Chapter Text
Death is something that Viktor had to make himself abundantly comfortable with over the years. Well, comfortable wasn’t necessarily the most appropriate word. Death was something that he had to resign himself to. Time and time again, Viktor had to resign himself to it from the loss of his parents to the unfortunately early endings of his peers at the orphanage, to the daily accidents that always occur in the Undercity.
Yes, Viktor is no stranger to death.
However, as he sits by your side, his cane left to rest on the side of the stool he is sitting on, he watches the faint rise and fall of your chest as you breathe terribly small and ragged breaths. Despite the reassurance that the hardest part had passed, that you’d likely pull through, the knot that had formed in his chest from the moment you’d come back had only gotten tighter and tighter until now as it threatened to tear him apart any moment.
And again, he feels useless.
Utterly and entirely useless.
He can’t help the negative thoughts that begin to fester in his mind once more, the ones that have him squeezing his hands tightly in his lap until his knuckles bleed white as he watches the subtle shift of your eyes under the lids in your fitful, restless sleep.
You’re horribly pale, sweat coating your brow as you fight off the fever that followed your recovery. Every time he sees you shiver, the blood loss making your body unable to decide if you’re too warm or too cold, he tucks the blankets in around you a little more snugly.
Again, the knot grows tighter.
Every single one of your soft groans, the little pained noises whenever you shift make him jump. It feels like every single one of his nerves is on high alert. A high that makes him dizzy and sick and so incredibly scared .
He wishes they could have at least given you some painkillers, knowing full well that you must be hurting and that’s why your sleep is so fitful. If they’d had something, anything, to help ease your burden.
If he’d been healthier , more capable , able to be by your side when it had happened then maybe-
As though his mind had been read, a voice from behind him suddenly snaps him from his thoughts.
“It couldn’t have been helped,” Silco says easily. He leans in the doorframe, looking not at Viktor but at the bed, “she would’ve run off regardless.”
Viktor sighs, unclenching his hands for a moment before turning to look at the other man. Silco moves into the room, settling on the edge of the bed by your feet.
“I was right there,” he continues as he looks down at his hand, “I was right there next to her and she ignored me. Completely dismissed me. Too tunneled in on saving the kid to-”
Both gazes snap to you for a second when a hiss leaves your lips, your brow furrowing for a moment into a grimace of pain. Viktor moves first, rising to his feet and pressing a hand gently to your cheek, and he feels how clammy your skin is. Your breath hitches when skin meets skin before he feels you turn and relax into his palm. When your breathing evens out again, both men relax.
“Hasn’t woken up yet, huh?” Silco asks. He pulls out a cigarette before realizing where he is and shoving it back into his jacket pocket.
Viktor shakes his head, slumping back onto the stool. “Not yet. The medic said that she should be able to pull through but it’s hard to say until she wakes up.”
Silco nods at that, stopping to stare at Viktor for a second and reading his expression with a judgemental stare.
“You’re spiraling,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know that look, I’ve felt what comes with that look, and I’m letting you know right now that you need to try and stop it.”
Viktor huffs a little at that, smoothing your hair away from your face before letting his hand rest once more in his lap. He picks at his nails- a bad habit he’d always had when he got too anxious but not one he’d ever been able to kick- and avoids looking at Silco.
“Do not presume to know what I’m feeling,” he says with a bit more venom dripping from his tone than he intended.
“You’re blaming the wrong party,” Silco tells him. Again, it irks Viktor to no end how he talks to him like he’s somehow better versed in this subject. As though he knows exactly what Viktor might be feeling. The assurance in his tone makes him far more frustrated than he should be letting it. So instead of spitting more anger in the other man’s direction, Viktor instead tilts his head a little in confusion, wordlessly encouraging him to elaborate on what he’d just said.
“None of this,” and Silco gestures vaguely to you, “ would have happened if it weren’t for Topside trying to exert their power over us. If they weren’t already looking for a fight when we got there. For fuck’s sake, they even involved civilians.”
“How do you know they were looking?” Viktor asks. “That it wasn’t something instigated by our end?”
“You weren’t there so you didn’t see,” Silco scoffs a little as he thinks back to the start of the riot, “no one from our end threw a punch. Barely lifted a finger other than chanting and holding up signs. We wanted peace. It was an Enforcer who threw that first hit, they were waiting for as many of us as they thought would be there before they started.”
Silco stands up, making his way across the room, he stops at the table where a jug of water had been left. He fills up a cup, taking a long drink before continuing.
“They corralled us like a fucking herd of poros,” he laughs bitterly. “We fell right into their stupid little trap.”
“What does Vander think of all this?” Viktor asks quietly.
You shift in your sleep, the blanket falling away from your torso, and Viktor makes quick work of readjusting it so it’s tucked comfortably around you.
