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They are, and perhaps they should’ve seen this coming, arrested within moments of them making it back to the ground. They had landed in an ungraceful heap, Jayce grabbing Viktor with his rather large hands, using his body to break their fall, and Viktor doesn’t know whether to blame his lapse in awareness on the humiliation and anger that comes with the knowledge that the other man already thinks him fragile, or the simple fact that those hands, especially when they find there way to his waist, are, ah, rather distracting.
Either way, he loses awareness of both the Enforcers and the Councilors just long enough for more hands to grab him, forcing his arms behind his back. This touch is familiar, though -- much more familiar than the casual, warm, and disorientingly gentle ways Jayce Talis has touched him over the last several hours. Its grounding, which Viktor is almost grateful for.
The euphoria, the jubilation, the simple fun of speaking with Jayce, creating actual magic from the art of equations and engineering, the way his body, just for a moment, had been almost pain free, his bones briefly relieved of the burden of carrying their own weight, as he made eye contact with Jayce while suspended in what might as well have been stardust -- well. He can honestly say he’s likely never felt this depth of joy ever before in his life. He didn’t know he was even capable of it.
And then they’re being dragged away, leaving Professor Heimerdinger and Councilor Medarda in the middle of a heated discussion. They’re tossed in the holding chamber deep in the building, where people facing trial by the Council are held. Viktor has no human bedding to break his fall this time, Jayce landing a few feet from him with a grunt. They both look over their shoulders at the Enforcers -- Viktor wanting to keep them in his line of sight now that his wits are about him once more; Jayce, it seems, to simply glare at them.
The Enforcers just stare back, looking lost, like they had been acting on autopilot. They share an uncertain look, and Viktor wagers they no longer know if this arrest was even lawful anymore -- not that Enforcers often care about the lawfulness about their actions, his childhood spent watching people get arrested unwarrantedly or having their legitimate crimes ignored at the whims of the Enforcers. Perhaps, he theorizes, they’re simply more anxious because they’re in the metaphorical heart of Piltover, and not acting in the shadows of the Undercity.
One Enforcer shrugs at the other, and the heavy door is slammed shut.
Jayce is on his feet, pacing around the room, running his fingers through his ruined hair and muttering “no no no” under his breath. Viktor lays there for another moment, mentally taking stock.
Everything hurts. But that’s hardly new.
He isn’t sure how much of this is due to the rough treatment he just received or simply him becoming aware to his body’s normal pains after briefly being free from them. His bad knee and hip protest loudly over being dragged several floors without the help of his cane (which, it now dawns on him, is shattered on the lab floor. Well then.) -- an ache settles deep within his hip, a tightness that only grows at the minutes pass by, and a shooting pain travels all the way down to his foot, where it feels as though a bolt had been forced through his ankle and a knife runs down the plantar surface of his foot. On top of that, he can feel the near-itch of his joint, hyper aware of his wrists. There’s a tightness in his chest, like his lungs are too big for the ribs they’re encaged in, though this might just be psychological -- after all, though Jayce is right -- both of them are right -- there’s a chance that Jayce might be banished from Piltover entirely and Viktor-
Well, who knows what could happen to him.
You knew the risks, he mentally scolds himself as he forces himself into a sitting position. They were right. They could change the world. “This is likely just a formality,” he voices out loud.
Jayce whirls on his heel, standing over him, and Viktor forces himself to his feet, just in case -- Jayce is brilliant, and in a fragile state, and has not once used his larger size and stature against Viktor, even when Viktor was picking through the wreckage of his apartment with Sheriff Grayson and informing him of his impending arrest. Still, Jayce is almost too good to be true, and one can never be too careful.
He wishes he had his cane.
Instead of lashing out, Jayce rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. “‘Formality,’ my god, V. What happens to us if it isn’t?”
