Chapter Text
“We finish this… together”
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A bright, blue light exploding in the skies. The momentary irruption of magic, two bodies made and remade. And just as suddenly as it begins, it is over.
Viktor opens his eyes before he can begin to consider the how. How is he still here? Still existing, still being . His gaze lands on Jayce, mere centimeters from his own face, foreheads still pressed together. His eyes are scrunched close, his mouth pulled down with the remnants of recent pain.
“..Jayce?” Viktor’s voice is soft, both with hesitance and disuse.
Triggered by some natural instinct, Jayce’s eyes open immediately, unfocused at first, still caught in a cosmic dreamscape. He pulls away slightly, his eyes widening as soon as he registers the features in front of him.
“Viktor!” The name is punched out of him, his eyes starting to fill with tears as he takes in his partner’s face. “You are ok,” an almost sob as he uses the hand still on Viktor’s nape to crush them together in an embrace. “I am so glad,” as he moves his other arm around his waist, needing the physical proof that this is real, that they exist in this moment, together.
Half-remembering a previous hug exuding the same level of relief, Viktor softly yet adamantly holds him in return, his own eyes shiny with rising emotion. This time, despite being disoriented, his mind is clear as ever, no traces of the corrupted Arcane invading his thoughts. And yet…
“I don’t understand,” Viktor near whispers after a few seconds. “I assumed we would be consumed by the Arcane…” His eyebrows furrow, his head spinning both from shock and a shadow of scientific curiosity. “How are we…?” he interrupts himself as he finally notices how pleasant the warmth of Jayce’s arms feels around him. Or rather, that he can feel his warmth, that it’s pleasant because the rest of his body feels cold. He feels . That can’t be right, can it?
Jayce notices when Viktor suddenly goes rigid beneath his hands. “Are you ok? Is something wrong?” he asks without letting go. He is not sure how to do that at the moment.
Viktor’s voice is the most doubtful he’s ever heard it when he speaks next. “I… am cold,” is his quiet answer, tickling Jayce’s disheveled hair with his breath. “I feel cold,” slightly firmer.
It takes Jayce a couple of seconds, but when his brain processes the words, he immediately pulls back, all the way this time, enough to hold Viktor at arm’s length and frantically look him up and down, pupils dilating and contracting erratically.
They are both kneeling on the floor, but while Jayce is dressed in the clothes he was wearing last, Viktor is only covered by his blue blanket. Viktor, with only his makeshift toga that leaves his arms and legs exposed. Viktor, with pale beautiful skin all over, not a trace of shimmer or metal on his body. Viktor, with his expressive amber eyes and his floppy hair. His moles. Viktor, who looks healthier than he has in about a decade. Jayce can feel new tears running down his face.
“Viktor, you are human!” he exclaims, delighted, running his hands wherever he can reach, caressing the skin of his arms, his neck, finally settling with one hand covering the side of Viktor’s face while the other grabs Viktor’s hand in his.
In turn, Viktor is entranced by Jayce’s own face. When he moved back–his forehead finally exposed–the marks on his brow were freed. His marks. Right there, like a brand or a curse, his own fingertips framing Jayce’s head like a crown. Viktor’s free hand moves to momentarily touch them before he can command his restraint.
“I did this,” he whispers, entranced by the delicate luminescence of the scars his own hand bestowed. His hand drops, curling into his own body, while his eyes fall to the floor.
Jayce’s own thumb wipes away the errant tear that falls from Viktor’s eyes, drawing his attention back to his own, tearful, happy ones. His bearded face makes room for a sweet, delicate smile.
“Viktor” he repeats. “I thought you were listening,” Jayce continues to caress his face, softly bringing them closer, until they are once again joined at the comforting point of contact that is their foreheads pressed together, a skin-to-skin bridge between their minds. “I only need to have you by my side.”
Viktor softly inhales at Jayce’s tone, the sincerity in his eyes and odd joy in his voice.
“I just wanted my partner back,” Jayce continues; his hand hasn’t stopped moving.
Viktor is at a loss for words. How? How could Jayce seem so ready to forgive him after all he had done? All the lives he had cut short, souls he had snuffed out, the pain he had caused others in the quest to end his own.