“ Vander ,” Silco spits the name out, “thinks that we should lay low for the time being.”
Viktor grits his teeth, inhaling once sharply through his nose before letting it hiss out of him slowly into a sigh.
“If you think you’re frustrated then guess how I feel?” Silco asks with no effort to conceal the venom in his voice.
You shift again, startling Viktor into retracting his hand back to his lap.
“Why are you telling me this?” Viktor asks, grabbing his cane and using it to help him stand up.
Silco watches him from where he is now leaning on the counter, his cup of water now finished. He stands up a little straighter as Viktor rises, crossing his arms across his chest.
“I was fairly certain that you hated me,” he continues. “Or at least lukewarm about me at best.”
Silco shrugs, huffing a little which pushes his bangs out of his face.
“That is not convincing me otherwise,” Viktor grumbles.
Again, Silco shrugs and pours himself another cup of water. “I’m not fond of you, no.” He says eventually after he takes another long gulp. “I assume the sentiment is the same.”
Viktor hesitates a moment, “I wouldn’t say that.”
Silco raises a brow at him from over the rim of the cup.
“Eh-” Viktor bobs his head, “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m telling you this,” Silco says as he places his now empty cup onto the counter behind him, “because I want your help.”
Viktor stands up a little straighter, gripping his can a little tighter, and he narrows his eyes at the other man in a poor attempt to conceal his piqued interest.
Silco sighs, slumping a little as he does like a balloon deflating, as he fixes his gaze on the ground. “I want to get back at them.” He says softly. As he continues, his voice picks up gravel and anger, “I want to settle the score. Show them that we won’t just lay down and roll.”
“How?” Viktor asks and by the way that Silco looks up at that statement, he knows it’s not the reaction that was expected.
The look that crosses Silco's face is nothing short of devilish, “how quickly can you make something explosive ?”
“Well, that depends,” and the look that Viktor returns is equally if not more sinister, “how big does the explosion need to be?”
*****
There is only a brief moment where Viktor regrets helping Silco and that’s the moment leading up to watching Silco throw the first bomb.
However, seeing the first (empty- they’d checked beforehand) border checkpoint go up in flames had quickly assuaged his concerns.
It’s almost like watching a performance in a theatre, or at least, as close to one as Viktor could imagine based on what he’d read in books growing up about those kinds of grand occasions Topside.
Silco moves with a grace that’s both feline in nature with how he slinks about in the shadows, weaving and curling in a way that makes him difficult to follow despite knowing the pre-determined route that he is supposed to take. By the time the first one is thrown, glass shatters, and the building is in flames, Silco is already moving on to the next one. And despite the distance, Viktor imagines he can hear the laugh that he sees Silco is letting out in absolute reckless abandon as the flames consume everything it can.
He watches it all from the edge of the building Silco had helped him climb up, feet dangling off the side with his cane resting in his lap, from his binoculars as his partner in crime sets fire to the buildings that had started all of this in the first place.
By the time the alarms start to blare, floodlights have been turned on, and Enforcers have started to try and put out the fires, Silco is crawling up the ladder and joining Viktor.
“Would you look at that,” Silco says as he lights up a cigarette. The smell is completely lost in all of the smoke wafting its way from the destruction occurring on the bridge. “Revenge is best served hot .”
Viktor chuckles a little at the joke but the sound, even to his own ears, sounds disingenuous as he watches the chaos on the bridge.
There are Enforcers scurrying about in all directions, hoses and buckets, and anything else that can hold water currently being utilized to try and stop the damage, but it’s already too far gone for them to be able to salvage anything of what has already been completely destroyed.
“Look at them,” Silco seethes, “finally getting what they deserve.”
But for Viktor, the rage had subsided, at least somewhat. The anger is replaced by sudden anxiety, a fear that he knows is based on what the repercussions might be now that they’ve done this.
They sit without talking for hours, watching as Topside struggle to deal with what they’ve done. Silco goes through at least two more cigarettes before they’ve fully put out the flames.
“They’re going to rain hell on the Undercity for this,” Viktor says as he lowers his binoculars and lets them rest lamely on his lap. “This is only a momentary victory for us. They’ll only see this as a momentary setback and more of a reason to bring the hammer down on the Undercity.”
Silco’s fists clench where they grip the edge of the ledge, a sarcastic chuckle hissing out of his thin lips.
“If we get caught they’ll see us as nothing short of terrorists,” Viktor says. “Let alone if Vander and Benzo hear what we’ve done.”
The alarms stop ringing, filling the air with a sudden and eerie silence that only heightens Viktor’s previous fears.
“However,” Viktor continues as he lifts his binoculars back to his face just in time to see the out-of-shape Enforcer that he has heard you talk about several times throw up over the side of the bridge, “this is one very impressive setback.”
