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Jayce

One step outside of the Academy doors and Jayce flinches with a muttered curse, shielding his eyes. A hangover would have been preferable. A hangover meant a night of no worries and a day of sleep with an inevitable end. This is worse. 

The constant ebb and flow of anxiety over the course of two weeks has left him haggard and sickly. A bright and crisp morning once seen as a joyful opportunity for a light jog now has him hissing in distaste to set foot in it.

He pulls his coat tighter around his neck to keep the cool from seeping in and curses himself for not having thought to grab a scarf. Running on autopilot, he dressed in his smart, white suit and coat for the day, giving little thought to the world outside.

The plastering of harvest decorations on every viable surface is slightly alarming. Where had the time gone? He could have sworn only yesterday he and Viktor celebrated the final success in the workings of the Hexgates.

But success meant responsibility, stricter deadlines, a desire for more, more, more.

Maybe this was a sign to get out of the lab.

His whole body tenses with a wave of remorse and guilt. That was a thought for Jayce two weeks ago. Now? Today? He barely spent thirty minutes in the lab, and that much was a blessing.

Since the completion of the Hexgates, the Council had taken it upon themselves to parade him around every social event like a prized hen of their creation. ‘Look at this man we have discovered. Witness his success in harnessing the arcane thanks to our funding and contributions! Speak boy. What is next? The Hexgates will only preoccupy the masses for a few more weeks at best. Entertain them. Enthrall them. Leave your lab, projects, and overworked partner to answer our every beck and call. Put on a show.’ 

He clenches his teeth and tells himself it is the chill in the air. Every step down the stairs and to the streets is taken with more weight and purpose than he had started with.

It is one thing to stress over his work. It has become another thing entirely when it comes to his partner.

Of course the man would be exhausted. Jayce’s extended absence left Viktor as the sole brain behind the machine. Once they both shared in the sleepless nights, successes, and failings of their projects together. Now, whenever Jayce did find the time for lab work, the shame and guilt ate at him in seeing Viktor immediately collapse on the couch. 

But worrying over Viktor’s sleep habits was taken as offense. Viktor would settle an unamused glare in Jayce’s direction and scoff. ‘Tell me, how else will our work make it to completion if I waste time?’ Waste time! And yet, Viktor never once reprimanded Jayce for his absence. It was there in Viktor’s eyes though: the exhaustion, pain, and loneliness. All things Viktor is too prideful to voice.

Which is exactly why Jayce is meandering out in the market district at this early hour. Assisting Viktor in whatever capacity he can manage. 

He found his partner this morning in a disaster that was once their lab. Every drawer opened and dumped, shelves wiped of every item, and for some reason every chair and stool had been toppled over on their sides. Viktor was out of sorts and seething about missing parts for his Hexclaw, unable to continue work until they were in hand. The sight broke Jayce’s heart. Finding and purchasing the needed equipment became his first priority for the day. Then he would turn around and prepare for another gala tonight with the Council.

His stomach sours and he can taste bile.

Councilor Medarda had recently sprung a surprise on him. The first additional Council member in many years. A ludicrous idea, they had all balked. An idea they each voted on and resulted in something not so ludicrous after all. A new position and responsibility with all eyes trained on him, watching every move. Waiting. ‘Make a mistake. Make us regret this. Show us you are nothing more than a naive boy with stars in your eyes after all.’ The weight of it all was suffocating.

Could that be how they truly saw him? A small minded child with dreams larger than he can grasp?

A wave of nausea washes over him like a cold shower. Vomiting in public would not be a good look for the newly appointed Councilor, so he pauses. A few deep steadying breaths and the bile no longer threatens to ruin his image amongst the public shoppers.

Gears.

Scrap metal.

Wires.

Conduits.

A mantra is born. Repeating the needed equipment over and over to ground him until he reaches his destination: the mechanic stall. Focusing on the list of his everyday items feels like coming home and he can breathe again.

“Did you not hear me the first time, girl? I haven’t a clue what the hell you’re going on about! It’s not here! Scram!”

Jayce tenses to the shouting. One glance towards the commotion - a stall further down and across from him - and a pop of color in the form of shockingly bright pink hair demands all attention. The length of it nearly brushes the ground behind a pretty, young woman, distress etched in her expression. The vendor making the racket is a red faced old man. He leans over the front display table, swinging his arms ritualistically as if banishing a demon.

“I-I heard what you said!” The woman is curling away from the man. “I was only hoping you could help-”

“Get the hell out of my stall if you aren’t buying! You’re blocking the paying customers!”

Jayce is hit by a stab of injustice to the stall owner’s comments, giving him all the motivation to move just as the woman turns in his direction.

“Oh!” she exclaims at her personal space being invaded. 

Jayce’s nose crinkles to an overpowering perfume. It is reminiscent of a flower shop, should the shop owner be manic and stuffing every bouquet in your face. Not the most unpleasant thing, but intense regardless. 

“Is everything alright?” He schools his features into a neutral mask from the floral attack on his senses and glances over her head to the crotchety old man.

“Oh, yes, I just…” she glances over her shoulder, but must think better of it and gives Jayce her full attention. “I was only trying to find a vendor with some cords I need…”

The strange woman is dressed in a white tunic clasped together by a buckle. Underneath is a shimmering blue dress that barely skims her thighs. Her thigh highs match the dress in glittering color before ending in elegant white boots. While odd and quite the stand out in comparison to conventional Piltover attire, he notes that it flatters her figure.

“Your dress is stunning. Suits you well.” His eyes travel back up to her owlish expression and he habitually flashes his trademark smile.

His brain doubles over on his response to her serious concerns and a groan escapes him. “I’m very sorry. I’m not sure why I…”

The girl blinks and her expression flips like a switch. Surprise eases into a mischievous grin and half lidded eyes wander over him. “Whoa, slow down there, buddy. Buy me dinner first.” 

A slim elbow meets just under Jayce’s ribcage and he falters at the turn of her attitude. At least she was handling his poorly timed attempt of flattery well?

“My name is Seraphine. You can call me Sera. I’m a traveling musician!” She spreads her hands wide and gives a single spin and wink. There is no doubt of fanfare playing in her head from the looks of her continuous flamboyant waves of limbs into different poses. A well practiced, albeit eccentric, entertainer.