Viktor blinks at the overly familiar nickname. He clears his throat and leans against the wall, shifting his weight onto his good leg and hooking his bad ankle behind his good one in an imitation of a casual stance -- it isn’t a good position to maintain long term, something the physical therapist he visited once and never again not long after Professor Heimerdinger took him on as an assistant had told him, but he figured he could get away with it until he could get his hands on a new cane (that physical therapist had also informed him that he had been using his cane wrong his entire life, likely causing damage to his shoulders and hips that it would take years to undo, and Viktor still doesn’t know if he’s grateful or embarrassed, cringing every time he remembers their face as they watched him walk into their office).
“We have Councilor Medarda’s unwavering support,” Viktor points out. “She may be the youngest and newest member of the Council, but she’s already one of the most influential voices amongst them.”
Some of the tension leaves Jayce’s face at that, and Viktor tries not to feel the bitterness brewing in his gut -- it was plain to see that Jayce himself was already under Councilor Medarda’s thumb. He didn’t trust her, didn’t fully trust any of the Council members besides Professor Heimerdinger, but of them there are worse people they could catch the eye of (Viktor frankly would give anything not to be alone with Salo or Hoskel, knowing from the looks in their eyes that he wouldn’t be safe around them, and Bolbok seems to have a personal distaste for anyone from the Undercity).
“...Do you really think she’ll have our backs?” Jayce asks.
Viktor doesn’t even have to think about it. “Positive.” After all, she was technically an accomplice, and while the odds of her facing punishment were as likely as Viktor himself ever making it onto the Council, he knew she could risk losing the control she had over the majority of the other Councilors if they were cast out. Viktor knew a calculating mind when he saw one. If she was willing to gamble on them, it's because she knew the odds were in their favor.
Jayce’s lip quirks into a relieved smile, and the bitterness crawls up to Viktor’s throat for a moment. Of course. The brilliant, beautiful man with pretty eyes and large hands is straight. Even if he weren’t, his type must be the rich, powerful, and stunning, the likes of which Mel Medarda fits into and Viktor is the opposite of.
Then Jayce’s hand is on his shoulder for the dozenth time that night, giving it a gentle squeeze. He’s giving Viktor a strange look, simultaneously looking like a scared child about to cry and a man who’s found salvation, and all at once Viktor is enveloped in strong arms, held against a firm-yet-paradoxically-soft chest, and oh, oh, he’s being hugged.
“...Thank you, Viktor,” Jayce whispers brokenly into his ear. “ Thank you. ”
Nothing could prepare Viktor for Jayce Talis.
--
They’re kept in the cell for a couple hours, and they pass the time chattering about nothing of import -- Jayce groans about being back in this cell less again in less than twenty four hours, Viktor tells a heavily lightened version of the time he himself was tossed in here (He had been attending the Academy successfully undetected for a year and a half when he was discovered and publicly dragged out of a lecture by Enforcers. Professor Heimerdinger had intervened, saving him from being tossed unceremoniously back to the Undercity or sentenced to Stillwater. Viktor had spent several hours locked up before Professor Heimerdinger popped his fuzzy little head in, telling him that no, he can’t go back to attending classes at the Academy, but he wasn’t about to let such talent go to waste, don’t you worry my dear boy! Viktor leaves out the part where he broke down in tears, thinking about everything his late parents sacrificed to simply get him the uniform on his back and keep him alive long enough to attend).
They complain lightheartedly about Professors at the Academy. They share stories about childhood mishaps in the name of science. Viktor makes a joke about a debate he once watched Jayce take part in as part of an extracurricular, and Jayce laughs, blushing and apologizing for not noticing Viktor was there, even as Viktor tries to reassure him that he was faculty at that point, but not faculty directly responsible for Jayce’s grades, so them man could hardly be blamed for not noticing him.
Then, in soft tones, rubbing the gem in the wristband Viktor has given back to him a few hours ago, Jayce tells Viktor the story of how he came to love magic.
They’re both sitting side by side on the bench, not looking at each other, and Viktor imagines a mother attempting to shield her small child from the storm threatening to devour them both. The fact that a mage had been out there at all was nothing short of serendipity.