“But we could be making bigger, better setbacks than this.” Silco seethes. “If Vander and Benzo would stop putzing around, catering to them, then we could be making greater and grander statements than this.”
Viktor gulps a little at that sentiment, letting the words he was going to respond with die in his throat.
“We could finally achieve our dream- make Zaun a reality- if we did more stuff like,” and he gestures at the dying embers on the bridge. “If we really showed them what we can be capable of.”
“We finally have some real firepower under our belts,” Silco continues but is quickly cut off by Viktor.
“My inventions are not meant for fighting. This is the first and last time I will be using my talents for this,” He half-whispers in shock, “they are not meant to be weapons to start a war.”
Silco doesn’t turn to look at him but Viktor can see the way that his eyes darken.
It isn’t until the sun has started to rise on the horizon and the smoke has gradually cleared into a thick smog that blends into the regular fumes of the Undercity that Viktor and Silco slowly make their way back to the Last Drop.
Viktor is acutely aware the entire time that the trip is much slower because of him. He can see from the way that Silco has to remind himself that he is there as well that he is much more a burden than an asset now that their work is complete.
Silco helps him the entire way despite that, much to Viktor’s chagrin, however, his assistance is appreciated as they make their way through the alleys a little more cautiously than when they had when they’d made their way there in the first place considering the crime they had just committed.
Viktor can definitely understand Jayce’s complaints from years past about trying to keep up with Silco while out on the town.
“This won’t be the end of it,” Viktor says as they approach the doors, “not by a long shot. So you better prepare yourself for that.”
“What more could they take from us?” Silco replies bitterly, “they’ve only reaped what they’ve sown.”
Viktor nods at that but he knows that his eyes give away his concern as they approach the bar. The pinch of his brow, the slight clench of his jaw, and his tongue stressing the inside of his cheek make it all the more evident that he’s now feeling the repercussions of what they had done now catching up to him.
Before they can open the door, someone is yanking the large doors apart they can.
“Get yer asses in here,” Vander barks.
*****
It had always been a personal philosophy for Viktor that it’s better to do something and ask for forgiveness later than to ask for permission and be denied.
When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission.
He had always been sure of this ideology because he’d never been caught. Or at least, not been caught doing anything as substantial as sneaking out in the middle of the night with his greatest rival to set fire to several government buildings in what he knows that Topside will be qualifying as nothing short of an act of terrorism.
Viktor was used to getting in trouble, to the stern voices of people seated in positions higher than his scolding him for his recklessness, to the frustrated glares and the bite in their words whenever he got caught red-handed. However, it felt different when Vander all but shoved him onto a bar stool and Silco at the bar counter (both from firm grips on the backs of their collars like they were misbehaving animals and not men) and started yelling.
“What the fuck were you two thinking?” Vander shouts, pacing the floor in front of where Viktor and Silco are seated with heavy footsteps that echo in the empty bar. “I take my eyes off of you to deal with a situation for what-” and he huffs loudly, “ 5 seconds ? And you’re- you two are-” and his fist slamming down onto a nearby table makes Viktor jolt. Silco, somehow, remains unfazed. As though he’s completely used to being on the receiving end of Vander’s anger.
“We were sending them a message, Vander,” Silco says smoothly. He reaches behind the counter, grabbing himself a drink.
“What was the message you were trying to send them?” Vander asks firmly, hands clenched so tightly at his sides that Viktor can see the veins in his forearm flexing with the intensity of his grip. “All you’ve done is undermine every effort we have ever made-”
“That we won’t just keel over!” Silco stands as he shouts back at Vander, he abandons his untouched drink on the counter and gets right into the other man’s face with a scowl, “that we are willing to fight for our cause- for Zaun . What was the alternative? Let them continue to belittle us? Beat us down? Kill us without a fight? You saw what they did to us, you know what they did and yet you still try and defend them when we take matters into our own hands.”
Vander stands up straighter, and makes himself taller so that he can leer down at Silco, “what you two did was nothing short of betraying the cause.”
Silco laughs- literally- in Vander’s face at that.
Vander shoves Silco, hard enough to force him back two steps and out of his face, “you’re a fool.” And the sudden calm in the larger man’s voice makes both Silco and Viktor freeze.
“For two of the smartest people- of the most calculating and strategic people I know- how can you both be so stupid,” and there’s a resignation in his tone. “This isn’t how we should be doing this. This is how we lead to more death. More bloodshed.”
Neither Viktor nor Silco misses the way that Vander’s gaze tilts over to where your makeshift infirmary is at the latter part of his sentence.
That makes Silco go quiet, slinking back to his seat by the bar and finishing the rest of the drink he had poured for himself earlier and downing it in one go before slamming the empty cup onto the counter.