Laughing would be rude, so Jayce coughs into his fist. He musters up his own practiced facade of a dashing gentleman, tipping his head as he does with the Council. “A pleasure, Sera. I’m Jayce Talis. Hextech founder and inventor, scientist, newly appointed Councilman-” He snaps his jaw shut with a clicking of teeth. An egotistical urge to list off every accolade and minor accomplishment has him shaking.

Sera takes it in stride and truly appears impressed. “Wow, how lucky am I to meet the smartest man in Piltover on my first day?” Or just sarcasm. “Think you could use that big brain of yours to help me find some equipment around here?” She stretches her arms out pointedly to the vendor stalls and mass of people walking around them. 

Okay, point taken. How the hell did he turn this situation to be about him? Had his existential dread dialed him back to teenage years, attempting to impress a pretty girl?

Embarrassment heats his face, but Jayce plays it off with another smile. “To be fair, I’m not the smartest man in Piltover, but close. I’m sure I could help you out.” If he could punch himself without anyone noticing, he would.

“Oh, thank you! You have no idea how much this means.”

At least she is a good sport.

They return to Jayce’s previous vendor and he asks, “What exactly is it you’re looking for? You said cords?” he points out the electrical wires wound up in the back of the stall as he continues his own search for equipment while Sera investigates herself.

While he finalizes his transaction, Sera is leaning against the table, squinting at the wires. “Not electric wires, but audio cables. My sound guy completely flubbed and missed packing a box. I can’t possibly sing to a crowd without my sound systems working!”

Jayce deposits his purchases into a satchel slung over his arm. So she was a performer. “Well, I understand why you would have gone to that crabby guy over there,” he nods to the man who cruelly snubbed Sera. His stall was adorned with string instruments, but he can see why the man had no idea what it was Sera was after. “You’re looking for something way more niche though. Follow me.”

The two stroll down the market street merrily. Sera is a beacon of light with expressive hands and facial expressions as she chatters on about her life and her show taking place tonight. It’s hard not to notice her. And Jayce notices everyone they walk by noticing her. Every expression fully showcasing their emotions as they pass. Whether it is adoration, interest, distaste, or annoyance, there is no question in their opinion. She would get just as many sneers as she would eager children coming up to praise her sparkles, making the process of finding the stall he has in mind significantly longer.

After roughly the twelfth child with a sparkle obsession and a growing headache for Jayce, they reach their destination. Sera rejoices when spotting the correct cables while Jayce rubs the side of his head.

Sera has a nicer time speaking with this vendor and finishes her transaction with no issue. Her smile is bright when she turns back to Jayce. “I owe you so much! Please, tell me what you’d like! Your wish is my command.” She gives him a wink, but it is harmless. An odd sensation of big brother energy has settled over him compared to whatever previous hormonal break he had. Weird given they had only met.

“No need. Just happy to help.” Finally a normal response.

Sera wraps the cable under her arm, looking thoughtful. “Are you some sort of prince charming or what?” The look turns scrutinizing.

Ah, now she judges him.

“No, no, just your typical scientist with a justice complex.” If only it could be that easy again.

The woman huffs, unconvinced.

A loud cat call cuts into whatever this conversation has become.

Another young man strolls by them, eyes leering over Sera with desire.

There was once a time where Jayce caught a similar situation with a younger Cait and a creepy guy. Soon after, Cait was nursing his bruised knuckles.

Sera must be some kind of mind reader as she drew his attention back to her and shook her head. “It’s really not your problem, Jayce, but thank you. Honestly.”

“How are you putting up with all this attention? I don’t get it. Are you really that big of a celebrity?” Jayce flips through his memories of posters he has seen on the streets, but none of this pink haired female stand out to him.

“No, no, no. I’m no celebrity. At least… not yet. I’m doing my best though. This is my first tour through Runeterra!”

Jayce glances back in the young man’s direction that had cat called. “Ok… but you’ve been getting very large reactions from the public as if you are.” He glances down at her outfit again. “Surely it’s not because of how you’re dressed?”

Sera leans in conspiratorially. “Oh no, sweet prince. I’ll share a little secret with you.” She rummages through the bag on her back and pulls out a pretty bottle with multicolored splotches circling it. “In my travels through Ionia, I bumped into this super strange guy who spoke funny. Well, he helped me make this.” She holds it up in Jayce’s face. “This, my friend, is what I like to call my “But how do you really feel about me” cocktail.” She swirls it back and forth, the contents mesmerizing his gaze.

Jayce has many questions, but the first one out of his mouth was, “Your… what cocktail?”

Sera grips the bottle with both hands, hiding it from sight and leans in further. “It’s like a truth serum, but for how people think and feel about you. The stronger the feeling, the larger the reaction.”

Jayce is immediately thrown into memories of the Council parties, always wondering and guessing. What was he really to any of them? “You… you drink that and people just-” he looks around again, taking in the different expressions people have as they walk by Sera. “But how?”

The grin on Sera’s face somehow grows larger. “It’s what they call a little bit of magic.” She swirls the bottle between two fingers, knowing a hook when she sees one. “The magic gives off strong pheromones from your body. In short, you’re going to smell strongly of something.” She pauses, cocking her head at him. “Take me! What do I smell like to you?”

“An obnoxious bouquet of flowers.” Jayce crinkles his nose.

“How flattering,” she deadpans. “It’s going to be different. You may or may not smell like roses. These scary political people you work with? You could be a cesspool as far as I know. It connects with how the person perceives you. They react in kind. Sometimes it’s just a facial reaction, but when they speak to you? It’s mostly unfiltered as far as I have been able to tell.” She snatches the bottle back into her hand as Jayce reaches for it. “It could be very upsetting in your line of work.”

Jayce didn’t care. As soon as “magic” left her lips, he was already captivated. He wants - no, needs - to know.

“That is what I want as my repayment for helping you.”

Sera pouts. “I just told you that it could be upsetting. What does a genius like you need this for?”

“Why does a pretty entertainer like you need it?” He counters.

She huffs. “I wanted to make an experiment. Gauge my possible audience. See what I’m getting myself into. Use it on stage to get a read of the room and adapt as necessary.”

Makes sense if she was starting out. She would want a little extra validation.

Jayce contemplates this and finally answers her. “I have an event tonight where I have no idea where I stand. I would like to know how they really see me.”

There is a beat of silence where Jayce feels he may be in the clear. 

