Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A HISTORICAL BROADCAST, DATED FIVE YEARS EARLIER

"We come to you live with breaking news: the Pan-Runeterran Defence Corps have announced a new threat event emerging from the Pilt Breach. Civilians in the area of Zaun are strongly advised to evacuate if possible. Please bring necessary items only, and pay close attention to your area's evacuation protocols. Shelters are now open for use. Above all, make sure to stay calm. We'll be repeating this message on a regular basis and bringing any urgent updates to you directly, so please stay tuned to Jaegercast for more. For now, let's go to our resident Jaeger expert, who will be bringing you a live commentary of what's happening at the front."

"Thank you, Sera. Please do obey your evacuation instructions, everyone, because according to the Corps this is a Category Four Kaiju, known as Caesura, meaning widespread destruction along coastal areas is possible. The Kaiju looks to be heading towards Piltover's centre currently, which puts it on a direct course with the Shatterdome - longtime followers of the show will understand this is in fact a good sign, as that's where our defences are centred. It's a strong monster, but I'm sure the PRDC has this under control. It's currently unclear which Jaeger will be deployed to suppress this breach event - among the currently active pilots in Piltover, we have the refurbished Lady of Zaun, as well as fan-favourite Firelight. Of course, we can't forget Sheriff Enforcer, the Jaeger with the highest number of successful deployments this year."

Across from the Pilt Breach and the creature unfurling from its depths, ridged with scales and loud in its fury, the Shatterdome waits, a thing of metal and machinery, the huge doors to its launch bay slowly moving open. Water rushes; the Kaiju howls. A glint of gold winks from within the bay before it moves, thrusters bursting into life as the Jaeger rushes towards the Breach. The camera races to catch up.

"- and there it is! Deployed from the Piltover Shatterdome, it appears as if this will be the maiden voyage of the Defender of Tomorrow! We've heard whispers of the experimental technology this Jaeger utilises, under development by the PRDC, nicknamed hextech. Details are securely under wraps, but according to internal sources it seems clear this new invention will help revolutionise the war against the Kaiju. The Defender boasts two unique pieces of weaponry: a large hammer - can we zoom in? Right there - for close-quarters usage, and a shoulder-mounted laser device to boot. It looks as if the Shatterdome is confident of success in this case, since only one Jaeger has been deployed!"

The Defender hurtles towards Caesura, hefting the hammer between two hands. Two hands; two minds, working in synchronisation. The Kaiju roars. A mass on its back pulses with teal light for a moment, once, twice, before the light bursts in a jagged ring around them both. The Defender flies unaffected, unfaltering, and crashes to a stop just before the monster. The laser mounted to its shoulder snaps and sparks. For a moment, it doesn't move.

"It appears as though the Defender is calculating the correct move to make against its opponent. It seems to be moving to attack, although the right side does appear to be stationary, which could indicate a momentary pilot problem -"

A roar. The creature collides with the machine. Energy surges around the huge hammer, crystal-blue, and Defender swipes it through the air. Caesura lashes out with ragged claws.

"First contact! That appears to have been a successful move; you can see just there Caesura has taken some damage, which may -"

The Defender freezes. The monster lunges forward, swiping out at the Jaeger’s head; sparks fly, metal crumples like paper, as ragged bone cleaves a chunk from the cockpit and hurls it down. Distantly, a tiny figure falls, illuminated in a horrifying split-second before it tumbles soundlessly to the waves below.

"- oh, shit, cut the cameras, what the fuck? It's gone - Jesus Christ, cut the -"

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PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, PRESENT DAY

"Jayce."

"Mrmm."

"Jayce, get up, please."

"Don't want to," he mumbled.

"Talis," came a new voice - ooh, this one he didn't like as much - "if you don't get off the floor in the next ten seconds I'm telling Mel."

"Noooo," groaned Jayce, and rubbed at his closed eyes with his hands. "Fine. I'm getting up."

"Don't strain yourself," said the second voice, amused.

"Vi! Don't antagonise him."

Jayce's leg twinged in protest as he pulled himself into a sitting position. The brace was cold and unyielding from the uncertain period of time he had, supposedly, been on the floor. He grimaced, and looked up.

Caitlyn was standing oddly, half-crouched, offering out a gloved hand to him. Vi stood next to her, arms crossed, looking distinctly amused at Jayce's predicament. He locked eyes with her; she winked. Jayce rolled his eyes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, mulish.

Vi said, "How long have you been sleeping there?"

Jayce said defensively, "I wasn't sleeping." He looked around. He was in his lab; it was empty of both people and productive projects, as it usually was these days. "It's for… research. Highly confidential."

"You were definitely sleeping," said Caitlyn, looking a little apologetic, and straightened up. "We've come to ask about the Enforcer."

Jayce sighed. "You didn't break it again, did you?"

Vi crossed her arms. "Category Three fucked up the rifle. Tried going in close-quarters, using the gauntlets, but it just tackled us back. The rifle was a casualty. We weren't even using it this time, swear."

He groaned. "Can't someone else fix it? Jinx? Heimerdinger?"

"Heimerdinger is mostly-retired at this point. You know that," Caitlyn said. "And Jinx is…"

Vi shuffled on her feet, the smirk suddenly wiped off her face. "Not an option," she interrupted.

Jayce got the distinct impression that poking here wasn't a good idea, despite the fact he really did think Vi and Jinx would be able to put aside their differences if they just talked about it. They were both alive, after all. It may have had something to do with the whale eyes Caitlyn was giving him, shaking her head near-imperceptibly.

"It's hextech, anyway," said Vi. "You're the only one who knows how to operate it."

"The other engineers know how to work around it," Jayce argued. "Are you telling me you damaged the crystal mounting? That's the only part that's actually difficult to fix."

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged glances, speaking without words. Sometimes he envied that part of them, how many times they'd drifted together and learned each other inside and out. It wasn't quite telepathy, but the two of them could read each other like a secret language, in the creases of their eyes and the turn of their mouths. Sometimes, Jayce thought about how close he'd been to getting that too - finding the one person that completed him, and slowly becoming one in the Drift - and then phantom pain rippled along the torn edge of his mind, where Viktor was supposed to be, and he forced himself to stop thinking about it.

"Jayce," said Caitlyn gently, "we trust you with Enforcer. The other engineers don't know her like you do. Even if you've taught them how to operate hextech, it's not the same as having the founder himself work on it."

"Co-founder," Jayce snapped, and pulled his legs up to his chest. His shin ached.

Caitlyn frowned at him. Vi sighed, and shrugged.

"Look, Golden Boy," she said, "you've been moping around for literal years now. At some point you have to start doing something."

"I don't want to," Jayce retorted, and felt childish as soon as the words left his mouth. She was right. Vi was rarely wrong, but - the idea of inventing, of building, without Viktor by his side - it was anathema. "I - I have been working on some things. Look, there's some… filtration ideas for the Blue, somewhere around here…"

"You gave those to Sky months ago," Caitlyn told him. "Don't you remember? She's been working on them in your stead."

"Of course I remember," Jayce lied. Internally, he reeled. Those had been Viktor's designs, originally, a way to filter out the deadly toxin that haunted the Undercity. Kaiju residue, seeping out from all the parts collected and harvested down there. It had decimated Viktor's health as a child. Why would he have given his designs away? They were Viktor's, and that meant that now they were Jayce's. What the fuck was he thinking?

Later, he would remember what had happened; Mel had taken him to one side and informed him quietly and patiently that they were calling off the search for the missing half of the Defender of Tomorrow's cockpit, on the four-year anniversary of Viktor's death. It was too expensive and too risky, especially given the recent uptick in Breach activity, and the search party had been a halfhearted effort for years now anyway. Jayce had nodded, told her truthfully that he understood the logic behind the decision, and then retreated to his lab, drunk significantly too much for a man of his age, and thrown a fit. He'd destroyed his chemtesting kit and broken several glass beakers, and then he had snatched up the sheaf of Viktor's old designs for the betterment of Zaun, marched over to Sky's lab, and thrust them at her.

You take these, he said. You won't fail him. I hope.

Jayce and Sky hadn't been on speaking terms ever since LOCCENT decrypted the Defender's black box audio, and it revealed the full extent of what happened that day. She blamed him; he blamed himself, too. Jayce showing up to give her a collection of half-finished blueprints and storm off again must have been an intensely unwelcome surprise.

Fingers snapped in his face; Jayce came back to himself, and glared. Vi's lips were thinned.

"You survived," she said bluntly. "That means you have to keep going."

"Vi -" Caitlyn protested.

"No! He needs to hear this. Talis, if everyone gave up when they lost someone we'd have nobody left in this fucking Shatterdome. You understand that? We are the only thing protecting everyone else from losing people, too. Grow the fuck up. You're not helping anyone like this."

Jayce stared at her, wounded anger welling up in his gut. "Do you think I want to feel like this?"

"I think you're wallowing in it," said Vi.

"Oh, not like you're wallowing over your sister, or anything," Jayce snapped. He saw the blow land; she flinched back.

"This is going too far," Caitlyn interrupted, voice hard. "Both of you -"

Vi leaned in above him, eyes narrowed. "I'll make you a deal," she said lowly. "You get up and actually try and do your job, and I - will speak to my sister. Once. And it will probably be civil on my side. Happy?"

Jayce looked between her intense gaze and Caitlyn, staring shocked and motionless at Vi. This wasn't part of the original plan, then. Vi had to be serious.

"What does doing my job entail?" Jayce asked, suspicious.

"Fix the Enforcer," Vi shot back, "and maybe make it so Mel doesn't have to fight to keep you employed at the next LOCCENT meeting. Start converting one of the other Jaegers to use hextech. Just - just something."

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll fix your damn rifle."

"Thank you," said Caitlyn, when Vi didn't respond, "but… Jayce, are you sure you don't want to talk about this with someone? Any of this?"

"I don't want to talk about it, no," Jayce answered, immediately. There was only one person he wanted to talk about what happened with, and unfortunately that person was dead.

Jayce, we have to turn back!

We're so close, Viktor, we're the only ones that can do this!

He squeezed his eyes shut, and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The sting centred him. When he opened his eyes again, Caitlyn was eyeing him with poorly-disguised pity.

"Come on, Cait," said Vi, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We should leave him to get it together."

Caitlyn bit her lip. "Jayce…"

"Go on," said Jayce. His voice sounded tired, even to his own ears. He fiddled with the brace on his leg.

"We'll see you in the bay," Vi told him, and then they walked away. Caitlyn's boots clacked rhythmically through the corridor until the door slid shut.

Jayce tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. There was a scorch mark on one of the lower tiles from where Viktor had misjudged the reactivity of one of the Kaiju fluids they'd been experimenting with, and had ended up torching half an eyebrow and most of Jayce's shirt collar.

"I miss you," Jayce told the ceiling.

The ceiling, as always, did not respond.

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PILTOVER, TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

For all his conscious life he could remember, Jayce had wanted to be a Ranger.

They'd put placards all over Piltover at the time his dream finally started to gain legs, stylised graphics with blocky colours and ENLIST written in clear font below. There were drawings of Jaegers mid-action - the Lady of Zaun, Rebel Charmer, Visionary IV - and Kaiju pinned beneath their feet, half out-of-view. Jayce recognised the poses on the posters from the PRDC's unofficial TV mouthpiece, Jaegercast - he'd watched the broadcast obsessively for years, cataloguing each deployment to the Pilt, searching for familiarity. He never found it; he never stopped looking, either.

He'd ripped one of the pages down from the walls and practically run home, bursting in the door and waving it around.

"Mom! Are you home?"

"In here!" his mother had called, and he'd followed her voice into the kitchen and told her all about how the Jaeger Project was open for enlistment.

He was serious, this time; he had a hope of joining, and it gave him the courage to tell her everything he'd researched. His mother wasn't interested in Jaegers, not after their experience, so Jayce had kept his research close to his heart - but she had to understand, now, if he was going to join the Project and still remain on speaking terms with his mom. He told her about the Jaegers, those huge machines with two neurally-linked pilots - about the Drift, where human minds intersected and grew stronger - and about the Kaiju, and how they were growing stronger by the day. How the Project had held the forces that wanted to destroy Runeterra back, and how they needed help to do it.

Then he told her, on no uncertain terms, "I will be a pilot, Mom. I swear it."

She'd cried. Jayce had felt terrible, but the burning conviction in his heart that he'd nurtured since he was seven left him little room for doubt: the Jaeger Project was his calling. It was why he still lived. He hadn't really given her a choice in the end, really, he knew, but eventually she'd drawn him into a tight hug and laid a kiss on his temple.

"If anything goes wrong," she told him softly, "you come back to me, alright? Don't make me see my son in a box. Promise me, Jayce."

Jayce had swallowed, and nodded, and gone to make his way to the Piltover Shatterdome.

The external area of the dome was buzzing with activity, it seemed. More people had paid attention to the posters than Jayce had thought. Maybe it was the glory, the idea that one day someone could get their face on their very own Jaeger dossier; he hoped a lot of the candidates standing around were there for similar reasons to him, to help people. The queues were long, and as Jayce inched his way to the front of the collection of lines he twisted the strap of leather on his wrist around. It didn't matter how long it took. Jayce wanted this more than anything; he had the drive to be the best pilot they'd ever seen, he knew. He just had to prove it.

The woman at the front of the queue looked exceedingly bored, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her eyes were slate-grey. They raked over him when Jayce stepped up to her desk, analysing. He saw an identification badge pinned to her breast pocket; in bold lettering across the top, it read MECHANIC.

"Name?"

Jayce shook himself to attention. "Jayce Talis," he said brightly. "I'm here to enlist for the -"

"- Jaeger Project, kid, I know. Everybody here is. Any existing relation in the program?"

Jayce thought about blue light and freezing wind and the Jaeger that saved him. Did that count as a relation? It was unlikely the pilots would remember him, after all. Would claiming a relation help or hinder him now?

"It's not a difficult question," said the woman, and then muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like Pilties.

Jayce winced. "I may have been, uh… saved by one? In the past. Is that a relation?"

The woman shrugged. "I'd bet you ninety percent of the people here would say the same as you. We can skip that."

Jayce resisted the urge to inform her that he doubted any of the people here had had an experience quite like his own. She asked him a couple more questions that he answered with ease, identity verification and an agreement to submit to the Ranger testing protocols, and then waved him past with a bored look. Jayce hesitated.