“How did you hear?” Viktor asks, breaking the momentary silence. He hates the tension, hates the way that it makes his nerves stand up on end, scrambling to fill the sudden silence.
“How could I not?” Vander grumbles. “The alarms have been blaring for hours! The smoke made its way down here with the wind. For fuck’s sake, your little stunt is already being whispered about through the Lanes… you’re not exactly hard to pinpoint.” And at the latter part of that, he gestures to Viktor’s cane.
Again, Viktor curses himself- curses his body for failing him, for being so cumbersome and inconvenient. His self-depreciation is cut off by Silco finding his voice again.
“Then what?” Silco asks, an almost taunting lilt to his voice, “are you going to ground us?”
Vander sighs, deep and loud, hanging his head and shaking it a little as he thinks.
Viktor sits up, clutching his cane tightly in his lap as he watches the two men settle their overpouring anger and disappointment.
“I’m benching you two,” Vander says eventually.
Silco snaps his attention back to the Vander, Viktor slowly lifting his gaze at his words.
“It was a joke Vander, you can’t do that-” Silco starts but Vander’s glare forces him into a reluctant silence.
“I can and I will.” He says. “Until this blows over. Until I know exactly what is now going to happen because of this stunt that you two pulled- you’re effectively benched until further notice.”
Silco’s jaw goes lax, and Viktor’s stare hardens at the finality of Vander’s statement.
“What exactly did you two do?” Vander asks, and he sounds tired . “Please, please tell me that it wasn’t anything too stupid.”
Viktor and Silco share uneasy glances at that question, both hesitant to unveil exactly what they had done.
Their silence seems to be enough of an answer as Vander sighs again, deeper than before somehow, and pinches the brink of his nose in frustration. He starts to pace again, not once lifting his gaze to meet the eyes of either of the other two men.
“All I asked,” Vander mutters as he paces, “was for people to lay low…”
“What would the alternative be, Vander?” Silco asks, “doing nothing is the same as forfeiting to them.”
“Stop-” Vander chokes out, “just stop.”
Vander stops pacing. Huffing once more in frustration before his shoulders slump once more in defeat. And again, it’s the sudden calm to his storm that forces Silco into very reluctant obedience.
“Go stay at their place,” Vander says as he looks firmly at Silco. “Just until we can figure out what needs to be done. Don’t leave until we send someone for you.”
Viktor looks down the hall, to the partially open door where he knows you’re still asleep inside- fighting for your life as you continue to slip in and out of consciousness. The knot from before feels like it’s strangling him, sucking all of the air out of his lungs as the ramifications of what he’s done catch up to him.
Vander follows his gaze, knowing right away what’s on his mind as he follows Viktor’s eyes to your infirmary door. “Don’t leave,” he reiterates with a firmer tone. “Until someone calls for you and lets you know that it’s safe.”
“But-” Viktor starts and Vander stops him by putting up his hand.
“We will send tabs on how she’s doin’ with Jayce.” He tells him. “If things go really downhill we’ll send someone so you can say goodbye.”
The knot finally breaks and Viktor lets in a short gasping breath. His hands hurt from gripping his cane so tightly and he suddenly has a newer, greater fear.
What if you died while he’d been away?
And Silco’s arguments blur in his ears, becoming nothing more than static and white noise as Viktor keeps his gaze firmly fixed on your door. His heart thumping so loud in his chest that he swears he can feel it reverberating in his skull.
What if you died while he was on house arrest?
His hands start to shake at the thought, knocking the handle of his cane into his thigh with each tremor that rocks his body.
What if you died and he wasn’t there for you?
Viktor can feel the bile building up in the back of his throat, threatening to spill at any moment if he doesn’t continually force it down.
“You’re dismissed.”
And Viktor snaps back into focus to stare at Vander who has stalked out of the room and any argument Viktor had wanted to make dies on his tongue as he’s left alone with Silco who looks absolutely furious. His hair is disheveled- like he’d run his hands through them several times- his eyes are wide with his pupils blown wide, and like it’d been contagious, now it’s Silco that’s pacing and muttering to himself under his breath.
“What does he not understand,” Silco seethes as he walks over to where Viktor is still sitting. “His pacifism is what’s undermining our organization. I can’t understand what that coward is thinking! Of all the things-”
Viktor starts to tune him out, eyes falling back to your door. Should he go back and say goodbye just in case? The very thought that he’s entertaining the idea you might die on him makes Viktor want to throw up. The bile burns the back of his throat as he tries to push those ugly, angry, and dark thoughts as far back as he can.
You’d live. You had to live.
Wordlessly, Viktor stands up and follows Silco who despite his angry ramblings is still following Vander’s orders and making his way out of the Last Drop. He looks back over his shoulder at your door one last time before he leaves, his heart going from beating too hard in his chest to feeling like it’s stopped beating entirely as the door shuts behind him.