“Are you sure? Like I said, it-”

“Can be upsetting. I get it. But I would rather know now and know what I’m up against. How I can change to better their perception of me.”

“Right. You and I are one in the same. A couple of people pleasers, huh?” She smiles a sad smile.

Being called a people pleaser does something to Jayce’s gut, but he shakes it off. “How long does it work?”

“How long do you need it to work?”

“Through tonight if possible. Sometimes these things run late.”

Sera presses the bottle in his hand and instructs, “Then take the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Sera bows her head slightly. “My repayment for your help. You’re the right guy.”

Jayce ignores her odd confirmation and the look of sad understanding on her face as he swallows the elixir and hands her back the empty bottle.

She presses it back in his hands. “Keep it. It’s pretty, right? I think it was meant for you.”

“Does… it start working immediately or…”
Sera laughs lightly. “Oh no, it will take some time, but I would hurry. A man like you could be jumped out here.”

Jayce stills. “It-it’s not that bad, is it?”

“No, I’m only teasing. But I do want to give you a bit of advice. First, if I were you, I would go to someone you trust. Measure that reaction towards you to see if you can handle your big, scary party tonight.”

“Thanks, Sera.”

“No, thank you. It’s nice to meet an honest and kind person.”

Caitlyn

Stillwater prison is the answer. It must be.

Caitlyn trails over each red thread, reciting to herself the events and evidence that branches each connection.

There is still something nagging at the back of her mind. A missing link to connect them all. A possibility to show she is on the right path without it looking like a shot in the dark should she be wrong. 

The haze of her healing pains from the explosion coupled with her anger towards Marcus and her parents is distracting however. No matter how she tries to quiet the noise of her emotions, they barrel into her and tinge everything red, not only the threads.

Finally, for once in her “career”, she felt as though she was onto something big. Something worth a promotion and acknowledgment of her skills. And then she was caught in that bloody blast.

The loud creak of her bedroom door cuts through her current emotional distraction. She is not to be distracted by outside forces, so she resumes her observation. Until a shocking scent wafts over her. A pampered pup?

The fire of anger plummets her into the beginnings of a hissing fit. If her parents thought for one moment that gifting her with a dog of all things would make up for their decisions, they-

There’s a familiar, low hum and she turns, spirits lifted.

“Jayce!”

“Still at this, Cait? I thought you would be in Stillwater by now! What has it been, two weeks?” Jayce bends slightly to take in the extra thread and photos Caitlyn had added since his first and last visit. Had it really been only a couple weeks?

“No true investigation is complete without all the pieces, you know. There’s something else here, I’m just too bogged down to catch it!”

Caitlyn glances at her handiwork, but for whatever reason, she cannot bring herself to continue looking per her usual need. Jayce looks out of sorts himself. She has no doubts, ever since he gained the title of Councilor, that he is being run ragged and in every direction all at once. Expected to display his vision while also creating said vision.

With a quick lunge, she wraps her arms around Jayce, effectively taking him off guard. Something had her feeling quite protective over him for once.

“Oh!” He startles for a moment before reacting in kind. “Don’t worry. You’re a genius with this detective work. I know you’ll figure it out.”

Caitlyn pulls back. “This isn’t for me, nit-wit. How are you? You smell like a groomed mongrel. Surely you haven’t taken on yet another career path? Or is it just for stress relief?”

There is a brief silence between them. Just staring at one another, and was it her imagination, or was Jayce looking a tad rabid?

“Groomed… mongrel? I smell like a dog to you?”

She pushes away from him with a small giggle. “It suits you, honestly. Loyal, kind, easily excitable, thrives for positive attention from any and everyone. Could even take ‘boot licking’ in a new-” She covers her mouth with both hands. She really just said- and out loud? What was even more surprising was how true it was. 

“How about that,” Caitlyn whispers to herself.

The fallen expression of the poor man has her reeling back. Most definitely an apology is needed and- “You truly are the embodiment of a big loaf of a dog.”

Jayce groans, “My oldest friend thinks I’m a dog.”

Caitlyn tries not to laugh as she lightly pats the top of his head and freezes. What in the world has gotten into her? “I only mean it in the nicest and sincerest way.”

Jayce glowers. “You can stop mocking me now. I get it. I’m a golden retriever who turns tricks in the hopes of a treat. Ha-ha-ha!”

Caitlyn frowns. She barely catches his murmur of “maybe this is a bad idea” and panics.

“Jayce!”

Taking both of his arms in her hands, she schools a deadly serious look meant for interrogations.

“Yes, you may be a golden retriever, but you’re taking what I say as nothing but negative. It’s not! Do you know why that makes you, you?”

Jayce only sighs and lifts a brow.

“Because just like that silly little dog, you will always be there for those you care about. You will do anything in your power for them.”

His eyes search her for a moment, as if waiting for another joke. When he finds she has nothing left to say, he finally sighs, “Not… lately… not for-ugh. Cait, I can’t… I can’t do all of this! I can’t be everything to everyone.”

“I know you are struggling with it. But,” She rubs his arms in comfort. “What do you want, Jayce?”

His look is far away and nearly dumbfounded. Truly? Had he never thought about what it is he wants?

Her silly little Golden Boy, indeed.

“You do realize this is your life, your work? Why play at politics? Why “turn tricks for a treat”? Jayce… when are you going to realize everyone else should be treating you? Because you are the treat.” Unable to stop herself, she taps his nose.

“That’s… not how the world works.”

Caitlyn stomps her foot. “Well damn the world and damn those who make it work that way!” She lets loose of her hold and points in Jayce’s face. “Jayce Talis, are you not the man who eight years ago was banned from your research? Are you not the man who proved them all wrong and now have them begging at your feet for more? You are a dog to no one that you do not want to be a dog to.”

“I-I didn’t do it alone… Cait, honestly, if not for Viktor, I… wouldn’t be here.”

Caitlyn waves her hands, clearly losing him to the point. “Yes, yes, Viktor is a major partner in developing Hextech. Is he someone you’d rather be Golden Boy for over all these political arseholes?”

“That’s not how I’d put-”

“Ugh!” Caitlyn throws her hands in the air. “Put it however you like! Would you rather wither away dallying with the Council or thrive where you are happiest? In the lab. With your partner.”

There’s that far away look again. Jayce reaches into the satchel at his side and pulls from it a small gear, thumbing over it thoughtfully.