What an act of kindness, of mercy. Viktor wonders if the mage knew what their actions would inspire.
“It was… It really was so beautiful, V,” Jayce whispers, far away from here. “And- my mom, when she woke up-” Jayce trails off. He sounds almost guilty, devastated. “My mom is alive because of magic. If… if they still don’t believe in us, I-”
Something unthinkable comes to Viktor’s mind then -- something both incredibly simple and yet completely impossible. Jayce sounds like he needs comfort, and Viktor… Viktor doesn’t think his words will do the trick this time (he almost wishes he had shared those ugly details about how it had felt as though the world had crashed down on him at the thought of wasting his parents’ sacrifice). His hands twitch where they hug his bad knee to his chest. They rise, hover over Jayce’s shoulder.
Touch like this is foreign to Viktor. The last time he touched someone with care had been-
Rio.
Viktor’s finger’s curl, he withdraws his hand slightly. He doesn’t even know if his touch is welcome to Jayce -- Jayce may have been liberal with his touches, but that doesn’t mean he’d allow someone filthy and broken like Viktor to touch him back.
Then again, they are isolated in this cell. What is it Piltovians are so fond of saying? Beggars don’t get to be choosers?
Viktor’s hand hovers again, hesitantly.
Then the door bangs open, making both of them jump.
In storms a woman, middle aged Viktor gauged from the lines in her face and gray in her hair. Her coat clashes with her skirt and her blouse isn’t tucked in, like she rolled out of bed and threw on the first things she could get her hands on. She worries her hands together, a gesture that tells of anxiety, and a myriad of emotions cross over her face -- Viktor thinks he sees fear, relief, and anger -- when her eyes land on Jayce.
Viktor recognizes her from the trial. Jayce’s mother.
She’s much smaller than her son, possibly a couple inches shorter than Viktor, he guesses, but as she marches up to Jayce and takes his face in her hands, Jayce seems to fold entirely into her body as he throws his arms around her.
It's strange, getting this up-close look at her after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours -- Viktor is suddenly given a face to the story with the mage, though she must have been much younger then. Viktor thinks about how her near death led to his brief moment of flight.
He thinks about her bold interruption at the trial, how insecure she had sounded as all eyes turned on her and she spoke out of turn. He thinks about how, well, horrible her words were. How she must have known what she was doing to her son. What is it like, loving someone so much you would break their heart, possibly destroy their trust in you, just to keep them by your side? What is it like, being loved like that?
Viktor watches Jayce lean into his mother’s touch. He thinks about how, earlier, if he had been a few minutes late, Jayce would be dead. He thinks he would run away, overwhelmed, if it were him in Jayce’s shoes.
Then Ms. Talis takes Jayce by the shoulder, pushing him back, and its unmistakably anger on her face as she says, “What were you thinking?!”
Jayce’s face changes as well to one of frustration. He stands to his full height. “Ma-”
Ms. Talis might have to look up to meet her son’s eye, but that doesn’t take away the power in her words as she starts ranting, “No! Pude haber perdido a mi hijo, did you think about that! You heard the Council, you could be banished! I can’t lose you, mijo, you can’t do this to me-!”
“Mom, can you just listen, please-?”
“You’re smarter than this, Jayce! No me mientas, what could’ve possibly gotten into you?”
“We were just-”
“‘We’?!”
It was in that moment that Ms. Talis seemed to realize there was another person in the cell with them. Viktor immediately puts on a neutral expression, hoping she hadn’t caught his cringing away from them.
She points a finger at him. It's metallic, with grooves running up and down the joint and a leather band holding it to her knuckle. A prosthetic, Viktor realizes, and a well made one at that.
“You!”
Viktor clears his throat, trying to find the words. “Ah, yes. I didn’t wish to interrupt. I’m-”
“The one encouraging my son to throw his life away?”
