Chapter Text
It was meant to be a raid, nothing more, basically just a supply run with more illegal activity involved. Viktor couldn’t have anticipated that Jayce would show up, but he also wasn’t entirely surprised. The ‘defender of tomorrow’ had always been determined to spite him, it only made sense that he’d appear here too, if only to make Viktor’s life more difficult.
Had it not been for Jayce’s petty rivalry against the machine herald, he probably wouldn’t have cared. He’d only been intending to acquire some metals, cheap alloys that he still couldn’t afford when it came to undercity merchants. This was an easy option, break in, grab the material, leave. Or at least, it would have been easy if Jayce wasn’t so pitifully obsessed with tracking Viktor’s every move.
So, while this wasn’t the plan, it also didn’t come as a shock. The outcome was the main issue. Viktor wasn’t in the mood for a fistfight, and frankly, neither was Jayce. Which is, obviously, why they fought with high-tech magic channelling weapons instead. There was no civil way to settle such interactions, thanks to their own individual brands of stubbornness. So, when they inevitably fought, it was obviously better to go all out.
Or not.
Jayce was beginning to regret this, pausing and trying desperately to regain composure after having failed at dodging a beam from the Hexclaw. He looked down, noting his damaged armour, stained with blood, and what was definitely his own burned skin. Fuck, that was definitely going to scar. He didn’t think his day could get any worse. Patrolling while on less than three hours of sleep, definitely in some kind of slump, was an average Tuesday, but being notified of a factory raid by none other than the fearsome machine herald? Not exactly the daily routine. Jayce despite disruptions to his usual plans, and he despised his former lab partner even more. This combined with his never-ending irritation and perpetual tiredness, meant he was in a bad mood, to say the least.
He sucked in a harsh, wheezy breath, through his teeth, his chest aching, constricted. He’d been entirely knocked off his feet, both figuratively and literally. Without any time to regain his bearings properly, he relied on anger alone. The hot flash of adrenaline allowed him to swing his hammer over his shoulder, albeit messily. He didn’t have time to waste switching its mode, he could already see the Hexclaw powering back up. Almost panicked, he fired a blast from the mercury canon, aimlessly, missing entirely.
Infuriatingly collected, Viktor watched the ball of light zip past, unmoved and unphased. It detonated somewhere behind him. Faintly, through the ringing in his ears, Jayce heard him scoff, his amusement still apparent regardless of his voice modulation. “Wow, Defender, were you even trying with that one?” he taunted, as the Hexclaw took aim, firing a scorching ray of light.
Jayce barely managed to duck out of the way, stumbling. He’d been luckier this time, having avoided it at the price of sharp, concentrated pain in his side. It was hard to stand without almost tripping over his own feet. Dizziness was beginning to take hold, and he assumed it was simply exhaustion. His injuries were mostly soon-to-be bruises, sluggishly bleeding scratches, nothing new. They all throbbed, and ached with each beat of his heart, the pounding of it was almost growing painful in of itself. Once again, Jayce struggled to breathe, clenching his teeth and eyes shut. “Shut up.” He gritted out, having nearly forgotten about Viktor’s prior teasing.
Disturbingly, unlike his other injuries, his side was still burning. It tingled with a harsh sting, and slowly fizzling numbness, but that wasn’t the concern. It was mainly the fact that he could feel it bleeding, not only with how it dripped against his skin but with how forcefully blood seemed to gush from it, pulsating. He’d had worse, that was certain, but this certainly wasn’t ideal either.
He placed a gloved hand over the injury, a mistake really. His coordination wasn’t doing him any favours, he aimed to cover it, instead accidentally allowing his fingers to dip into it. He gasped, sharply, removing them to avoid any further pain as he realised fuck, it was significantly deeper and wider than he’d initially anticipated. With a shaky breath, he, more slowly, fumbled to cover it properly, if only to assess it. The blood soaked through his glove in a matter of seconds, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Creative.” Jayce distantly heard Viktor say, voice laced with sarcasm. “You can’t blame me for simply pointing out your, ehhh” He crossed one hand over his torso, the other placed against his metal-plated chin as if in thought. Had his vision not been swimming, Jayce would have been frustrated by the theatrics. Especially considering they were at his expense. Viktor then snapped his fingers, feigning realisation. “Clumsiness! Foolishness even. You always were so very incompetent, dear.”