“Yes.” Caitlyn nods. This little action is confirmation enough and a win in this conversation, finally. “Now we have that settled. I do suppose you were right to ask before.” She turns to her map one last time. “Why am I still here? Because everyone may think me daft? For what I believe is right? No!” She stamps her foot down on the marked up map and turns back to Jayce. “I’m heading to Stillwater prison. Enough second guessing. This is what I want and I’m going for my metaphorical treat as I see fit!”

There’s vulnerability in Jayce’s face. She finds herself worrying again, but he flashes her his winning smile. “We will not roll over for just anyone.”

Caitlyn wants to laugh at the continued dog jokes, but the next thing out of Jayce’s mouth warms her heart.

“Cait, I wish nothing but the largest treat for you in that prison.”

Mel

The gala is more or less a success in Mel’s mind. Plenty of Piltover’s finest in attendance and even a few foreign dignitaries blend in seamlessly. Not seamlessly enough though. They would be her next targets to pamper and preen with drink and promises of the future, effectively lowering their guard to invest in The Golden Boy’s visions for Hextech. Should said Golden Boy make an appearance as he was told.

Mel takes another sip of her wine and glances around to find no wandering eyes cast over her. She bends to brush away a stray thread from her dress and smoothly tips her glass to empty its contents in the potted plant next to her.

A clear mind was important when persuading those more gullible to such gluttonous activities.

As if spurred on by her thoughts, Councilor Salo makes a grand gesture and greeting, drawing her attention and brightening her mood.

The wisest investment she has made to date.

Jayce Talis.

Better late than never.

She places her empty glass on a waiter’s tray and feigns ignorance to Jayce’s arrival, taking another full glass of wine for show and making light conversation with the waiter about appetizers to continue her act.

Jayce was brimming with potential. The man was a literal and metaphorical walking billboard for success and charisma to draw every eye in the room, yet he still managed to idle on standby when it came to his new position. Afraid to make a move, a decision, to do anything to take everything in his hands. He could use that power for the good of the people.

A course of action had crossed her mind over the years. Taking him to her bed was not her favorite idea. An unsettling feeling had stayed her hand to this approach until leadership seemed to freeze him in place. To sleep with such a naive and kind man, she could find herself falling. Perhaps it would not be so bad. The added benefit of romantic entanglement did provide a sway in decisions.

The waiter nods and guarantees a sampling would be brought to her, and when she turns to find Jayce again, he is stepping into her space.

“Jayce.” She smiles smoothly, readying herself for the next part of her plan to go into motion. A show of networking as he should have been doing for years.

A heavy stench wafts around her nose; smoke, sweat, and ozone. Did the man not have the decency - or hygiene - to clean up after a day at the forge and lab work? Perhaps there is more than political play he needs a hand with.

Quite the project. But she had already been invested for years.

Her well practiced mask falls as she instinctively crinkles her nose to the smell of hard work. It is the meat and bones of Jayce after all: possibility. While not exceedingly enticing, it does have a certain allure to it. 

“It seems some of us believe a day in the forge and lab to be light work with no need of a cleanse.”

Jayce stills and Mel slips slightly, eyes widening in surprise.

“Though you are a busy man. I apologize. That was quite rude.”

The hazel of his eyes are not as bright as they were eight years ago. Back then they were full of wonder and joy while breaking and entering into a Councilman’s office to create magic. The danger of it all appearing exhilarating to this young man and his partner. Now they were dulled and wary, darting around the room as if this were the true danger. 

“No need to apologize, Councilor Medarda.”

“Please, I believe we are past such formalities. Call me Mel.” Familiarity tends to smooth over the rough edges.

Having a large man suddenly appear at a loss for words and fidgeting is quite endearing. Not what she needs, but hitting a sentimental spot in her all the same. She feels a soft smile slip. 

A server making their rounds passes by. Jayce snatches at a glass of wine and downs the liquid in an instant.

Nerves were at play here. She could work with this.

“Sorry… Mel. I just-I haven’t exactly gotten used to what is right and wrong in this position.”

“It does require a bit of practice. Walling oneself off in a lab surely does you no favors.” She bites her tongue. Not the kind of retort she meant to give. “Though I know you have important work you must see to. It is the reason we are all here tonight,” she amends.

Jayce doesn’t seem fazed by her comment. No, not a player in this game just yet. But he can change. He will change. She sees the promise. The Golden Boy and everything he could be.

“Yes. We are here tonight because of Hextech… It’s just… I didn’t realize how little the Council truly thinks of me.”

Mel’s brow furrows to this. “We have high hopes for you and you still with inaction, fumbling when you do act. What do you expect?” A hiss escapes her lips.

Another unnecessary truth and unguided comment, reminiscent of her mother’s tutelage. Perhaps she drank more wine than she thought. She takes a breath, recalculating her position, and considers the ramifications of taking this man to her bed. Here he stands before her, the most human thing in the room with his raw emotion. An image flicks through her mind: her hand caressing over his, steadying the tremors as she guides every decision they make to finish his mask. She fights to push it aside and ease back into professional.

“Apologies, the wine must be going to my head.”

The man looks worlds away, staring her down. No, staring through her, without emotion. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going on tonight. Councilor Salo invited me to his room. Before that, Councilor Hoskel repeatedly called me ‘boy’ and gave an explicitly detailed list of how unfit I was for the Council. And now… I don’t have much in me to speak to the others or any investors. I will take my leave early.”

Mel reaches out to touch his shoulder and delays his departure. “Jayce, you are a Councilor now, and this is an important aspect of your new position that you must dedicate time to. You need to network with the other councilors and potential investors for the future of Hextech.”

“What if I don’t want this?” The biting snap in his voice visibly shook her. “Mel, you shoehorned this life onto me. I didn’t even get a choice! One minute, I’m speaking on Hextech to the Council and the next I’m-I’m a Councilor! This isn’t what I’m good at.”

Mel brushes her hand down his arm soothingly. The man was panicking under the pressure. She only had to relieve the stress and whisper how good he could be at it.

“Give it time and you will have everyone in this room wrapped around your finger.” She leans forward to whisper in his ear. “I will show you how.”

A very brash and bold move. What wine are they serving?

Jayce pulls away from her. “And what if I resign?”

Mel blinks. Surely this man was not getting cold feet.

“Jayce. This is brand new to you and I see you are… concerned. To win them over, you must-”

“I must make something to win them over.”

