Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jayce gasped awake, his head pounding and ears ringing. A groan escaped him as he rolled over, cheek scraping against dust-coated tile. Something was wrong. Why was he here?

Then, like a freight train, reality hit.

The experiment.

He and Viktor had been attempting to reverse the progression of Viktor’s disease by using the hexcore to manipulate biological time. Jayce had been certain they’d used the right combination of runes, every calculation double-checked. But as soon as the experiment began, the hexcore started to shudder violently. Unpredictably. He’d only had time to shout Viktor’s name before a surge of energy hurled him backward. The last thing he remembered was Viktor’s amber eyes, wide with fear, just before a blinding wave of arcane power swallowed everything.

In the present, Jayce rolled over, his aching body screamed out pain to his nervous system but he persisted. Unsteadily pulling himself to his knees he looked around, dust and smoke still flowed in the laboratory reducing visibility.

“V—Viktor!” Jayce shouted out, his voice cracking.

No response.

He pulled himself to his feet, the pain in his skull increased. The world spinned and his vision grew dark around the edges. He took a second to take deep breaths lest he pass out again. As soon as the vertigo abated he began unsteadily trudging over broken tools and scattered papers. The dust had finally begun to settle, through the haze Jayce could see the familiar blue glow of the hexcore. It floated in the middle of the room, unaffected by the destruction it caused. Viktor was nowhere to be seen, his crutch was abandoned on the floor right where he had been standing. Dread dripped into Jayce’s blood like ice water as he quickly retrieved the only lifeline to his partner.

“Viktor!” Jayce repeated, louder this time, voice cracking with panic.

The silence that followed pressed against his ears like a vice. His breath caught as his eyes scanned the dim, dust-choked lab. Shattered glass crushed underfoot. Scorch marks marred the floor, and the air stank of ozone and something metallic.

Then he saw them.

Faint tracks, barely visible in the fine layer of dust coating the ground. Not footprints…no, these were smears, staggered drag marks. As if someone had crawled.

Jayce’s heart lurched. He followed them, each step deliberate, every nerve taut as wire. The trail led toward a counter half-shielded by overturned equipment.

“Viktor…” he whispered this time, approaching with painful caution. He knelt, hand trembling as he reached for the edge of the counter, preparing to peer beneath. Two amber eyes wet with tears peered up at him from the darkness.

Jayce had only a moment to sigh in relief before a crescent wrench flew out from the darkness and struck him square on the forehead.

“Ah—damn it!” he shouted, stumbling back and landing hard on his rear. Clutching his forehead, he groaned, blinking through the stars in his vision. “What the hell, Vik—”

“S-stay back!” a high-pitched voice screeched from beneath the desk.

Jayce froze, confused. That voice wasn’t Viktor’s. Not the one he knew, He squinted into the shadows, trying to focus. All he could see were a pair of small, worn shoes with threadbare patches near the toes, poking just past the desk’s edge. They were far too small to belong to Viktor and certainly not the polished, meticulously maintained dress shoes the man always wore.

“Who… who are you?” Jayce asked, voice low, wary.

“You already said my name,” the voice snapped again, though it wavered now with confusion. “Who are you? Don’t come any closer!”

Jayce blinked. “That’s impossible. That’s—” His gaze swept the wrecked lab. Back to the hexcore, the only source of light in the room. He could almost swear it had gotten closer, as if to taunt him.

Jayce’s heart clenched. “No,” he muttered to himself, scrambling up to his feet.

He spotted the emergency work light half-buried under a fallen stool and quickly got up to snatch it up. With a click, it buzzed to life, casting a sharp beam into the gloom. He went back to the desk, crouched down and slowly directed the light beneath the desk. His breath caught in his throat.

Curled up in the corner, clutching a long metal rod like a weapon, was a boy. Maybe ten or eleven. His eyes were wide and golden, familiar in a way that sent Jayce’s heart racing. His face was rounder, cheeks still holding baby fat, but the features… they were unmistakable.

It was Viktor. Or at least, some version of him.

A child.

“You…” Jayce whispered. “Viktor?”

The boy didn’t answer. He just held the rod tighter, eyes glinting with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Who are you? How did I get here? H—how do you know my name?” The strong face the boy had been putting on was already cracking, revealing just how scared he truly was.

Jayce’s mind spun with a thousand possibilities, each more impossible than the last. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing, how their calculations could have gone so catastrophically wrong. The runic formula was only supposed to reverse certain cellular degradation, accelerate healing, maybe slow aging at most. But this? This wasn’t just a regression of age.

No, it was worse.

Because the boy in front of him wasn’t just a younger Viktor. He wasn’t wearing Viktor’s clothes at all. Instead of the long sleeve dress shirt, vest and well-fitted slacks Viktor favored, this child wore threadbare garments: a green cloth shirt too big at the shoulders, buttoned unevenly with mismatched pieces, and brown pants with a crude patch sewn over one knee. His shoes looked like they were held together more by willpower than stitching.

This Viktor hadn’t just been de-aged. He’d been displaced. Yanked straight out of the past.

