Archive of Our Own

When he realizes the man who originally saved him is revealed. Some part of Jayce feels like screaming until he can’t. There’s so many emotions that he ends up just sort of staring at the Older Viktor. Even in his mind the thoughts about the person not being Viktor are cast aside. He knows that face. He’s memorized every expression he could find in it. Just because there’s a few more years and a beard on it doesn’t mean Jayce can’t recognize him. That’s like asking Jayce not to recognize the rune he was handed. It’s seared into his very being.

He realizes he’s been staring too long when Viktor shifts, looking away the barest amount in a show of what Jayce knows to be anxiety. What can he say though? He knows Viktor, has apparently known him for years and years before he ever realized. Viktor is who gave him his rune, who set him on the path to meeting himself. It’s some sort of recursive loop. He meets Viktor because he’s already met Viktor and Viktor meets him because he’s already met him. The thoughts start to spin and dance in his head. None of this makes sense. Why? Why did Viktor do this? How could he? Did he really just orchestrate this world being made? Can he believe Viktor was or is that cruel?

“Why?” his voice is a broken hoarse rasp on his knees in front of Viktor, ignoring the odd statue for now. He can guess why this statue is different, but that's not what he’s here for, not right now. He continues though, voice cracking and hand gripping where his rune sits on his wrist, “Why did you ever give me this? What was the point of all of this?!”

Viktor pauses as he nearly shouts and looks past him, either because he can’t stand to look at him longer or something else, and speaks oddly soft, “I thought I could bring an end to the world’s suffering, but when every equation was solved all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit.”

The look in Viktors eyes makes him pause and draw back for a second, observing him closely and Viktor takes the moment to continue, “In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this, the error of my ways.”

He finally recognizes the look in Viktor’s eyes as he continues to gaze at the statue and whispers, “That’s me, isn’t it? The statue, or whatever, it’s this world’s me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How long?”

The question has Viktor visibly startling, though the movements are still small and muted like hesitations on an inhale, and Jayce decides to dig his metaphorical heels in more and more as he repeats, “How long?”

“I… don’t know,” the admission is soft and some part of it breaks him.

He staggers up to stand, his brace clicking and reminding him that he shouldn’t be on his knees, he has a bum leg now. Some part of him is angry about that, furious even, but he shoves it down. He takes a deep breath and all the rage and hate and pain . He pushes it down, down, down until it doesn’t want to consume him. He won’t let it control him, let it master him. He is not his emotions. He can be angry about the leg and the whole situation later. He’ll have time later, Viktor is older here, so he’ll have time. He knows he’ll have time, thanks to the streaks of grey in his companion’s beard.

Viktors’ admission broke something in him though. He finally understands that look in his eyes and he hates it. It took him a moment and he placed it. It was grief. It was the aged version of the look his mom had when speaking about his dad. Whatever had been done to Viktor, had been done a long time ago. It'd been done so long ago and Viktor had stayed.

He'd stayed with a statue. Jayce wasn't an idiot. He couldn't have been even to just keep up with Viktor. His partner wouldn't have abided by that. It wasn't in Viktors being. As a result, he knew it wasn't a statue this older Viktor was hiding behind. It was Jayce, Other Jayce, turned into a statue when whatever had happened, happened. Even in death, Viktor had tended and cared for one statue above all others. Viktor had grown life and tended to Jayce. It hurt to realize, to face his own death, maybe even centuries past.

It hurt like a hammer to his leg, over and over, until he could no longer walk. It hurt like the removal of his research, his whole life, because of some kids robbing him. He wanted to scream and cry because he was dead and why did Viktor care now . Why didn't he stay with Jayce? Why couldn't they have talked? He wanted his partner back, he wanted his better half. He wanted him back so badly but life wasn't about what Jayce Talis wanted, was it?

Life was about facing your friend who never was who killed you after saving you all those years ago. Life was learning that putting down violence to heal was all hurt people could do to survive. Life was heaving himself upright, brace clicking in a warning almost. Life was staggering forward and hugging your friend who looked at a statue and may as well had been staring at a dead body even after all this time. It was holding a being who used to sort of maybe be not your friend but something more and letting them stiffen in shock before they hugged back.

“Jayce,” he whispers, awe mixing with confusion, “what are you doing?”

Jayce from before whatever this was, was different. He was clean and meticulously well kept. An image had to be maintained and everything that that entailed. He wasn't like that anymore though. He was tired and grimy. A haggard beard had grown where he was once clean shaven. His clothes had been ripped and dirtied and worn. So much was different, but he was still Jayce Talis just like Viktor was still himself.

“Hugging my partner, obviously, V,” he groans softly as he adjusts his stance to better squeeze, “‘Specially since he's so upset. It's what I do all the time, when he lets me.”