Panic rarely touched Mel, but trails up her spine now.

“Indeed, but you must also gain favor-”

“Then back me up! How about you gain the favor?”

Anger boils within her. But of course it is expected of her to do the work.

“I do not possess the knowledge necessary to spin the tales needed-”

“'Tales'? We’re not lying about what we’re making!”

“Sometimes embellishments are necessary to focus the attention-”

“What ‘embellishments’? What is it you want to tell everyone we’re making?”

Mel bows her head low and glowers up at Jayce through her lashes.

“With the attacks on Piltover recently, the hint of weaponizing Hextech would-”

“No! This was already discussed and Viktor and I specifically mentioned no weaponizing Hextech.”

The audacity of this man. He and his partner both. The two of them would dash everything on the rocks due to moral codes. Weapons would not necessarily need to be created. How could they both be so brilliant yet so close minded at the same time?

“You don’t-”

“No, this is it, Mel. You can back Viktor and me on Hextech at these events while we work on them. That’s where I flourish. It’s where I belong. I can’t leave Viktor alone to do it all by himself.”

Mel stills and takes in his expression. The fire now lit and sparking within it. But of course.

“Viktor cannot handle the work for mere moments alone?”

“It’s not ‘moments’, Mel. You just admitted you don’t have the knowledge and that’s the truth. You have no idea how much he has had to handle by himself. I’ve left Viktor alone for too long.”

The anger within her simmers with understanding.

“I see. It is not playing the part which is diverting your attention. It is Viktor.”

Jayce startles. “It’s both! I can’t do this and be in the lab with Viktor at the same time. So I’m choosing.”

“And you are choosing Viktor.”

“I should have chosen Viktor from the beginning.”

Mel straightens her spine further. “This will need to be brought before the Council.”

“I expect so. But take this as my formal resignation.” Jayce turns to leave before pausing. “Mel… do I really smell like I’ve been… sweating all day to you?”

Before she can even plan the words correctly, her loose tongue does the work for her. 

“No. You smell of so much potential born from a forge to waste away in a lab.”

Viktor

Viktor sighs and tosses his pencil across the blueprints. He had long given up working on the prototype of the Hexclaw. Without the parts Jayce promised earlier, there was no need to continue further, so he had buried his focus in the schematics of the Atlas Gauntlets. He ran the numbers and formulas against the designs to ensure Jayce would have every detail necessary to exceed in his prototype build while living his split life.

He glances at the clock. Only nine. Jayce would be well into the festivities of parading about for the Council at this point. An all-nighter for him as it had been nearly every other night for the past couple weeks. Even longer should he include their success with the Hexgates.

Jayce is exhausted. He would make light of it, but Viktor noted it nonetheless. While they would pull sleepless nights in the lab together over the years and look like death warmed over at times, Jayce never carried this level of exhaustion on his shoulders, in his eyes. The lab always gave promise and hope to a dream they made true. Exhaustion came, but in a satisfying hum that brought renewed energy. The Council was different. It weighed down heavily, causing misery and second guessing.

Or maybe Viktor was projecting his own feelings. He loathed the Council. The pompous attitudes. The red tape. Having to play a dancing monkey for attention. Or rather Jayce played the dancing monkey. Viktor did not envy him the position. But why would Jayce take it and run off if it made him so miserable?

The question was always on the tip of his tongue every moment he saw Jayce. He knew better than to ask. His thoughts would find themselves wandering to an influential woman too beautiful to be of this world and wielding a sharp mind on top of it. Yes, Councilor Medarda was quite magnetic to everyone in her orbit. That did not exclude Jayce. 

Snatches of moments in the lab with Jayce flash to him, working in tandem together on the Hexgates in peace. Their work ethic and friendship long developed since their first night of creating magic together. The perfect partnership. Viktor had known no other relationship so close, attentive, and kindhearted as the one with Jayce. Life finally felt complete in such an odd way he could never put his finger on what made it so. It just was. He immersed himself in work he was passionate about every day at the side of an equally impassioned man who treated him with not only respect, but genuine care.

Then the lovely Councilor would waltz in unannounced and suddenly Jayce would straighten and trip over himself. The visits were similar to Professor Heimerdinger’s: to evaluate their ongoing project to update the Council. However, Viktor had always felt quite different to Councilor Medarda’s presence. She spoke to Jayce mostly, though she was courteous in asking Viktor about himself and how he faired.

Viktor would busy himself with his own work, ignoring the chattering of the two as a nuisance instead of a welcome to showcase his own thoughts as he did with the Professor. There would be light chuckles and touches Councilor Medarda cast upon Jayce; Jayce received them in kind, but never overstepped their status differences. Viktor very much tried to ignore the almost flirtatious nature of it all, but an uneasy settling in his chest always reminded him of how closely he noted them. 

But it did not bother him. Not really. Jayce could court anyone he cared to. It is fine. The anatomy of one’s body - especially his - is quite the mystery when reacting to outside forces and why. No sense in trying to dissect chest pain when his coughing fits were becoming more regular anyways.

Yes, Jayce was always drawn to Councilor Medarda. And she in turn had proposed the idea of an additional position in the Council’s ranks.

Coincidence? Hardly.

A painful ache thrums in Viktor’s chest and he winces, clutching at the spot and expecting a bought of coughs, but they never come. He sighs heavily and drops his head atop the blueprints. He was beginning to wonder if he sighed as much as he breathed. It is becoming commonplace and infuriating.

His state is devolving more and more into illogical nonsense the longer he works alone. It wasn’t that long ago that life felt complete, whole. Now… he had no clue what was getting into him, but it was painful, possibly leaning into an emotional level, and involved the abysmal absence of Jayce. That much he is sure of.

Jayce…

But he could wallow and self reflect in his sleep. The Atlas Gauntlets needed to be perfect. 

With pencil in hand again he blinks down at the mass of blue and dancing white lines. He wipes at his eyes. It is too early for them to be so unfocused and watering. He shakes his head for good measure and erases one of Jayce’s incorrect measurements and the pencil snaps with the force.

With a frustrated yell, Viktor flings the pencil across the room. It bounces across the floor and rolls to a stop, blue light reflecting off it. 

The glowing blue Hexcore bobs on the desk above it, twisting and turning slowly.

