Chapter Text
"You did what?" Jayce turns, seething, teeth bared and brows furrowed, voice cold.
Viktor stares at the area between Jayce's brows, counting the creases, trying to figure out just how angry his long time coworker and lab partner is. Very, Viktor determines, dragging his eyes toward Jayce's. "Out of everyone we know, I thought you would understand." There's a hint of confusion in his tone.
Only Jayce doesn't understand, and he can't tell whether Viktor is being genuine or feigning innocence. "Y-" He turns to face the thinner man, who still slouches over the crutch that was once a cane, an extension. He breathes in, slow, trying to steady his emotions, and then slowly he exhales, a calloused hand running along his face. "You can't be serious, Viktor." He sounds defeated, upset, disappointed, while purposefully avoiding eye contact.
Step, click, step, click- the noise echoes, bouncing off the walls and high ceilings of their shared lab. Viktor searches for Jayce's gaze, trying to get a better read on him, but he can't. He's not strong enough to push Jayce's slouched shoulder up, or flexible enough to lean over to make the other look at him. Viktor's nose slightly flexes as he takes a deep inhale and puffs out an exhale, like a timid bull, ready to rush at the red that surrounds him, that claws at the walls of his damaged lungs. "Jayce-"
"Don't lecture me." Jayce interrupts, immediately straightening himself, hand hovering near his face as he glares down at Viktor. "Don't you dare lecture me on this-"
Viktor shakes his head in disbelief, or confusion. "It's not a big deal-"
"Oh, but it is." Jayce's hands are at his sides, fingers curled, fists shaking, as he towers over Viktor who's always slouching, always seemingly close to collapsing. He doesn't dismiss his anger, seeing as to how his friend isn't cowering, but instead glaring up and back at him, hazel eyes unwavering. He motions an arm toward Viktor's work desk, where the Hexcore twists and turns as it floats, as if listening, as if feeling the emotions laid thick in the air. "You shot up Shimmer! The one of many things damaging your-" He motions the same arm toward Viktor. "-'precious Zaun'. The very home you're trying to gut and remodel. For what? For a mutilated limb, at the cost of our lab assistant?!"
Viktor looks away as if though he's been slapped, though his glare remains fixed as he stares off in the opposite direction from his desk, not wanting to look at the Core, not wanting to see the journal and glasses he couldn't bring himself to dispose of or hide in time before Jayce actually returned to the lab for more than a few seconds and short glances. It was usually Viktor in the lab nowadays, while Jayce helped manage the Council at Maderda's side. If the younger man did come in, it was to see that everything was running smoothly, or to turn some cogs to something he was co-inventing.
'Hey, Vik,' Jayce had said during one of those visits, pausing in anticipation as he waited for Viktor to swivel in his chair to look at the man, the Golden Boy of Piltover's face falling in shame when he was met with an irate expression. 'Look, I'm really busy. I'm not trying to avoid my side of things, and I'm not trying to pile them onto you. I just-...' He had sighed, looking toward the ground between them. 'The Council needs my help, and I can't-'
Viktor had interrupted him with a wave of his hand as he turned away, grabbing for his protective goggles, pausing to looks down to them. 'It's fine.' He had lied, placing them over his head and adjusting the gear against the skin around his eyes. 'I can manage. The Council needs you. I understand.' And he hoped he didn't sound jealous, or come off as childish.
Regardless, it didn't matter how Jayce interpreted the response or tone of Viktor's voice, because nothing more was said, and after half a minute of verbal silence that floated above the sound of tinkering tools, Jayce's expensive shoes clicked against the polished marble of the lab, opened the doors, and left without slamming them behind him.
The memory only lasted a few seconds within Viktor's mind, which made him huff out a cynical curt laugh, before he looked back up toward Jayce, who stared down at him with confusion. Of course the younger man would- he just called Viktor a careless scientist, a murderer, and the sickly man laughed. "Did you even know her name?" He inquired in a mocking tone, an arched brow adding to the blow.
Shaking his head, caught off by such a question, Jayce sputtered before gathering himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean-"
"Exactly as it sounds." Viktor smoothly interrupted, question resting at the curve of his forced smirk. "You were never here, not since you became the sole inventor, the innovative genius, of Piltover's progression toward the future-"
"That's not fair." Jayce snapped, closing in. "You wanted nothing to do with public image. You think it's easy for me to stand on stages alone? You think it's fair that you get to sit beside or behind me, quietly, while I have to deliver entire speeches? You think I'm comfortable with having my face on banners and- and mugs?!" He shakes his head when Viktor's face changes into something indecipherable, but if 'oh poor child, the privilege must be such a nightmare, a burden to have your features admired' was a look, it's what his friend was wearing before he turned away, pacing toward the Hexcore, reaching for Sky's belongings atop the table. "I'm out there doing what needs to be done, to push our ideas and efforts, to build our image. You're the one who decided to hide, to close himself off from everyone." Jayce reaches Viktor's work desk, hesitates, then gently places a palm onto Sky's journal, his fingertips brushing against the rim of her broken glasses. His anger dissipates, and sadness begins to flood. "Then the one person who admired you among the crowds who praise me- the one person who was here for you, wanted to be like you someday..." His fingers slowly drag along the journals surface, toward his palm, careful to not damage its surface with his nails. "The one person who knew who to reward with the attention that you deserved-" His fingers curl further, turning into a loose fist. "Is killed by your selfish ambitions."
That does it.
