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Viktor blinks blearily at the ceiling, the abruptness with which he woke up leaving him disoriented and confused as his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness of the small room he shares with Jayce. It’s still not morning yet, he can tell that much. Judging by the darkness and the silver-blue streaks of moonlight sneaking through the thin curtains and painting long shadows across the floor and walls, it couldn't be more than a few hours since he first fell asleep. He has no reason to be up for at least another five hours, maybe more if he and Jayce are lucky.
Next to him, there’s quiet rustling of the sheets followed by a small sound of distress that instantly snaps him awake, the oh-so-familiar feeling of dread spilling through his chest. Viktor pulls himself upright, leaning against the wall behind the bed and cursing under his breath.
They are both well-acquainted with nightmares, him and Jayce.
As Viktor found in the months following the battle, this senseless war that he started, this doesn’t make it any easier.
Still, he dutifully turns to take a look at Jayce, his frame curled up and trembling underneath the sheets, small noises escaping past his lips as he moves and shifts in his sleep, tormented by the terrors of Viktor’s own doing. It never fails to break his heart, regret and guilt so familiar he no longer knows how it feels to exist without them. They are a constant and he suspects that their absence would feel jarring at this point, not unlike missing a limb. In a way, he’s grateful for their presence, no matter how heavy or suffocating it gets at times. It reminds Viktor of his sins, reminds him of all these things he can never take back. He deserves every second of guilt burning beneath his skin, he deserves the regrets that keep him up at night and rob him of any peace he could possibly find in this post-Anomaly world that Jayce is trying to build for them.
The problem is, no matter how much Viktor can justify these things for himself, he knows that Jayce doesn’t deserve them. Sometimes, he thinks it’s the biggest regret of all.
He reaches out, long fingers wrapping around Jayce’s shoulder and pulling him a little closer so that he can get a better look at him. His face is scrunched up, eyebrows drawn together and lips slightly parted, small grunts and whines escaping past them every now and then. Viktor wishes that he could soothe his pain, run his fingers over his face and smooth every wrinkle of worry and pain he finds there. He wishes he could chase away the bad dreams that plague Jayce and steal any chance of peaceful rest from him. The dark bruises underneath his eyes tarnish his tan skin and make him appear old beyond his years, merely a shadow of a man Viktor once knew. He’s different than he used to, subdued and quiet, impassive where he once used to burst with energy and confidence. It’s a startling difference, one that makes it hard to reconcile the man in front of him with Jayce he remembers from their partnership days.
He longs for those days now, the good old times spent in the lab, poring over one experiment or another. Blueprints scattered across the desk, their bickering punctuated by laughter as they dreamed of a brighter future and worked hard to make it true. Not for the first time, he realizes he didn’t appreciate what he had back then—the easy partnership with Jayce and the sense of purpose that got him out of bed each day, even when his leg throbbed with pain and refused to follow his commands.
These memories are distant now, tinged with longing and blurry around the edges with time and reproach. Yet Viktor can’t help but seek comfort in them, especially on nights like these, when he tries to chase Jayce’s nightmares and worries away. He knows that Jayce clings to these memories with the desperation of a starved man. Whatever semblance of sanity Jayce still holds onto is tethered to these days, the comforting memory of times when things used to be easier. When Viktor was still the man Jayce once believed him to be and not the shadow he is now, relying on muscle memory to act the part and sustained only by Jayce’s wishful thinking.
“Jayce,” he murmurs quietly, brushing aside some of the hair from his face, circling comforting patterns on his shoulder with his other hand. “Jayce, wake up.”
He knows from experience he has to be gentle, has to coax Jayce into wakefulness without startling him more and making him panic.
“Jayce,” he says again and hates himself for how it comes out too much like a plea. He shakes Jayce with a bit too much force than he intends to, but it seems to finally do the trick.