Viktor exhales a shuddering breath and chokes on a nasty cough. He had not tinkered with the device for some days now, but felt a calling to it every moment, the runes a puzzle he is determined to solve. Something else to throw all of his focus on that truly held his attention and would not allow him to be distracted by unusual states of the mind or body.

The gauntlets could wait on Jayce. The Hexclaw is near completion already. The Hexcore requires more time and energy for exploration.

Let Jayce dance for the Council, Councilor Medarda, investors, whomever. That was his new priority position and choice. When it came down to it, they needed the funds to keep it together, growing, and without push back. Viktor would focus on the lab work, the projects, the arcane. They needed this.

He glances down at the schematics one last time with a twinge of guilt. Jayce could manage the last of the corrections.

A loud groan jolts him from his thoughts and he recognizes the opening of the lab doors. Surely Professor Heimerdinger wouldn’t be poking in at this hour? Perhaps Miss Young forgot her notebook again?

A strong smell hugs his senses. Smoke and worn paper. Fond memories of simpler times with a cherished book by the fire hits hard enough to ease the fog and restless anxiety from his body. 

How curious. 

Viktor spins around on his stool.

“Jayce?”

This is very curious. And exceedingly pleasing. He saw Jayce just this morning, but the shock of him being here and now of all times? It somehow felt longer.

Jayce saunters closer with a smile and small wave. The exhaustion is still there, but he appears lighter than he had these past weeks. Almost like himself.

The gala could not be over. Was it successful so early?

“You are not dancing for the Council?” 

Viktor snaps his mouth shut. Very eloquent. Very much not what was intended.

Jayce pauses and quirks a brow. “Dancing for the Council?”

“Yes. Because you are the monkey.” Viktor smacks a hand to his mouth, aghast. “I-I did not mean that.”

There is a moment of pause. Jayce chokes on a laugh. 

“Oh, this is great, first a dog, then a failure, now a monkey?”

Viktor grimaces at the continued laughter, it becoming almost manic. Best not to inquire about the ‘dog’ and ‘failure’ bit. What kind of hellish day was he living to be called such things? Then to have Viktor of all people throw ‘monkey’ on top of the name calling chain.

“I do not believe you a dancing monkey, Jayce. The Council treats you as such is all and it displeases me. I am not certain why… why I voiced that…” he stammers, throat tightening and he winces as Jayce slows his laughing fit. His hands shake slightly and he grounds them into his lap. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine, Viktor. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” He gives a genuine Jayce Talis smile. Not the show running, flash of teeth, but the warmer, softer turn of his lips that meets his eyes, and oh. How long has it been since Viktor witnessed this?

Jayce is happy.

The temperature heats alarmingly fast, warming his gut and cheeks. His hands pressing into his lap developing a slick of sweat. He releases a shaky breath with rising concern to these abrupt changes. And oh no, he’s staring at that smile. He snaps his eyes to the table. Right, their work.

“I-ehm-since I did not have parts to work on the Hexclaw, I was reviewing your blueprints for the Atlas Gauntlets. I made a few adjustments.”

Jayce’s smile brightens further at his statement. “Always the life saver.”

The heat increases with the praise. Viktor quickly spins on his stool, mind whirling along with him.

“Come and I can show you.” Despite this odd fever afflicting him, Viktor cannot help the delight in having Jayce by his side when duty called elsewhere. A prize won he did not realize he was playing for.

Jayce leans in close and deposits a satchel next to the blueprints. “This should be everything you need for the Hexclaw. I can always go back if you need anything else.” He bends further in Viktor’s space, gazing over the blueprints.

Viktor stills at the closeness, glancing from the satchel, to Jayce, the blueprints, and back to Jayce.

Why is it so warm? Surely it is not a fever. There were no signs earlier. Was it Jayce? The man was apt to run hotter, but this was very warm. And it could not be coming directly from Jayce. Viktor was tired. Simply tired and in much need of sleep. Delirious then.

Jayce touches on a portion of the blueprints. “Ah, I always downplay the amount of force needed with Hextech. These numbers appear more accurate.” He continues on reviewing and commenting on the changes. Viktor’s eyes roam over Jayce the whole while. How excited and alive he is in his element. He could barely blink out of fear this was a hallucination. He squirms at the thought. He had indeed imagined such or spoke to an empty room nearly every day since Jayce was taken from him.

Embarrassing.

And it hits him. The heat and emotion. He’s embarrassed, nervous even. Why? It is Jayce.

The man is prattling on about the corrections and Viktor finds he has not taken in a single word for being stuck in his own head and openly staring.

Jayce meets his eyes and Viktor startles.

The hazel eyes are bright and lively, inspired even… then concerned.

“Hey, are you ok?”

A rush of embarrassment floods Viktor, and he snatches at his cane, standing with haste and wanting very much to flee the room. “I am fine!”

The stool topples over with a clatter. One of the legs trips him up and he is stumbling backwards, but Jayce grabs and yanks him close and upright. He watches Jayce with wide eyes, breathing unsteadily.

“You don’t… seem fine?”

He is most definitely not fine. His mouth moves to answer, but nothing comes. Swirling thoughts and emotions choke him, causing an inability to verbalize the simplest of responses.

The pure fury of wanting to scold Jayce has him gritting his teeth. The need to tell him off for not doing his job. A job he accepted with confidence without ever consulting Viktor. To be amongst the elite, those with filled pockets and opinions that mattered. Side by side with a new colleague of grand intrigue who touches him most assuredly the way he likes. No longer standing by the unwanted Undercity filth that flinches at the thought of touching him.

Then despair creeps in rapid succession. How quick and easy it was for Jayce to make that choice. To leave Viktor behind. He wants to ask so badly why, but he knows. Because he is not enough. He would never be enough.

And then his heart aches. How was he not enough for Jayce to stay? After years together? He misses his partner terribly. Every day. Every moment. He did not just want Jayce by his side, he needs Jayce by his side.

So many words clog his throat. Too many ready to escape him. He bites his lip to fight them back, shaking with the need for them to be heard.

“No... I am… not. Fine!” he gasps out, finding the exertion of holding his tongue from uttering every thought to be draining.

Jayce stiffens. “What’s wrong?” Soothing circles rub into Viktor’s arms with a scorching heat. There is worry written all over Jayce’s face and his attention keeps trailing down to Viktor’s bad leg, instinctively reassuring himself no physical harm had occurred.