The woman noticed. "What?" she asked.

He gestured to her badge. "You're a mechanic?"

"Mhm."

"Which, uh… if you don't mind me asking, which Jaeger do you work on?"

She looked at him for an uncomfortable second, then said shortly. "The Lady of Zaun. Heard of it?"

"Yes. Yes, I've heard of it, it's - the first Mark Three in production," Jayce responded, and grinned despite her indifferent tone. "That's incredible. Do you -?"

"Look, kid," the woman interrupted, "there are hundreds of you waiting to be admitted into the dome, understand? Happy you know what you're talking about, at least, but I don't have time for this. If you manage to make it in, maybe then we can talk about the Lady. Got it?"

Jayce flushed, and nodded. "Sorry," he said. "What's your…?"

"Name's Sevika," said the woman. "Come back when you're a Ranger, kid."

She waved him on again, and this time he followed, entering the Shatterdome through the wide doors propped open at its base. Jayce knew that, on the other side of the dome, there was a matching set of doors; this time hundreds of feet high, enough to admit a fully-sized Jaeger. He was so close to it, the heart of all the Jaeger Project operations in Piltover. They let him through as he gawked, slapped a lanyard and badge onto him, and directed him towards the line of faceless medics running physicals on new recruits. Jayce watched as every other candidate got turned around and sent right back out the doors, swallowing his nerves; when he sat for his turn, the medic unceremoniously shoved a needle into the crook of his elbow.

"Feels like we should say hello first," said Jayce, aiming for lighthearted, and laughed.

The medic grunted and slapped an oximeter onto his finger. Jayce's ears flamed hot.

Okay, he thought to himself. Do not try that again.

He passed the physical after a few more minutes of cold observation. Jayce felt a little rushed, a little unsteady, with how fast the process was moving. He took a breath; it was all worth it. His hand went to his wrist to fiddle with his bracelet, and the shard of precious metal embedded in it. He was here for a reason, and he wasn't going away until they threw him out. He'd trained for this, spent hours after school teaching himself the martial techniques he'd snatched from observing Jaeger fight videos. He ran, and he studied, and he ate healthy, and he was going to be a pilot if it killed him.

The thought came unbidden. Jayce stared at the nondescript floor, shook his head to clear it, and resumed walking further into the Shatterdome.

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PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, PRESENT DAY

The Shatterdome's launch bay buzzed with activity, mechanics and Rangers milling around. Their numbers dwindled daily, but those that remained were passionate - mostly, Caitlyn amended mentally. Sheriff Enforcer loomed overhead, plating a deep, strong blue, as she waited by its feet. She'd already gotten aid from a mechanic she didn't remember the name of to detach the hextech rifle affixed to Enforcer's back and lever it to ground level; it lay, three times her size, horizontally on decking laid out on the floor.

Vi had left a few minutes ago, citing going to start an attempt to talk to her sister. She'd told Caitlyn under no uncertain terms that she wanted to be the one to complete her side of the deal before Jayce did, so he couldn't hold it over her. Caitlyn approved in principle, as Vi getting one over on Jayce suited her excellently, but she couldn't help but worry regardless. Vi's relationship with Jinx was delicate and fraught, Caitlyn knew, and she'd never seen the other woman leave an interaction happier. She hoped this one wouldn't be too bad.

Lost in thought, she almost didn't notice Jayce approaching. She spotted movement from the corner of her eye and flicked her gaze to the side, saw him waving with a bag slung over his shoulder. The metallic frame cradling his left leg glinted; he was limping just a little, she noticed.

"Jayce," she greeted, as he drew closer.

"Hey, sprout," he said. His voice was still tired, though not as rough as it had been earlier. He looked more awake, at least.

"How are you feeling?" Caitlyn asked.

Jayce shrugged one shoulder. "As well as I can be," he said, the answer coming out rehearsed.

Caitlyn recognised Jayce's pleasant pretence when she saw it. She elbowed him. "None of that," she scolded. "A real answer."

Jayce rolled his eyes. "Just for you. I'm up now, aren't I? Just got to get started. Where's Vi?"

"Speaking to her sister," Caitlyn said simply. Jayce's eyes widened slightly in realisation; thankfully, he dropped the subject, and moved closer to where Enforcer's rifle was laid out.

The edges of the weapon were a little tattered, like a well-loved dog toy. The hextech at its centre still glowed dully, though Caitlyn remembered how the Kaiju had sheared through its centre with knifelike appendages. She was pretty certain a connection inside it had been damaged; she told Jayce so.

"Okay," he mused, studying the rifle with keen eyes. "Let me have a look."

He knelt by Enforcer's rifle, and Caitlyn's eye caught the flash of the steel of his brace.

"Will you be alright with that?"

"What?"

"The brace," she said, gesturing to it. "I can find you something padded to kneel on, instead? Or a chair?"

She remembered the injury Jayce had been left with after the Caesura incident. They'd airlifted him out of the Defender with symptoms approaching a heart attack, nose bleeding heavily from the strain of piloting, his leg fractured and twisted by the force of the Kaiju ripping apart the Conn-Pod with him and Viktor still inside. She would never forget the recovery period, when she had to watch the man she'd come to think of as a brother claw his way back to being able to walk. Jayce's physiotherapist taking Ximena aside, Caitlyn tagging along, telling them both that Jayce's leg should be usable with the brace's support, but that he still seemed to be having trouble; how she knew part of the pain must have been psychosomatic, from having Viktor ripped out of his head like that, and how Jayce never said a word about it. Caitlyn had absolutely no desire to see him go through such pain again.

Jayce's face seemed to close off a little. "It's fine, Cait," he said. "Thanks."

Caitlyn pressed her lips together. "If you say so."

"It's only a small repair," Jayce told her. "I'll be down here for thirty minutes, tops. Don't want to put you through all that trouble."

"It's no trouble," she said, "but I'll trust you. I had better not hear any complaining about it later."

"I never complain," said Jayce, lying through his teeth.

The conversation trailed off there, and Caitlyn watched as he set himself up. He pulled a variety of random tools out of the bag, some that she recognised from the days she'd spent swinging her legs on the table in Jayce's lab, and set a large box of them down on the ground. She watched as he dug out a featureless mask, a smudged window of glass set at eye-level, and pulled the strap over his head.

"Very chic," teased Caitlyn.

Jayce stuck his middle finger out at her, and then shoved his head into the thickly-plated shell of the weapon.

Caitlyn watched him work, somewhat enjoying seeing him grapple sightlessly for the tools he'd laid out. Privately, she mused that the whole thing would be a lot easier if he didn't feel the need to put his entire head in the machinery.

Almost on cue, Jayce held out a hand, face still buried in the rifle's innards. Caitlyn stared for a moment, glanced around. Jayce's fingers wiggled.

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

Muffled by machinery, Jayce called, "Can you give me - the thing?"

"The what?"

"The - ugh!" He made a sound of frustration, and pulled his head out of the rifle, pushing the welding mask on his head up with his elbow. There was a smudge of grease on his cheek and a trail of it across his forearm. Caitlyn suppressed a laugh. "In the toolbox. The, uh -" He snapped his fingers, screwed up his face. "The reamer. Twenty millimetres."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "What's that in non-engineer terms?"

Jayce made a face at her. "Long, cylindrical. They should be clipped in near the drill bits."

Caitlyn crouched down by the box, rifling through it. "How on Runeterra do you expect me to know what you want without telling me?" she asked, half-teasing, and closed her hand around what was probably a reamer. It had the correct size marking in tiny writing along the curved surface, at least. She held it out. "I'm not psychic."

Jayce took the maybe-reamer, and squinted at it. "You're supposed to just know what I want," he told her. "First rule of being an assistant. You need remedial courses, clearly."

"Good thing I'm a Ranger, then, and not an engineer," she said dryly.

Jayce stuck his tongue out at her, flipped his mask down again, and stuck his head back into the rifle's inner workings.

Caitlyn stood back up and cast her gaze around the launch bay. The activity she'd seen earlier was startling to dwindle; it was probably the proximity to lunchtime, she knew. Nothing motivated the mechanics on base like trying to avoid the long queues into the canteen.

Footsteps rang behind her; she turned, and saw Vi coming towards them, face stormy. Her hands were balled by her sides. Caitlyn felt a pang of empathy for her partner, and moved to intercept her.

"Vi," she said, concerned. "What happened?"

Vi's chin jutted out, anger clear on her face. She eyed Caitlyn warily, though Caitlyn saw a hint of softness creep into it. She reached out a hand, held Vi's upper arm gently. Vi sighed, looked to the ceiling.

"It didn't go well," Caitlyn murmured.

"No shit, cupcake," muttered Vi, without heat. "She wasn't really interested in having a normal conversation."

"What did you say?" asked Caitlyn.

Vi waved a hand. "I don't know. Asked her about what she's working on. She started going on about the stupid Kaiju, like I don't know too much about them anyway, like - she has such a fascination with them, Cait, and I just don't understand. Those things killed Vander and Silco. She treats them like fucking idols."

Caitlyn remained silent, for a second. She knew how Vi felt about Jinx, had experienced it herself in the Drift. It was a tangled mess of love and anger and guilt, wrapped up in the knowledge that Vi had left for six years right after their parents died, and when she'd come back her sister was practically a different person - had started going by another name, even. Caitlyn knew from the Drift the wound was deep, and sore, and painful. She couldn't help but hold Jinx responsible, just a little, because she'd seen how Vi felt - and if Jinx wanted to reconcile just as much, how hadn't it happened yet?

"I don't know," said Vi, tiredly. "I don't know how long I should keep trying to get through to her."

"It's worth it," Caitlyn told her firmly. "I know you. I know how much this means. It's worth carrying on."

Vi looked at her, then, and crooked a smile. "You always know what to say, huh?"

Caitlyn gave a half-laugh. "That's what happens when you Drift inside each other's minds, I suppose."

Jayce's voice said something, muffled.

"What was that?" Caitlyn called.

A beat passed. Something clanked; Jayce pulled himself back out and yanked the mask off his face.

"I said you two are insufferable," he repeated.

Vi cackled. "Oh, the things I would do to you if you weren't currently fixing my Jaeger."

"Do they involve punching?" Jayce asked, faux-innocent.

Vi's knuckles cracked loudly as she popped them, one by one. "Oh, yes," she said. "Anyway. I've gotta go talk to Mylo about something. Do not scratch her plating, Talis."

"He's going to scratch it out of spite, now," Caitlyn interjected, and Jayce let out a brief laugh.

Vi made a gesture - I'm watching you - leaned over to kiss Caitlyn's cheek, and turned, walking away. Caitlyn watched her for a moment, affection warm in her chest, before turning back to Jayce.

"How's it looking?" she asked.

Jayce stretched his shoulders, circling them backwards and straightening up. "The rifle will be fine," he told her. "I tried to fix it up without the need for new parts. It should be… well, it should operate fine, but if you damage it again it's going to need more extensive repairs. You see this section?" he added, gesturing to the bar of gleaming metal spanning the length of the weapon, easily ten feet. Caitlyn crouched beside him. "This is the structural frame. Keeps it from collapsing. It did its job, but it seems like the damage went in and hooked over it - the attachment coupling is damaged. I fixed it so the Jaeger's rail will connect to the frame instead of the coupling, which means we don't need a new one, but it's also going to be more vulnerable to structural damage."

Caitlyn nodded along, eyes tracking along the rifle's innards. She was no engineer, but she'd shadowed Jayce enough that she was able to follow along most of the time to his rambling explanations. "So don't damage it," she concluded.

"Don't damage it," Jayce echoed, nodding.

She straightened up to standing, offered Jayce a hand. He took it and pulled himself up. Immediately, pain flashed across his face, and Caitlyn snapped to alertness.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Ow, fuck," said Jayce, wincing, and laid a hand on the upper part of his brace.

Idiot.

Caitlyn glared at him. "I knew your leg couldn't take kneeling like that. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"Didn't want to," Jayce said. "I really thought it would be fine."

She searched his face. His gaze held hers steady, though his mouth was pressed tight. She didn't know whether he was telling the truth; disappointingly, she doubted it.

Caitlyn sighed. "Just let me help you next time, alright?"

Jayce grimaced. For a flash, Caitlyn saw Viktor's slim frame superimposed over Jayce's; she'd seen this behaviour over and over as a teenager, going to bother Jayce in his lab and happening upon him desperately trying to coax his lab partner into accepting help. It was obvious where Jayce had learned it from. It didn't make it less infuriating for Caitlyn to see.

"Sorry, Cait," said Jayce, sounding mildly cowed.

"That wasn't an agreement. Don't think I didn't notice," Caitlyn retorted. "Do you need to go to the medical bay?"

Jayce shook his head. "No. I have some things in the lab that should help."

"Alright," she said. "I'll come with you, then."

Jayce rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, just a little. It was shy; Caitlyn missed that kind of smile on him.

"Let's go," he said, and they set off together.

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PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

At the beginning of the ninth week of Jayce's Ranger training, the supervisors had lined up all the trainees that still remained and summoned them to the LOCCENT control centre. It was the heart of the Shatterdome, the base where the marshal commanded Jaeger operations, the core of everything that went on in the dome, and Jayce felt elation like never before standing to attention in the middle of it.

By this point, a significant portion of the prospective pilots had been cut. They'd gone through factual training - basic Jaeger engineering, Kaiju characteristics - and physical, where they threw a random pair of candidates together in the specialised combat arena and observed their reactions closely. Jayce had thanked his past self for watching so much Jaeger combat footage; multiple of his opponents had been cut on the spot when they had no idea how to move their bodies to dodge Jayce's attacks. He felt sorry for them, but he was determined to make it through the process, and every candidate that got cut instead of him was a step further forward.

The training program was divided in three, and they'd just closed out the first part with a final piece of training on the Drivesuits - the equipment worn by Jaeger pilots to allow them to connect to the machines. The instructors had put five of them into a mock Conn-Pod at a time wearing roughly-fitting Drivesuits, told them it was a simulation of how turbulent combat could get within the cockpit, and proceeded to wildly tilt the floor of the pod around for half an hour. Jayce had been woozy and nauseous by the time it was over. He hadn't fallen, though, and he had not been cut.

"Marshal on deck!" came a voice, and Jayce snapped to attention. The technicians milling about the room stopped, straightened, raised their chins. Footsteps clacked through the room; a woman in white and black, gold adorning her wrists and neck, came to a halt in front of them.

