here forever, but you need to find it on your own. And it shouldn’t be in the mines.”
“But if—”
“You aren’t really considering that.” Viktor’s face appears above Vander’s shoulder.
Vander chuckles. “I’ll let you two work this out,” he says, and walks further down the bar.
“Jayce.”
“What if I was?” He takes a clean glass and pours Viktor a drink.
“It’s dangerous.”
“A lot of people do it.”
“And get killed,” Viktor says quietly. “Or sick.”
“I know the regulations have gotten better. It’s not as—”
“I am not going to debate the safety protocols of mining with you, Jayce. If you want to get yourself killed or gassed, be my guest.” Viktor takes his drink and sits at another table, pulling out his tools and a box of parts. Jayce sighs, wipes down the bar, and sits across from him.
“Still working on the alarm for the bakery?”
“It is being temperamental.”
“I know the feeling.”
Viktor looks up sharply. “You are welcome to be annoyed with me. I know you would prefer to do more…manual labor.” His eyes flit to Jayce’s arms. “But if I can spare you the mines, I will do so.”
“I know it would be dangerous, I’m not stupid.”
“Then stop acting as such.”
Jayce scowls. “What’s your problem? Why do you care?”
Viktor’s brow furrows impossibly tighter. He looks down at the bundle of wires and metal in his hands and sighs.
“I worked the mines. When I was young.”
Jayce frowns. “...How young?”
Viktor shrugs. “My mother died when I was sixteen, so a bit older than some. I sorted materials. My leg and back kept me from using the tools or machines. I became very ill at some point and did not return. It…left its mark.”
Jayce glances across the bar. He’s heard Viktor’s cough late at night. Not often, but sometimes.
“I wanted to make machines that could mine. It was one of my old designs when I was dreaming about magic.”
Viktor raises a brow. “...That would have been interesting to see.”
“Yeah, well.” Jayce turns back. “Sorry,” he says. “It was stupid.”
“No, it made sense. But I…” Viktor’s cheeks flush a bit. “Selfishly, I would prefer you do something else. I know many are not so lucky to have the option, but I will be grateful that you do.”
“Wanna keep me all to yourself then, huh?”
“That is not—”
“Viktor!” The regular throng of children rushes to the table. “What are you working on?” Powder asks.
“Eh, it’s just an alarm system,” he says. “Here, press this—”
Jayce gets up. “You guys have fun,” he says, and walks back to the bar.
Jayce learns pretty quickly that Viktor has a reputation. People come by their house with things for him to look at or fix every week, sitting at the table next to him and explaining how it completely broke on its own, honest, Viktor, don’t even know how it wound up that way.
Viktor takes these things and repairs them. It’s the only way he makes money at all. Most of it goes toward food, firewood in the winter, once toward a new coat because Viktor’s was falling apart —
But a little bit of it goes into a box to save for the academy Viktor dreams about.
“Vander planted the idea,” he explains one night over drinks. “A way to compete with Piltover.”
Jayce likes listening to him talk about it. He thinks Viktor is a brilliant teacher, likes watching him explain things to the kids about how machines work, or the inside of a plant cell. And they’re hungry for knowledge. He keeps to himself that he isn’t sure how sustainable Viktor’s solitary classroom is — Jayce is an outsider, he still sees things like a topsider. Unraveling that is…difficult.
So he listens. He watches Viktor fix things, and he learns to be this new version of himself.
“Are you ever going to let me help?” he asks one evening. Viktor’s been working on one particular project for days. He’s set their kitchen table on fire twice.
“Hm?” He looks up, pushing his goggles off his face and frowning. “No,” he says. “This is my work, I can handle it.”
“Okay, okay.” Jayce lifts his hands and sits across from him. “You know—”
The front door rattles. “Viktor! Viktor, are you in there?”
Jayce jumps up. The banging starts again.
“Viktor—”
Jayce yanks open the door. “What’s going on?”
A miner, covered in grime and ash, stands with a lantern in his hand, shaking. “Where’s Viktor?”
“Here.” Viktor appears beside Jayce. “What is it?”
“One of the lifts. Jammed. And there’s gas—”
Viktor nods. “I’ll get my things.” He turns and starts packing his tools, throwing everything he has into a bag. “Jayce, there is a crate in my bedroom. Please get it.”
“Right.” Jayce runs. The crate is shut tight, and heavy. He brings it back. “Viktor—”
“I need your help,” Viktor says. “I—please.”
“Yes. Whatever I can do.”
He nods. “Carry that, put on your good boots.”