Viktor can’t hide the way he cringes at that.
“Mom, leave him alone,” Jayce interjects, holding an arm between them. “H-he did the opposite, mamá! If it weren’t for him-”
“You’d be safe at home, sleeping in your bed and not wasting away in another prison cell! Jayce, please, who is this man? Why would you let him lead you astray like this?”
Jayce stands bodily between them, and Viktor fights the impulse to kick the back of his knee. Bracing a hand against the wall, Viktor stands himself, and the pain of moving his stiff leg and putting weight on it just makes anger spark inside. “I am not some damsel you need to protect, Talis, ” Viktor scolds, and Jayce gives him a betrayed look. Ignoring him, Viktor walks up to Ms. Talis and holds out a hand. “I am the assistant to the Dean of Piltover Academy.” Or at least, he was. He’s actually not too sure about his state of employment at this given moment, especially after Jayce more or less resigned his job for him to Councilor Medarda.
Jayce, not swayed by Viktor snapping at him (and beneath Viktor’s frustration is another bout of bitterness that the man isn’t interested in him, because where else is he going to find someone who isn’t that easily scared off by his attitude?), moves to stand side by side with him.
Ms. Talis doesn’t take his hand. “You mean Councilor Heimerdinger?”
Viktor nods.
Ms. Talis gives him her own betrayed look, and Viktor is momentarily stunned by how alike the mother and son look. “Why didn’t you say anything on my son’s behalf at the trial?” she asks.
Viktor blinks, surprised. What a strange question -- what would he even have to say? He was simply acting as Professor Heimerdinger’s poxy, a trained eye making sure that the Kiramman lab was actually emptied of anything dangerous or missing anything important that an Enforcer might’ve missed. He was an assistant, and moreover he was, even after all these years, seen as little more than trencher trash that Professor Heimerdinger seemed unusually fond of. The Council might as well interview Sheriff Grayson, a woman equally uninvolved beyond making sure Jayce wasn’t hiding any bombs and actually made it to a holding cell for the trial.
“Mom,” Jayce says, “look, he wasn’t- he didn’t-” Jayce ran a hand down the side of his face, then his hand was back on Viktor’s shoulder, practically hugging him to his side. Does he have any idea how warm he is, Viktor wonders. “This is Viktor, mom. The only person who believed in me.”
Ms. Talis looks stricken by that, but doesn’t deny the statement.
Jayce’s voice softens. “...I want you to get along, mamá. He’s my partner-”
“Excuse me?!”
Viktor can’t even begin to guess why Ms. Talis is looking between them in such a way -- stunned, almost upset. It's impossible for her to know his background, and without his cane most people don’t realize he’s disabled right away, so what could possibly have her looking so heartbroken?
She wrings her hands together for a moment before taking Jayce’s other hand and dragging him to the far corner of the cell. Viktor stumbles a bit, having unconsciously been leaning into Jayce.
The Talises are talking softly yet rapidly in the corner of the room. Viktor bristles, knowing they’re discussing him but unable to pick out the words they’re saying -- he knows common well enough and knows a handful of words in Jayce’s mother language, too, but they’re speaking too fast, switching back and forth too quickly for him to grasp their words. He catches “-how long-” and “-tu novio-” and “-used to trust me-” and “-cariño no-” and "-when did you start hiding-" but that’s about it. Jayce seems to grow more and more flustered the more his mother speaks, waving his hands and shooting glances over at him like he’s never seen Viktor before.
Oh. Viktor hadn’t accounted for this -- Jayce had so quickly and willingly folded him into his Hextech dream, declaring Viktor his equal partner and seeming to crave his collaboration. Now, Viktor wonders if Jayce is considering removing him entirely from Hextech -- taking the insights Viktor contributed and running, leaving Viktor with nothing.
It's funny, Viktor hadn’t even asked for Jayce to consider him a partner. Now, the thought of losing such a position makes him feel hollow.