The endearment was obvious bait, a jab at his still-human heart, and despite his clearly weaker position in the argument, Jayce couldn’t help but rise to it. “Oh yeah?” He spat, with practised bravado, leaning against his hammer in a way he hoped looked casual instead of like he was resting his entire weight on it. Which he definitely was. He could feel his knees beginning to grow weak, joints aching, limbs beginning to numb. “At least i’m not incompetent enough to fucking mutilate myself.”
Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Viktor frowned at that. Picking at his augmentations always seemed to strike a nerve, if that was even possible, after all, Jayce wasn’t certain he even had any left. He was tempted to laugh at the herald’s short temper. For someone who claimed to have overcome emotions, he was certainly an easy target for annoyance. Had he not been actively blacking out and barely able to breathe, Jayce would have laughed.
“You’re one to talk, this certainly seems like a form of it.” the other man drawled, repositioning his staff as he prepared to strike again. “Trying to fight me over something as meaningless as a few metals?” The metals weren’t the issue, Piltover stored them in abundance. The issue was that Jayce’s former lab partner was currently destroying a factory without regard for people’s safety, and fuck, if Jayce didn’t hate it. “If you keep this up I might just assume you enjoy being beaten half-to-death. Or maybe you just can’t get enough of me.”
Dark blotches were beginning to fizzle into Jayce’s peripheral vision. He was well past half-dead, he thought. Often he could go much longer in a fight, injuries like this only occurring when both parties were exhausted and the tiff was nearly over. He didn’t have to worry about surviving untreated for long. But this time around, Jayce had been caught off guard, and Viktor still had plenty of energy if his ridiculous, petty teasing was any indication. Jayce was definitely paying the price. But letting Viktor know he was…compromised, would certainly cause further expense that he couldn’t afford. He kept up the act. “I wouldn’t say that, I think I just enjoy pissing you off. You’re adorable when you’re mad, sweetheart.”
Near delirious, Jayce tried to pick up his hammer. His hands couldn’t grip it, shaking as he felt them less and less. He gritted his teeth in frustration, on the verge of angered, desperate tears as further strain set in. He could barely breathe, attempting to lift a weapon around his size was probably not helping this development. However, in focusing on this futile task, he failed to notice as the Hexclaw once again began to glow with heat.
Viktor only laughed and watched as Jayce stumbled backwards. The ray barely missed him. So, he was thrown back as the energy dispersed, dizzy, unsteady. Each step made his entire body ache, his hammer falling from his grip. He groaned, frustrated, and tried to reach for it. He couldn’t be left defenseless. Just one shot from the canon, and he could make a run for it. There was no way he could endure this much longer.
Every part of him felt strained as he desperately dragged himself over to where it had fallen. He’d be fine, he just needed to ignore the buzzing, ignore the darkness slowly creeping into his vision. But before he had a chance to catch his breath, to take another step, Viktor sent another flashy attack his way. This time it came in the form of a blue glow from his staff. Ordinarily, not fatal, but this time it would be Jayce’s downfall.
Entirely thrown off balance, he felt himself falling, and everything seemed to slow. Ringing in his ears, Viktor’s maniacal, modulated laughter spited him as he did. His body felt like lead, and the impact hurt. It hurt more than it should have. From the way his skull hit the ground, to the way the air was knocked out of his lungs, god, it hurt.
Most alarming, however, was the uprooted pipe sticking out of his midsection.
Jayce couldn’t lift his head to look at it, but he knew it was there. He could feel it, and surprisingly it wasn’t as painful as he thought being impaled would be. That wasn’t a good thing, but he was thankful for it at that moment. He could make out the shape of it in the corner of his vision, feel the glide of it against his bloodied, torn skin every time he tried to breathe.