“How-?” he starts to voice his incredulity but is cut off by a high-pitched voice coming from his right.
“You have got some explaining to do boys!” The half-cheery, half-condescending demand comes as three figures approach rapidly across the terrace they are apparently on. Neither Viktor nor Jayce had noticed their change in location, but it is now evident they are on the roof of the Academy.
“I trust you young lads will have a perfectly good explanation for whatever has happened here,” continues the newcomer, who is now close enough to see clearly.
“Professor!” is exclaimed almost simultaneously by both scientists, still kneeling on the floor, bodies no longer touching except for Viktor’s hand still in Jayce’s own. The yordle merely raises an expectant brow, the two enforcers bracketing him ready for action.
Viktor tries to get up, struggling with his bad leg and poor attire. “It was me, Professor,” he begins, resigning himself to dignified kneeling. “It was foolish to proceed as I did. Desperate. I can never make up for–”
This time, it is Jayce who cuts him off. “This was my fault.”
“– what?! Absolutely not. I will not let you take the blame for–”
“I take full responsibility for everything that’s happened,” Jayce, also on the ground, moves forward, partially covering the still protesting Viktor. “If I had acted when Viktor asked me to… But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That is all that matters now.”
Viktor pulls at his hand, drawing Jayce’s attention back to himself. “I will not be shielded from this Jayce,” his soft voice holds firm. “What you did was irresponsible, yes, and I understand why you did it now, but you could not have known–”
“Viktor,” both of Jayce’s hands move to hold his face this time, the action gently demanding eye contact. “Even knowing how it all ends,” he pauses, “I would still try to save you. I will always try to get my partner back.”
Viktor’s eyes widen in awe and a sibling of disbelief (for he can plainly see that Jayce means every word), this time properly silenced.
A deep voice suddenly calls behind the Professor. “Councillor Heimerdinger,” a new figure dressed in blue greets him. “You requested me?”
Though still stunned, the voice rings familiar enough for Viktor to pull his eyes away, which manage to widen even further upon finding the new person entering their space.
“...Sheriff Grayson?” he questions timidly. The woman eyes him sharply upon hearing her name. Beside him, Jayce’s face twists slowly in both recognition and confusion.
“Oh! Sheriff!” Heimerdinger greets her in return. “Yes, thank you for coming. I am not yet sure what to make of this situation, but your presence is very much appreciated.”
“At your service,” Sheriff Grayson slightly tips her head, immediately moving her gaze back to the pair on the floor. “Now, who do we have here? I don’t recognize either of your faces, but you seem to know mine.”
“Indeed!” Continues the Professor with a joyous inflection, “the identity of these young men is an enigma yet to be discovered.”
That makes both men freeze, Viktor’s eyes narrowing while Jayce’s brow furrows in preparation to tackle an unforeseen problem. With the cogs in both their heads turning on overdrive, Viktor decides to take a leap.
“I apologize,” he begins, making full use of his accented voice. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Us, people from the undercity,” he gives Jayce a brief glance here, “simply like to know the faces of those with authority.” While he speaks, Jayce slowly grips his hand tighter. “I am also afraid we are a little confused ourselves…” he lets the silence linger for a moment. “Could we know what exactly we are being accused of?”
Jayce eyes him from the side. “And clothes. Could we get some clothes, please?” He surprises Viktor with his request. “Maybe sit somewhere that isn’t outside?”
Heimerdinger readily agrees, sending off one of the enforcers in search of clothes for Viktor, while the Sheriff warily offers Jayce a hand standing up. His leg brace caught her eye, as did Viktor’s awkwardly laid leg.
Once all are standing, they make their slow, unsteady way into an unoccupied meeting room, where both Jayce and Viktor are allowed to sit, and the latter is given an old pair of academy pants some unfortunate soul lost, as well as a mysteriously procured coat.
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The walk over could not have taken more than 10 minutes, but both Viktor and Jayce have already run over 100 scenarios in their minds for this reality they have found themselves in. The shared memories given by an older, lonelier version of Viktor still fresh in both their minds, together with Jayce’s unsolicited tour of arguably the worst timeline, have given them a rather solid hypothesis to work from. Discussion, however, will have to wait until eavesdropping ears have gone.