Jayce stared. She was beautiful; he would have to be blind not to realise. Gold flecked her cheeks under intelligent, alert eyes. She held her hands in front of her, the picture of poise. As he watched, she raised her head, scanning across the line of them; he felt her gaze land on him, lingering for a split-second before moving on. Jayce found himself hoping that, whatever the marshal had seen, it was what she'd wanted to.

"Good morning, candidates," she said. "I am Marshal Medarda. I'd like to extend my congratulations on reaching the second trimester of your training."

He glanced at the two candidates to each side of him - was there a response they needed to give? Nobody moved. Jayce shuffled slightly in place.

"Today, we will commence the most important assessment of your capabilities. By now, you should all have been educated on the nature of the Drift, correct?" she asked - again, it sounded rhetorical.

Jayce did indeed know the nature of the Drift, had done since he scoured the internet and wrote a full dossier on it at the tender age of eight. The Drift was the very mechanism Jaegers operated by - without it, they were hollow machines. With two Rangers in the Conn-Pod of the Jaeger, though, situated within the huge heads on each model, they could be controlled. The purpose behind twin pilots was to share the neural load of operating such a huge machine, but it required an unfathomable level of synchronisation between the Rangers, and so the Drift was invented: a way to achieve total synchronisation with one's pilot partner, and act as one to operate a Jaeger. The key, though, was that not everyone was Drift-compatible with everybody else. This was the part of the pilot program Jayce could never train for, not in a million years. Compatibility was inherent and immutable - the ability to connect to a given other person so deeply you could successfully Drift together, or the lack of it. If there was one at all, this was the hurdle he would fail at.

He took a breath. Behind his back, his fingers found the metal in his bracelet. Breathe.

"No response? I won't give you a recap, then," Medarda said, jolting Jayce out of his thoughts. "We will be testing the Drift compatibilities between all of you, pair by pair. It may be a slow process, but I'll ask you to remain patient; there is no room for error in this assessment. You may also recall that Drifting in real scenarios requires the Jaeger itself to accept you, too. For this reason, we'll be testing using a neutral simulation system. Now - Elora, please begin."

A shorter woman, hair mousy and combed cleanly back, stepped up with a clipboard in her hands, and began to read off pairs of names.

Jayce's first trial ended up being the third pair in line for testing, with his other tests scattered throughout the week. He'd counted twenty other candidates that made it this far, including him; he knew that made just under two-hundred individual tests they needed to perform. Given the marshal seemed to be involved in compatibility testing directly, he imagined they were working around her schedule, hence the need to spread it out through the week. He understood the decision logically. It didn't really help the gnawing worry in his gut at this stage of testing.

The tests before him moved quickly, around twenty minutes each, and sooner than later Jayce and his testing partner were called over to the simulation set up in the corner of the LOCCENT control room. It was a mock Conn-Pod, just like the ones they'd been in during balance testing. Jayce eyed it, and hoped this one wouldn't start throwing itself around.

Two technicians came up to him with a Drivesuit in hand, and helped him get into it. The cold plasteel snapped around his limbs like a shell, the bodysuit underneath hugging his limbs with circuitry and detectors. Jayce took the helmet in hand, squeezed his eyes shut - he tugged it over his head, and waited a few seconds for the initial injection of murky, orange relay gel to drain away from the inside of the helmet. Something tugged at his spine. Jayce knew it was one of the magnetic interfaces of the suit, designed to aid the relay of neural signals between him, his co-pilot, and the Jaeger.

One of the technicians gave him a thumbs-up; he went in to the Conn-Pod without fanfare, stood on the two plates on the right side of the pod, glanced over to the other man who entered with him. His hair was straw-blonde, and he had a nasty sneer that looked etched onto his face. Jayce glanced away again. The other man settled his feet on his own pair of plates.

Jayce was in a Conn-Pod. He was about to enter the Drift. This was everything he'd ever dreamed of, right within clutching distance.

"This is Marshal Medarda," came a cool voice over the radio, smooth and confident. "Candidates twenty-one and one-hundred, Deckard and Talis. Do you copy?"

"Copy!" Jayce responded, in tandem with the man next to him. Apprehension bubbled up in his chest. He tried his best to quash the smile that wanted to break out on his face, flexing his hands at his sides.

"Good," said Medarda. "I'll remind you both that this is a simulation. Please attempt connection to the best of your abilities; no harm will come of it in the test system, and failure may jeopardise your place in this program. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," barked the man next to him.

"Understood!" said Jayce. He felt a little like a broken record, repeating whatever Medarda said last. That was probably the desired level of response at this point, he hoped.

"Excellent," Medarda said. "We will proceed with the handshake immediately. Elora?"

A new voice answered. "Ready, ma'am."

"Please engage pilot-to-pilot protocol," ordered Medarda smoothly.

"Engaging," responded Elora.

Something zapped up Jayce's spine. He shifted, shut his eyes, took a breath, tried to calm his nerves.

"Prepare for neural handshake," said Medarda.

"Handshake beginning in fifteen seconds," said Elora, and Jayce felt his heart thud in his chest.

"Hey," snapped the guy next to him. Jayce's gaze flicked over. Deckard scowled. "I can hear you panting from over here. Relax, Piltie."

"Sorry," Jayce said, feeling cowed. Come on, he thought. He's right. Relax.

"Ten," said Elora.

It was a normal part of being a pilot. Jayce would enter someone else's head, and he would enter Jayce's, and that - that was fine, and he would need to do it hundreds of times were he to be a Ranger. Jayce was fine with this.

"Five," said Elora.

Even if Deckard seemed to hate his guts already, it didn't matter, because Jayce had eighteen other chances of being Drift-compatible with another candidate. It was fine.

"Four," said Elora.

"Good luck, boys," Medarda said, and -

"Three," said Elora.

Jayce breathed.

"Two," said Elora.

He flexed his hands.

"One," said Elora.

He was ready.

"Initiating neural handshake," said Elora, and then there was a beep and -

Unfamiliar alleys, a blotted sun, smoke curling on the ground. Three guys surrounding him and the taste of blood -

His mom, sunlit and laughing. She was cooking something that he knew -

- as a child, in the Undercity -

"Neural handshake holding."

- blueprints, study these now, you need to know them -

- a discharge, get out of here!, military slacks tossed in the trash -

- freezing wind, and blue light -

"Handshake is destabilising."

- blue light, and wasn't that a miracle? And wasn't it incredible? They were in a marvel of engineering; the processing required was impossible, improbable. He was neurally connected to someone -

"Candidate Talis. Can you hear me?"

Woah, hey, wait!

- and he could feel their thoughts pressing against his awareness, trying to permeate his mind. He tried to open up, pull them in -

"Candidate, you must -"

- but they resisted. They tugged away, and he grabbed back at them - no, don't leave -

"Neural handshake terminated."

- and he threw himself forward he needed the connection he wanted it, desperate, and the desperation surged and he gasped for air and -

The writhing connection on the other side of his mind went dark. Jayce slammed back into his body, brain sparking.

Deckard swore. He heard it through muffled glass. "Fuck's sake. Didn't even try!"

Jayce swallowed. His throat was dry. His mind whirred.

"Candidate Talis. Respond," Medarda's voice came, sharp. It focused him.

"I'm here," Jayce breathed, still somehow winded. "I'm here."

"This test was a failure," said Medarda, and the words punched into Jayce like a fist to the gut.

"No, no," he started, "I can -"

"Both of you, please exit the Conn-Pod and report to the technicians awaiting you," Medarda told him. "Next time, Candidate Talis, I would advise maintaining your focus."

Jayce swallowed down the rising fear in his stomach. "I will," he said, and didn't know if he was telling the truth.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, PRESENT DAY

"Hey, Mel," greeted Jayce, ducking into her office. "Elora said you wanted to see me."

Mel was sat at her desk, one hand resting on her temple, staring intensely down at the papers laid in front of her. She looked up when he entered.

"Jayce," she said. "Yes. Thank you for coming."

He made his way over to her end of the room, took a seat on one of the two chairs opposite. "What's up?"

"The PRDC has decreased our funding for this quarter. Again," Mel told him, without preamble. She sighed. "I need your estimation on the damage Sheriff Enforcer sustained during the latest Breach incident."

Jayce frowned. "Again?" he repeated.

They had already been running a skeleton crew for months, at this point; Mel had told him before that their funds stretched just about enough to keep the Jaegers in operation and personnel fed, and not much further. Cassandra Kiramman was instrumental in keeping the Project running in Piltover, at this point, making up essential funding where previously their family money had only bought them a couple plaques in the canteen and a place in LOCCENT.

Mel shut her eyes, rubbed at her temple. "The Corps is still trying to push to perform mass evacuations behind the Wall," she said. "They refuse to listen and acknowledge that the vast majority of this city's residents have no interest whatsoever in relocating - and even beyond that, the Wall is a defensive measure. If we concede ground to the Kaiju, we will inevitably concede more. I can't ask people to give their lives up knowing in a few years they might need to do it all again."

"They're trying to force your hand," Jayce muttered.

Mel nodded. "We have a project in the works that should bring us some beneficial PR, but… I'm unsure how many more damages we can sustain. We have three Jaegers to hand now. If one of them is rendered inoperable, I'm afraid we won't be able to get it running again."

Jayce grimaced. Their funding situation had never been good, but this was unexpectedly bad. Guilt thrummed through him; maybe he should be participating in more engineering works like Vi said, instead of wasting his time alone in the lab.

"That's why I asked you for a damage estimate," Mel continued. "I'm not interested in superficial damage; how is its actual function? Have we used any spare parts?"

"I'm not sure about the body," Jayce said. "The gauntlets are fine, but the rifle took some heat. I managed to repurpose the structural frame to double up as the exterior attachment rail since the original got bent under strain. The power cage wasn't damaged, though, which is good, since otherwise I'd need replacement insulation material - oh, and the…"

Jayce trailed off. Mel was watching him, visibly amused.

"Don't stop on my account," she said.

Jayce felt his ears warm. "Sorry. You wanted an estimate."

"I did," she responded, patient.

"The damage didn't need any parts replaced," Jayce told her, trying to keep it short. "If it gets damaged again, though, it will."

Mel exhaled. "Alright. Thank you, Jayce. This should help."

"Always," said Jayce, and meant it. He and Mel's relationship might have been over for years, but he still loved her dearly, and he would help if he could. "Anyway, I'm not the LOCCENT engineering head anymore, am I? Are you sure you should be running confidential information past me?" he asked, half-joking.

Mel smiled. "Well, Heimerdinger is soon to officially retire. For good, this time. Maybe I'll ask you to give it another try."

"Ha, ha," he deadpanned. "Because it went so well the first time, right?"

"You weren't the worst I've heard of," Mel said, tone light. "My mother's head of engineering when I was a child nearly ended up destroying half their fleet with some ridiculous idea about using only the strongest. The man pitted Jaegers against each other in an inane combat ring of sorts, and wore down half their weaponry tearing each other to pieces. A ridiculous idea, and a worse execution."

Jayce looked at her, at the subtle stressed twitch to her mouth at the mention of Ambessa Medarda. "How is she?"

"My mother? Awful as always," said Mel, and let out a tired laugh. "She seems convinced she can seize this Shatterdome for her own ends. I try to hold her off, but…"

Jayce sighed. "The funding situation doesn't help," he finished.

"Precisely," Mel responded.

Neither of them mentioned the elephant in the room: the event that had kickstarted their downward spiral into losing almost all PRDC-backed funds, the chance they wasted. The Defender of Tomorrow had been their chance to prove that hextech was fully viable as an alternative, cheaper power source for the Jaegers. Jayce's failure, broadcast live around Valoran, had ended up proving exactly the opposite.

"I see you retreating," Mel said, knocking him gently out of his thoughts. "This isn't your burden to bear."

"I doubt that," Jayce said, a little sorely. "If we had won that fight -"

"- there would have been another, and another. You can't think about what-ifs, Jayce, you know that."

He did know. It had been one of Viktor's favourite pieces of advice, too; whenever Jayce got too visibly upset about Viktor's illness, he'd smack Jayce's knee with his crutch and tell him off for torturing himself. It is precisely what it is, and nothing more, he'd said, over and over. You will drive yourself mad thinking otherwise, and then who will help me with our research?

There was a pause.

"You look thin, Jayce," she said, softly.

Jayce swallowed. "Yeah," he said.

The canteen was just so full of people, and, invariably, their eyes all went to him as soon as he entered it. He didn't know if it was out of pity for the man who'd lost his co-pilot, anger that he hadn't had the decency to go down with the ship; hero worship stemming from some bastardised version of events hyped up over Jaegercast, or sheer, unfamiliar judgement on the disorganised way he carried himself nowadays. If he made it past that gauntlet, there were other things to contend with - did he sit alone, or try to find familiar faces? Did they find him? Did he have to talk to them? His brace would start itching under the pressure, or he'd crave the security of a wall against his back instead of rows and rows of seats behind him; overall, it was an intensely uncomfortable experience. He'd started trying to delay his mealtimes until the canteen was about to close, minimising the number of other people he had to see, but every so often he'd manage to suppress his hunger to the point it'd be eleven at night and he'd come back to himself and wonder where the hell the day went. He was under no illusions about the state of his health in that regard. He found it a little difficult to care.

Jayce sighed. "It's… complicated."

Mel's gaze softened. "I know we've been through this before, but Viktor would want you to take care of yourself."

If you don't help me now, I will never forgive you.

Jayce stiffened. "You have no idea what he would want."

Her lips pursed. "Jayce -"

"I have to get going," he interrupted, and stood. "You know how it is. Projects to work on, Jaegers to fix. Hope the damage estimate helped."

She didn't respond. He felt her eyes on his back right up until he left her office, and did not turn around.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

The remainder of Jayce's week trying to assess his Drift compatibility had gone… badly.

Eighteen more tests had come and gone, and they had all followed a pattern similar to the first. Jayce had gotten distracted, or fallen out of sync; a few times, he'd been so disconnected from his partner candidate that the handshake hadn't even been able to begin. His heart sank lower with every test, a horrible numbness creeping over him. After the final compatibility assessment had ended, one of the technicians had taken him to one side and informed him to report to Marshal Medarda later that afternoon. He'd swallowed the nerves balling in his throat, nodded, and obeyed.