Viktor's calm demeanor snaps like a thin branch beneath a heavy foot, and he hobbles toward Jayce, teeth bared and brows furrowed. He encloses a hand around Jayce's broad shoulder, but as he had previously suspected, he doesn't have the strength to turn him. Instead, Jayce does the favor of slightly looking over to him, a grimace to his features when he sees his friends contorted face. "My 'Selfish Ambitions'?!" He nearly shouts. He knows the volume of his words shouldn't spike so high in the quiet room, but his mind is reeling, thoughts racing, and he hears it like the thunderous clapping of a large audience. "This was always what it was meant to be!" He pushes off Jayce's shoulder, walking around him to stand before the Hexcore, letting his crutch rest against the table. Viktor places both hands on the paper littered surface, glaring intently at the Core. "We were supposed to use Hextech to help those in need," He throws a hand up. "Not further spoil the privileged!" He spits out, visibly disgusted, the hand waving about in between himself and Jayce slaps against the tables surface so hard, that it makes the Hexcore vibrate as it tries to keep itself suspended in its fixed place. "So what happens instead?" He stares at the runes on the sides of the Core. "You sleep with the beautiful Councilor, and just like that, she has you in the palm of her greedy hands." His shoulders further curl into him as the anger boils, muscles taught. He wants to hit the table again, he wants to grab the Hexcore and present it to his stubborn lab partner just to make a point, he wants to throw his chair into the window and watch is break, throw his crutch alongside it, throw himself from it so that he never has to repeat himself again, never feel so viscerally disgusted and used. Instead he looks over to Jayce, breathing heavy, unable to read the other mans face, because he sees past the taller, doesn't care to take note of his size, his health, the injustice of it all. "She used you, and like some stray, you desperately fed from her palm. Poor Jayce," He looks away, taking advantage of the other mans silence. "The little lamb led astray by ambition, who nearly lost it all, who was nearly cast out. Reeled back in with promise, given his opportunities, funded, embraced, celebrated, all thanks to the beautiful women clad in the riches of gold and expensive silk!" Viktor visibly flinches, eyes going wide, at the the sudden loud clatter behind him.
Viktor is paralyzed in abrupt fear, and doesn't dare move.
"Enough!" Jayce shouts, voice deep, threatening, like a wolf biting at an misbehaved cub, snapping its long canines and ready to bite.
Viktor's swivel chair lays on its side, slightly turning against the floor after the initial impact.
He slowly looks over his shoulder toward it, eyes slowly crawling up to meet Jayce's face. He suddenly realizes what he said, and none of it was kind, proper.
None of it is what someone would say to a friend of over 10 years. Guilt bubbles up, eating at the walls of Viktor's stomach, clawing at the branches in his lungs. The feeling of something seizing within his chest is enough to prompt a cough while he gazes up at Jayce's red face, angrier than before, than anything Viktor's ever witnessed first hand. He doesn't realize he's coughed, not until it happens again, and again. His hand balls up to a fist and on instinct flies up to cover against his lips as the sound becomes too loud to ignore. He doesn't look to Jayce as he turns away, facing the floor as his lungs seize, and the coughing doesn't stop. At first it feels like a relatively normal cough, as one would have if slightly ill. Then it gets worse, the sound of it rattling around his aching throat.
Finally it sounds wet, slimy, full of phlegm, wet with blood- his blood.
Viktor feels his body move with a forceful tug before he can even think, pulling him away from where he stands, as if though he was being tugged from the top of the stairs after tripping, or yanked from the edge of a cavern before tipping over.
His biceps hurt as Viktor curls further into himself, shaking, trying to make it stop, to get some air in as he screws his lids shut.
"What?" Jayce is breathing out, heavy, grip tightening.
Even though Viktor isn't looking at him, he can tell that Jayce isn't directing the question toward him. He looks up curiously, his thoughts not catching up to him just yet, as he stares up at Jayce in visible confusion. Why did he sound frightened? He follows Jayce's line of sight, and realizes-
Jayce shakes his head, eyes wide. "What the hell was that?" He practically whispers as he stares at the Hexcore, as they both watch it twist and turn in the air, as if though it's been shocked by high volts of electricity.
Viktor knows, he understands. He lets his balled fist slowly fall to his side, not commenting on the vice grip around his arms, as he solemnly stares at the raging Core. What Jayce may see is sudden chaos, set off by something that was perhaps happening during the argument. Viktor's eyes glaze over as he sees it desperately lash out, tendrils of purple sparks, energy, magic, shoots out around it, like solar flares spitting out from a sun. Viktor looks away from his design, avidly ignoring Jayce as he continues to ask the core, Viktor, anyone, perhaps even the ghost of Sky, for answers or at the very least a hint of an explanation. The smaller of the two stares at the fresh splotches of blood that rest and drip around the curl of his fingers, seeping into the gaps of his flesh, dropping onto the floor between them.
"You know something, don't you?" Jayce asks while looking at the Hexcore, but then turns to look down at Viktor. His grip tightens again when the other doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to listen, or care to. His nails practically bite into the skin below Viktor's sleeves as he roughly shakes him (Viktor isn't present enough to take note of how uncharacteristic it is for Jayce to rough hand him after a coughing fit), and when the smaller is roused, eyes meeting, Jayce's eyes narrow. "What aren't you telling me, Viktor?"
The older stares up at his friend for a moment, vacant of any telling expression, not knowing how to broach the subject. His face suddenly falls as he looks away, because why does it matter? What could he say that would be worse? He's already admitted to involuntarily killing Sky, he had to explain to Jayce the reason behind the shattered and empty syringe on the floor, didn't get rid of their assistants items or the drug fast enough to hide his crime, his weaknesses. "The Hexcore responds to my blood." His words leave him like a winded man, eyes looking toward the Core. "It's as I mentioned before in passing, regarding its nature, what it may want in order to react as we hope." He uncurls his fist, fingers gently splaying out as he stares at his palm, noting the many scars in which he mutilated himself to feed his experiment. "I think I provided myself too often."