Jayce took a shaky breath and slowly lowered himself into a crouch again, careful to keep the light out of the boy’s eyes. “Okay,” he said gently, voice softer now.

“Hey… Viktor, I—it’s me. Well, you don’t know me… not yet. My name is Jayce Talis. You’re... god there's no easy way to say this but you’re in the future.” Jayce stumbled over his introduction, trying and failing to be a calm presence in this bizarre scenario they’ve found themselves in.

The boy flinched but said nothing. His grip on the rod tightened. His gaze darted from Jayce to the closed lab door and back again.

“You’re safe,” Jayce tried again. “I swear it. You’re not… wherever you came from anymore. This is my lab—our lab. You’re… well, you were working on something with me. There was an explosion, and I think we accidentally brought you here and sent the older you.. somewhere else.”

Still no answer. The boy’s eyes were wide and untrusting, lips pressed into a hard line. There was a subtle tremble in his small frame, whether from fear or cold, Jayce couldn’t tell.

“I know this doesn’t make any sense to you,” Jayce continued, swallowing down his panic. “It doesn’t make much sense to me either, but… I promise I’m going to fix it. I’ll send you back. I’ll get him back.”

The boy finally spoke… His voice was shaky, laced with panic and suspicion. “You’re crazy… I-I want to go home.”

The words struck Jayce like a hammer to the chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. What could he say? I’m your friend? You’re stuck here now? None of it would make sense to a child pulled violently from his own time, his own world. Especially not a child like him.

Viktor had always been guarded about his past. Jayce had caught glimpses. Fractured anecdotes, quiet references spoken like memories he didn’t want to relive. But he knew enough. Knew that Viktor had grown up in Zaun, in the shadows of factories and under the thumb of desperation. A place where children learned not to trust, because trust got you sold, used, broken. Where the lucky ones ended up in the mines or pressed into small, dangerous crevices to fix machinery in tight spaces too lethal for adults. And the unlucky ones… Jayce pushed that thought away.

This boy… this version of Viktor, wasn’t just afraid of a stranger in a strange place. He was afraid of all the terrible things strangers do to children abandoned in the undercity.

Jayce swallowed and slowly scooted backward, putting a little more space between them.

“Okay.” Jayce said quietly, palms open at his sides. “Okay. I’m not going to come any closer. You don’t have to believe me right now.”

The boy didn’t reply, but his grip on the metal rod loosened by a fraction.

Jayce stayed there, kneeling on the lab floor, letting the silence settle between them. Not moving. Not pressing. Just breathing… slow, steady, present.

The child’s eyes flicked downward, caught by a glint of metal.

The crutch.

Jayce had dropped it when Viktor struck him with the wrench. The boy’s gaze lingered on it. Apprehension flickered in his eyes, but also something else. Recognition. Pain. Need.

Jayce’s voice came softly. “You still use one… I’m sorry your own crutch didn’t come here with you. This one is too big.”

The boy’s eyes snapped back to him, wide with alarm—as if Jayce had said something he wasn’t supposed to know.

Jayce held up his hands again. “I told you. I know you.” He offered a small, unsure smile. “You let me help you design this one, you even let me put my house decal on it, right there.” Jayce angled the light so it showed on the crutch, revealing the hammer shaped T emblem of house Talis, right on the center where the armrest met the rest of the crutch.

The boy didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away from the crutch, either.

“You insisted on it being adjustable,” Jayce murmured, voice low and even. “Said it should fit almost anyone… though even the smallest setting might still be too tall for you now.”

He reached for the crutch and eased it into his lap. The metal was cool against his fingers, familiar in a way that grounded him. He pressed the first button with a soft click, then another, each motion purposeful and smooth. The segments began to slide inward with mechanical precision, the quiet scrape of shifting metal the only sound between them.

Jayce worked with practiced care, breaking the device down to its most compact form the way a soldier might disassemble and clean their rifle. Respectfully, deliberately with reverence for what it was and what it meant.

“This crutch… you hated my first design,” Jayce said with a quiet chuckle, his voice tinged with fondness. He adjusted the angle with a smooth, practiced flick of his wrist. “Said it was too heavy, too clunky. You told me to start over and design something people could actually move with, like it was part of them.”

His fingers moved deftly, tightening a joint here, sliding a segment there. “You wanted it to be light. Strong. Comfortable enough to forget, but sturdy enough to carry real weight. Built to last a lifetime, so no one would ever need a replacement.”

He glanced up, just for a second, meeting the boy’s wary eyes before returning to his task. One final click echoed in the quiet lab, and the crutch locked into place now perfectly sized for the small frame huddled across from him.

“You told me it shouldn’t feel like a burden,” Jayce continued, voice softening. “It should be a tool. Something you could rely on, even when everything else gave out.”

He set the crutch gently on the ground, within reach but didn’t push it closer. Just left it there,

No pressure. No demands.

Just offering him the same thing Viktor had offered him when he stood on the precipice of oblivion all those years ago: a choice, and something solid to hold onto.