When he got to the marshal's office at the allotted time, just enough of a gap between the assessment and the meeting for him to stew in worry, he'd been directed to sit and wait by Elora, the Shatterdome technician who had conducted the compatibility trials. He took a seat in front of a long wooden desk, a bright and intricate metal window spanning the length right behind it. He squinted at the light.

"The marshal will be along shortly," Elora said.

"Okay. Is there anything you can tell me about… why I'm here?" Jayce tried.

Elora opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a click of the door across the room. She snapped to attention. Jayce twisted round in his chair.

"Thank you, Elora," said Marshal Medarda, walking up to them and nodding at her right hand. They exchanged a few glances; Elora left, and Medarda went round the other side of the desk from Jayce. She sat down in front of him, graceful, and leveled her gaze at him.

"Jayce Talis," she said. Her tone was steely.

Jayce tried to suppress a wince. "Ah - present?" he responded.

Medarda raised an eyebrow. "Are you aware of the statistics surrounding Jaeger Project intakes?"

"No," said Jayce, a little feebly. Those were confidential. He'd never dared to go after them. The pieces were easy to put together, though, and Jayce hadn't been able to perform a successful handshake with any of the other candidates. Regardless of whether he was supposed to be able to form a stable connection at this point in the training, it wasn't a good sign he was talking to the marshal about it. There was a tiny flare of hope in him, though, that maybe it wasn't so bad - maybe his whole cohort had failed save for him, and that was why he was here -

"On average," Medarda continued, tapping her nails against the desk, "potential Rangers display Drift compatibility with twenty percent of their cohort. That's around four other trainees. You, Mr. Talis, displayed compatibility with precisely none of them."

Jayce froze, and felt his core go numb. "None of them?" he repeated, blankly.

"Indeed," said Medarda. "Your physical exercises showed promise, and your mental capacity is adept. According to these reports, however," she continued, sifting through a few scattered files in front of her all labelled TALIS, J, "that appears to be the problem. To put it simply, the other candidates aren't able to keep up with the way you process information mentally."

"Oh," he said, feeling inexplicably stupid. "Is that… what does that mean for me?"

"Usually, this meeting would be to communicate your discharge from the program," Medarda explained. "However, I... can see your passion, and I suspect you would be an excellent pilot were you able to demonstrate compatibility with another pilot candidate. I'm willing to make a compromise."

"Anything," Jayce blurted, and found that he meant it with every fibre of his being. "What can I do?" He was smart; he could do extra credit. Was there extra credit in the Jaeger Project? Jayce was willing to work twice as much, to try twice as hard, if it meant he could stay in the pilot program. He had to be compatible with somebody in the Shatterdome. He just had to find them.

"You may remain in the program for one more week," Medarda said. "If, by the end of that time, you still haven't displayed compatibility with any other candidate, I'm afraid you will be expelled from the Ranger track. However, as you've passed the first trimester, you are eligible to remain as an officer of the PRDC if you so choose."

Jayce swallowed. He didn't want to be an officer; he wanted to be a pilot. He had to stay calm, though - it wasn't over yet. Losing his cool now would lose him the grace the marshal seemed to see fit to extend to him. "I understand," he said, trying to keep his tone level. Internally, his mind whirred with thoughts - he knew the issue, now. He could fix it.

Medarda hummed. "A word of advice, if you will. Are you familiar with R.A.B.I.T.s?"

"Yes," said Jayce. "Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers."

"And in layman's terms?"

He paused. "Chasing a memory. An emotional one, in particular. It can, uh… impact the handshake and disrupt Jaeger operation."

"So you do know what they are," Medarda remarked. "Yet you chased yours anyway, on multiple occasions. Why?"

Jayce frowned. "I… it wasn't on purpose," he said, a little defensively.

"You lack the emotional control to discipline yourself not to follow them, then," said Medarda.

"I -"

"I understand strong emotion can be difficult to deal with," she told him, a little more gently, "but qualified Rangers need to be able to devote their full attention to piloting. You cannot allow yourself to feel. Not in the Conn-Pod, at least. You must submit to your rational instinct."

"How?" asked Jayce, with a tinge of desperation.

Medarda quirked a smile at him. Her eyes glinted. "There's a reason I'm a marshal and not a Ranger, Candidate Talis. Piloting requires a specific disposition: one I do not possess."

She shuffled her files together, after that, and told him to make himself proud before sending him out of the office. Jayce thanked her, took a few steps, rounded the corner back towards the candidate dormitories and sank to the floor against the wall. He thunked his head back, shut his eyes, sighed. His mind should be racing, now, generating solutions to his problem. All he could feel, though, was a gnawing dread at the thought he might not make it past the week. What was he supposed to do, if that happened? He had no plan; hadn't even wanted to consider he might not make it those weeks ago when he'd dropped everything to enlist.

"What are you doing?" came a voice, and Jayce startled, limbs flailing for a split-second.

"What?" he blurted aloud.

A girl stood before him. She looked young. Her hands were behind her back, and she looked him up and down with bright blue eyes, dark, straight hair framing her face. One of her eyebrows was raised.

"What are you doing?" she asked again.

Jayce stared in disbelief, before turning his palms upwards and gesturing. "Sitting in the corridor, I guess?"

"Why?"

"I don't - what are you doing?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Wandering."

"Why's that?"

"The number of questions I got to ask you feels unfair now," she said, instead of answering.

Jayce made a face. "I have a reason to be on base," he tried. "That makes me less suspicious, so I have to answer fewer questions."

"That's absolutely not how it works," said the girl, "but fine. I'm bored. Let's pretend it's that way."

"You're bored," Jayce repeated, flabbergasted.

"I don't know if you noticed," said the girl, a little snippishly, "but there's not much for me to do at a military offshoot base."

Bewildered, Jayce asked, "How old are you?"

She rocked back on her heels. "Fifteen," she answered.

"That's definitely too young to be here," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

She heard it regardless, and snarked, "Clearly."

Jayce frowned. "So why are you here?"

"My mother is one of the members of LOCCENT. Cassandra Kiramman," the girl said, proud. She stuck out a hand. "I'm Caitlyn."

Jayce reached up and shook it. "Jayce Talis," he responded.

"We have to stay on base sometimes for important events," Caitlyn told him. "Like the new Ranger intakes. Are you one of those?"

"Technically," said Jayce, vaguely.

"You look a bit mopey," she noted. Surprisingly, it didn't really sting. She was right, after all. "I thought pilots were supposed to be professional."

"Me too," he sighed. "Don't worry, I might not be in the program for much longer."

Caitlyn frowned at him. "Why not?"

"Like you said. I'm being mopey."

"So don't be," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Jayce laughed at her. She flushed, and then scowled.

"You're certainly never going to be a Ranger if you're giving up so easily," she snapped haughtily. "Have you even tried?"

He hadn't tried, because he couldn't fix everything. The crucial issue was that Jayce's ability to Drift relied on the other candidates, and they were variables he could never hope to control. He could try and do as Marshal Medarda suggested, work on his emotional control and focus, but how likely was it that he'd make significant progress in a week? How likely was it that, even if he did succeed in improving his discipline, that he'd get it right with multiple other candidates before the week's end? He couldn't guarantee it. The issue was always going to be the other pilot in the pod.

Wait.

Something must have changed in his expression, because Caitlyn made a noise of satisfaction. "Ha," she said, triumph in her voice. "You look like you have an idea."

"Oh, I do," Jayce murmured, mind fizzing to life. Blueprints of the Conn-Pod's electrical load setup flashed past his mind's eye, the ones he'd spent late nights poring over and committing to memory. He pushed himself up from the floor, tapping his fingers together, nodding. "I really do."

"Go on, then," Caitlyn said, grinning. "And you have to thank me in your graduation speech!"

Already hurrying away from her, Jayce called back, "If this works, I'll let you give the thing!"

Caitlyn laughed at him. Jayce broke into a run, and rushed away.

------------------------------------------------

Once night fell, Jayce acted. Sneaking out from the candidate dorm was easy; everybody was mentally exhausted from compatibility testing, and nobody rose as he quietly made his way out of the bunk where he'd been lying wide, impatiently awake. He grabbed a set of tools from the room they performed basic mechanical training in, swiped a set of materials to boot. He would return the toolbox later; the PRDC funded the Jaeger Project in Piltover more than enough to spare a few wires. He hurried to the launch bay with fixation and brilliance snapping at his heels.

Most of the Jaeger fleet was secured away at this time, save for a couple in-progress projects. Jayce was banking on the hope that one of them would be left accessible to him. He walked around the bay for a few minutes, searching; there was an old Mark Two engine mid-repair, a set of thrusters half-disassembled. At the other end of the bay, half-hidden in the dim nighttime lighting of the base, was a Jaeger, looming motionless. Mercury, read the metal plate beside its feet. The machine was clearly half-finished, limbs missing plating, weapons to-be-attached, but she was accessible, and so she was perfect. Scaffolding reached up to her head, bowed low; Jayce darted over to it. He took a breath, prayed to whatever was above that nobody would be around the launch bay in the interval he needed to work, and rushed up the steps. He ran past burnished red sheet metal, worn golden fittings, clean white insulation covering the exposed wiring where engineers had paused in the middle of their work, all the way to the top: the head of the Jaeger, angled and blunt.

The Conn-Pod door in the side swung open smoothly when he pushed it. Jayce ducked inside, eyes tracking over the terminal systems in front of him. The neural systems were integrated into every part of the pod, changing them a job that Jayce could never hope to operate alone: but there was one particular junction, he remembered, that connected the wires tethering the pilots together to the main interface of the Jaeger. If he could balance the load more efficiently across that junction, he could balance the strain of both hemispheres across one brain.

Jayce's issue was other people, and that was why he was going to rewire the Jaeger to depend on a single person only.

Solo piloting wasn't a particularly rare occurrence, though Jayce knew from his research on past pilots the fatality rate of doing such a thing was incredibly high. Jaegers were designed for two to operate, and the neural load was often lethal if it was applied to a single human brain. Jayce didn't want to do it like that, not when he knew it would likely end in failure. His theory was better. It was going to work.

He set the toolbox down, assorted instruments spilling out of it - pliers, a socket wrench, a multimeter with a peeling sticker of the Lady of Zaun slapped on the side - and grabbed what he needed. The neural wiring threaded through the floor. He knew there was a hatch somewhere that would open up to give him access, though the hinge varied from model to model; he ran his hands along the edge of the floor panel to find the join, and heaved it open with a groan. The wiring below was neat, squared away with colourful cable ties. Jayce cut them one by one, the bundles of cables spilling out, and straightened.

"There," he said to himself, feeling simultaneously apprehensive and self-satisfied. "Now we can get started."

One by one, he started to cut the necessary wires in two, stripping the insulation from the bare ends. This wire needed to join to this one, but the ground needed to be left alone - and the one that carried the main breadth of neural information had to like a tree trunk, electrical branches splaying out only to converge again just before reaching the pilot mounting. Jayce took his line of solder in hand and fused the joins together neatly. It would have been better for him to be wearing electrostatic discharge bracelets, but he hoped the wires were heavy-duty enough to withstand any minute shocks he could've generated. In an ideal world he would have repaired the damage he did to the wiring's insulation, too, by heatwrapping new material around it, but he'd have time for that if - when - this piloting plan worked. For now, he was done.

Jayce packed his tools haphazardly back into the box, pushing it away across the floor with one foot as he stepped back. Mentally, he ran through the blueprints in his mind, confirming he'd done what he meant to. Every check reassured him; he'd done the right thing. It was going to work, he told himself, again.

Without a functioning Drivesuit this would be difficult, given how much it work it did enabling pilots to enter a deeper state of the Drift more reliably, but Jayce felt confident he could at least achieve some kind of connection. It was worth a try, even if it didn't work, because then he could go and try and snatch up as much Drift-aiding equipment as he could, assuming he didn't alert anyone to what he was doing on his first attempt. Right now, he had the backup Pons system linked into the Jaeger at his disposal; he reached over to the central console of the Conn-Pod, tapping through the interface, and the Pons in the hatch above dropped down as the Jaeger began to power on. Jayce grabbed it. The sensors, glowing a soft red, went up to his temples and over his forehead. Jayce stepped onto the plates denoting the right pilot - the dominant one, which he fit the bill of since his partner was currently empty space - and took a deep breath.

He checked himself over. The Pons system was secured. The wiring was redone. He tapped on the central console again, navigating to the built-in Drift sequence, and pressed INITIATE.

The Pons light blared. Something started to whirr. Jayce could almost hear the electricity zapping and sparking in the modified wiring below his feet; he knew it was anxiety tricking him, but nerves still balled in his throat.

INITIATING NEURAL HANDSHAKE, read the console screen, and began to display a countdown.

If this doesn't work, Jayce thought, I hope you're not too mad at me, Mom.

FIVE. FOUR. THREE.

"Come on, Mercury," Jayce whispered to the Jaeger. "Work with me."

TWO. ONE.

NEURAL HANDSHAKE INITIATED.

The Pons system beeped -

Memories flashed through his mind, quick like sand, and he recognised all of them, this time. His mother's face, fleeting - the day he graduated college - meeting Caitlyn so recently, present at the forefront of his mind.

Unlike the previous times he'd Drifted, there was pressure, this time. Something pressed on Jayce's skull, like his skin was shrinking - his body felt tight, stretched, and his thoughts swelled in size, fighting against the constraints of his mind. It was too much. He couldn't hold it, couldn't withstand the feeling. It grew, and grew, Jayce's mind about to overload, when -

- suddenly, the pressure burst like a popped balloon. Awareness flooded Jayce's mind. He twitched a finger and registered it in flesh and metal, the huge Jaeger's finger moving in sync; but he was the Jaeger, and he was himself, and he was both of them together. He saw through the optics in Mercury's faceplate, heard through the audio sensors on either side of its head.

Somehow, Jayce was piloting.

The screen flashed: NEURAL HANDSHAKE SUCCESSFUL. HEMISPHERES CALIBRATED.

"It worked," he breathed aloud, and then laughed. It sounded a little hysterical. "It worked!"

His head hurt a little, but it didn't matter. He was Drifting, at last, could feel Mercury's shell like it was his own skin. He barely registered the distant, deep click that sounded across the room, footsteps spilling in as torchlight swept the launch bay. Jayce-and-Mercury's mind was adrift in a sea of possibility, free, endlessly deep -

Freezing wind -

The smile that had been building on his face dropped. "Wait," Jayce muttered.