The close proximity, caring touches and glances are all suffocating. The urge to flee is heavy in every nerve ending like a pin prick, but he knows Jayce will only corner him until whatever is happening to him is resolved. He lightly pushes against Jayce’s chest for distance between them and it’s given with ease.

“Are you sick? You look overheated and your eyes are… I don’t think I’ve ever seen your pupils dilated so much?”

Viktor leans onto his cane with both hands like a lifeline. Dilated pupils? His mind flies through all the symptoms: feverish, sweaty palms, uneasy breathing, staring, jumpy, racing thoughts, touch sensitive, dilated pupils.

“It must be the stress. I have worked endlessly and-and it has been ‘doing a number on me’, as you say,” he plays off as casually as he can while doing his best to keep down every word he would rather say, breath straining to the effort. It feels more like a fight for his life.

This was wildly different from his normal fits of stress and the anxiety they brought. Yet not entirely. And not always due to overworking. 

Viktor had suffered through moments over the years with Jayce, snatches of foreign emotion that left him dumbfounded, attributing it to a sense of camaraderie and affection. The joyful touches of success akin to the sun seeping through his clothes and tingling his skin. Praises over resolving a defective formula effectively filling him with such warmth, he would flash a rare grin in giddy excitement. Tender and considerate concern shown over his leg giving him a fit resulting in a stutter to his heart. A mundane morning suddenly turning into one he thinks back on fondly simply because his favorite coffee was brought without question and how that touched him to his core. The pathetic envy when Councilor Medarda entered the room.

This is a new level however. A culmination of every experience wrapped into one and he has never felt such a form of terror in his life.

“I’m so sorry I’ve left you with everything lately…”

Now this simply would not do.

“I-I am not complaining! I can do the work, honestly. It-it is only a bit of stress.” Viktor is fumbling. Navigating the bundle of overstimulating sensations overrides any sense of slipping into his calm facade. He is an animal wounded and cornered, ready to snap.

“I’m not going to let you sit here and work yourself to death by yourself. We’re partners.”

Hearing the title emphasized so heavily leaves a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. Maybe they were once partners. He is not so sure anymore. The complete flip-flop of emotions has Viktor dizzy and confused, not knowing how to react. He is going to be sick. He wants to balk, scoff, cry, push Jayce and call him an idiot for ever leaving him in the first place.

“That’s why I made the decision to quit the Council.”

The inner chaos spinning wildly slams to a halt. Suddenly lightheaded with surprise, Viktor chokes out, “You… quit? But-” The floor between them blurs. He tightens his grip on his cane to ground himself. “I thought you said it is best for funding… and to gain traction on projects we wanted?”

“I did, but…” Jayce’s broad shoulders sag. “Did I make the wrong choice?” He sounds so small and lost. Fighting an invisible battle, not knowing what to do. Alone.

An uncanny reflection of Viktor’s own emotions.

“No! You did not make the wrong choice-please-” 

He sees it now. Everything unfolding before him. Every night spent surrounded by everything sensational and fascinating. A world he loves and holds in the highest regard. And Jayce at the center of it all. Flickers of unnamed emotion over the years shaken off as an unknown to digest later. But ‘later’ never came to him. 

Jayce left and a large hole filled his place. Everything once inspiring and loved became overwhelming and empty. Dark thoughts consumed him and he turned to drowning them out with constant work and little sleep.

And suddenly the words are not so hard to say.

“Please! …Stay with me!”

He couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to. Every day he feels himself slipping further away… physically and emotionally.

“Viktor…” 

Gentle fingers brush either side of his cheeks and take with them a stream of hot tears.

Jayce’s question is lighter than a whisper, “Can I give you a hug?”

“Please.”

In his right mind, he would be mortified at how undignified falling against Jayce and clawing at his back like his life depended on it was, his cane clattering to the floor with nary a thought given. But he is too far gone and sad to care, yearning for this olive branch extended towards him, for long days and late nights together, for excited hands on his shoulders, glimpses of warm, open smiles, those eyes on him and only him.

“I need you to stay with me.”

The embrace is met in kind. Large arms crossing over and completely enveloping his smaller frame, hands sliding up and down Viktor’s ribs in their own desperation to calm and sooth him.

“I’ve got you. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

A sob rattles out of his chest and he presses his nose into the crook of Jayce’s neck to muffle the sound, unable to reign himself in. “Please tell me this is real.”

“Yes, Viktor,” a light chuckle tickles his neck. “This is real. I quit the Council. I’ll stay here with you. Where I belong.”

Viktor inhales deeply to calm himself. The scent coming off Jayce is so lovely and grounding that he settles down easily, deep exhaustion hitting him, but feeling lighter than he had been in weeks, months even. He pulls back to take Jayce in. His chest aches again and finally ‘later’ is here. These symptoms, the constant sighing and thoughts of Jayce with Councilor Medarda. How empty things are without his partner around him. How much he-

“I love you so much it hurts,” he whispers, eying the soft line of his partner’s lips. He licks his own before tentatively leaning into Jayce.

The kiss is chaste and warm. A featherlight touch. Jayce’s lips are as soft as they look and he presses into them in want of more. 

A hot tingling sparks in Viktor’s chest and spreads throughout his body. The warmth of it comforting and arousing.

Then the wheels of his brain start turning. Rapidly.

He is kissing-! He said-!

Viktor yanks his head back in horror. “Shit.” Jayce’s expression is that of surprise, watching him curiously and Viktor cannot handle the attention, wishing for the ground to swallow him. He stumbles out of the embrace, one hand flailing for support and grasping onto the desk. “I’m-I’m not sure why I did that, said that. I mean, I do love you.” He cringes and tries again. “I care about you. An intolerable amount-” he groans and hides his face in his free hand.

Not mere moments after Jayce announces his return that Viktor spills his newly discovered feelings for him, making this the most awkward rekindling of their partnership. If Jayce even wants to stay after this.

Warmth circles around his lower back and he’s pulled against Jayce. He startles, not sure where to put his hands and looks up in question to the serious expression bestowed upon him.

“You know, earlier today I had a conversation with Cait. She was saying all these things about how I’m the embodiment of a golden retriever that got strangely deep. It ended with her asking me the most important question I never thought to ask myself.” He leans down to whisper directly in Viktor’s ear,

“‘What do you want?’”

The question tingles in Viktor’s ear and shoots down his spine, effectively heating his whole body. When Jayce pulls back to face him again, he knows his own expression must be a mess.