Viktor eyed Jayce with caution but slowly reached out and took the crutch. Setting the metal rod down, Viktor ran his fingers along the device, his thumb settling on the house Talis emblem. Jayce tried not to let his relief show as he began to speak.

“I’m sorry that we’ve done this to you. This must all be… incredibly confusing,” Jayce said, his voice thick with guilt but steady. “But you have my word, I won’t rest until I figure out how to get you back where you belong.”

He slowly rose to his feet, careful not to make any sudden movements, backing away from the desk to give the boy space. His hands remained open at his sides. No threats, no pressure.

For a moment, Viktor didn’t move. His small frame stayed tucked in the shadows, eyes darting between Jayce and the crutch. Then, cautiously, he shifted. A hand reached out, trembling slightly and gripped the metal shaft. With effort and a soft grunt, he pulled himself out from beneath the desk.

He stood unsteadily for a moment, leaning on the crutch, testing its balance. His brows knit together as he adjusted his grip, then took a careful step. Then another. The crutch held firm, responding smoothly, taking his weight like it had been molded to him.

Viktor glanced up at Jayce, eyes still wary beneath the messy fringe of his hair.

“…Thank you,” he said quietly. The words were stiff, unsure. Spoken more out of politeness than trust. But it was still something.

Jayce gave a small, reassuring nod.

“Anytime.”

The silence stretched between them again—still tense, but no longer hostile. As Viktor stood, Jayce couldn’t help but notice just how small he really was. Viktor had always been shorter than him, especially in recent years as his illness made it harder and harder to stand upright. But this was different. The boy standing in front of him now barely reached his chest.

Jayce let the quiet settle before turning away, his eyes sweeping over the chaos around them. Shattered glass, scorched wires, tools strewn across the floor. He let out a long sigh and rolled up his sleeves. There was a lot of work ahead.

“Are you hurt at all Viktor?”

The boy shook his head. “No, sir.”

Jayce offered a soft smile. “Please, just Jayce. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

There was a beat of hesitation.

“No… Jayce.”

Jayce didn’t press him. He just gave a small nod, turned away and crossed the lab without another word. A moment later, he returned and quietly placed a bottle of water and a protein bar on the desk near Viktor. Not too close, just within reach. Jayce picked up a knocked over stool and placed it by the desk.

“Here. Sit. I know that crutch works, but you shouldn’t have to stand all day.” He spoke gently, once more stepping back to give the boy space.

Viktor eyed the stool warily, then Jayce, then the stool again. After a moment’s pause, he limped over and sat, posture stiff and watchful, but no longer on the edge of flight. Jayce smiled before speaking.

“Alright… I’m going to work for a bit, assess the damage. I need to figure out how this happened before I start trying to fix it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Viktor only nodded.

“Okay. Let’s think,” Jayce muttered to himself as he gathered a fallen schematic. “Inertial anchor is toast. Hexcore seems… strangely unharmed. The backlash wasn’t just physical inertia, it was arcane energy. So how the hell did it bypass the inertial anchor?”

He shook his head, grabbing a broom with one hand and a notepad with the other. “No, no, maybe the anchor didn’t fail… maybe it anchored to the wrong thing. Maybe time passed around him instead of through him…”

As he worked he sweeped up debris, occasionally pausing to scribble notes and rough calculations in his notebook. He kept talking half to himself, half for Viktor to hear if he chose to listen.

“Will you be able to take me home soon?” Viktor asked, his voice so small it almost broke Jayce’s heart.

“As soon as I can,” Jayce responded. “I don’t know how yet… but I will. Until then I’m… I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay here. At the lab.”

He didn’t like the way that sounded… like Viktor was a prisoner. But he also couldn’t deny the truth of it. The city outside these walls wouldn’t be kind to a lost child from the past. The unfortunate truth of their situation was that simply was nowhere for Viktor to go back to. Whatever home he had in the undercity was long ago left behind for a brighter, hard fought for future in Piltover. And with the chaos currently unfolding in the undercity… no. No, Viktor would have to stay here, it’s too dangerous.

The boy said nothing. No protest. No argument. He simply sat there, shoulders hunched slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mess of hair that fell into his face. Jayce gave him a brief apologetic look, then turned away. He tried not to let guilt eat away at him, it did anyway.

He threw himself into work instead. Sweeping up more glass, dragging scorched metal plating out of the way, salvaging whatever data he could from the ruined lab notes. Muttering to himself the whole time. The sooner he fixed this the sooner he could send this poor kid back where he came from and get this timelines Viktor back in turn.

“Maybe if I use the power rune… no, explosion would be even worse. Damn. Okay… what if I isolate the runes? That might keep the subject rooted in our time…” Jayce could feel a migraine coming on, already missing his lab partner even as he sat a mere few feet from him.

Jayce was so lost in thought he barely registered the soft footsteps behind him. Nor the familiar clacking of a crutch, the faint shuffle of fabric.