- blue light -

Don't think about it, he urged himself, sudden fear surging, but -

Freezing wind, blue light, metal screeching above, and the roar - the howl -

- and then he was seven again, and he was going to die, and he screamed in terror - he threw up a hand to hide from it -

Something shrieked from the boundaries of his awareness. More metal. The sounds of a Jaeger, the hand reaching down -

- streaking, blinding pain ripping through his head -

A scream. "Shut it down!"

- his mother somewhere behind, and terror filled him like cold water -

"Watch out -"

- the taste of copper, and it was so strong, and was he dead already? and -

"- get clear!"

Electricity surged. Light zapped across his vision. Jayce's thoughts cut off, sheared in two - there was a single breath, and his mind winked out of consciousness.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, PRESENT DAY

When Vi had suggested that Jayce finally get around to converting one of the other Jaegers to use hextech-powered weaponry, like Enforcer, he'd turned the idea over in his mind a few times. The Lady of Zaun, despite having been refurbished after the original pilots were killed, was still a Mark Three Jaeger, older than all the others still in operation at present. It would be a challenge to convert it - Jayce wasn't really feeling inspired to a challenge yet, especially not one that would require him to spend hours in the lab by himself, and so he resolved to pick a different Jaeger. The obvious choice, the next most competent pair of pilots, belonged to Firelight. Vi had shot him a thumbs-up and told him it sounded like a great idea.

She had failed to mention that all three of the somewhat-unofficial mechanic team for Firelight obviously, and embarrassingly, hated his guts.

Jayce had known Jinx, Ekko and Sevika tangentially for years and years, having existed in the same Shatterdome as them for over a decade. Jinx and Ekko had been here as children, years before Jayce even got near enlistment; Sevika had been there for longer, one of the original mechanics for the Lady of Zaun alongside the original pilots. He still remembered meeting her when he attempted to join the Ranger program all that time ago; in the end, just after he'd semi-fried his brain and joined up with Viktor, they had run into each other.

"You a Ranger now, then?" Sevika had asked him, lip curled.

Jayce laughed. "Not, uh - not exactly."

Sevika grunted. "Told you to come back when you were one."

"Technically I'm part of the engineering division now," Jayce tried.

"Mm. Heard they put you on trial for what you did to Mercury."

He reached up to rub the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. "Yeah," he said. "They did. And then they, uh… moved me to engineering."

"Your stunt made a lot more work for my crew. And you destroyed half the docking supports around you having a tantrum in the middle of the Drift," Sevika told him. "I don't appreciate that."

Jayce cringed, and apologised. She'd looked him up and down, pursed her lips, and walked away.

He had never tried to speak to her again after that, too embarrassed at the time, but after a while she'd started nodding neutrally at him in the corridors whenever they infrequently passed each other. Their dynamic had changed, again, when LOCCENT obtained the audio logs from Defender; just like Sky, Sevika had heard the tapes and given Jayce a wide berth for months afterwards. Jayce suspected the same recordings were the reason Jinx and Ekko were eyeing him oddly now; they didn't paint him in a good light when it came to his opinion of Zaunites, even if deep down he knew they were misleading as all hell.

We must defend Zaun.

We can't! You don't understand, V, there are bigger things to worry about -

He wished they'd never declassified the damn things, though Mel had insisted it was a crucial and rare example of an argument mid-Drift, and that it would help other Rangers know what to avoid at all costs. Jayce had hidden away in his room the week they were released, and it had taken Caitlyn dragging him out bodily before he begrudgingly re-entered public view. The only saving grace was that the logs cut off just before he lost consciousness: right before he'd said aloud what Viktor meant to him, words that would never be heard by anyone but Jayce.

So Jayce stood there, having just walked over to the three of them as they laughed while working on a collection of Firelight's components. His footsteps rang on the launch bay floor. They went quiet at the sight of him, waiting. Ekko crossed his arms, jutted his chin just a little; Sevika stared at him flatly. Jinx stuck her hands on her hips.

"What do you want?" she asked, flippant.

"Just, uh…" Jayce trailed off, searching for the right words. He settled on a half-truth. "Vi mentioned Firelight could do with an upgrade to its weaponry, so I was… coming over to help. With that."

As soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong move; Jinx's face went oddly empty for a moment. "Did she, now?"

Ekko glanced to the side, nudged Jinx's side with an elbow. "Hang on, Jinx," he said to her, and then, louder, "Why did she say Firelight?"

"Probably 'cause she doesn't trust me," Jinx muttered.

Valiantly, Jayce ignored her comment. "It, uh… it seemed like the best candidate from the Jaegers still active," he tried, omitting the fact it had been his own reasoning and not Vi's.

Ekko nodded at Jinx. "Doesn't sound personal," he said softly.

Jayce shifted his weight. His brace clinked. Jinx eyed him.

"Fine," she said, and poked a finger at him. "But I made these weapons, okay? The minigun? My baby. Don't mess it up."

Jayce raised his hands, plastered a non-threatening smile on his face. "Trust me, I don't want to touch it. I'm just trying to get you started with hextech."

She squinted. "Yeah. I guess it didn't end up going so well for you the last time, did it?"

Jayce's smile strained at the edges. The last upgrade he had performed was on the Defender. From the look in Jinx's eye, she knew exactly what she was saying.

"Don't be a brat," said Sevika shortly.

"She's just surprised you'd want to work with Zaunites," Ekko said. "Don't you have bigger things to worry about?"

He recognised the reference; frustration pooled in his gut. Unable to stop himself, Jayce snapped, "There is no way you listened to those stupid recordings enough to memorise them."

"I'm a Ranger," Ekko told him, like he was being stupid. "We've all listened to them way more than I ever wanted to."

Ekko was, in fact, one of the pilots of Firelight, along with a slightly-reclusive man named Scar that Jayce had never met. Looking at their closeness now, Jayce was a little surprised Ekko and Jinx weren't piloting together; maybe she had flunked Ranger training, just like him. The reminder rankled Jayce's ego.

"Every Zaunite on base knows what you said, anyway," Jinx informed him, tone snippy.

"Those comments were taken out of context," Jayce said shortly.

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's what you Pilties always say. You get caught saying something stupid, then you get off scot-free. I wonder what Vik thought -?"

"I think it's pretty obvious that I have paid for that comment multiple times over," Jayce snapped, voice cracking. His leg, his partner, his crumbling relationships - Jayce hated where he'd ended up after the Defender fell. He felt wetness along the waterline of his eyes, and realised belatedly there were tears forming there. He blinked harshly, swiped his arm across his face.

When he looked back to the others, he saw Ekko appraising him with something new in his gaze. Jinx looked unimpressed; Sevika's gaze flicked down to his left leg. His ears burned, embarrassed at his outburst.

"Sorry, Talis," said Ekko, a little quieter. "Didn't mean to take it that far."

Jayce swallowed, grit his teeth, tried to pull his scattered emotions together. "It's - fine," he said. "That recording is… I understand why you have reservations."

"Sounds pretty bad for you, Golden Boy," Jinx prodded, tutting. "Really seems like you have something against Zaunites in it."

"Well," said Jayce, tired, "I don't."

Sevika huffed a laugh. "Nobody with a stick up their ass about Zaun would be crying over one of us like that."

Jayce didn't know what to say to that. Truth be told, he had never even really thought of Viktor as a Zaunite; Viktor was Viktor, first and foremost. Jayce didn't care where he came from. A beat passed, everyone digesting the sudden deescalation of the interaction.

"So," said Ekko, breaking the silence. "You going to show us how to get started on that upgrade, then?"

Jayce breathed out, and took the opportunity gladly.

"First, you need to make sure there's enough space to fit an appropriate power cage," he began, and walked them through the steps he and Viktor had taken years ago to convert Sheriff Enforcer's weapons to use hextech. Sevika continued her work on the exposed components of Firelight they'd been fixing earlier; Jinx and Ekko listened with rapt focus, though Jinx would pick up a new tool every five minutes and fiddle with it. Jayce saw the gleaming intellect in her eyes while she did so, and trusted that she'd follow along.

Aside from Jinx's minigun, the other weapon that Firelight used was a thin, blunt blade coloured a bright green. Ekko pointed out the handle, the gap that might be big enough to fit a hextech power source, asked Jayce for a few clarifications on what it could be used for; he outlined his idea to transform it into an energy weapon of sorts, magnifying its ability to stun by channelling electricity throughout the blade. Jinx shot him a thumbs-up.

Jayce watched them together with an odd feeling in his chest. They didn't remind him of his old self and Viktor, not quite; Jinx's infectious energy was too intense for that. It was undeniable seeing them bounce ideas off each other didn't send him reminiscing, though, and it was simultaneously nostalgic and painful. Jayce wished the last day of Viktor's life hadn't tinged the rest of their interactions with such strong regret.

He shook his head, and got back to the discussion at hand.

"You know, Talis," Jinx piped up, voice light, once Jayce had run through everything he knew that was relevant to the conversion, "you're not so bad. Is he, Ekko?"

"He's alright," said Ekko, noncommittal. "We'll see how well the new power source works next deployment. We can get started on the as soon as we get the cage blueprints."

"Sounds good," Jayce said, at a loss for more insightful words. "I can send them over once I get back to my lab."

Ekko nodded at him. "Thanks," he said, simply.

"I, uh… hope it helped," Jayce responded. "Let me know if you have any issues."

"We won't," Jinx chimed in. "Have issues, that is. If you gave us wrong instructions I will definitely let you know."

"Better hope they were right, for your sake," said Ekko, though he was smirking at Jinx.

Jayce felt a small smile creep over his face, and turned to leave.

"Hey," called Sevika. He looked back at her. "Thanks for showing them your work. God knows this one needs something new to occupy her," she grumbled, sticking her thumb out at Jinx.

Jinx cackled. "You're so mean," she complained, grinning widely. "We gotta depose her, Ekko. Are you in?"

Ekko opened his mouth to say something, only to be immediately tackled by Jinx, braids flying wildly as she laughed. Sevika rolled her eyes, and shooed Jayce off.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

Jayce woke with a pounding headache, a fuzzy memory, and a distinct feeling that something had gone very wrong.

He lay on a hard bench, attached to the wall with steel rebar. He sat up, grimacing; the room around him was cold and empty. The far wall had a set of thick bars serving as a door. His gut plummeted to the ground. He was in a cell. It came back to him all at once, then - Mercury, his experimentation. Chasing a R.A.B.I.T., again.

Jayce had never been more truly, utterly fucked in his life.

He rushed over to the door, wrapped his hands around the bars. "Hey!" he called. "Hello?" A beat of silence passed. Jayce grimaced. "Is anyone there?"

Someone stepped into view, dressed in the standard Shatterdome security division uniform. They raised an eyebrow, uninterested. "What is it?"

"I - I just woke up," Jayce started. "What's happening? Where am I?"

They sighed. "You're in a temporary holding location. Hearing with LOCCENT's scheduled in the morning."

"In the morning? What time is it?"

The guard leaned back, squinted at something on the wall Jayce couldn't see. "Three in the morning. Several hours to wait, I imagine."

Jayce bit his lip. "Is there anyone I can talk to? About this?" To plead, and get himself out of this situation. Surely, if he could just explain his motivations -

"You've been given medical attention already," said the nameless guard. "I suggest you sleep it off."

Jayce grimaced. "Please, I just need to -"

"No," said the guard, shortly, and walked away.

Jayce slumped, dread pulsing through his veins. He shut his eyes, tried to push down the caustic knowledge that he'd blown it, totally and completely, and willed himself to try and sleep.

It felt like days by the time he got another visitor, drooling and half-slumped against the wall of his holding cell, dozing in and out of sleep. Jayce heard quiet, cautious footsteps in the corridor before he saw who they belonged to, swiped at his mouth roughly, and tried to look like he hadn't been most of the way to unconscious roughly sixty seconds prior.

The visitor entered his view, head swivelling back and forth like she was on the lookout. Jayce would have bet money at this point that she'd snuck in to see him, and it didn't look like she had permission to do it. Her clothes were smart, her sleeves pressed, and her expression was best described as thunderous.

Ah.

She came to a stop in front of his cell, jabbed a finger through the bars, and hissed, "When I said you should try something -"

Jayce sighed. "Hey, Caitlyn."

"- I absolutely did not mean go experiment on a Jaeger and nearly get killed. I want you to know that, because I am not going to jail as an accomplice," she finished, fuming. Caitlyn's hands were balled at her sides; she flung her arms out, palms spread wide. "Why on Runeterra did you do that? I had no idea that's what you were thinking!"

Despite the situation, Jayce felt the urge to laugh. "You're not going to jail, Cait. Don't worry."

She pressed her lips together, visibly fuming. "This is the last time I ever try to talk to a Ranger candidate. You're insane."

Jayce made a face at her. "Well, you're the one that gave me the idea. What does that make you?" he snarked, unable to resist.

Caitlyn deflated, then, and sighed. "I'm not like anyone else on this base. Half of them are all ex-military. I don't understand them."

"I get it," said Jayce, thinking back to how many memories of army barracks had flashed during the Drift compatibility trials. Not one of those memories had been happy, all tinged with the conditioned fear of authority, some with the exhausted resignment to future violence. He couldn't imagine that sort of mindset would mesh well with a fifteen-year-old.

"You're the first person in this place that's ever made sense to me," Caitlyn admitted. Her tone was gloomy. "I don't want you to go."

Jayce tipped his head back against the wall. "Trust me, I don't want to either. I don't think it's in my hands anymore, though."

"You're so stupid," Caitlyn said, without heat.

"Yeah. Probably," Jayce responded, and tried to ignore the rising panic that had started pooling in his gut now he was fully awake.

Faintly, he heard speech. "Where has that girl got off to? Caitlyn!"

Caitlyn's eyes went wide; she whipped her head round. "Shit," she whispered.

Are you even allowed to swear? Jayce wanted to ask. Instead, he said, "That's your mom?"

Caitlyn glared at him. "Yes, obviously. I have to go."

Jayce bobbed his head towards the corridor. "Good luck, then," he said.

She nodded, then hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm… I'm sorry you're in this situation," she admitted. "Sorry I egged you on. I really hope your trial goes okay."

"Thanks, Caitlyn," Jayce responded. He liked her; she seemed genuine.

Caitlyn gave him a nod, face a little sorrowful, and darted away.