Distantly, he thought ‘oh wow, that’s not supposed to be there.’ Before the shock wore off slightly and he realised ‘I’m not going to survive this’.
He couldn’t think rationally, too panicked for that, he just knew that having a pipe literally through him wasn’t good. So, in an attempt to push himself up, he placed his palms at either side of himself. He doesn’t get far, he manages to lift his torso maybe an inch before falling back down. He doesn’t feel it when he hits the ground, every sensation is blurring together.
It was a pathetic sight, but Jayce didn’t care. Simultaneously panicked, and too calm, he laid there and tried to breathe. Every inhale caused the metal to shift around in the space it had made for itself, blood gushed around its edges, and mangled tissue seemed to bubble up every time he shuffled.
The pain was everything, and nothing, and all Jayce knew was that he was so, so tired, and so, so scared. He couldn’t die here. He didn’t know where ‘here’ was anymore, but he knew it wasn’t safe, he was not safe, he was dying, oh god, he was dying.
Wracking his brain for anything, any desperation to motivate him to just get up, just get away, get to safety, proved futile. His lips fumbled uselessly, as he tried to speak, breathe, anything. Panicked, with his thoughts scrambled, he realises he can’t speak. His attempts result in blood spluttering from his lips.
It was almost horrifying to him that he couldn’t remember what he’d last said, he didn’t know his own last words. At the very back of his unravelling mind he thinks of Caitlyn and his mother, and he hopes they won’t be the ones who have to see him like this. As delirium takes hold, he’s brought back to snow, and howling wind. He attributes the numbness in his limbs, the stinging of his face, to be from the bite of frozen air. He is not in the factory anymore. A cold daze washes over him, his body feels dull.
Succumbing to the blissful, lack of feeling was growing tempting. The escape from the pain, the panic, the horrible concoction of feeling, was whispering to him in the form of slowly growing darkness, the shallowing of his breaths. It was proving difficult not to fall into its embrace.
His surroundings vanished.
He didn’t see Viktor watching him.
Because that’s all he was doing. Watching. Frozen in place by fear that he cursed himself for not having removed. He didn’t want this. It hadn’t been an accident per say, he’d definitely intended to hurt Jayce. But not to such an extent, never to this extent. In the back of his mind he told himself it wasn’t his fault. That the sight before him, of Jayce, bloodied, broken, and barely alive, was not his fault.
Of course it was a direct result of his actions, but he hadn’t meant for it to go this far. He didn’t know Jayce was so disoriented, he didn’t know the pipe was there. Deep down though, he knew his intentions didn’t matter and that now was not the time to be trying to absolve himself of blame. With this realisation, he tried to kick himself into gear. He took timid steps, at first, afraid of how much worse the sight could get.
Viktor prided himself on the control he had over his emotions, but currently they wouldn’t cooperate, thrown into complete overdrive. He could feel wetness gathering in his eyes, his artificial lungs, despite their functionality, feeling taut, heavy. His expression remained unphased, and appeared even more so thanks to his mask, but he was affected more than he’d like to admit. He moved slowly, telling himself it was calculated, and not because his body was beginning to feel unsteady. Ignoring the sick, tightness he felt in his gut, he got down onto one knee and tried to assess the damage. Silently, with shaky breaths, he forced himself to focus. He wished he hadn’t. Viktor wasn’t used to feeling regret anymore, but now it was staring him in the face.
Jayce’s eyes were only half shut, glossy, overflowing. His face was dry with dust, and wet with tears, and disturbing amounts of blood. It dripped from his nose, his mouth, scratches here and there, but this certainly wasn’t the worst of it. A gash in his side, gaping and sluggishly oozing with blood, the skin singed and gnarled. It was not a pretty view, but it frankly had nothing on the injury beside it. Torn flesh, tissue, god knows what else, formed a hole that would have gaped and bled had it not been for the metal rod filling it. The mangled flesh protruded around its edges, blood flowed over it freely. Viktor couldn’t see it soak into Jayce’s clothing, the fabric already saturated with the deep, scarlet liquid. The only comfort he could find was in the way that the blood would periodically increase in flow, or the pipe would squelch against damaged flesh. Movement, a pulse, breathing, all steadily fading the more Viktor lingered.