He picked up a scorched piece of equipment, brow furrowed. “Need a new stabilizer. If I can realign the hexcore manually, maybe I can test isolated rune combinations first…”

He turned back toward the center of the lab to grab a tool only to find the stool unoccupied. Jayce blinked. He turned again, eyes tracing the room until he found Viktor standing by the door. The boy had wandered toward the far wall, lingering beneath the framed newspaper clippings and awards Jayce had hung there over the years. A collage of their milestones, their breakthroughs, their victories. At the center of it all hung a glossy poster from Progress Day, emblazoned with the words “The Man of Progress!” in bold lettering above a photograph of Jayce beaming proudly, hammer in hand.

Jayce glanced over his shoulder and offered a soft chuckle. “You should read the one titled ‘Autumn Distinguished Innovators Competition Winners!’ That was our first real build together. You somehow managed to duck out of the photo, but your name’s in the article.”

The boy tilted his head, eyes scanning the wall. He stepped closer, lips slightly parted as he traced the words with his gaze. He stopped at the article Jayce mentioned and leaned in, reading with a quiet intensity. Still, he didn’t say a word.

Jayce turned back to his work but the silence tugged at him. A pang of discomfort settled in his chest, and he glanced back again this time not at Viktor, but at the wall. It hit him all at once.

There wasn’t a single photo of Viktor anywhere.

No portraits. No posters bearing his likeness. Viktor had always sidestepped the attention and Jayce too caught up in the praise, in the forward momentum, had let him. The only thing on that entire wall with Viktor’s name was that single article. And the rest?

Jayce stared up at his own smiling face in the Progress Day poster, the bold font practically shouting his title to the heavens. The Man of Progress. It felt hollow now. Loud. Self-congratulatory in a way that made his skin crawl.

He swallowed and looked back at the boy, who stood quietly, reading the small article with furrowed brows. Maybe confused by the unfamiliar date. Maybe curious about how his name had gotten there. But he didn’t speak.

Jayce gave a quiet sigh and returned to sweeping the floor, suddenly embarrassed of what now felt like a shrine to himself. A few more minutes passed. The broom scraped softly over the floor.

Then—creak.

Jayce’s head snapped up just in time to see the lab door open and Viktor, small and swift, slipping through the gap like a shadow. He was halfway into the hall, moving as fast as his legs and the crutch would let him, shoulders hunched and desperate.

“Viktor!” Jayce shouted, alarm sharp in his voice as the broom clattered from his hands.

Before he could reach the door, it slammed shut with a heavy thud. Jayce grasped the handle, only to find it stuck. Through the narrow gap between the double doors, he could just make out the glint of metal: the same rod Viktor had brandished as a weapon earlier was now wedged tight between the handles, a crude but effective blockade.

“Viktor, wait!” Jayce called again, pressing his hands against the door, palms flat, heart hammering. “Please just stop! I’m not trying to hurt you!”

Through the sliver of open space, he could see the boy limping down the hallway, his body tense with panic. Viktor reached the secondary exit and fumbled with the latch, clearly struggling with the weight of the mechanism.

Jayce gritted his teeth. “Viktor, I swear to you, I’m trying to help. You don’t know me, I get that but I know you. You’re my partner. My friend. You matter to me. Just come back and let me explain—”

“No!” Viktor’s voice cracked like a whip, high-pitched and furious, but beneath the fire there was fear. “You’re lying! You’re just another one of them—saying what you have to so you’ll trap me in the mines!”

Jayce flinched, heart stinging at the words. “No, I’m not trying to trap you, it's not safe for you in the undercity! Viktor, please—”

Viktor successfully opened the second door and was slowly pulling it open.

Jayce backed up a step and threw his shoulder hard into the doors. The metal rod groaned against the frame but held. Another hit. The rod bent, loosened. A third charge. The makeshift lock snapped apart, clattering to the floor as the doors flew open.

Jayce charged through just in time to see the second door swing close.

Jayce ran into and burst through the door only to immediately skid to a stop at the threshold, breath caught in his throat.

There, in the open corridor beyond the lab’s secondary exit stood a woman. Tall, poised, dressed in a tailored dress of white and gold. Mel Medarda. She stood in mild shock, lips slightly parted in confusion as she instinctively stepped back right into the small figure who clung to the hem of her dress.

Viktor.

He’d ducked behind her like she was a shield, wide eyes peeking out from behind her legs, breath ragged and shallow. Mel looked between Jayce and the frightened boy behind her, eyes narrowing in wary confusion.

“Jayce,” she said slowly, voice edged with caution. “What… exactly is going on here?”

Jayce opened his mouth, but no words came.

Chapter Text

Mel Medarda slowly walked the empty halls of the laboratory, her mind swimming with nothing but worry. She had come here under the pretense of discussing the latest developments in the Undercity with Jayce but in truth, her purpose was twofold. She wanted to see Viktor. Not just to speak with him, but to observe with her own eyes what the rumors had only hinted at: the rapid decline of his condition.

Only days earlier she had offered him access to her council issued personal physicians, some of the most esteemed medical minds Piltover had to offer. Experts in rare and complex diseases, they had access to technologies and treatments few others did.

Viktor had only smiled at her offer, a faint, joyless curl of the lips that held no warmth. He informed her that Professor Heimerdinger had already extended the same offer weeks ago. The outcome had been unanimous, the prognosis unchanging.