Jayce does as he’s told. Outside, they get into a cart with a sputtering motor on the back. Jayce holds tight. He hasn’t been so far from the house yet, and the closer they get, the thicker the air becomes — soot and a stench that chokes him. He’s grateful when they get off the cart and someone hands them both masks.
“Slow breaths,” Viktor says. “You’re alright?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Viktor nods and follows the miner. It’s dark, lit only by flickering green and yellow lamps. Everyone is crowded around one pit, gesturing and worrying, pacing around.
“Tell me what happened,” Viktor says, peering down.
“The mechanism. Got all jammed up. We got it working, but the whole thing shorted. Fried a couple fellas.”
“The generator?”
“Fucked. Hasn’t been working right in weeks.”
Viktor makes a noise. “You should have said something.”
“Things have been going fine since the new regs, didn’t think we’d need you.”
Viktor shakes his head.
“Regulations cannot fix something that is broken. You must do that work first.” He points to the crate. “Open that, Jayce.”
“Right.”
“You look at the generator, figure out what’s wrong. I will repair the lift.”
Jayce nods. Someone takes him to the generator and he inspects it. The mine is loud, air thick with a deep stench. He kneels down and starts pulling at different parts of the generator, inspecting it. A short here, he realizes, and damage to some vital parts. He goes back and pulls some tools from the crate. Viktor is already surrounded by parts from the lift, balanced on top of a ladder. He nods to Jayce and keeps working.
It gets hot, fast. Jayce strips out of his coat and wipes sweat and a rapidly growing layer of grime from his forehead. It feels like it’s seeping into his clothes already, something slick and black that slides across his knuckles. A small group gathers around him as he works, one of them pointing a flood lamp. They mutter to one another, commenting as Jayce tries one fix after another to no avail.
“Jayce!”
“I’m still working!”
“You have to hurry!”
“It’s not—”
Viktor appears beside him. “You can do this. Tell me what to do.”
Jayce nods. “Hold this wire.” Viktor grasps it, moving when Jayce tells him to, guiding him when he needs it.
There is a moment when Viktor does something before Jayce even asks him to, when his hands move and everything just — clicks.
This. They were meant to do this.
“Alright.” Jayce looks up and nods. “Crank it.”
Behind them, the lift roars to life, and the miners shout, gathering around to help their trapped companions. Jayce falls back, overheated and breathless, grime dripping down his face. He pushes his mask up.
“You did it,” Viktor rasps, sitting beside him. His mask dangles around his neck and he tosses his cane at their feet.
“We did it.” Jayce looks down. “Your cane’s busted.”
“I have another at home.” Viktor leans against Jayce’s side, as heavy as he’ll ever be. One slender hand reaches out and Jayce reaches back. “We did do it. Didn’t we?” Jayce nods. “I am—grateful,” Viktor says, and puts his head on Jayce’s shoulder.
It’s late when they return, filthy and tired. They both strip out of most of their clothes on the porch, stumbling inside. Viktor loses his balance, grasping Jayce’s arm when he offers it. He even lets him take off his braces, sacred objects Jayce had never considered touching.
“You should wash up first,” Jayce offers.
Viktor turns on the light of the washroom, bathing them both in a soft yellow glow.
“Jayce—” he croaks, taking an unsteady step back. “I don’t care. I—” He turns the handle for the shower. “I’m so tired. Just—”
“Viktor.”
“Wait or don’t wait, I don’t care.” He turns his back to Jayce and drops his underwear, stepping over the edge of the cracked tub and into the hot spray of the shower. Jayce thinks he should look away, but Viktor just stands there, and the grime and dirt trickles down off his scalp and face, along the thin, pale column of his torso.
Jayce gets in the shower.
It’s a dance. Careful not to touch, too tired really to care. Viktor gives Jayce room, but the shower is small for him even when he isn’t sharing it. It doesn’t feel wrong, or charged beyond the typical one Jayce feels between himself and Viktor. Always something there, a potential, thrumming just beneath the surface. They turn and the water spills between Jayce’s shoulders. He tips his head back and groans as dirt comes clean from his hair and beard. The tub is dark with ash. Viktor scrubs the grease from his face, his arms and shoulders, passing the heavy handmade bar of soap to Jayce.
Silent understanding. Another turn. Viktor stands under the spray and closes his eyes. Jayce cleans himself and they both stand in the water until it runs clear down the drain.
Viktor turns the handle and the pipes rattle in the walls. Jayce grabs a towel and steps out, wrapping it around his waist before he turns to hold out a hand to Viktor.
“Let me help you to bed,” he says.
Viktor looks up. Water drips steadily from his hair and onto the floor. Jayce can see a bruise blooming on his cheek.