Jayce lets go of the others arms, as if though he was scalded with hot iron. Just as quickly, his hands shoot out to grab at Viktor's hand before the smaller man has any time to react, and he chooses to ignore the bewildered and somewhat frightened expression that Viktor wears as the smaller man looks between himself and his blood covered palm. Jayce's eyes are trailing, reading something, counting all the scars, or as much as he can before something inside of him burst. Fear, anger, a sense of betrayal, and above all, he's hurt. He let's go of Viktor's hand, meeting his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" There's no trembling to his words as he steadily asks, voice low, demanding. "You could've told me," He motions an arm toward the Hexcore, bloodied fingers extending, involuntarily teasing the starving anomaly. "You should have told me, before it got worse!"
Viktor stumbles in place, no longer being held by his friends vice grip around his arms, or hand, and he looks toward the ground where his swivel chair remains, his crutch laying beside it. He's going to fall if he takes a step away, not yet familiar with the balance of a new and unfamiliar limb, but he won't dare ask Jayce for help, not now. Instead he focuses on his posture as best he can, trying to keep his legs from shaking as best he can, while he looks up to the other, glaring, finding the concern to be akin to pity. "It hasn't become 'worse'." He shakes his head in frustration, ignoring the way Jayce's lips curl over his teeth, visibly ready to retort. "In case you have forgotten, I am a scientist." He leans in, though carefully so, knowing that if he shifts his weight any further, his knees will buckle. "I'm also the one who's been working without a single off day to help you realize your dreams!" He watches as Jayce almost speaks, but ends it with- "You're no better than Heimerdinger. A naïve fool who uses others to climb ladders. To be remembered. To be praised and celebrated centuries from now."
The concept of velocity is very well studied in the scientific practice of physics- kinematics, specifically. Viktor remembers reading such books whenever Singed would provide one to him. Scientific books were never stolen, instead, they were provided by request, though as a child, Viktor didn't know of this exchange, or the specifics of it. Singed, despite his unruly nature and prickly personality- despite his seemingly yawning apathy regarding anything outside of scientific studies and its many branches, he had taken Viktor in after realizing the Zaunite child's potential and hunger for knowledge. It was too late for Singed- an old man who rotted in caves, thin and fragile, sullen and sickly. He presented the opportunity to Viktor instead, a child in place of the one he himself had lost- though Viktor was not family, never family.
Viktor would later learn of Heimerdinger, who was communicating with Singed (the rumored 'surprisingly capable doctor from the pits', who practically crawled from Zaun to reach the high Councilor), promising a bright mind with the potential to change the scientific world, with the ability to discover new things, with the starving ache and hunger or deciphering complicated theories and pivoting the world into something new, something agreed upon with opportunities far and wide for all. Heimerdinger had apparently hesitated, not privy to the minds in Zaun, knowing about their living conditions, their lack of education, their missing city posh etiquette, no manners to speak of. Surely, a young boy who built a small mechanic boat out of Zaun's garbage wasn't what Singed was making him out to be? However the books kept coming, the boys mind became fuller, his need for more became wider, and Heimerdinger was sold.
Only in a cruel twist of fate, Viktor wasn't only a student, he was also Heimerdinger's personal assistant, and the Councilor was his patron- something that very few in the academy ever had ever been blessed with. Viktor who once took this role with stride, came to condemn it. Singed had promised him a future where he could use his findings to further delve into the world of science and engineering, to become someone who would help guide and teach his patron and fellow classmates. Instead he was quieted, neatly tucked into a shelf among many dusting books, as Heimerdinger continued to live his incredibly extensive life, as if though the years that already passed were mere seconds, and Viktor's limited years were hardly an inconvenience to him. He learned that for someone who was pretty much immortal, the idea of another Viktor showing up in a few decades, or probably centuries more, wasn't that daunting. The small professor had all the time he needed, and his assistant was only a blip, a moment in his timeline.
Which is why he followed Jayce that night, the best he could, while trying to be as quiet as possible with his walking cane. The rain was enough to mask the sound of its clacking against cobblestone, but it became an even more challenging task when Jayce had reached the destroyed building. Fortunately it seemed like the younger student was too distracted in thought, and Viktor, journal in hand, followed a decent distance behind, peeking through the cracked door as he watched the other rest a wax sealed note on a soot covered surface, a leather bracelet atop it. He watched curiously at first, recognizing the motions, something all too familiar for a man who was bullied when younger for his physical disabilities, both in Zaun and in the earlier years of the academy. He knew of the crawling, clawing feeling under the skin as the voices in ones mind yelled an incomprehensible cacophony of sound. Viktor knew of the need to get rid of the feeling, abruptly. The journal in his hand spoke of promises, something he managed to steal after Jayce was put to trail, out of curiosity. A Piltover Academy peer, with a patron of his own (who also happened to be part of the Council as well), spoke of things long since forgotten and borderline forbidden, and so, without hesitating, Viktor interrupted.
The Hexcore reaches out with a thin purple tendril, and it almost looks like a disfigured limb, resembling the radial and tangential competent of Polar Coordinates for only just a moment, before vacuuming back into itself.
Right- the concept of velocity, the fascinating study of displacement, the sudden acceleration when something is instantaneously forced into motion.