The disease coursing through his body was relentless. It would first steal what little strength he had, then his ability to walk. From there, it would compromise his lungs until even breathing would require mechanical aid. And after that…

There would be no reprieve. Only the inevitable.

Mel despised this feeling of powerlessness. She, who had spent years clawing her way up through the intricate, merciless hierarchy of Piltover. An outsider, an exile forging influence in a world that had not been built for her… was now brought low by something she could neither bargain with nor bend to her will. Every political maneuver, every alliance, every calculated risk that had earned her a seat among the city’s elite felt hollow in that moment. All her power, her intellect, her resources rendered meaningless in the face of nature’s quiet, merciless unraveling of a man’s body.

The feeling gnawed at her. An anxious, helpless tension that refused to be shaken. Already stretched thin by the escalating chaos in the Undercity, Mel had come to the lab hoping for clarity, maybe even a sliver of good news from Piltover’s brightest minds. But instead she found only more chaos.

As she turned the corner leading to the workshop, a series of loud crashes echoed down the corridor. They were sharp metallic bangs that made her pace quicken. Just as she approached the entrance, the lab door burst open and a young boy came stumbling out, moving too fast to notice her. In his panic, he collided with her, the impact knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling to the floor.

For a long moment, the two stared at each other. Mel frozen in startled confusion, the boy trembling with wide, fearful eyes. He looked no older than ten. His clothes were worn and stitched in places, but that wasn’t what struck her most… he looked so much like—

Another sharp crash rang out from within the lab, followed by a sound of something heavy falling, the scrape of metal against concrete. The boy gasped and scrambled upright, then darted behind her, seeking protection.

Mel looked up just as Jayce burst into the hallway. His face was flushed with exertion, but the moment he caught sight of her he stopped dead in his tracks. His expression quickly shifted from agitation to surprise.

“Jayce…” Mel started slowly, still trying to gauge the situation. “What exactly is going on here?”

The man stared at her dumbly, eyes darting between her and the boy behind her like he couldn’t decide where to anchor his thoughts. Tension thickened around them until a small, trembling voice broke through.

“He’s crazy… he took me, he-he thinks I’m his dead friend.” The boy sniffled, wiping at his face with a trembling hand.

“Viktor…” Jayce said, the name catching in his throat. There was disbelief and genuine hurt in his voice.

Mel’s breath hitched at the sudden flood of information. She turned, dropped to one knee in front of the boy and studied him closely. His face was smaller, rounder. Younger. But the resemblance was unmistakable. Pale complexion, a Talis designed crutch and sharp, intelligent eyes now wide with confusion and fear.

“Jayce,” she said quietly, “is this—?”

“It’s him,” Jayce cut in, his voice low and strained.

The man stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to wring out the stress. “We were experimenting with the hexcore. Trying to halt the progression of Viktor’s illness, maybe even reverse it. We thought we had a breakthrough, but something went wrong. The hexcore reacted… violently. There was an explosion… when I got up I found him hiding under the desk.”

He paused, eyes heavy with sorrow. “And the Viktor we know is just… gone.”

Mel’s eyes narrowed slightly as she turned back to the boy. “So the hexcore didn’t heal him—it… replaced him?”

“I don’t know.” Jayce admitted, sounding exasperated. “Maybe it pulled him from the past. Or from a different timeline entirely. I’ve gone over the calculations a hundred times, none of this should be possible.”

The boy flinched as Mel reached out, clearly overwhelmed and disturbed by the woman seemingly taking his captor’s side. She quickly retracted her hand, respecting his space. The boy curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his chest, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just want to go home…”

Mel’s carefully calm mask crumpled at the sound of his small voice, thick with the accent she’s known for years now.

“I-I tried to explain but I don’t think he understands he’s in the future. He doesn't trust me.” Jayce sighed.

Mel nodded slowly, the weight of the situation settling fully on her shoulders. “Then we show him.”

She lowered herself to eye level with the boy again, softening her expression. “ Viktor. My name is Mel. I’m a councilwoman here in Piltover.”

The boy’s eyes widened, brows pulling together. “Piltover…? Why are you down here?”

Mel blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“We’re not in the Undercity,” She said gently, “You’re in Piltover right now.”

At that, Mel’s head snapped toward Jayce, who offered an awkward shrug, suddenly aware of how little he’d explained.

Confusion crept back across the boy’s face, carving new lines of tension into his features. His arms tightened around his chest, like he was trying to hold himself together. Mel sighed quietly, trying again.

“Okay, Viktor. Let’s make a deal,” She said, her tone calm and deliberate.

“There’s something I want to show you. Something really special that the future you made. And if you still don’t believe us after that I’ll make sure you’re escorted safely back home by enforcers.”

“No enforcers!” Viktor suddenly blurted, recoiling as if the very word was poison. His already pale face went ashen grey, and he took a step back, glancing toward the nearest exit like he might bolt.

Mel quickly corrected and raised both hands, palms open in a quick gesture of peace. “Alright, no enforcers. I promise.” She paused to let the child calm down before continuing.