He stewed in silence for a while after that, feeling oddly disconnected. Images of his mom flashed in his mind; he would have to go back to her having failed, having lost everything he ever proclaimed to be destined for. There was no way they were going to let him stay in the Ranger training program after this. Jayce knew it, factually, but emotionally there was a void where he knew he should be feeling pain and loss. 

An unclear amount of time later, he heard footsteps again, and saw another uniformed guard coming towards his cell. Internally, he felt a little grateful it wasn't the same vaguely-hostile one as earlier. Jayce scrambled to stand up; the guard nodded to him, and opened the door.

"Come with me, Candidate Talis," they said neutrally.

"Where are we going?" Jayce asked, but stepped towards them regardless.

They looked him up and down for a moment. "We're going to LOCCENT," they said. "It's time for your hearing."

Jayce took a breath, stuck this information directly into that newly-born emotional void, and followed.

They got to the command centre without incident. Jayce's nameless guard pushed open the door and nudged him inside; he looked around. There was a horseshoe-shaped table set up in the middle of the room. Jayce could see gaps in the tiling on the ground where, presumably, the floor had risen up to form the tabletop. Marshal Medarda sat at the head of it, fingers laced together, eyes fixed on Jayce. Elora stood just behind her right shoulder. He didn't recognise the other people seated around. There was a startlingly short man with an impressive moustache to Medarda's right; next to him, a woman with a striking resemblance to Caitlyn sat, mouth drawn tight: Cassandra Kiramman, presumably. The other LOCCENT members watched him with varying degrees of disinterest and disdain. Intense discomfort washed over Jayce; he swallowed, mouth dry.

"Candidate Talis," Medarda greeted. "Please, step into the centre of the table."

Jayce bit back the instinct that wanted to inform her doing so would feel like dropping himself into a tank of piranhas on purpose, and obeyed.

"I call this meeting to order," announced Medarda. "We are here to discuss the case of Candidate Talis' unauthorised modification and usage of the Jaeger known as Mercury."

Elora stepped forward, and began to read an account of what Jayce had done - sneaking out in the dead of night, stealing the tools he had never had a chance to return, experimenting on Mercury. Trying to pilot her, and semi-succeeding; getting lost in the Drift and throwing his limbs around while still connected up, destroying the supports and scaffolding in a wide radius around him. The injuries he'd caused himself by taking on the strain: a subconjunctival haemorrhage, a bleeding nose. He winced. It sounded impossibly worse coming from the neutral mouth of a third-party observer.

"Unusual activity from the bay alerted several guards assigned to the night shift, who responded as fast as they could. Stopping the unauthorised Drift required utilising the emergency stop system," Elora continued. "Candidate Talis received medical attention and was placed in temporary holding until this morning."

"Thank you, Elora," said Medarda, and turned her gaze. "Director Kiramman, could you enlighten us on the financial impact?"

The woman that Jayce had correctly assumed was Caitlyn's mother pursed her lips. "The consequences of this mishap have put a sizeable dent in our budget for this month," Kiramman said, sounding intensely displeased. "Both the damage to the involved Jaeger and the infrastructure destroyed during Mr. Talis'… thrashing mid-Drift will require cuts to other areas to support."

"How severe?" asked Medarda.

Kiramman's mouth turned down. "I suspect we will have to appeal to the Defence Corps if we are to produce any new Jaegers in the next few weeks."

Something like frustration crossed Medarda's face. In a blink, it was gone, draining away like quicksilver; her expression returned to neutrality. "That is far from ideal," she said.

"Indeed."

Jayce felt shame burn in his gut, caustic. He half-hoped the ground would open to swallow him up.

Medarda steepled her fingers, looked straight at Jayce. "It seems to me that this case is rather cut-and-dry," she began, "unless anyone has any other relevant matters to bring to attention?"

The short, moustached man next to Kiramman cleared his throat loudly. "I believe this is where I come in."

"Director Heimerdinger," said Medarda, by way of acknowledgement, and gestured. "The floor is yours."

"I have here a report from one of the most esteemed scientists in this Shatterdome," Heimerdinger announced grandly, waving it aloft. "I believe it may provide much-needed context to this trial!"

Jayce's heart skipped.

Heimerdinger produced a set of small reading glasses, balanced them on the end of his nose. He held the report at arm's length and squinted; Jayce suspected his glasses might not be doing all that much for him.

"For LOCCENT use only," the short scientist began. "Confidential, written by… no, no, we can skip this. Aha!"

Jayce swallowed, and shut his eyes. It was clear Medarda had all but made her judgement already; this might be his last chance. Internally, he pleaded with the universe to let the report be helpful, somehow.

"Here we go," said Heimerdinger, and cleared his throat again. "Ahem. 'The modifications performed on Jaeger 'Mercury' are of complex nature and display an intimate knowledge of its construction.'"

There was a beat of silence. Jayce resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.

"That's the full report?" asked Kiramman, sounding disbelieving.

Heimerdinger nodded. "Unfortunately, the particular scientist who performed this analysis does not have the most patience for bureaucratic matters! I believe, however, that the conclusion it suggests is clear."

"And what is that?" Medarda asked.

"Expelling Candidate Talis from the Shatterdome would be a waste of his demonstrable intellect," Heimerdinger answered, jovial. "I propose we move him to the engineering department and put him to work!"

Medarda straightened in her seat. Kiramman's eyebrows shot up her forehead.

Shock bloomed in his gut. Jayce blurted, "What?"

Heimerdinger looked at him. "Surprised? What do you think, my boy?"

Jayce floundered for a moment as all eyes in the room landed on him. The back of his neck itched. "I -"

His goal had always been to pilot. Jayce would be dead without the Jaegers, and he wanted to use that life he'd been granted to return the favour, but - what if it could still happen? His dream was going to be different if he went along with Heimerdinger's suggestion, but maybe - maybe - it could still be achievable, in a way. It would require a middle step, an in-betweener, but Jayce could still help people via the Jaeger Project if he were enabling Rangers to be better, faster, more efficient. He could still fulfil the dream.

He swallowed, and said, "I'll do anything to help the Project. If you want to move me to the science division, then - I'll help there, too."

Across the table, Medarda's eyes glinted. She nodded at him, almost imperceptible.

"An alteration, if you will," spoke Kiramman. "I would like to suggest that Candidate Talis' stipend be repurposed to aid the financing of repairs to the launch bay, until they are completed."

"A reasonable suggestion," Medarda said. "All in favour?"

Jayce's breath hitched.

Heimerdinger's gloved hand shot up. Kiramman, though her gaze was stony, lifted hers leisurely. One by one, the members of LOCCENT indicated their favour. A few of them stayed stubbornly still; Jayce stared at them, internally begging them to move, to no avail. Over half the attendees' hands were up, though, and maybe -?

He looked back at Marshal Medarda. She held his gaze with those striking eyes, and raised her hand.

"The motion passes," she said softly, and relief burst like a firework in Jayce's chest. "Candidate Talis, you will be removed from the Ranger program with immediate effect and remanded to the engineering division of this Shatterdome, under Director Heimerdinger's purview, until at least such a time as your stipend has paid for reparations for the damage you caused. I will have a contract delivered to you within the day."

"Thank you," breathed Jayce, reeling. His heart thudded in his chest. He would take the lack of stipend over being tossed out of the Shatterdome. He still had a chance. The knowledge was ice-cold and comforting.

Medarda quirked a smile at him. It felt oddly private.

"If that's all," Heimerdinger piped up, "I have the perfect lab assignment in mind for Mr. Talis. I'll kindly request we end the hearing here so he may get started!"

Medarda inclined her head. "Of course, Director. This meeting is adjourned."

The other members of LOCCENT started to move, idly getting up and beginning to talk amongst themselves. Heimerdinger waddled over to Jayce, and beamed at him.

"Shall we go, my boy?"

Jayce's chest still felt light; he knew he hadn't processed what had just happened yet, swept off his feet by the mercy of it. He blinked at Heimerdinger, uncomprehending.

The shorter man gestured to the corridor, raising his elbow and sweeping his arm to the side motivationally. "Don't you worry. I'll lead the way. Follow me!"

Heimerdinger set off. The other man moved surprisingly fast; Jayce found himself darting to catch up.

"Director Heimerdinger -" he began, as they walked through the corridors.

Heimerdinger waved him off. "Oh, psh. You can call me Professor Heimerdinger. None of that Director business for a fellow scientist, you hear?"

"Professor Heimerdinger," Jayce corrected. "I - I wanted to thank you for the letter you read out."

"You're welcome, my boy. Really, it wasn't my idea - the author gave it to me of his own accord. It seems he felt passionate enough about your work to tell me, and LOCCENT, independently!"

Curiosity flared. "Who exactly did write it?" Jayce asked.

Heimerdinger's moustache twitched with amusement. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he said. "We're almost there."

They turned a corner into a new corridor, lined with semi-transparent doors on either side. Jayce took note of the lettering near the ceiling: SCIENCE DIVISION.

"Your new station will be here," Heimerdinger chattered. "Let's see, which one… ah!"

The shorter man came to an abrupt stop outside one of the doors. There was a bold 90 stamped on its face. Heimerdinger turned to Jayce with a wide smile.

"I know the perfect partner for you," he announced. "I expect you'll be the best of friends before the day is out!"

"Are you sure?" Jayce asked, nerves simmering. He had damaged Mercury with his experimentation; he couldn't imagine anyone involved in her design would be happy with him.

"Oh, my boy," said Heimerdinger jovially. "You're not the only one at this Shatterdome with... unconventional interests!"

Jayce frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, and at the same moment the translucent door in front of them slid open.

There was a figure sitting on the other side of it, hunched over a nondescript desk, fiddling with something Jayce couldn't make out. A computer terminal sat to the side, all wires and flashing lights. The room was bathed in a deep yellow glow; glancing around, Jayce realised there were glass tanks lining half the walls, half-visible contents floating suspended within, some of them glowing a soft, subtle teal.

"Viktor!" Heimerdinger called, moving further into the lab. "Could I borrow you for but a moment?"

The figure paused, and turned to look over its shoulder. Jayce saw high, distinct cheekbones, pale skin - he saw the man's eyes, molten gold and currently narrowed his way. He jolted.

"Professor," the man - Viktor? - said, eyeing Jayce. His accent was unfamiliar. Jayce wanted to hear more as soon as he stopped speaking.

"Viktor, my boy, I've just - really, have you run out of containers again?" Heimerdinger questioned, pausing next to what looked like a plastic bag supported by a sagging cardboard box.

"Eh," said Viktor. "Not exactly."

"Then what is this?" Heimerdinger asked, in the pleasant-yet-strained tone of someone who had had this same conversation many times, and was expecting to have it again.

Viktor's eyes tracked over towards the professor, off Jayce, and Jayce felt like the phantom weight on his limbs had vanished along with the other man's gaze. He took a few steps over to Heimerdinger, leaned over the bag and the box; a foul stench hit him, and he caught a glimpse of shifting flesh and yellow fluid before ducking back quickly. The feeling of being observed returned; Jayce looked to the side to see Viktor watching him again with a slight uptick to his thin lips.

"Viktor, you cannot leave specimens in improper containment," Heimerdinger chided. "I'll ask again: are you out of materials? What happened?"

"The materials are at the dock," said Viktor, looking back at the professor. "Nobody has moved them here."

Heimerdinger sighed. "I must apologise, Viktor. I specifically instructed the dockmen to keep an eye out for your shipment."

"Yes, you did," Viktor said. "Unfortunately, I believe there is a running bet of sorts on who can avoid contact with it."

"A bet?" Jayce asked, before he could stop himself.

Viktor's eyes flickered over to him again. "Indeed. Nobody wants to touch Kaiju parts."

Shock rippled through Jayce. "You work with Kaiju parts?"

Viktor sniffed. "There is a lot to be learned from them. And you are...?"

"This is Jayce Talis," Heimerdinger announced. "A young man much like yourself, Viktor!"

Viktor looked at Jayce for a long second, appraising. Jayce had the distinct feeling he was falling short.

"It will be good for you to have a lab partner," Heimerdinger encouraged.

"Lab partner?" echoed Jayce.

"Lab partner?" demanded Viktor, simultaneously. "Professor -"

"You are aware it's simply protocol, Viktor! We haven't found a suitable candidate since you joined us, yes, but I haven't forgotten you're in need of one. Jayce has eccentric interests, let us say, so I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly."

"Really," said Viktor, dryly. Something in his tone irked Jayce.

"Yes, really," he cut in, feeling rankled. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I have spent my scientific life as an outcast for my field of study," Viktor answered. "Forgive me if I find it hard to believe this would extend to many other areas. Where exactly does your interest lie?"

Jayce glared at him. "I want to make Jaegers better. However I can."

Viktor scoffed. "You and every other scientist in this place."

"Jayce here attempted to convert a Jaeger into supporting single-pilot occupancy. Without permission, I might add," Heimerdinger said brightly.

Jayce flushed, feeling heat bloom in his cheeks. Viktor's face went slack, surprise obvious in the way his mouth dropped open just a little.

"That was you?" Viktor asked. "You were the one to experiment on Mercury?"

"News travels fast," Jayce muttered, and winced. The shells of his ears burned. "Yeah, it was me."

To his surprise, Viktor chuckled. It was a small, subtle thing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, but he was visibly amused. Jayce felt his chest stutter at the switch-up.

"Fascinating," said Viktor. "I was called in to inspect the damage afterwards. Your work was complex."

Shock pulsed through him. "That was you?" Jayce echoed. "You - you wrote the recommendation letter to LOCCENT?"

"I did indeed," said Viktor, and inclined his head. "I see why the professor brought you here now."

You saved me, Jayce wanted to say. Somehow, the words felt inadequate. He swallowed, and said nothing.

"For your information, the letter was honest," Viktor added. "I think you're onto something. It would be a waste to leave unexplored."

"The changes didn't work, though," Jayce admitted.

"That's because you were focusing on the wrong thing," said Viktor. "Instead of rewiring the Drift systems to focus on one user, you should have replicated your attempt to change the distribution of power across both hemispheres. The configuration was inspired. In that way -"

"- the neural load would be lower," Jayce realised. "And that would mean -"

"- yes, a higher-power energy source could be used without overwhelming the user, leading to much more efficient and capable operation."

They looked at each other, for a second.

"And your changes meant you lived, when you tried to Drift alone," said Viktor, a little flippantly. "So there is that."

Jayce laughed aloud.