The Hexcore wasn't reaching out to help, or to grab Viktor before he fell. It was reaching out to take more from Viktor, and in the grand of things, the Core wasn't alone.
Viktor is now bewildered, looking toward the floor between his splayed out legs, before registering what had just happened.
Pain bursts, radiating throughout the entirety of Viktor's twisted braced back, and he looks up toward Jayce, now paying mind to the abrupt sensations coursing throughout his weak body after having lived with chronic pain since the day he could acknowledge his existence.
Viktor realizes that he was pushed- no, shoved. Jayce had done something he never did in their ten years of knowing each other- he intentionally hurt Viktor. His palms ached, and he looked around, wondering when that happened, and why did it happen so fast that he can't even remember falling, mouth opening and closing around a question.
"You've known me for so long," Jayce doesn't seem to regret the action, anger still evident, but his fingers flex, open closed, open closed. His body is already reacting before his mind, and soon he'll be swallowed by guilt. For now he was upset, and the sensations above his neck were warm, ugly, wild like a fire in a dry forest, burning at the edges of guilt that threatened to reach his mind. "You know me better than anyone, and that's what you think this is? You think that's who I am? You truly believe that after all this time, that's what we are?" He shakes his head, pacing away in half circles, toward the Hexcore that reaches out toward the hand dotted with Viktor's blood, feet then turning and walking to center of the room. He's dealing with an internal war that's raging in his mind as he tries to find the right words. Abruptly coming to a halt, he looks down toward Viktor, ignoring the way the older man pitifully brings his knees up as he rests his feet onto the ground. Jayce extends his arm, presenting the room. "None of this- I wouldn't have had any of this, if it weren't for you." His voice is low, threatening against any possible rebuttal from Viktor. "If you hadn't stopped me that day, I would've been a broken corpse at the bottom of some buildings sidewalk." He pauses as Viktor looks away. "You had everything to lose. Everything! Still, you snuck into Heimerdinger's storage room and took back my notes, my research. If nothing went our way that night, you would've been drinking from a gutter in Zaun." It sounds like an insult, a threat, and he notices the way Viktor grimaces, perhaps imagining the alternative had the Hextech crystal failed to work within the impromptu machine. "I couldn't have figured out Hextech if not for you," His voice softens, the tenseness in his features relaxing, but only for a moment until he remembers exactly why he was so upset. He glares down at Viktor. "And you think I'm using you to be, what? Turned into some legend that'll echo out for centuries to become like those statues Heimerdinger proudly ogles at?" Jayce scoffs, shaking his head, turning away as he rubs at the nape of his hair. "Unbelievable." He mutters under his breath.
Through the thick and awkward silence, the Hexcore sings its frustrations as it still reaches out toward the scent of Viktor's drying blood.
Viktor looks down at his too thin thighs, his knobby knees that practically jut out from his slacks, and then to the discolored ankle that peaks between the cuff and his sock. He realizes, now, that what he's said wasn't intentional, not really. He stares at the purple metallic limb, and knows that he said such cruel things to his one and only true friend, out of anger. No malice was ever directed toward Jayce. This resentment was toward himself. For as long as he'll live, whenever he looks toward his discolored limbs, he'll remember Sky's face as the Core tore her apart, will forever feel her strong embrace around his bare torso as she tried to pull him away from the hungry anomaly, as she tried to desperately save him from himself.
He feels foreign in his own body, once again, as he would whenever he came to terms with dying from his terminal illness, only this time it's worse. It's horrible. Sky became a pile of ash in exchange. Perhaps parts of her melded into him, like the brace of his formerly flesh leg? Maybe the Core didn't destroy everything organic, and left pieces of her bone, or a hairpin, maybe even a part from the rims of her damaged glasses.
He feels ill, suddenly nauseous, that he wonders if he's going to get sick on the floor. Viktor doesn't even want to get up. Why did he plant his feet onto the ground and bring his knees toward his chest as if though had any chance of standing on his own? Slowly he extends his legs as they were, pathetically splayed out before him, just as he was when he fell- when he was shoved by a man shouldering the expectations that Viktor was too cowardly to present alongside him.
Perhaps he should just remain as he is on the ground.
Hopefully the Core rages enough, craves, desperately hungry, and reaches to him, snatches his weak body, drags him across like a weightless stiff doll, and consumes him entirely before Jayce can prevent it, before the other even realizes what's happening.
Viktor didn't even know he had been staring at the ground between his legs until a tan and calloused hand further extends toward him. He knows it belongs to Jayce, but he observes for just a moment, taking note of just how healthy the flesh of him looked, especially for a person in their early thirties, more so surprisingly considering how often he used this hand to smith from the experience he learned since childhood beside an adoring father.
"Come on."
Amid the concern, there's a hint of impatience in Jayce's tone, and Viktor wonders how long the other had been standing before him, hunched over and reaching out with an offering hand. Viktor looks to him, uncertain. He wants to shake his head, tell him to just leave him. He feels horrible, not so much for what he's said, as they were in the heat of an argument (and he knows most arguments use vile hurtful words to try and claim victory). He's certain Jayce knows this too, even though they both grew up without siblings. They've argued before, plenty of times. It's expected when you're close friends with someone.
He feels horrible because he suddenly realizes his worth, and it's not because he's learned through Jayce that it was Viktor who was responsible for the beating heart that didn't stand still ever since the deadly plunge was prevented. Instead of feeling relieved, he feels horrible because Viktor realizes that he's always been used, and others refused to acknowledge their part in it, because at the end of the day, a Zaunite is hardly worth remembering, let alone humanizing.