“Now!” Heimerdinger continues with his never-ending pep. “How about you boys explain where that blue flare came from?” His seat, made taller with a number of books, is right across them; the Sheriff sits to his left. Both enforcers were left outside, guarding the door or otherwise.
“Right,” comes the much more subdued answer, from Jayce this time. “I believe,” and he turns to Viktor for a moment before continuing. “I believe we may have had an… encounter.” He takes a deep breath. “With the Arcane.”
At this, Heimerdinger’s brows flatten, his lips pulling down. He waits them out.
“We were outside the city,” Jayce continues, gaining confidence in his words, while Viktor silently catches on to his intention. “We were coming back from an expedition, but we ran into some trouble…”
“I fell down a ravine partly hidden by the snow,” Viktor takes over. “Bad leg, you see,” he mildly gestures, “forced us to regroup.” Jayce wordlessly commends him for his lying skills. They now have a passable excuse for Viktor’s liberal clothing choice. Viktor gets a distant look in his eyes as he continues, describing a meeting he has a clear visual for. “It was snowing badly… We wouldn’t have made it had it not been for…”
Acting on impulse, Jayce reaches out to hold his hand once more. Viktor’s eyes clear as he looks at him, grounded with realization. “He sent us here,” he continues, addressing Heimerdinger yet not removing his gaze from Jayce’s own.
“And who exactly are we talking about here?” Grayson queries when it’s clear neither man will forward an answer. Whatever moment had begun is swiftly interrupted, Viktor looking down with a slight fluster but no shame, while Jayce clears his throat to take over their little tale.
“A mage,” he states clearly and simply, facing the two people seated in front of him. Heimerdinger’s brows jump in surprise this time. “A magic user,” he continues. “We needed help, and he sent us here. I- I don’t know how, but he saved us.” Another half glance at Viktor, “and I will always be grateful for that.”
“A magic user?” Heimerdinger’s tone is intrigued, his wariness of magic mostly dissipated now he is convinced it took place far away from Piltover. “And you are certain you had never seen him before, young man?”
“He is no one I’ve ever seen here,” Jayce replies firmly. Technically, it’s the truth.
“Well!” The Yordle claps his hands once, promptly getting up from his seat. “No harm done then! Of course, we will have to inform the council and set up a formal investigation, but I think you young lads could use some rest before that. Sheriff Grayson will escort you to your homes, and we will request for you soon.” As he speaks, he moves towards the door, nodding to both men before leaving the room.
Neither Jayce nor Viktor stand. The lack of a home to go to aside, Sheriff Grayson has not moved since they finished telling their story.
“So…,” she begins after a sufficiently uncomfortable silence. “A magic user, was it?” She eyes them both carefully, not accusing yet, but categorically less trusting than the parted Councillor. “And where exactly is it you were coming back from?”
This answer, they also pull from a different memory. “Near Freljord,” offers Viktor, before improvising, “we were delivering an order for an acquaintance.” Grayson’s right brow lifts.
Viktor’s eyes are fully present when he speaks this time. “A prosthetic,” he says, proudly. “We are engineers, one of our specialties owing to… well,” he gestures at both of them now. “Unfortunately, my own brace was left behind.”
This half-truth seems to satisfy Grayson better, the severity of her eyes softening some at the edges.
“Well, that will do for now, I suppose.” The Sheriff stands from her chair, making for the seated men to follow. “After you, gentlemen.”
Viktor clears his throat, not yet rising. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he asks, “could I have a cane for some support? I imagine that won’t be too much trouble for the city of progress to produce.” Jayce notices this last part carries a hint of his familiar, sardonic tone.
Thankfully, Grayson only huffs in mild amusement, leaving them alone in the meeting room while she goes in search of the requested item. Jayce immediately turns to Viktor in his chair; their hands never parted.
“Ok,” he starts. “So this is not our timeline…”
Viktor’s eyes reflect the wonder in his own. “No, it is not.” A pause. “What should we do?”
Jayce throws the question back to him. “What do you want to do?”
Viktor takes a deep breath. He squeezes Jayce's hand.
“Better.”