Heimerdinger cleared his throat. Both of them jumped. "Swimmingly," he repeated, tone airy, and then turned to leave. "I expect you to introduce Jayce to how the science division operates, Viktor. Don't scare him off with your materials!"

Viktor tilted his head just a little, and held Jayce's gaze. "I won't," he said.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER

A year or so into their partnership, when he was still able to rely on a cane, Viktor took Jayce to Zaun.

"Jayce. I need some things," Viktor told him one day, out of the blue.

Jayce was hunched over the desk, trying valiantly to parse one of the confusingly-written proposals one of the other Shatterdome engineers had submitted for peer review. He straightened, turning to Viktor. "You want me to add them to the next shipment?" he asked, but Viktor shook his head.

"No. What I need is… eh, a little more complex to find. I plan to go there in person. Do you want to come?"

Jayce looked between Viktor and back at the blueprint on his desk. He should probably finish the work before leaving; however, it was boring as all hell, and Viktor might need help, wherever he was going. There had to be a reason he was asking Jayce, after all.

"I'd love to," said Jayce, and grinned at him. "Where are we going?"

"Zaun," Viktor told him. "Specifically, the lower levels. You will need this."

He tossed something plastic and hard at Jayce. Jayce caught it on instinct, looked down: it was a respirator.

"Surely the air isn't that bad down there?" Jayce wondered aloud. He understood why Viktor might need the air, but Jayce's lungs were intact.

"There are other reasons for the respirator," Viktor said vaguely. "It will be easier to explain once we are in Zaun proper."

"Okay," Jayce conceded, and then squinted at his partner. "What exactly do you need from there, Viktor?"

Viktor winked at him. "That would spoil the surprise, no?"

They packed up soon after that, and made their way to the large lifts that ferried people between Piltover and Zaun. The queue on the Piltovan side was, thankfully, extremely short, and the elevator ride itself was tolerable. Viktor spent most of it at the window on the side of the car, jabbing his finger at various visible Zaunite buildings and telling Jayce their function. The architecture was different down here; Jayce saw individual buildings transition from concrete to crumbling brick, function over form, saw clear scars on the landscape from Kaiju attacks. Above them, on the border of the twin cities, huge, manual ballistae loomed, part of the last-resort defences were any Kaiju ever to breach this far in.

Jayce stepped out of the lift after Viktor to hazy streets and loud chatter. The lanes were bustling with activity; the sizzling aroma of street food reached him. Every third person passing gave Jayce a glare. Belatedly, he realised it might have been a good idea for them both to change out of their Shatterdome uniforms.

"Come," Viktor called, and began walking off down one of the twisting streets. "Stick close to me, and watch your step."

Jayce glanced down. The cobbles were half-cracked and uneven beneath his feet. Worry struck him, suddenly.

"Will you be okay with your cane?" he asked. "If the streets are uneven -"

Viktor scoffed lightly. "I grew up here, Jayce. I know how to navigate them."

Jayce winced. "Sorry," he said. "I just - worry."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "I know."

They settled into a rhythm, punctuated by Viktor's cane clacking on the floor. Jayce spent most of the walk staring at the buildings around him; he had never been to Zaun, had had no idea how different from Piltover it actually was. Viktor seemed content to walk in companionable silence. A few minutes in, Viktor pulled the respirator over his face; Jayce followed suit.

Eventually, the crowds around them died down. They were getting closer to the coast, where Jayce knew there had been progressive evacuations over the years. Much fewer people lived here than closer to Piltover. Fog licked at their heels, curling round Jayce's shins. It was tinged an odd, vibrant blue, almost phosphorescent.

"You see?" said Viktor, nodding to the fog, voice slightly tinny through the mask's filter. "This is why we needed respirators."

Jayce recognised the colour. "This is Kaiju Blue, isn't it?" he asked. He'd read about it once, he remembered vaguely, but not in any context beyond the purely scientific.

"Yes," Viktor answered. "It's a byproduct of Kaiju harvesting. Common, down here. We call it the bloodmist. Make sure not to touch it in its liquid form, and do not remove your respirator under any circumstances."

Jayce frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. Common? If the Blue is such an issue here, how hasn't it spread to the rest of Zaun?"

Viktor tilted his head to the side. "Well," he said strangely, "it has. Why did you think the rates of respiratory and reproductive health problems are so much higher here?"

Jayce faltered. "I… didn't know that. That's awful."

Viktor hummed. "Yes. This is the basis behind my work with the Kaiju: finding a way to neutralise the Blue."

Jayce stared at him, finding new understanding. "Do you really think you can do that?"

Viktor shot him a smug look. "Of course. Why would I try if I were not confident of success?"

"I believe you," Jayce said, genuinely. Viktor came to a sudden stop; Jayce nearly bumped into him. "Viktor?"

Viktor turned to him, something Jayce couldn't identify shining in his eyes. "You believe me?" he repeated. His magnetic stare pinned Jayce in place.

"Yeah," said Jayce softly. "Why would I not?"

There was a beat. Jayce's gut did something approaching a lurch. Something stretched between them, for a second; Jayce's breathing sounded too-loud to his own ears.

Viktor broke his stare, and the moment dissipated. He shrugged. "As you should," he said flippantly, and resumed walking.

They turned a few more maze-like corners before Viktor drew to a halt - more controlled, this time - outside a low, squat building with two scantily-clad women on either side of the door.

Viktor looked at him. "Are you ready to go in?"

A realisation struck him. "They're not wearing respirators," Jayce murmured.

Viktor sniffed. "Yes. Their life expectancy is also greatly shortened. Would you like to experience the same?"

Jayce shook his head. Empathy panged in his chest.

"Then keep your mask on, even inside," Viktor told him, and stepped closer.

VYX was written in dim purple neon above the entrance, glowing light cutting through the fog. Jayce stared at it, and then at the two women standing outside; one of them giggled at him, and the pieces clicked together in his mind.

He felt his cheeks flush hot, mortified. "Viktor," he hissed, "if you brought me all the way down here to visit a brothel -"

Viktor snorted. "Have some faith, Jayce, please. Trust me."

"Hi, Vikki," teased one of the women. "You here for Benzo again?"

"Indeed," said Viktor. "Is Babette in?"

The other woman gestured through the entryway. "She sure is. At the desk."

"Thank you both," Viktor told them, and pushed his way past the doors.

Jayce dithered in the alleyway for a moment, mentally cursed Viktor out, and ducked after him. The inside of the building was decked out in rich red. Jayce kept his gaze fixed firmly on Viktor's shoes, the shells of his ears burning with embarrassment. He was going to kill Viktor once they were back in Piltover.

They crossed another doorway into a small, cramped room with an old desk in its centre. The smell of incense filled the air. Jayce looked up to see a short woman seated across from them, looking expectant; she had a pair of feathers attached to her hair, and intense blue eye makeup swiped across her face.

"Babette," Viktor greeted, tone neutral. "May we go through?"

The woman, Babette, shot a look at Jayce. "Always business, with this one. He should take some time to learn pleasantries," she said offhandedly. "Who might you be?"

"I -"

"This is Jayce," Viktor cut in. "My, eh… partner."

Babette eyed him for a moment, clearly sizing him up, before she spoke to Viktor in a language Jayce couldn't follow. Viktor responded in the same dialect, vowels clipped - if Jayce remembered correctly from the vague memory of Viktor mentioning it, it was Entresol. Jayce had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that they were talking about him.

"Fine," Babette said eventually. "Jayce, was it? Viktor has vouched for you. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what might happen if you go around telling people what you see here today."

God, Viktor, what the hell are we walking into?

"I understand," he said aloud. Viktor glanced at him, approving.

"Benzo will be happy to see you," Babette told Viktor. "The market's been slow lately. So he says."

"The market is always too slow for him," Viktor said, smiling slightly.

Babette laughed. "Go on, boys. Have fun."

She reached under the desk. Something clicked; the wall to their right rumbled, and slid open slowly to reveal a narrow, dark passage.

"Thank you, Babette," said Viktor, and then, to Jayce: "Let's go."

They made their way down the corridor. It was wide enough for them to walk in single file without issue, though Viktor had to make extra space for his cane and ended up bumping his shoulder on the wall a few times.

"Viktor," Jayce said, a little desperate, "where are we going?"

"Benzo is a scavenger," Viktor answered. "Or, at least, he employs several. Babette allows him to sell any usable parts he obtains from this hidden storefront."

"Wait - we're going to see a Kaiju harvester?" Jayce asked, bewildered. It was slotting together, now: the casual way Viktor had talked about the source of the Blue in Zaun. He was already familiar with the cause.

"We are."

"This is so illegal," hissed Jayce, and felt sweat bead on the back of his neck.

Viktor laughed a little. "Yes. Is this your first time in Zaun?"

"Viktor."

"Relax, Jayce. The people here gain nothing from telling others we visited them. Secrecy benefits us both."

Jayce glared at the back of his head. Viktor, perhaps predictably, did not react.

The end of the corridor ended abruptly in a thin piece of wood cut to fit the gap. Viktor reached up, knocked sharply three times. The wood slid away to reveal a couple of nondescript people; Jayce assumed they were scavengers, from the tools that hung off their belts and the masks slung around their necks. At the other end of the room a thickset man waited behind a counter, shelves filled with oddities rising high behind him. This must have been Benzo. Viktor stepped through the doorway.

"Good to see you, Viktor," Benzo called. "What're you after this time, hmm?"

"A few things," said Viktor, and counted off on his fingers. "I have run out of spinal fluid. Additionally, I believe an ammonium sac would aid my research - it does not need to be filled."

"You're in luck," Benzo told them, and crossed to the other side of the room. There was a large, rusted tank on the floor, stamped liberally with hazard symbols. "I've still got some fluid left over from Bedrock."

Jayce recognised the name. Bedrock had struck not long after he'd partnered up with Viktor; it had just barely been prevented from making landfall, but at the cost of the Jaeger sent to contain it. The whole Shatterdome had been sent reeling when it happened. The Lady of Zaun had been one of their most capable machines, and its pilots, Vander and Silco, some of the most experienced. A sense of unease bubbled in Jayce's gut looking at the tank; people had died, only for scavengers to swarm the Kaiju's corpse in the time between its death and its self-destruction. It seemed callous, in a way. He didn't know how to feel about it.

"That will do nicely," said Viktor. "And the sac?"

Benzo blew out a breath of air. "That one'll be harder to come by. Those things are -"

"- an active producer of the Blue. I'm aware," Viktor interrupted. "I understand the danger. If you happen to come across one…"

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Benzo. "I know the drill. I'll get word to Ekko."

"Thank you," Viktor said, sounding pleased.

They started to discuss quantities and prices then, slipping bit-by-bit into Entresol. Jayce seized the opportunity to look around the room. It reminded him of how Viktor's lab had been when Jayce first met him, covered in murky tanks from ceiling to floor, though they glowed different colours here instead of just yellow. Jayce wondered if that signified anything - perhaps the chemical makeup of the preservative fluids inside was different. He peered closer at a few of the tanks, and recognised some parts that Viktor had pieces of; there was a mandible here, a chunk of flesh there. One of the tanks was twice the size of the others, and had what looked like a section of brain suspended in it. Jayce watched it float in morbid fascination, slightly revolted, but fixated all the same.

"Jayce," Viktor called, making him turn. Benzo was back behind the counter; the negotiation seemed to be over. "Would you mind giving me a hand?"

On the countertop lay a flat metal container, totally opaque, with straps affixed to the sides. It was a backpack of sorts.

"The fluid is in here," said Viktor, by way of explanation.

"Is this why you asked me down here? To carry your stuff?" Jayce asked.

"Of course not," said Viktor, airy, and walked straight past him.

Benzo laughed, full-belly. "You watch that one. Got a mean streak."

Viktor didn't respond, but Jayce got the feeling he was amused. He picked up the backpack, slung it over his shoulders carefully, and followed.

They exited the storefront, and the brothel, without incident. Babette blew them a kiss on their way out, and laughed when Jayce flushed. They hadn't taken their masks off since putting them on, so there was no need to re-engage them; Viktor set off immediately, and Jayce hurried to draw alongside him.

"So," said Viktor, cane tapping across the ground, "now you know where I get my more… interesting parts."

"Are you allowed to do this?" Jayce asked.

"Eh," said Viktor, and shrugged. "The professor knows exactly what I can and cannot obtain legally. I'm sure he has noticed the components of our lab that fall outside official jurisdiction."

"So - no, you're not, but he hasn't said anything about it yet," Jayce concluded.

"Precisely," Viktor responded, lips curving into a smile. "Do you think you'll be able to keep our excursion to yourself?"

"I'll try my best," Jayce responded, and grinned at him.

------------------------------------------------

PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, NINE YEARS EARLIER

Over the years, Jayce and Viktor spent more and more time collaborating together. Working with Viktor was, in a word, intoxicating.

Every time Jayce had a thought, Viktor would be there, driving it further; when Viktor got stuck on a hitch in his idea, Jayce would smooth it out. They completed each other's minds, it felt like - Jayce had never realised how much he'd been missing someone to bounce his wildest ideas off until Viktor was there.

It grew to the point they would spend days on end seeing nobody but each other. Sometimes, Viktor would try to sleep in the lab; Jayce would be the better man and drag him to his room about half the time. The other half, they ended up both passed out over blueprints or Kaiju research, and woke back up in the early morning to do it all over again. When they got too exhausted, near-delirious, their ideas would descend into nonsense; Heimerdinger had walked in on it a couple times, and stood about five minutes of it before he declared their conversations inane and left. It had only made Jayce and Viktor laugh harder.

One evening, on a day when it had been particularly cloudless, Jayce felt an idea grip him - and then, all of a sudden, he found himself dragging Viktor up to the roof of the Shatterdome, late at night, heart hammering like a kid sneaking out of their parents' home. It was crisp, clear; the wind was never quiet, not at this altitude, but it was surprisingly gentle. Jayce leaned against the barriers on the edge, looking out over Piltover. Lights glinted in the distance, the city never fully asleep. In the further distance, Zaun waited, and out past the coast the sea glowed with luminous blue.

"Why did you bring us up here, Jayce?" Viktor called, and Jayce turned back to him.

"We can lie down here and look at the stars," he said, beaming. "The cloud cover is minimal."

Viktor hummed. "It will be uncomfortable to do so, with… the back brace. I will sit."

Mentally, Jayce facepalmed. Of course - he should have realised. "I'll sit too, then," he amended. "Easy."