“I’ll have my personal assistant, Elora take you wherever you want to go,” she said with more care this time, her voice steady and warm. “She’s very kind. No one will force you to do anything. You have my word.”

“Mel… “ Jayce started, clearly uncertain about this plan.

Viktor looked from her to Jayce, then back again. His fingers twitched uncertainly at his sides, but the terror in his eyes began to fade—just slightly. After a long pause, he gave a slow, cautious nod.

“Okay,” he whispered. “But… just to see. Then I want to go home.”

Mel smiled, exhaling a short breath. “That’s all I ask.”

The boy didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased just enough to suggest he was no longer thinking about running. For now, that was enough.

After giving Viktor a moment to compose himself, Mel gently gestures for them to follow her. With a composed grace, she leads them through the grand hall and out onto a wide balcony that overlooks the city. Jayce hesitates at first, deliberately keeping a few paces behind, his eyes flicking nervously toward the boy who now shrinks from his presence.

The cool evening air brushes their faces as they step outside, Viktor draws in a quiet breath. The view takes him by surprise. The sun had just begun to set and Piltover stretched out beneath them, a sea of light and rising spires, shimmering in the fading light. For a long moment, Viktor says nothing. Simply lost in wonder, his eyes are wide as they trace the lines of the unfamiliar city skyline.

Then Mel speaks, her voice soft but insistent, pulling him gently back to the present.

“Quickly now, before you miss it.”

Viktor pulls his gaze from the cityscape and follows Mel’s gesture. Above them looms a towering dome between two sweeping arches of polished bronze catching the last glints of sunlight. As the structure draws the child’s attention, Jayce finally seemed to grasp the purpose of their visit and quietly steps up beside them.

Viktor glances at the man, wary but before the moment can linger a sudden flash of blue light steals his focus. The boy’s eyes widen.

At the center of the hexgate, a massive cargo blimp hovers in perfect stillness. Then, in a brilliant surge of energy, it’s swallowed by a pulse of shimmering blue light. In the blink of an eye, the vessel vanishes—leaving behind only a crackling arc of electricity that ripples across the skyline, arcing toward some distant point on the horizon.

“That,” Jayce says quietly, gesturing toward the massive dome, “is the hexgate.”

Viktor’s brow furrows as he watches the fading arc of light bending space, now barely visible against the sunset.

“You built that?” He asks.

Jayce shakes his head.

“We built it. Your future self… None of this,” he sweeps his hand toward the gate, “would be possible without your mind, your work. The gate, the hexcore… everything. We changed the world, Viktor.”

Viktor falls silent again, this time not in fear or confusion, but in quiet awe. His expression softens as the weight of the revelation sinks in. He watches the hexgate for a while longer, the fading blue glow reflected in his eyes.

In that moment, the fear that once gripped him begins to loosen—replaced not by certainty, but by the quiet, growing belief that maybe, just maybe... this madman is telling the truth.

“This,” Mel says softly, “ is what I wanted to show you.”

“We’re… we’re in the future.” Viktor breathed.

“We’re living in a future you helped herald in. Now…” Mel hesitates, then continues. “do you still want to go to the Undercity?”

Viktor doesn’t respond right away, he frowns slightly but remains looking at the hexgate.

Mel goes on. “I can’t promise that the version of your home in this future is anything like the one you remember. But if you truly want to go, we won’t stop you. The choice is yours.”

The boy slowly pulls his gaze away from the hexgate. He turns to Mel, blinking owlishly at her.

“I… I’d like to stay here,” Viktor says quietly. “At least until Jayce figures out how to send me back.”

A palpable sense of relief washes over the two adults. Jayce lets out a shuddering exhale, while Mel’s posture subtly softens.

Viktor, seemingly unaware of the weight his decision carried, turns his attention back to the sky. Another blimp is rising toward the gate now, its hull catching the ambient blue glow as it climbs steadily toward the transport field.

Jayce takes the moment to pull Mel aside, lowering his voice.

“Thank you,” He says, sincerely. “For… doing this. For handling it better than I did.”

Mel gave him a knowing smile. “I’ll handle your Council duties for a few days. You focus on him… and on finding a way to make this right. Whatever you need, my resources are yours. Just say the word.”

Jayce lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Honestly? It might be better if he stayed with you until I figure this out. You’re clearly better at this sort of thing than I am.”

But Mel shakes her head, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You know him better than I do. You just need to trust yourself a little more.” She glances toward Viktor. “He already does.”

Jayce followed Mel’s gaze out over to the balcony railing, watching as the boy leaned against the banister, eyes alight with anticipation as the next blimp prepared for departure. The hexgate let out a low, mechanical hum, the sound faint from this distance but unmistakable.

Mel walked away and turned her attention to Viktor. She paused beside him, waiting patiently as the blimp was transported away in another brilliant flash of blue.

Only when it was gone did she crouch to meet Viktor’s eyes.

“Alright, Viktor,” she said. “It’s time for me to go.”

Mel produced a slim, finely detailed card and offered it to him with an open palm. “Here, this is my mail chute directory. Jayce can show you how to use it. If you ever need anything—no matter how small—just send a word. You are now under the care of House Medarda and House Talis. We look after our own.”