Jayce’s eyes snap open, raw with panic and something heartbreakingly vulnerable. He lets out a small cry, the sound of it strangled yet desperate enough that it pierces right through Viktor’s heart. He doesn’t have the time to focus on it, though, not when Jayce looks like a wounded animal, his eyes wild and glassy as he looks up at Viktor without actually seeing him. It’s a look Viktor has grown frighteningly accustomed to in recent times, one that never fails to pain him to see. Jayce’s chest heaves in frantic, shallow gasps as if he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs. He grasps at the sheets blindly, clenching and unclenching his grip on them as if undecided whether he wants to pull them closer or push them away completely. Viktor’s stomach twists as he watches his eyes dart around in panic, taking in the quiet and stillness of the room without registering any of it. Not for the first time, he wonders where Jayce has gone, where the disjointed memories of a different lifetime took him this time.
He knows maddeningly little about Jayce’s time in the Anomaly, merely scraps of information he’s managed to piece together from Jayce’s evasive little comments and nightmare-induced mutterings. Whatever horrors he endured, they refuse to let him out of their grasp and Viktor finds himself precariously unprepared to provide him with the strength and support he so desperately needs. There’s a sense of incompetency that Viktor detests so much, the same one that pushed him into becoming a scientist in the first place. Except, back then it was because of people who couldn’t offer him the answers he desperately needed at the time, his curious mind rejecting the answers of ‘I don’t know’ and ‘that’s just the way things are’ with stubborn determination. Now that it’s directed at himself, he feels strangely wrong-footed.
He has always prided himself on his problem-solving abilities, chasing the satisfaction of knowing that he’d successfully connected the puzzle pieces. It has always been about the thrill of fixing things others believed to be broken, finding solutions to problems they deemed unsolvable. But all that knowledge and brilliance feels laughably inadequate now. His scientific drive is useless in the face of Jayce’s suffering, leaving him with the same helplessness that once defined his life in Zaun. It gnaws at his insides, scattering his thoughts into a senseless mess of shame and regrets.
He forces himself to focus back on Jayce.
There’s no point in lamenting his inadequacy or incompetence—not when Jayce is still trembling in his arms, not when he looks so lost, his mind wandering somewhere foreign, far from this room.
“Jayce.”
His voice comes out firmer than he expected and he squeezes Jayce’s shoulder, tries to bring him back from the hell that haunts him.
“I’m here, Jayce,” he reassures him, pushing as much confidence into the words as he can muster. “It’s just me. You’re safe here.”
He can hear his own anxiety bleeding into the words and chastises himself mentally, knowing that it is not the time or place to dwell on his own shortcomings. He swallows. Tries again.
“Jayce?”
The other man doesn’t respond, but his head shifts, following the sound of Viktor’s voice. His eyes blink, the movement a little sluggish, as if trying to clear the fog obstructing his vision. Viktor chooses to take it as a good sign and pulls himself closer, throwing one leg over Jayce and straddling him, careful not to put too much pressure and alarm him.
Viktor leans in, their noses close enough to touch, and gently cups Jayce’s face in both his hands. Jayce’s initial response is to jerk away, to thrash against him in blind panic like a bird trapped in a cage. Viktor allows it, but doesn’t break the contact, doesn’t let go of him like he once did. Instead, he holds him through it, his touch soft but steady even as Jayce struggles to buck out of his grasp. Jayce’s skin is damp with tears and sweat, his body wracked with tremors that aggravate his injured leg—the one that never quite healed right.
It’s all painfully familiar, the same exhausting song and dance they’ve been through too many times to count. And yet, no matter how often it happens, Viktor never feels any more prepared.
Viktor presses his forehead against Jayce’s gently in a familiar gesture that all Zaunites know long before they learn how to walk. It’s a soft, familiar pressure, a gesture of devotion, and Viktor allows himself to relax into the touch, pouring all the affection and love he has into this simple connection. He can only hope it’s enough.
Jayce stills underneath him in response. His breaths are still raspy and uneven, but they are slowing down now, stuttering into a steadier rhythm. Viktor continues murmuring sweet nothings, quiet words of encouragement and understanding with the sole purpose of reaching Jayce deep in the depths of his mind and reminding him that he’s safe now.