“What do you want?” he whispers, heart in his throat.

“I’ve thought about it all day. And over and over again, I kept coming back to four things: ‘I want to be back in our lab’, ‘I want to work on our dream’, ‘I want my partner back’.”

A light caress by a calloused thumb against his cheek and a stray tear is wiped away. Both of their breaths hitch in anticipation.

“And the fourth?”

Jayce’s gaze bounces between Viktor’s eyes and mouth.

“‘I want Viktor.’”

Their mouths meet in an instant, more passionate and desperate than the previous peck, melding and tasting one another in longing. Jayce’s body moves and presses Viktor against the desk, rearranging to set him atop it, never breaking the kiss, spreading his legs and standing between them to slot them perfectly together. Both of their hands race over each other’s bodies in exploration of tender spots that elicit noises to shake them both to their cores.

In all his life Viktor had never met anyone like this extraordinary man.

A chance accident, a chance meeting, a chance life saving moment. All leading here.

Believing in such things as fate was always beneath him before, and Jayce just dashed it all away.

When they break apart, breathing unsteadily with wide smiles, Jayce ducks his head.

“So uh… earlier… when you said something about a monkey. It wasn’t because I smell like a monkey, is it?”

“Jayce Talis. Do you believe I know what a monkey smells like?”

His brilliant partner shrugs lightly, cheeks turning a beautiful rosy tint. “Well then… what do I smell like?”

Viktor hums and slots their heads side by side, twinning his arms over large shoulders as he takes in the heavy scent of a comfortable evening. He whispers in his ear, “You smell like home to me.”

Mage Viktor

Viktor stands shrouded in his white and rainbow splotched robes, hidden in the shadow of an alleyway near the rear of the Piltover market square. The wind whips around him, and he pulls at his coat, holding tight to the bottom of his hood as to not have it fly off his head. 

Tampering with and following the outcomes of different timelines has slowly become his favorite past-time over the years. Moping around his own world with nothing more than the reminder of his actions in the form of a frozen, dead Jayce never ceases in heartache.

This is preferable. Sometimes painful, but he expected as much when he had started out. Discovering over and over again how Jayce’s own feelings were mutual however, proved to be a debilitating shock at first. Any success in the beginning felt more like a failure, throwing him into despair and out of sorts for some time before attempting to change the course of another timeline. But he refused to stop. He couldn’t fathom every Jayce in every world suffering because of Viktor.

The performance put on by Miss Seraphine tonight had been quite pleasant. Not his taste in music, but a beat to tap your foot to and the visuals were inspiring. He found himself chuckling every time he glanced over to this world’s Viktor and Jayce, standing at the back - for of course, Viktor was never much for crowds in nearly every timeline - and catching the twitching and eye rolls from his younger self to every other lyrical verse.

The best moments revealed themselves when the music lulled and built into a beautiful crescendo or the lyrics weaved into a brilliant declaration of emotion. Seeing Jayce, completely wrapped up in the moment, winding his arms around Viktor and whispering in his ear or planting light kisses against his hair, cheek, and lips while Viktor was left a blushing and stuttering mess.

These instances stirred a painful, envious ache. What could have been. If he had spoken up. If Jayce had not tried so hard to please everyone.

But there is happiness through the ache. Seeing these versions making better choices and happy together. Even if he had to push them along in some way; both too stubborn and set in their ways across all timelines he has touched.

Jayce and Viktor now sit on a bench with the crowd dispersing around them. They chat together and point towards the night sky, Jayce making expressive gestures and Viktor chuckling, completely oblivious to those around them. 

Viktor is comfortable in leaving this world behind him. They could figure out the rest now that they had each other’s undivided attention. Jayce would not be absent for Viktor’s inevitable diagnosis and remain by his side every step of the way given their new attachment. Viktor would be left with little room to experiment on himself and instead research with Jayce, removing the path of the Glorious Evolution.

Painful memories flood his mind and he chooses to distract himself with a team of people breaking down the stage. Viktor does not have to search the remaining crowd for long before landing on a flash of pink. The woman who helped make this whole ordeal possible.

Seraphine of Piltover. A woman gifted with magic from birth and an ability to hear the emotions and souls of others. Harnessing that power in a digestible formula was a perfect solution to use in helping Jayce and Viktor in timelines where she is easily accessible and amenable. This time she surprised him in trying the drink herself, but that must have been the catalyst needed to spurn Jayce to react and ask in kind. Miss Seraphine rarely followed Viktor’s explicit instruction or would infuriatingly forget given her already hectic life.

The entertainer glances in his direction and waves eagerly. He flinches when she breaks out into a sprint towards him and breathes a sigh of relief when a group of people gather in front of her.

“I have made a mess of other trials with Miss Sera…”

He looks back over to Viktor and Jayce. They now stand to leave before Jayce makes for a sweet embrace. His hands roam over Viktor in a very public show of affection that he has no doubt Viktor will grumble about later. He chuckles at the thought.

“But this time it finally worked. You are alive and happy here, Jayce… As long as I can ensure this across as many timelines as I can touch, it is enough for me.”

Jayce lightly spins Viktor around in a slow dance and the whipping wind picks up in intensity.

Viktor stills at the heavy scent carried over to him. Warm, bitter coffee in a cold lab. 

A memory of a man long gone to him flashes before his eyes. 

Their first morning in their new lab space, excitement brimming. Jayce enters the space with a cup outstretched to Viktor.

“What is this?”

“Uh… coffee?”

“Yes, but… why?”

Jayce laughs. “Because I thought you would like one… partner.” He grins and pushes the hot cup in Viktor’s hands, leaving him bewildered, yet touched. Such a simple, but meaningful action. It did something funny to his heart and he takes a sip of the beverage.

“How kind… Jayce… Thank you.”

Viktor gasps and loses his hold on the hood, the wind blowing it back and off his head. He stumbles and catches himself against the wall, trying to control his rapid breathing and stave off the bitter sting of tears. 

“I’m so sorry…” he mournfully rasps and pulls himself back up to properly stand.

As he reaches back for his hood, his eyes take in Jayce once more and he jumps.

Jayce has paused his slow dance with this world’s Viktor, staring into the alleyway, directly at him.

His chest aches painfully.

“I love you,” he whispers longingly.

He slings the hood back over his head and slowly backs further into the alleyway.

“In all timelines… In all possibilities… Always.”