The moan that rips from Viktor is shocked and like a wounded animal. It's also so horribly, horribly soft and quiet. Something in him breaks to hear it but he doesn’t let go. He won’t let go until he knows Viktor is better.

Viktor, for his part, shakily hugs back after a few more noises. He doesn’t know what’s going on in his head but he’s happy to hold his partner close for as long as he needs. Maybe it’s not forever and maybe it can’t fix anything but it’s something. It’s all Jayce can offer and Viktor has starved himself of comfort too long, if he wants to guess, to do anything but soak it up like a sponge.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, hugging. He knows it’s a while though because he takes his time to rub up and down and around on Viktors back. He even manages to get the hood back and pet through Viktors hair for a bit as he shakes and sniffles and weakly sobs against him. Jayce doesn’t say anything beyond softly murmured words of comfort. He doesn’t know what he could say that would even remotely help. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, it’s risky and he might just hurt Viktor more than anything, but he can’t resist. He’s always been drawn to his partner. Eventually though, Viktor pulls back enough he lets go, letting him take a moment to compose himself.

“You looked like you needed that,” is all he says.

“It has been,” Viktor pauses, looking up a bit into the sky with a sigh, “So very long since someone has done something like that, let alone said anything similar. Thank you, Jayce.”

He’s not new to the idea of wanting to fight intangible concepts like time, but it’s been a while since he’s felt the flame ignite in him like this . It’s like he’s using the bellows at the forge as it burns bright and licks along the inside of his ribs. Time is a cruel mistress and he hates it so much. He hates, and has hated, the fact that he can’t stop it, can’t slow it, all he can do is maximize his time doing what he can. Except he can’t do everything. He’s failed at doing everything again and again. He can see that now, clearer than ever. No, he’s not able to be a good partner and a good councilor. He never was. He should have never left the lab in the first place, the more perspective he’s given. Even time is a distance he can no longer seem to cross.

Everything seems to speed up though as they start to talk. He listens to Viktor actually explain what happened. He needs to know what happened before he agrees to any plan. Hearing about the Machine Herald, as Viktor calls himself at some points, makes his blood chill. Yet, as Viktor details this plan, he can’t help but disagree. This can’t be the only way to do it. Viktor cannot seriously expect Jayce to kill him, can he? It’s ludicrous, surely?

Yet as Viktor continues and they talk more, he realizes that’s exactly what Viktor wants. It’s chilling. The only way he can do this is by killing Viktor? No, it can’t be. He takes a moment to think , digging down deep into the recesses of his memories. He’s aware of this all, right? That should change everything, shouldn’t it? Viktor is brilliant and he knows that his partner does so much thinking but one thing he seems to miss again and again is how Jayce feels. He didn’t expect the hug, after all. You’d think if he’d been doing this for who knows how many loops, making this sort of paradox, he’d have expected that.

So, Viktor can’t quantify and qualify the sort of changes Jayce will make. It’s a slim hope, one that probably barely qualifies as the thinnest of strings to hold onto, but by everything that he is, will Jayce Talis leap and hold onto that hope. Hope is not pretty, after all. Hope is grit under the nail and long sleepless nights. It is not a nice emotion when it is what is driving you. It is bedfellows with desperation and recklessness, if someone isn’t careful. He tells himself it’s all he needs though. Jayce drags in a deep breath or two and feigns that he’s slowly resigning himself to Viktor’s plans. He’s not. He never would have anyways. He’s resigning himself to learning to survive with the fact that his last actions to a Viktor who knows how important he is to Jayce is that of lying to the mans face. His smile is the right sort of sad and grieving though. He’s always been good at that, masking emotions with the right kind but the wrong details. He was the Golden Boy after all, a public mask was expected and encouraged.

(Before Jayce was the Man of Progress he was a son of House Talis, the lesser of Piltover’s elite. The lower house on the social ladder. He’s always known he had to hide everything. He wasn’t the face of Hextech because he was social. He’d just looked at Viktor and known the dances of politics would be deadly. So, Jayce had sucked in deep breath after deep even breath and smiled through all the lights and sound. He had to have Hextech succeed. He couldn’t let Viktor down, not when they’d come this far. He could do it, he knew.)

So he takes a deep breath and gives a grimace of determination to the Viktor who gave him the rune that now is one with his skin. The pain of it fusing with his skin doesn’t even register. It’s merely a piece of him now. He promises he’ll end it and he’s not lying. He will be putting an end to everything, but he won’t kill Viktor. He can’t. He doesn’t think the Older Viktor seems to know this though.It’s going to be hard and he doesn’t have all the time he wants for this plan. He’s going in with the vaguest of outlines and he knows it. He doesn’t have any idea how this all will spin out. Still, he takes a deep breath and centers himself.

He’s got this. He vanishes in a warping anomaly and makes his way forward, progressing as always.