He’s never been good at any of this—none of the emotional stuff, like motivational speeches or polite pleasantries exchanged with potential sponsors or politicians eager to exploit their scientific advances. Jayce has always excelled in that area, and Viktor has been content to remain in his shadow, away from the spotlight. It’d been a familiar routine they both fell into, one that relied on this understanding they always seemed to share. Viktor feels strangely shaken now that it’s gone.
Grounding touches and words of affirmation aren’t any easier. There was no use for such things when he was a child in Zaun; they’re not something he was taught or experienced much of in his relatively short life.
He tries, because he has to. He tries, because it’s Jayce. He owes him at least that much.
Jayce blinks back a few stray tears, his eyes still a little hazy but gradually sharpening with focus. Viktor watches as recognition flickers in Jayce’s honey-gold eyes, the tension slowly ebbing away from his shoulders as he slumps against the sheets.
“V-Viktor?” Jayce croaks, looking up at him with so much uncertainty and tentativeness that something in Viktor’s chest clenches painfully at the sight of it.
He forces the corners of his mouth into something resembling a smile, his thumb gently brushing down Jayce’s cheek and along his jaw in a soft caress. He doesn’t break eye contact, holding Jayce’s gaze steadily.
“I’m here,” Viktor says.
It sounds like a promise, he thinks a little hysterically. They don’t have a good track record with those.
Jayce makes a small sound, something like a sigh, blinking a few more times as he leans into Viktor’s touch.
They stay like this for a while, the stillness of the room settling around them. It’s still dark, but Viktor has long adjusted to it, easily making out the sharp edges of Jayce’s face in the shadows. Sometimes, it’s still difficult to get used to his new look, a stark contrast to his once youthful face and bright eyes. Everything about Jayce seems dull these days. His face is aged, tainted with months of torture and termoil. Viktor still isn’t sure what to make of it, how to handle the issue with the gentleness it requires, rather than the learned scientific detachment that years spent in the lab have ingrained in him.
He knows that others are trying, too – Caitlyn Kiramman, Councilor Medarda, and even Jayce’s own mother – all determined to get him to reveal what happened during those long months when he was gone. But Jayce keeps dodging their questions, retreating deep into his mind whenever they start prying too much. It’s a precarious game of push and pull – push too hard, and he withdraws as if burned and the process begins anew.
Some of the healers they sent for are of the opinion that it would be better to leave it alone, let Jayce work through whatever happened on his own until he reaches the point of feeling comfortable enough to share it. Viktor doubts it’s that simple, though, and he knows better than anyone how frustrating it is to rely on time alone in situations like these. After all, he’s spent a lifetime trying to bargain for more time for himself.
Viktor knows there’s little that he can do on his own, but he prefers this newfound solitude with Jayce to the constant hovering of well-meaning, yet ultimately useless, onlookers. There’s no cure for what happened to them, no guidelines on how to act, and as much as he wants to help Jayce, he knows his options are limited. All he can do is the next best thing.
He draws soothing circles on Jayce’s bicep, keeping his touch soft and comforting, the way he knows Jayce likes it. He’s rewarded with a small hum as Jayce shifts a little closer, seeking Viktor in the darkness of their shared room. If Viktor closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that nothing has changed and they are still those bright-eyed young men working towards a better tomorrow.
“I’m here,” Viktor says softly, his voice cutting through the quiet of the night. For the first time, this finally seems to register properly, Jayce’s eyes flashing with recognition. His shoulders, tight with tension, sag a little, and he slumps against the mattress behind his back, exhaling shakily. Viktor guides him through the motions, attentive and careful, still scared that he might spook him. His hand hovers inches above Jayce’s shoulder, ready to assist him, uncertain of what is needed from him at that moment.
The irony of their strange little role reversal is not lost on Viktor.
Until now, it’s always been Jayce’s job to get Viktor out of his shell, to help him whenever this frail, useless body of his failed to follow directions. While Viktor tried to maintain some sense of independence, through the years of their partnership there were many instances when he had to learn to lean on Jayce and his unyielding presence. He would often fetch him whatever he needed, assisting him when his leg started acting up and quietly offering him his shoulder to lean on once the strain of standing for too long became too much. He’d always tried to be subtle, too, aware of just how much Viktor detested this forced reliance on others. His disability has always been a burden he preferred to keep to himself.