Viktor levered himself to the floor carefully, laying his crutch alongside him when he was done. Jayce hovered throughout, hands ready to catch him, though Viktor batted them away.

"I am not an invalid, Jayce," he rebuffed. "I can do this alone."

"Just in case," said Jayce.

He sat too, once Viktor was settled, and together they looked out under the sky, above the city. Jayce pulled his knees up to his chest.

"It's beautiful up here," he murmured.

"Yes," responded Viktor, a tinge of something Jayce couldn't identify in his voice. "It is."

There was a pause.

"You never told me why you were so determined to pilot a Jaeger, Jayce," Viktor started, softly. "Why you modified Mercury in the first place."

"That's a sudden topic change," Jayce said, and let out a half-laugh. "Why are you asking that now?"

Viktor shrugged. "Call it curiosity. It seems like a good atmosphere for sharing stories."

Jayce looked up, tracing the faint constellations with his gaze. There was Ursa Major, the two pointer stars shining bright. Leo was to its south, though really right now that was up - he knew that Cancer was somewhere nearby. He couldn't ever make it out in Piltover, though. There were too many lights, and too many people, and his constellation wasn't the brightest.

"Where I'm from," he started, "you can see the stars much better than this. There isn't as much light pollution, not by far."

Next to him, Viktor waited, eyes flicking over the twilit sky.

"I used to really like stargazing," Jayce said. "I was seven. I thought it was the best thing ever. My mom showed me some of the constellations. Pretty sure I was insufferable about it, actually. I used to drag her out to teach me, and then drag my dad out the next night to repeat everything she'd told me like I'd discovered it myself."

The memory rose of his mom finding them, one night, he and his father lying down as Jayce carefully instructed him on what precise angles to look to see the correct constellations. He grinned at the memory, despite its painful edges.

"You don't talk about your father much," Viktor said.

Jayce turned his head to the side, looked at his partner. "You're one to talk."

Viktor chuckled. "Ah, I have my reasons," he responded, and looked back at Jayce. His eyes were almost glowing in this half-light. They looked like molten gold.

"He died," said Jayce suddenly, and Viktor's lips turned down just a little. "Did you ever hear of Nevada?"

"Of course," said Viktor. "The Kaiju whose destruction prompted the development of the Wall."

Jayce hated the Wall. He hated knowing that, if he had just been in any other one of the small coastal towns dotted across the rim of the Pilt, Nevada would have attacked somewhere else and Jayce's family would have been evacuated behind the Wall in the succeeding years. He hated that he felt that way, like other people would have been an acceptable trade for his own. He turned his face back to the sky. "It killed my father in the attack. It nearly killed Mom and I, too, except -"

Roaring that shook the earth, toppling Jayce's balance and sending him sprawling to the floor. His mother, unconscious beside him, his father lost and left behind somewhere among the destruction. Jayce's face was wet with terrified sobbing. The Kaiju reared above him, its massive hide blotting out the sun, freezing wind whipping round its body. Jayce stared in petrified horror, propped up on one trembling elbow, and knew this was the end.

"- there was a Jaeger," Jayce finished.

Bright, crystal blue. A great creaking of metal and machine ripped through the air, and a huge hand slammed down into the ground between Jayce and the Kaiju. His breath caught in his chest as blue light winked at him from in-between thick metal cabling. The Jaeger's head twisted round to look at him.

"I was - face-to-face with the thing, and then this massive machine interrupted. I didn't know what a Jaeger was back then. I think I thought it was an angel, to be honest, but - it stopped fighting, just for a second, and it scooped us up into its hand. The pilots brought us into the cockpit."

Viktor murmured, "That's…"

"Yeah," Jayce whispered. "I don't know why they stopped to save us. The Kaiju could've struck while it was distracted and killed all of us, but… it didn't. I don't know if I'll ever know why."

"But it did," said Viktor softly, "and you survived."

"We did. I passed out pretty soon after we went into the Conn-Pod. I never actually knew which Jaeger picked us up, or who was piloting it, but supposedly they found us on the outskirts of Piltover. My mom thought it was a blessing to start again, so we did. But I… I never forgot what happened, you know? It was easy to redirect my focus from the stars to the Jaegers. That's how I got my wristband, actually." Jayce added, twisting it round his wrist mindlessly, fingers rubbing lightly over the shard of metal embedded in its centre. "A couple of bits of scrap metal fell off the Jaeger when it dropped us off. I took one of the pieces with me when we left, and then I put it into this. God, I even had those stupid trading cards they made," he admitted, and laughed again.

"Which was your favourite?" asked Viktor.

"The Lady of Zaun," Jayce said. "It was beautiful."

"The first Mark Three," Viktor remarked. "It was the first pair of Zaunite pilots to ever enter the public eye, and they named the Jaeger after it, too. It was… incredible."

Jayce looked at him. "I bet that meant a lot to you in Zaun."

Viktor smiled. "It did."

A pause.

"Did you ever try to find the pilot that saved you?" Viktor asked.

Jayce shrugged. "I tried a few times when I joined the Shatterdome. I think the records must have been lost. That, or the Jaeger wasn't where it was supposed to be. None of the deployed units on record I found were blue-emissive, but I remember the light so clearly."

Viktor hummed. "A shame," he said.

They stayed there for a few more minutes, watching the indifferent, beautiful sky, before Jayce pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand for Viktor.

"Getting cold," he said, by way of explanation. "Should we go back in?"

Viktor watched him with those beautiful eyes. "Alright," he responded. "I can get up by myself, you know."

Jayce smiled. "I know. I just like helping you."

Viktor scoffed, but took the hand anyway, grabbing onto his crutch with the other. He held the roof door open for Jayce as revenge, and refused to go in first.

Two days later, while Jayce had been mid-solder on a new power cage for the gauntlets that would later become part of Sheriff Enforcer's arsenal (though she didn't exist at the time), Viktor had tapped him on the shoulder.

"I've been doing some research," he started. "I've cross-referenced all existing Jaeger registrations for the period of time that you were seven years old, and collated several reports on those I found. I, eh… also may have decrypted a few LOCCENT files that seemed relevant."

The bloom of wonder that had been building in Jayce's chest paused. "You decrypted them? How did you manage to get access approved?"

Viktor looked at him, amused. "Do you really think I need permission?"

"Viktor…"

"Relax, Jayce. Nobody will find out. I'm sure Marshal Medarda will forgive me if she ever does unearth my actions, once she knows what it's for."

"And what is it for?" asked Jayce, though in his gut he already knew the answer.

"Runic," said Viktor.

"What?"

"Runic," he said again. "The name of the Jaeger that saved you, and your mother. The pilots' names have not been recorded here, unfortunately - this Jaeger belonged to a different Shatterdome entirely, and I can't access their records without submitting an official request through LOCCENT - but Piltover has a little detail on the machine itself." He held out a slim file of paper, the corner stapled together neatly. "I thought you would like to read it."

Jayce stared at him. "Runic," he repeated, tasting the word in his mouth. Viktor had found this? For him? "I… Viktor, you…"

"Don't mention it," Viktor told him. "This is the least I could do, Jayce. You have given me new purpose in my scientific career. It is only fair I help you uncover exactly what gave you yours, no?"

Jayce laughed. "Thank you," he said.

Thank you. I might love you. How did I get lucky enough to know you?

Viktor swatted at him, but he was smiling. "I thought I told you not to mention it. Don't you have soldering to do?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Jayce. "You're merciless, you know that, V?"

"Indeed," said Viktor, and walked back to his own station.

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PILTOVER SHATTERDOME, PRESENT DAY

Sometime during the blur of working on Firelight, fixing up Enforcer, helping Mel figure out where they could cut costs on Jaeger maintenance, and getting blackmailed by Vi to fix up Enforcer again, Jayce had somehow become busy. He supposed it was only natural to get caught up in having so much to do after a long period of doing, arguably, nothing at all; still, it had surprised him when he took a look at his several-years-out-of-date wall calendar and realised a few weeks had passed. It was nearly the end of the month when he logged a half-day in his terminal and left the Shatterdome, working his way through the familiar streets of Piltover proper.

His mother's house was on one of the lower levels of Piltover, near to the elevator systems that ferried people to and from Zaun. None of the available spaces further in had accepted their inability to provide a deposit, when Jayce and Ximena had first arrived with naught but the clothes on their back and a heavy crown of grief; they'd ended up renting a small apartment that had, supposedly, a higher risk of Kaiju damage were Piltover's outer defences ever to be breached. Jayce had sent his mom more than enough money over the years to be able to afford to move further from the coast, but she always refused. Something about the memories of the home they'd made in the city. He didn't blame her for it: just counted himself lucky that the apartment had never been in the line of danger, after all.

The paint on the door was peeling. Jayce pressed the doorbell to the side, and heard the tinny, familiar melody ring out from inside his mother's home.

"Coming!" he heard her call, followed by a couple of faint bangs.

He waited.

The door clicked; it swung open to reveal his mom, looking a little worn, the streak of white in her silvering hair standing out. Her face lit up when she saw him, and Jayce felt himself smile automatically in response.

"Jayce!" she greeted, smiling, and reached out to hug him. "What a surprise! It's good of you to visit."

Jayce hugged her back. "Good to see you, Mom."

Ximena let him go, and ushered him inside. "Come, let's sit. You have to tell me all about what you've been up to."

She led him in to the kitchen like the layout of the house wasn't etched into his mind from childhood. Something nagged at him; it was only when he sat down, his mom's wooden seating cold against his bare forearms, that he realised.

"It's cold in here," he said, frowning. "Don't you have the heating on?"

Ximena tutted at him. "Don't worry so much, Jayce. I'm perfectly fine at this temperature."

"You don't have to be fine," he responded. "You should be comfortable. Are you - are you still getting the stipend? From the Shatterdome?"

She nodded, but something shaded over her gaze. "I'm still getting it. But - mijo, are you sure you don't need more of it for yourself? I worry about you."

Years ago, Jayce had spent his paycheck on a variety of things: sneaking off base in the early morning to the coffee shop nearby that Viktor liked, helping purchase questionably-legal and very expensive monster parts from Zaun. Predictably, as soon as those were no longer activities he took part in, Jayce found himself with a lot more money and a lot less to do with it. He didn't need it, was the thing, when his accommodation and his food was covered by the Shatterdome itself, and so he had started to redirect almost all of it to his mother. He would give her whatever she needed to be safe, even though she worried about it every time he came to visit.

"So it's not a money thing," he said, ignoring the second part of her answer. It wasn't worth having the conversation again; he didn't need it, and he didn't want to have to think about what he should do with it. "Why won't you turn on the heating, Mom?"

"Ah, you always were more sensitive to the cold. It's fine, Jayce. I just haven't gotten round to it yet. Okay?"

He sighed. "Okay."

"If you're that worried about the temperature," she teased, standing up, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "then I'll make you something hot to drink. Tea?"

Jayce started. "No - Mom, you don't have to do that," he protested, reaching out a hand.

Ximena slapped it away gently. "Shh, Jayce. Let me spoil you just this once. Tea, or something else?"

Jayce knew he'd lost this fight. He wilted back into his chair. "Tea sounds good," he said, truthfully.

She smiled at him, got up and started to potter around the counters. His mom still used the same teapot they had for years, steel, with a colourful coating that had long since begun to wear off; Jayce watched her set the tea to steep, humming lightly, before she sat it down on the table. She scooped up a couple of mugs - Jayce saw his face on one, old Project merch for their Man of Progress PR stunt, and winced a little. Ximena came back over, sat down.

They waited in silence for a moment. Jayce listened to the quiet outside, the faint mumble of voices in the street. Through the window, the tall outline of the Shatterdome loomed. Ximena reached forward and poured the tea; he took the mug she slid over to him, thanked her. Jayce took a sip as she poured her own. Strong, malty flavour filled his mouth.

A beat passed.

"How is everything, Mom?" Jayce asked. The mug warmed his hands, comforting.

She sighed, though it sounded peaceful. "Same as ever. Ah, I'm getting old, you know. It's not a very exciting life."

Jayce smiled. "No excitement isn't a bad thing," he said.

"Very true. My wise son," she laughed, reaching forward to pat his cheek. Jayce resisted the urge to melt into the touch. "And how have you been?"

Busy, was his first thought. People are worried about me, was the second.

In the end, he opened his mouth, and what came out was, "It's nearly the fifth anniversary."

Ximena stilled, her face falling. "Oh, Jayce."

His face went hot. He looked down. "I mean -"

Jayce felt the light touch of fingers on his shoulder, his mom's prostheses squeezing gently. "I'm so sorry," she said, voice soft.

"It's been five years," he found himself saying. "How can I still not be - moving past it? Even a little?"

Ximena watched him, the crinkled lines around her eyes suddenly seeming all-too-harsh. "It took me a decade to get over what happened to your father. I still miss him every day."

"But you were in love," Jayce murmured. Their relationship was so much more concrete than Jayce and Viktor's had been, so defined. His parents were married, not such a nebulous thing as lab partners. His hand trembled; he set the mug down.

"I remember the first time you bought that boy over," Ximena said. "He was so thin - they never feed them enough down there - and he came in the house, and then he said thank you, Ximena. Jayce is a wonderful partner."

Jayce blinked. His eyes stung, voice quiet. "I didn't know that."

His mother smiled faintly. "You were too busy chattering away trying to show him the house," she said, "but his priority was making sure I knew that you made him happy. And you did, mijo. Every time you brought him over, I saw it."

Jayce stared down at the floor, wishing it could swallow him up and toss him back in time. The bridge of his nose stung. His hands tightened around the mug.

"What I'm trying to say, is… Jayce. He loved you, and - I think you loved him too, in some way."

In every way, he wanted to tell her, but even Jayce himself had only come to the realisation amid seething waves and sparking metal, too little and too late. Was it unfair, to only feel the depths of love once Viktor was gone? Did Jayce even still love him, or just the vestige that haunted his memory?

I will never forgive you.

"I think he hated me at the end," Jayce whispered, shame pooling in his gut. "He - he trusted me to help him. I failed."

"I don't think that boy could ever have hated you," his mother said. "He might have been angry at the time, but if he had lived, Jayce, you would have made up."

"But he didn't." He felt like a child again, voice near-to-breaking, pouring his heart out to his mom in the hope that she could fix it.

Ximena didn't say anything; her hand tightened on his shoulder, grounding. Jayce buried his face in his hands and, five years too late, cried.