Work Text:
INT. DOORSTEP, HOUSE ON EMBERFLIT — EVENING
Jayce is accosting Viktor: he is empty-handed, angry — yet pleading. Desperate. One last try.
JAYCE
Run away with me. For once in your life just take something for yourself, gods — you can’t keep giving yourself away like this or there’ll be nothing left.
VIKTOR
I don’t have time for the shitty feel-good drivel you read out of mental health pamphlets.
JAYCE
What do you call this, then? What the fuck do you call this, tell me —
VIKTOR
Go fuck yourself—
JAYCE
— because you’re literally halfway fucking gone, Viktor, when are you going to stop?
VIKTOR
When people stop needing me.
JAYCE
I need you.
VIKTOR
That’s your problem, Jayce. You’re selfish.
JAYCE
And you’re not selfish enough.
VIKTOR
What’s one life to the countless that are saved for a little sacrifice? You can stand it, I'm sure.
JAYCE
Are we talking about my life, Viktor, or yours?
Jayce scrutinizes Viktor, looking right into his mask, brows furrowed. Viktor says nothing.
A beat. Jayce’s eyes soften.
JAYCE
Don’t be a martyr, Viktor.
Viktor is no martyr, no — Viktor is smarter than that.
VIKTOR
[a harsh, cutting laugh.] Martyrs die.