Now, as his eyes flicker to Jayce’s left leg and the array of bruises left by the brace, it’s a bitter reminder of how much everything has changed between them.
He’s away from his thoughts by the quiet voice that pierces through the silence, startling him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes searching as they sweep over Viktor’s frail form as if looking for signs of injury. Viktor can’t help but feel like laughing, a hint of hysteria sneaking into his voice when he says: “I should be the one asking you that, Jayce.”
Jayce smiles at that, a little crookedly, and shifts his weight a little. He pulls Viktor on top of him and he lets him, allowing Jayce to move them so that Viktor is pressed against him in a half-embrace, his cheek resting on Jayce’s chest. It’s new, he thinks, this new-found closeness. Jayce has never shied away from physical touch, his hand always clasped over Viktor’s shoulder or hovering nearby when his knees would threaten to buckle under his weight after a long day in the lab. Now, however, it’s different somehow. Less hesitant. It’s as if Jayce is no longer treating him like a skittish animal, afraid that one wrong move could be enough to scare Viktor into hiding. He’s open with his touch and affection in ways he never was before. Viktor can’t help but wonder if it’s because Jayce used to fear his rejection, always scared of what would happen if he crossed some invisible boundary. He can’t blame him for that, either. It’s not like Jayce’s fears had been unfounded.
“Your thoughts are so loud,” Jayce says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “What are you thinking about?”
Viktor hums a little. “Us,” he says simply.
Jayce’s responding laugh is a quiet rumble in his chest. Viktor moves and buries his face in his chest. He’s almost sure that Jayce can feel his smile against his skin.
It feels unreal, sometimes, that they can still laugh and smile after everything they’ve been through.
He owes Jayce so much, it feels like he could never even begin to repay it. Ever since he’d met him, his life has been irrecoverably changed. And maybe it would be wiser to regret that damned day he’d been sent to investigate the crime scene, maybe it would be better if Viktor had never set foot in the same room as Jayce Talis… That certainly could have prevented a lot of suffering and pain his mistakes have caused. But even then, Viktor can’t bring himself to regret it. It’s not that he doesn’t have regrets. He knows he has more than he could ever count. But Jayce could never be something he regretted. The moment he barged into his life is one of the memories Viktor can’t help but cherish. He breathed life into the empty existence he’d been leading until then, awoke a spark of passion that he thought was long buried. Regardless of all the mess his life turned into later on, Viktor has never once regretted Jayce. He couldn’t.
“Caitlyn and Mel are supposed to visit us today,” Jayce says, clearly schooling his voice to sound casual. It’s a futile attempt, but Viktor appreciates it nonetheless.
“They assured us we would finally be informed what the Council is planning to do with us,” Viktor reminds him, even though there’s no way either of them could forget.
He can see the way Jayce’s face hardens in response, something stubborn and desperate flashing across his face. Viktor smiles a little, strangely reassured by the predictability of Jayce’s reactions. He’s never bothered hiding how he feels, the ease with which he expressed himself as frustrating as it was admirable.
Viktor doesn’t need to guess to know what’s happening in Jayce’s head. The worry is plain to see, buried deep in the long lines of his face. Viktor reaches for his hand and gives him a small squeeze. He hopes it’s reassuring.
Viktor knows Jayce is going to be pardoned, there’s no doubt in his mind about that. Piltover needs its cherished hero, now possibly more than ever. Jayce has always played his role well, the precious Golden Boy of the city, devoted to its safety and always there to ensure its continued progress. He’s more beloved than ever now that everyone witnessed his final battle against the Machine Herald, the way he bravely confronted the biggest enemy this city had yet to face.
As for Viktor himself… His future is far more uncertain.
Jayce’s protection is the only thing shielding him from the righteous fury of both Piltover and Zaun. And even his hero status might not be enough against the grief and anger of so many.