Viktor took the card with both hands, holding it carefully, almost reverently. His fingers brushed over the crisp edges, examining each detail.

“T-thank you,” he said, barely above a whisper. His voice carried a note of awe, tempered by a hint of hesitation. Then, more quietly, he added, “Goodbye.”

Mel smiled. “Goodbye, Viktor. We’ll talk soon.”

She rested a hand briefly on his shoulder, a simple gesture but one that he now welcomed. Then she rose and walked toward the door with her usual measured grace.

Viktor watched her go, the card still cradled in his hands, until the door closed behind her. The silence that followed stretched between him and Jayce was like a thin wire, taut and fragile.

Jayce stepped forward, hands in his coat pockets, trying to ease the tension. “She makes quite an impression, huh?”

Viktor gave a small, awkward nod, not quite meeting his gaze. Without Mel nearby, he suddenly seemed more unsure of himself.

Jayce offered a small, lopsided smile. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I’m starving… and I think a break from the lab might do us both some good. What do you say?”

A flicker of amusement danced at the corners of Viktor’s lips, subtle but there. He gave a quiet nod in agreement.

Taking that as a yes, Jayce turned and gestured casually toward the door leading back inside, already starting to walk. But he only managed a few steps before Viktor’s voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

Jayce paused mid-stride and turned back, brow creasing in confusion.

Viktor carefully set his crutch against the floor and lowered himself with deliberate, practiced movements onto the rough concrete. He winced slightly as his joints protested the motion but he didn’t complain. Instead, he slipped off one worn shoe and, with a furtive glance at Jayce, tucked Mel’s card inside, wedging it securely beneath the insole. Then, just as quickly he wriggled his foot back in and tied the laces in a bunny knot.

Jayce stepped forward, instinctively reaching out when Viktor began to push himself upright again, but he stopped short as Viktor waved him off.

“I’ve got it.” Viktor muttered, voice small but firm.

He braced against the ground, retrieved his crutch, and slowly rose back to his feet. It wasn’t easy, Jayce could see the strain on his bad leg but he did it without help.

Jayce didn’t press. He just gave a small nod of acknowledgment, then turned again toward the door, slowing his pace just enough for Viktor to walk beside him.

Jayce made his way slowly down the narrow staircase to the small kitchen he and Viktor often used as a makeshift break room. Just ahead of him, the younger Viktor moved carefully, one hand braced against the wall for balance. As much as Jayce wanted to help, Viktor had firmly declined any assistance, brushing off the offer with quiet determination. It was an insistence Jayce recognized—stubborn and proud. He respected it, even if it tugged at him to watch someone so young already contending with such physical strain. Viktor’s steps were measured, almost defiant, but fatigue still clung to him like a shadow.

When they finally reached the kitchen Viktor eased himself onto a seat at the table and sat in silence. Trying to catch his breath without showing just how much the descent had taken out of him. Jayce didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to the cupboards and began rifling through the sparse collection of supplies, searching for something the boy might like. Most of the shelves were bare, or filled with the protein bars that Jayce preferred and the spicy instant noodles the older Viktor was more partial to. None of it good fare for a young body but eventually Jayce’s hand landed on a familiar tin of proteomash. He stared at it for a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face.

It was an odd food. A salty mash of protein and fat dense processed meats, pressed into a gelatinous block. Hardly appetizing to most from Piltover who were accustomed to unprocessed food. Jayce too had always considered it unhealthy, a dietary nightmare for someone who watched his macros like a hawk. But the older Viktor loved it. He used to say it reminded him of his childhood in the Undercity, where proteomash and other canned rations were handed out during Piltover’s short lived outreach efforts. For him, it wasn’t just food… it was memory, nostalgia preserved in tin.

Jayce glanced back at the younger Viktor, who still sat quietly at the table.

“Do you like proteomash, Viktor?” Jayce asked, looking back at the child while holding the can.

The boy's eyes lit up and he nodded quickly.

Without a second thought, Jayce grabbed a pan from the rack and set it on the stove, turning the burner until the flame flickered to life. As the metal slowly warmed, he opened the can and shook the pale pink block out, the smell was unappetizing. Jayce wrinkled his nose, trying not to let it show as he slid the chunk of meat onto a cutting board and began slicing it thinly, mimicking the way he’d seen Viktor do it before.

“Can I help?”

The voice startled him, and Jayce glanced down to find Viktor suddenly at his side, watching him intently. Jayce hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Oh—yeah, of course,” he said, recovering quickly. Maybe the kid was hungrier than he’d let on. “What do you usually eat with this stuff?”

“Rice.” the boy said simply.

“Perfect. That actually works out great. Check the cupboard right by my legs. There should be some instant rice packets in there. Grab two. And if you don’t mind, there’s a small pot in the drawer behind us. We’ll need that too.” Jayce said as he sliced the meat.