He's stubborn. Always has been. He knows that his mind is being unnecessarily cruel. Instead of telling him that Jayce is right, that had it not been for him, equations wouldn't have been solved, theories would've never been born, Hextech and its studies would've been tossed into a blast furnace by one of Heimerdinger's staff. Instead of Viktor's stress damaged brain reminding him how crucial his part was in all of this, it reminds him of his weakened body, of how pitiful he had become, of the little time he had left, and the life that was sacrificed just so that he could experience what it was like to walk and run without aid.
"I'm sorry." Jayce almost whispers when Viktor has yet to take his hand, eyes softening.
Viktor want to ask him why he's apologizing. He should be the one apologizing instead. How could he say such a thing to Jayce, the man who was reasonably upset with him? The only person who also believed in him, who saw him more than just some Academy Assistant to some old school traditional Council member with outdated biased opinions? Who didn't say anything cruel in return? Who reminded him of his worth- and he was apologizing? To the fallen man who couldn't stand up despite the sacrifice made to provide him a better leg?
He looks up, staring at his friends fallen expression, then toward the extended hand. He doesn't want to be helped, not anymore. However he doesn't want to express this in front of someone else. Worrying Jayce (who's apologizing to the person who insulted him so cruelly) is not something Viktor could tolerate.
The smaller man is so deeply lost in thought, that he doesn't seem to realize Jayce kneeling before him, eyes searching, concerned. "Viktor?" He tries, voice at the edge of panic as his gaze shoots from one limb to the next. "Oh shit, I didn't hurt you did I?- I mean, fuck, I know I did, I shouldn't have pushed you- I'm sorry-I-" His hands are already springing forward, trying to find the reason behind Viktor's behavior. He's obviously scared, wondering if the man broke or fractured something after being forcefully shoved. Only his hands never rest on Viktor, because the older man takes his shaking hands into his cold palms.
"I'm..." Viktor pauses, pulling himself back to the current, looking up toward his friend. "I'm alright." He lies. There's a bruise forming at his tailbone, and the brace that connects along his spine feels like it was painfully jostled out and back into place. His head is pounding with a stress migraine. He looks around, avoiding Jayce, searching for something but finding nothing to stare at. "It's fine, don't apologize-"
Jayce shakes his head. "Don't apologize? I shoved you, Viktor!" He snaps, but not at his friend, and he hopes the other knows as much. "I hurt you, and I know better than to intentionally cause you physical harm." His eyes are pleading, wanting the other to snap at him.
Instead there's hesitation in Viktor's uncertain gaze as he takes in the 'I know better than to', lips frowning. "Is it because I'm a cripple?" He prods the sleeping lion, waiting with a javelin to pierce its stomach in anger. He wants no pity.
Jayce sighs, and the the sound of it is rough. "No, you idiot!" Jayce breathes out in frustration, head bowing as he collects himself. He's always been so emotional, so open to express his every thought, every word and action. He slowly and gently rests his hands on Viktor's shoulders, hoping that the contact and his presence being so close isn't intimidating. "Viktor, I care about you. It's not because of your illness. Sure, sometimes you scare the shit out of me when you don't stop coughing. Do I think about the day I was woken up at three in the morning because you were in the hospital? I can't stop thinking about it, but it's not because I pity you, it's never been because of that." He pauses, searching Viktor's eyes. "It's because you matter to me. You're my friend- my only friend. I'm allowed to be worried when you get sick, or when you do something stupid."
Practically having to peel his gaze away from Jayce's pleading eyes, Viktor looks toward his desk, unable to avoid the sight of the irate Hexcore as he stares at Sky's broken glasses, resting atop her former journal. "Using Shimmer was only theoretical." He mumbles, ignoring the slight press of Jayce's fingertips around his shoulders. "I wasn't trying to use it recreationally. A former mentor explained its many properties, and how he uses it, in larger quantities, on a terminally ill Waverider." His eyes narrow, brows wince. "Its name is Rio." He adds softly, sadly. "My former mentor is forcing her to remain in excruciating levels of pain, suspended, perhaps paralyzed or truly in a coma-like-state, to test the theory of longevity. In its suffering, he's discovered Shimmer's many alternative uses, especially when it comes to something mechanical. It works like a fuel. He promised that it would alter my body if I incorporated shimmer with the Hexcore." Viktor looks away from Sky's broken glasses, and toward the Core, which is now starting to calm, perhaps realizing it wasn't going to be fed. "It was a long shot, but I had this idea after realizing that the Hexcore consumed organic matter, and also altered it. You were there when we first tested this theory, with the fern."
"I remember." Jayce responds, voice hushed, cautious. "I also remember watching it wither away just as quickly."
Viktor nods. "I experimented further, implemented some theories of my own that I didn't dare share with you, because I knew you'd disapprove." He knows he's right when Jayce doesn't interrupt or respond at all. "I learned that it can extend the life it creates if it's provided an exchange of life, to put it lightly."
Jayce nods, making sense of it. "Blood, flesh." He looks toward the core, his fingers easing as he glances toward Sky's journal. "You were giving it your blood because you wanted it to..." He trails off, further prodding his own theory, his own versions of this story.
"I wanted to see if it could extend my life." Viktor admits. "It remained unpredictable. If I altered myself, only slightly, to incorporate the information needed, then maybe it could extend certain areas of my body." He looks toward his body. "It did change me, but it also changed itself, as you can see."
There. The gavel drops and the courtroom echoes with the sound of it. It's time for final judgement, for a verdict, for the jury to lose any sense of sympathy for the pathetic man who flew too close.