“V—”
“Shut up.” Viktor throws himself into Jayce’s arms —
And kisses him.
Jayce hears himself make a noise, his whole body going into a brief shock before he moans and loops his arms around Viktor’s waist. He lifts him easily from the tub and hikes one leg up, around his waist. The towel comes loose and falls to the floor.
“Bed—” Viktor manages, even as Jayce is already moving him there, knocking them both into the wall next to the bedroom door before stumbling inside. He drops Viktor as gently as he can manage on the bed, crawling up after him to kiss and kiss and kiss —
(For weeks Jayce has wanted to kiss him. For weeks Jayce has wanted to know what Viktor tastes like, to kiss the mole on his cheek and the one under his eye. To know what he sounds like when Jayce licks into his mouth, when he grinds against his cock — )
Jayce trails his lips across Viktor’s jaw and down his neck, sliding two hands up his shower-slick chest.
“Viktor—”
“Jayce, please.”
“Just let me-”
“Anything, anything—” Viktor’s nails dig into Jayce’s shoulders and claw. Jayce hisses, arching into the touch. “Under the sink,” Viktor gasps. “There’s—”
Jayce nods, kisses him one more time. “Don’t move,” he says, and crashes back into the washroom, digging in the cabinet under the sink for what he assumes Viktor wants. He finds it, a bottle of oil, and grabs another towel for Viktor’s hair. A shudder wracks his body and Jayce squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself and getting to his feet. He spots his reflection — still a little dirty, a spot here and there, the blue skin of his chest screaming in the light.
His lips, kiss-red and swollen.
“Right.” Nothing to be nervous about. Just the first time you’ve been with someone in over a year. Probably longer.
Definitely longer.
He turns and goes back into Viktor’s room. “This what you wanted?” he asks.
Viktor doesn’t answer. He’s rolled over in Jayce’s absence, one hand reaching for the other side of the bed, an arm tucked under his head. He snores softly, twitching slightly in his sleep.
Jayce stares. He can’t really help it — Viktor is beautiful. He sets the oil on Viktor’s dresser and goes to arrange him further on the bed.
“S’morning?” Viktor asks, stirring under Jayce’s touch.
“Not yet. C’mere, your hair is soaking wet.”
“Cold,” Viktor mutters.
“I bet.” Jayce gently wrings some of the water free, wrapping the towel around it before lowering Viktor’s head to the pillow. He pulls the blanket up to cover him and steps back.
“Jayce?”
“It’s late, V. Go to sleep.”
Viktor nods, yawns, and drifts off again.
Jayce stays until he can’t stand himself, before going to his own room to fall into bed.
Jayce is sore in the morning, a dull ache resting in his shoulders and chest from being hunched over the generator. He makes coffee and finds one of the pills his doctor left behind.
“Are you…making breakfast?”
Jayce turns. Viktor is leaning on the other cane Jayce found this morning, wearing a sweater and loose pants. His hair is twisted haphazardly into a bun.
Jayce has never wanted to kiss someone more.
“Yeah,” he says, turning back to the stove. “I can cook, you know.”
“You never do.”
“Someone is kind of a control freak about the kitchen,” Jayce says, glancing over. Viktor’s mouth curls as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Feeling okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for finding this.” He lifts the cane.
“Don’t mention it.”
Viktor pauses. “…Are there other things I should not mention, Jayce?”
Jayce passes him the sugar bowl. “Only if you don’t want to, Vik.”
Viktor nods. “I think we were very…excited.”
“Adrenaline,” Jayce suggests.
“Precisely.” Viktor spoons a grotesque amount of sugar into his mug, chasing it with a heavy splash of cream. “Last night was…intense.”
“It was.”
“Perhaps, if we are going to continue to live and work together, we should, eh, you know.” He waves a hand between them. “Move past it.”
Jayce raises a brow. “Work?”
“Certainly.” Viktor turns, looking at Jayce over the top of his mug. “I think you proved at the mine we make an excellent team.”
“We did. We do.”
“Then let’s be a team. Let’s—” He gestures. “Let’s do the things you wanted to do before you were exiled. Let’s help people. Together.”
Together.
“As partners,” Jayce says.
Viktor nods. “Partners.”
He holds out his hand.
Jayce looks at it. He remembers last night in beautiful, agonizing detail — the sound Viktor made when Jayce rolled their hips together, when Viktor’s mouth was pressed hot against his own. When, for a moment, oblivion was a possibility, and Jayce wanted nothing else.
Well. This might do, he thinks.
He shakes Viktor’s hand.
“Alright. Partners.”