Allowing his breathing to falter from its rhythm, the machine herald sighed, deeply. This should be easy. He knew he couldn’t take Jayce off the pipe, he had no real way to stop any further bleeding and it would undoubtedly damage his body further internally if he were to simply lift him hastily. All Viktor really knew right now was that he had to get him out of here, taking the rod out could wait until he had access to some form of life support. Jayce was definitely going to need it. So, slowly, and uncharacteristically delicately, he stepped over to kneel at Jayce’s side, weaving his hands under his unconscious, heavy body. Incredibly gently, he lifted the man just enough to be able to aim the Hexclaw at the pipe. His breath shook as he zoned in on his need for precision, lest he cause any more damage. Activating the laser on a significantly less powerful setting, Viktor severed the pipe with a single strike.
He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relieved at the slight development. However, the momentary hope didn’t last. Jayce hadn’t stirred, and while it made sense, it still scared Viktor. It was logical of course, that Jayce wouldn’t be awake while near death, but that didn’t stop it from being disturbing. His state was reasonable. Viktor didn’t think he’d ever bear witness to it. Simply, he wasn’t prepared to, he never wanted to, and he never considered that he could ruin the other to such an extent.
Carefully, he rose back to his feet, trying his best not to move Jayce too much in his grip. Carrying Jayce in such a way felt nostalgic, somehow, a reminder of when they were younger, affectionate. Jayce had held him in such a way on many occasions, now he was returning the favour for all the wrong reasons and it felt so, so horrible. Guilt and longing bubbled up within him, boiling him from the inside, eating away as he thinks, fuck, this is his fault. Jayce’s life was in his hands, quite literally.
This was honestly almost monumental. Years of fighting the defender of tomorrow, and he’d never gotten this far, never truly won the fight. If he weren’t so weak he would celebrate such an event. Jayce’s death would undoubtedly make his life easier. The thought, fact of it, left him wondering how it’d ever spiralled that far.
He tries to convince himself he doesn’t feel anything as he leaves the factory with what could have been a corpse, cradled in his grasp. He pretends his body doesn’t finally feel weighed down by everything he’d done to it. He tells himself his guilt is not justified. Jayce chose his side. He knew what he was getting into. Viktor ignores the voice in his mind that says he didn’t. That neither of them planned for this.
Neither of them wanted this.
The man’s skin was clammy and cold, his blood providing a contrasting warmth. Both could be felt by the freezing metal of Viktor’s hands. It was an unpleasant sensation. A cruel reminder, in the form of touch. Viktor looks down at Jayce, who, had he not been so brutally torn to pieces, could have looked like he were asleep. If Viktor still had a heart, it would have ached. The horrific reality of the situation was escaping him. He couldn’t allow that.
He needed to focus. He needed to fix this. Could he even fix it? It depended on whether or not he could focus, please just focus. But his mind drifts as he carries Jayce to his residence, almost on autopilot . Viktor feels like he’s asleep as he follows where his body guides him. Had he still possessed the ability to dream, he would have assumed this was a nightmare. The weight of Jayce’s limp, unmoving body in his arms made it very clear it was not.
The circumstances that led to this seemed ridiculous now. It was all so unintentional, a terrible coincidence, and neither of them had ever anticipated it would end up like this. Viktor stifles a wave of nausea that he shouldn’t have been able to feel as he looks at Jayce’s wounds. The avoidability of it was almost comedic.
How did it all go wrong so quickly? The question was practically made for them. Viktor’s gaze drifts, and his eyes burn. He realises he may never know the answer.