Letting out a shaky breath, Jayce stares at Viktor's chest for a moment, gathering himself. "Sky was the trade."
"It's sentient, but not entirely capable of complex consciousness. It only acts on instinct, and its sole purpose, as far as I can currently tell, is to create so long as there's a trade, equivalent or not." Viktor adds, staring at the Core as well, gaze unwavering as water burned and brimmed. "Had she not been there, the Hexcore would have alternatively consumed me." He huffs out a curt chuckle. "Perhaps it should have." He feels Jayce turning to stare at the side of his face, though he can't tell what expression his friend wears. "Perhaps I should've been killed in her place, for being a desperate and foolish man." His eyes drop toward the broken syringe on the floor, and the water floods, running along the curves and sharp dips on his cheeks.
A beat of silence, then Jayce takes in a sharp breathe. "You didn't even know if the Shimmer would have helped you with the transmutation?" He stares at Viktor's face, watches the tears as they run along his too sharp jawline. When his friend doesn't respond, he digs the tips of his fingers around thin shoulders and give a light shake. "Viktor, what would've happened if it didn't work?"
Viktor's eyes dart toward the ground, brows slightly arched as he considers the question. "I would have most likely died." He confesses, and doesn't grimace when Jayce tightens his hold.
"You would have 'most likely' died?" Jayce deadpans incredulously.
"Well, yes, rather," Viktor nods, looking to the other. "I would have died. I used much more than the typical Zaunite does recreationally." His expression relaxes, and it feels so wrong when he adds, "I would have undoubtedly overdosed."
An immediate, involuntary sound escapes Jayce's throat, desperately staring at Viktor. "Why would you do such a stupid thing, Vik? You could have died."
Viktor lets out a curt laugh, his shoulders shrug, slightly curling into himself as he stares at his lap. "Why did you want to jump?"
It's enough to silence them.
Jayce leans away. The words swirl in his mouth, making the sides of his jaw flex as his teeth grind against each other. "Did you want to die?"
"No." Viktor doesn't hesitate. "Instead, I wanted to live, but only if I could live a life where I no longer suffered. If the Shimmer failed, which it practically has, considering how things went, I would have died. If it succeeded, a part of me would have evolved, changed. I would no longer have to worry about death, about my illness. I could live for much longer. My dreams of saving Zaun would be seen, and I would die a happy man, cured after pursuing his ambition." He shakes his head. "A leg that I could run with wasn't what I had hoped, but I can't even take that for granted since it cost Sky's life." He closes his eyes, suddenly so exhausted.
"Do you still want to die?"
Viktor opens his eyes. Jayce is consumed with concern. He considers answering honestly, straightforward, just to get it out of the way. Only that's not how Jayce's brain works. He doesn't process information without strands of context to grab onto. Viktor's eyes look toward the ceiling, vaulted, glistening with crystal blue mosaic shards. "When I first found you, you couldn't do anything for yourself. Not entirely. You were so uncertain about your own ability, you relied on your patrons, the professors, the Council, and myself." He doesn't dare look at his friend. "You've proven yourself more than capable. You can handle all of this alone. I haven't even been working toward innovations toward Zaun, because it doesn't matter what I say or try, the Council and the people of Piltover will always see it as a wasted effort. Instead I've been trying to play god with an anomaly that only sees me as food. I told myself the Shimmer was a one time thing, but I can't stop." His eyes narrow at the memory, running along the bridge, racing toward nothing for the first time in his life without pain. "I felt, complete. In exchange for Sky, I got this leg. In exchange for the knowledge obtained from Rio's suffering, I could use these mutated limbs in ways I couldn't before." He finally looks to Jayce, who's staring at Viktor with borderline terror (perhaps at the cusp of hysteria) as his partner of more than ten years confirmed his fears. "I continue to exist off the suffering of others-"
"That's not true-"
"It is." Viktor is resolute as he immediately cuts Jayce off. "I'm not entirely sure, but I feel like these mutations have slightly extended my life. As if the Core's half-life is providing new means of biology, melding into my own, removing portions of damaged cells, helping with adequate circulation of blood platelets and the oxygen it provides to my lungs, and heart." He raises his gloved hand, removing it to reveal it further. "You suffer in my presence, because you are terrified about my health. I can see it, the way you stare as if though I'm going to drop dead at any moment. It's hindering your capabilities."
Jayce sighs. "Viktor-"
"I don't enjoy living, Jayce." Viktor meets his gaze. A long pause follows. They stare at each other in uncomfortable silence. With a nod, he motions toward his friend. "Help me up."
The subject change is jarring, making Jayce a confused mess. One moment his friend is telling him that he was probably going to die, nearly died, and now that he wants to die? He can't just change the subject like that-
"Jayce, please. My back is starting to hurt. I need to sit in my chair before my leg starts to cramp." Viktor sighs, holding his flesh hand between them.
As if though slapped back into a memory, Jayce removes his hands from Viktor's shoulders and leans away, taking Viktor's mutated hand, helping him up as they both come to a stand. He frowns, guilt starting to eat at him. "Sorry." He mumbles again, reaching down to scoop the fallen chair and rest it upright. "Here." He guides, spinning it so that it faces Viktor while making sure that it wasn't close to the Hexcore. Viktor sighs a relieved appreciation, practically melting into his seat. "Viktor, we can't not talk about this." He says after a moment of hesitation.
"I'm sure. I just don't want to talk about it right now." Viktor slouches into his seat as best he can without hurting his aching back. "I'm exhausted. I haven't been able to sleep well after..." He trails off, staring at a particular spot on the ground. He swears he can see smudges of ash on the ground.