Councilor Medarda has been working on their case ever since the day they emerged from the Anomaly, looking for solutions behind the scenes and figuring out how to handle the fallout. And all that while simultaneously preparing to leave the Council and go back to Noxus, take her rightful place as the ruler. Viktor still doesn’t know what it is that Jayce told her that convinced her to help. He asked, of course, curious what Jayce said to plead his case, but for once his partner remained unusually tight-lipped, simply asking Viktor to trust him.
Truthfully, Viktor doesn’t care much about what will become of him. Whatever punishment the Council has in mind, he’s sure he deserves it.
He can’t deny Jayce, though.
They both remain silent for a long while, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the room between them. Viktor feels calm about his future, seeing no reason to stress over things he cannot control. It’s not as easy for Jayce, though. Not for the first time, Viktor wonders if it’s simply affection that keeps Councilor Medarda and Caitlynn Kiramman from telling him point blank that there’s nothing to be done and whatever fate awaits Viktor, he’s sure to deserve it.
Jayce has always been ridiculously easy to love. Viktor cannot blame others for loving him just as fiercely as he does.
Despite all that, Jayce’s influence has limited reach and the only reason why they have been allowed to spend the last few weeks in hiding is because very few people were privy to the fact that Viktor’s still alive. The vast majority of people believed him to be dead, defeated by Jayce’s hammer. There was so much chaos in the last moments of the battle, no one knew for sure what transpired between the two of them, and so people found it easy to believe in what they wanted to believe. Viktor has always considered this particular human trait to be quite puzzling. Even then, though, he couldn’t deny that it worked out in their favour.
The problem is, by defending him as fiercely as he does, Jayce has unequivocally put himself in the way of harm. Viktor can’t even begin to wonder how the public would react if they learned where Jayce’s loyalty truly lies and that he brought him back from the verge of death just because he couldn’t let him go. The fallout would be legendary, the foundation of people’s very belief system immutably shaken.
But as he watches as the new head of the Kiramman family and Councilor Medarda bend over backwards to give Jayce the impossible, Viktor thinks he understands.
He’s always known that he and Jayce saved each other in more ways than they can count. They owe everything to each other, the kind of trust you can only earn by working for it. He’s not surprised to realize that maybe Jayce helped other people, too. If there’s one thing that has always been a constant, it’s Jayce’s unshakable and limitless capacity for empathy. After all, that’s what drew him to Jayce in the first place.
It’s a funny thing to realize the lengths your loved ones are willing to go when your life's on the line, Viktor thinks. He squirms a little in Jayce’s embrace and leans back a bit to take a better look at him.
Jayce’s eyes have drifted shut, long eyelashes casting shadows over the pronounced lines of his cheekbones. He’s not asleep, not quite, but he also doesn’t seem to be fully there, sleepiness overtaking him the longer the silence stretches between them. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm against Viktor, his body warm and open in that familiar way that fills Viktor with a sense of comfort. He looks peaceful in a way that he rarely ever does these days, plagued by the weight of responsibility and pain. He’s still unused to his disability, Viktor can tell by the careful way he moves around the apartment Councilor Medarda offered them until the Council reaches a decision regarding their future. His steps are slow, unsure, and Jayce always seems overly aware of the way he shifts and moves, as if he’s trying to familiarize himself with a body that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to him. Viktor can relate to this feeling well.
There’s none of that now, though, Jayce’s body is still and calm for the first time in what Viktor suspects are weeks. It’s reassuring to see, especially since Jayce tends to vibrate with unspent energy even when he looks like he’s resting, his brilliant brain similar to Viktor’s own in that it never seems to shut up. As much as Viktor appreciates his partner for his genius and sometimes feels as if they share one brain, he can understand the exasperated frustration that radiates from Caitlyn Kiramman whenever she tries to convince Jayce to take a break.
Viktor settles against Jayce and closes his eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his partner’s chest lull him to sleep.
He doesn’t know what will happen now. He has no control over what the future holds and he knows it’s probably for the best. For now, he vows to remain by Jayce’s side, for as long as he allows him to.
They’ll figure out the rest eventually. They always do.