Ms. Talis then marches up to Viktor, raising her hand, and Viktor braces himself for her to slap him. He’s almost morbidly curious to see what those metallic fingers do to his face.
He won’t fight her, even in self defense. There’s no point -- his leg and back hurt enough to limit what he could do to defend himself at this point, and if he tried to bite her he runs the risk of injuring his teeth on her prosthetics. And even if he got a swing or two in, her son would no doubt rush to act as her ally.
Viktor shuts his eyes in hopes of protecting them.
The blow never comes.
Instead, hands frame his face. Cradling it, not too different from how she had cradled her son’s face earlier.
Viktor opens his eyes, staring at her in disbelief.
Ms. Talis gives him a searching look, and whatever she sees she seems satisfied by because suddenly her thumb is brushing over his cheekbone and Viktor will never let his guard down around another Talis again because this, this? How could he ever prepare for such fond, gentle touches? How is it fair that these people can circumvent a lifetime of expectations and experiences around touch within moments of meeting him?
“Ah, my dear,” Ms. Talis says, “you’re a handsome one, but my son clearly hasn’t been feeding you -- you’re so thin!”
Viktor instantly bristles. Leaning away from her touch, he says, “I beg your pardon, Ms. Talis-”
“Ximena,” she cuts him off. “No ‘partner’ of my son is going to treat me like the next door neighbor. Call me Ximena.”
“Mom, wait, seriously-” Jayce protests behind them before deflating. He gives Viktor an apologetic smile.
Ms. Talis -- Ximena -- sighs, looking weary. Then, with impeccable timing, Professor Heimerdinger pops his head around the doorway. Jayce turns red and Viktor wonders how much the Yordle overheard. Professor Heimerdinger looks exhausted, but he doesn’t seem mad at them. He simply tuts at the sight of them.
“Well, my boys, looks like you’re up for a retrial. Both of you,” he says, looking directly at Viktor. Viktor feels himself color and forces himself not to look away. “It’ll just be the Council,” he continues, and Jayce sighs in relief. Viktor almost wishes it were another public trial, though -- he knew perfectly well how ravenous the Council could get behind closed doors.
“Jayce, you are under your mother’s care,” Professor Heimerdinger says, and Jayce visibly wilts at that -- he’s still labeled as a madman, it seems. “And she clearly wants to take you home. Viktor…”
The yordle seems to be at a loss for words. He furrows his eyebrows, looking of all things disappointed, and that stings in a way Viktor didn’t expect. They had had their first conversation in this room. Professor Heimerdinger had told him he had potential, had looked at him with pride. Viktor had given years of his life to the yordle.
“...Is it… alright if Viktor comes with us?” Ximena asks, hesitantly. Viktor looks at her in surprise. “I’ll keep an eye on him as well.”
Professor Heimerdinger is nodding before Viktor even comprehends what she’s asked. Jayce lights up, looking at him with excitement.
“You’re both to report here by noon the day after tomorrow to present your theories to the Council. Again, and I cannot emphasize this enough -- your theories. We will decide if we need a demonstration. If we catch you practising this- this witchcraft, I’m afraid it's instant banishment, no questions asked. Am I making myself clear, boys?”
Viktor and Jayce both nod.
Professor Heimerdinger gives them both stern looks for another moment before his face softens. He claps his hands. “Well! That is more than enough excitement for all of us. You three should get some breakfast -- most important meal of the day, after all!”
Breakfast? Was it morning time already?
The yordle turns on his heel, leaving them then.
Viktor has no idea what just happened and all he wants to do is sit down. Ximena takes him by the elbow, takes Jayce’s with her other hand, and starts leading them out of the cell.
Jayce meets Viktor’s eye over her head. He grins, showing off a gap between his front teeth, and its so endearing it takes everything in Viktor not to look away. Ximena, perhaps feeling his bewildered eyes, turns to give him a smile of her own.
What a strange family, Viktor thinks. He supposes he could get used to their warmth.