Jayce comes into view, brows pressed. "You seriously expect me to let you take a nap while I return to my civic duties?"
Viktor nods, turning his chair away. The motion suddenly stops as Jayce grabs the backrest, forcing Viktor to face him.
"My best friend just told me that he's suicidal, and doesn't 'enjoy living', and you want me to, what?" His arms raise and drop to his sides. "Just continue on my merry way to those old pompous dicks in the Council? So that I'd return only for you to-to you maybe being gone?"
Viktor sighs out a chuckle. "You honestly believe I'd do that? That I shouldn't be alone right now?"
"Yes." Jayce doesn't hesitate, folding his arms against his chest as he glares. "I've been where you are, and not just over a decade ago." He waits, seeing something change in Viktor's gaze. He suddenly falters, the feelings of inner turmoil returning. "Just recently, I..." He looks away, considers the confession. "A woman who goes by Vi, a friend of Caitlyn's, asked if I could help them take down a large Shimmer distillery in Zaun." He shakes his head, vision swimming, diving into the memory. "I didn't know. I was too far gone. Too focused. So... So angry." He looks towards Viktor, terrified. "It was a kid. He couldn't have past 14 years of age. I wasn't thinking straight and I-"
"So you hurt a kid in Zaun." Viktor shrugs, but it's clear that the nonchalance is just for show. He's trying to help Jayce out of a mood, as he typically did (though that often went unnoticed). "They're tougher than the kids of Piltover. I'm sure he's fine." Viktor shakes his head while waving a hand off in his direction.
"He's dead... Viktor." Jayce's voice is so quiet, and he can feel the floor beneath him tremble as Viktor's eye meet him again. "I murdered- I..." His voice is shaking. "I built that hammer, for good. To protect. Instead I killed a kid." He glares at the hammer, then toward his trembling hand. "A child, Viktor. It didn't matter that he was from Zaun. It didn't matter if he would've grown up to deal Shimmer. I took his life, and in that moment, watching him die, I was back in that room, standing at the hole in the wall, wondering if it was worth it, going on, living, knowing that I did something so terrible." He looks back toward Viktor. "Don't imagine that I don't know what you're feeling, Viktor. The only difference as of right now is that I'm willing to face the consequences of my action. But you? You're trying to run from it. You're trying to cower your way out of it."
Viktor watches him with a hollow expression. He should feel upset, at the very least somewhat bothered. He was just insulted, after they both poured their hearts out. Only Jayce wasn't far from the mark. Perhaps Viktor was a coward after all. The question was, 'did he care?'. Did he care about dying? What further consequences should he face?
He wasn't like Jayce, who could carry such a sin with the idea of continuing forward.
Besides, he was doomed to die relatively soon anyway. Why did carrying the weight of his sin until death matter, when there wasn't enough time for retribution? "Better I just end it here, then." He mutters, responding to his thoughts.
Jayce tenses. "Why?"
"You have all the time in the world to right your wrongs. To heal from your guilt." Viktor rests his mutated hand onto his metallic leg. "I don't." He looks toward the Hexcore, shaking his head in defeat. "The Hexcore has proven that it won't provide me with the cure I hoped for. Instead, I'll live out the few months I have riddled with guilt, self hatred. I've failed myself, and everyone who expected better from me." He wants Jayce to read whatever rests in his eyes- that clear determination, as it's always been there. The logic he exudes. The detachment of emotional bargaining in the name of successful science. This is all merely an action. Everything dies and becomes one with the earth. Nothing comes after. Why should he worry about living what little time he had left while always feeling horrible, if he could instead finish it tonight, and never feel the way he does ever again? "I just want it to stop. All of it."
Nothing happens for a moment. Footfalls echo, bouncing against the walls. Jayce kneels before Viktor. "Please don't talk like this about yourself." He's crying. It's so silent that had it not been for the other looking toward him, Viktor would have been none the wiser. "Not to me." He's begging, but he's not crying for Viktor, or only asking this one mercy of him so ease his own fears. It almost sounds like he's asking that Viktor not fall apart, like he's the only pillar keeping the floor from collapsing around him.
It's evidently clear that he's not asking for this because he's scared of losing his friend, but because he sees something in Viktor- perhaps hope, maybe even strength. Viktor sighs, lids heavy as he closes his eyes for a moment. People typically do that, don't they? Idolize those who are handicapped, put them on a pedestal and expect the world from them, or praise little efforts, gloating their very existence, using the disabilities of others to motivate oneself. Viktor wishes that wasn't the case. Many a time he's been surrounded by kind people who expect so much from him because of his illness, and physical disabilities. It makes him feel like the moment he stops moving, the moment he falters, then he's shattered their illusions, falls short, becomes too weak and pitiful.
It usually goes in two directions, rarely ever wedged between two lanes- you either use your disabilities to prove others wrong, or you stumble and others only present you with pity or avoiding eyes.
He doesn't want to be either, not even in between, where people constantly want to help because they think they're handling glass in a room full of sledgehammers.
"Jayce." Viktor sighs, exhausted, staring at the wet streaks along his friends face. "I won't do anything." He waits, hoping that something in Jayce's expression shifts, even if only a little. "I promise." He adds. He doesn't value the word itself, 'promise', but he knows how heavy it weighs in Jayce's chest, like a child staring at the stars in awe making wishes he believes will come true if he only believes enough. "I'm really tired, and I'm starting to find this conversation to be very irritating, and a waste of precious time." There's no malice in his tone. He's trying to come off as an irate toddler who's been forced to remain awake past its naptime. There's a lilt of humor, to soften the demand, and he hopes it's enough to convince Jayce.
Unfortunately the Golden Boy of Piltover didn't earn his merits by being an idiot, no matter how often he bumbles and stumbles over his words. Viktor has to oftentimes remind himself that being an overly emotional, hopeful person, does not mean that they're easily swayed, and he realizes it the moment Jayce straightens up.
"Ok." Jayce whispers as he wipes at his face.
It's such a soft response, Viktor nearly misses it. His expression must be enough to both humor and inform Jayce- Viktor doesn't think he heard him right. Surely the great Talis boy didn't just let this go, not that easily.
His cheeks are still wet, perhaps a little worse now that he's failed to wipe the drying tears away. In place of defeat, his expression turns somewhat hard, determined, as he looks to his friend. "Ok." He nods. "We can talk about this some other time, but on one condition." He sighs as he comes to a stand. "I stay with you."
Viktor stares at him for a moment, confused, then lets out a tight and airy laugh. "To, what, babysit me?" It sounds sharp, like he's pressing a blade against Jayce's throat, waiting for the man to swallow just so that it nicks at the skin. He's daring the other to agree, to piss him off, to further annoy him. Instead Jayce keeps looking at him, that fire in his eyes failing to ebb away as the contact remains. People usually look away from Viktor's eyes, having been told that they seem to read into very souls, like their every secret is resting at the surface of their pupils. Of course, Viktor reminds himself, this man has been beside him for over a decade. They know each other more than they each let on. He sighs in defeat. "For how long?"
Jayce ponders this for a moment. "Until I know you won't kill yourself while I'm away" It's damning, but he tries to deliver it with ease. There's a lilt in there, perhaps an attempt at making light of things. It's not convincing enough, and he notices it in the way that Viktor looks away, ashamed. "Let's go to your room. I trust they provided extra sets of blankets and toiletries, at least a couch?" He's referring to the space provided by the Council within the tower that looms over Piltover- a free room, that resembles a dorm, conveniently within the same building should they work into the early hours of the morning and wish for some sleep. It makes commuting much easier, but Jayce knows that Viktor doesn't leave the building. They both have their own lofts nearby, in the overpriced suburbs surrounding the tower, provided to them by Mel Maderda as a gift, of sorts. Jayce lives in his in moments that he's allowed to relax. Viktor, on the other hand, lives in the lab, refuses to stay in the loft, and sleeps in the small room within the same place that they work.
Sky would even tell him, in whispers so that Viktor couldn't overhear, that the inventor wouldn't even leave, for days even, opting for sleeping over his desk like a student in class. She meant no offense, rather, she was worried, terrified. Something in Jayce's chest pulls at the sound her voice, her memory. She really did look up to Viktor, not Jayce. Sky wanted to become intelligent, great, amazing, like Viktor. Her admiration began as a crush, and grew into something much greater than that. Not love, no, something that people feel when they look up at someone who saved them by leading them in the direction of greatness. Could Viktor have possibly noticed that? Did he see the way she'd stare at him when he'd work? Did he notice the days she'd stay the night in the lab just to keep an eye on Viktor? Jayce keeps a saddened chuckle in his throat. Perhaps not. Viktor was always too deep in his own head when he was working on something-
"I don't want you in my room." Viktor's tone is sharp, final. He's glaring, he's making a final stand with unwavering piercing eyes.
Jayce doesn't falter. He never does. "Tough," He shrugs, pausing when Viktor scoffs and turns away in his chair, facing the Hexcore while glaring at his lap. Jayce notices how poetic this seems. Here Jayce stands beside Viktor, as always, looming over him, chastising his lack of self-care, but always there, willing to reach out if needed, while Viktor always turns away, looking toward his goals, his wants, the very things that slowly damage him. Jayce sighs. "I don't think you realize what I'd do to myself if I walk back into this room, and find your lifeless body, knowing that it happened because I stupidly left you to your own vices."
Viktor shakes his head. This is Jayce's way of saying that the promise fell on deaf ears. It wasn't convincing enough. "That's unfair." It is, truly. Someone threatening their own lives as a means to anchor another- it's not alright, it never will be-
"Nothing..." Jayce pauses, not for dramatic effect.
Viktor looks to him, seeing the way the younger seems to search for the words, or rather how to properly place them into a sentence. Jayce finds it, the words, perhaps the memory, perhaps something he once read in a book when allowed the time to relax, to not think about evolving the lives of others, when he's not a tool or the physical manifestation of hope in the eyes of bloated, privileged rich people. So Viktor gives him his full attention, staring, waiting.
There's something in Jayce's eyes, not resolute, but rather, hoping for something. He takes in a breath, but his voice doesn't waiver. "Nothing about living is fair. If it were that simple, then our lives would mean nothing in the face of many challenges."
The arch of an eyebrow, a quizzical expression. Viktor tilts his head when it connects. It seems that whatever Jayce was hoping for was fulfilled, because Viktor remembers. "That sounds oddly familiar." He responds, slowly, not questioning, but knowing, and wondering why Jayce would care to remember it at all.
Jayce smiles, though it's not one of his beaming grins. It's almost boyish, but there's a sadness to it, as if the weight on his shoulders refuse to fall to his feet, unable to truly walk alongside the person he cares for, loves, more than anything or anyone in the world. He's watching his friend wither away, and his smile falters, because he really wants Viktor to hear him, to understand the importance behind the words he quoted. "I would hope so. It's what you said to me after dragging me away from the ledge."