Viktor nodded and got to work without hesitation. He retrieved the rice packets and set them on the counter next to Jayce, then turned back and rummaged through the drawer until he found the pot. A moment later, Jayce heard the soft rush of water as the faucet ran and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy carefully filling the pot.

Working in sync, they moved through the cramped kitchen space without much conversation, just the quiet rhythm of preparation. Jayce laid the meat slices in the hot pan, the sizzle sharp and immediate, filling the room with a savory scent far more appealing than the raw version had promised. Beside him, the boy set the pot of water on another burner and turned the heat to medium, watching attentively as tiny bubbles began to form along the bottom.

In a way, it felt… natural. Familiar, even. The kind of quiet teamwork that didn’t need many words.

When everything was finally cooked, Jayce divided the rice between two bowls and arranged several slices of the browned meat on top. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled good and would be filling. Jayce carried the bowls over to the table and set one down in front of the boy, who took his seat eagerly.

They sat together at the small kitchen table, steam curling from their bowls. Jayce had placed a fork, knife and spoon neatly beside Viktor’s bowl, but the boy barely glanced at them. Instead, he picked up a slice of meat with his fingers, scooped some rice onto it, and took a big bite without hesitation.

Jayce paused, a little surprised, then quietly set his own fork down. He mirrored Viktor’s method, using his fingers to load a bit of rice onto the meat and took a careful bite. Salty. Overpowering at first but the rice helped with softening the flavor. Beneath it was something rich and savory.

“Not bad,” Jayce said softly, genuinely surprised by how well it tasted.

Viktor just nodded, his mouth too full to answer. He was already on his second piece, chewing quickly like he was used to eating fast, like someone might take it away if he wasn’t quick enough.

They finished the rest in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just quiet. The kind of silence that made Jayce aware of how rarely Viktor seemed to relax, even during something as simple as dinner.

When they were done, Jayce leaned back in his chair, brushing sticky rice grains from his hands. He glanced up at Viktor, who was licking a smear of grease off his thumb, his empty bowl now clean of every last bite.

Now that Viktor seemed somewhat more at ease Jayce felt the moment was right to bring up something that had been weighing on his mind. He watched the boy for a moment, then drew in a quiet breath and spoke with care, his voice low and gentle.

“Viktor… back in the lab, you said something. About thinking I’d trap you in the mines.”

The boy froze. His shoulders tensed, and he didn’t look up.

“You don’t have to tell me what you meant,” Jayce said quickly, his voice purposefully calm. “Only if you want to. I just… I want to understand. That’s all.”

For a long moment, Viktor was silent. His hands fidgeted in his lap, twisting the edge of his shirt between his fingers. Then, in a small voice, he mumbled, “Sometimes… people take kids. They make ‘em work in the fissures.”

Jayce stayed still, listening. He didn’t interrupt.

“They… they go real deep underground. Places grown-ups can’t fit,” Viktor continued, barely above a whisper. “It’s dark. The air’s bad. You can’t breathe right.”

Jayce’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to stay quiet.

“I saw it happen,” Viktor said, still not looking up. “To other kids. I… I always hide since I can’t run. But then they got me too.”

He swallowed hard. “They put a bag over my head. Said I was gonna work for them. But then they saw my leg.”

His fingers touched the brace, brushing it lightly. “They got mad. Said I was broken. Said I wasted their time. So they hit me. A lot. Then they threw me into one of the ravines.” He stared blankly down at his empty bowl as he continued.

“Lost my crutch… The ravine wasn’t a deep one but it’s always hard to move without it. It was dark when I got home… mom was so mad she cried.”

Jayce’s heart clenched. He felt cold and angry all at once, but he kept his voice steady.

“That’s… that’s horrible,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Viktor.”

The boy shrugged one shoulder, but his face was now drawn tight, like he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“I hide better now,” Viktor muttered. “Can’t let people get close. ‘Cause even the nice ones… they always wanted something.”

Jayce nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch again before speaking.

“I understand,” he said. “And I don’t blame you for being careful. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. I mean that.”

Jayce stood and quietly began clearing the bowls, deciding not to press any further. He had wanted to ask about Viktor’s mother, another subject the older Viktor guarded tightly. but after what had just been shared, it didn’t feel right. Not tonight. As he turned to the sink and ran the water, he glanced back and saw Viktor still sitting at the table, quiet, lost in thought but no longer tense. No longer afraid.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The echo of their footsteps followed them down the hallway. Jayce walked ahead, his shoulders tight with the weight of the day’s events. Behind him, Viktor moved with a slower, more measured pace, his crutch tapping gently against the tiled floor, each step deliberate, almost pensive.

The lab greeted them in the dim, flickering light of the overhead fixtures. It was quiet now—eerily so. What remained of the earlier incident was a mess of scorched cables, a cracked door handle and a faint, acrid tang still hanging in the air. At the center of it all pulsed the hexcore, rehoused in its containment frame.

Jayce exhaled deeply and stepped into the room, rolling up his sleeves once more. “I’m gonna clean up here for a while longer, then we’ll go to my home and get some rest.” he said.

“I’ll help,” Viktor said, already moving toward the broom abandoned on the floor in Jayce’s panic earlier

Jayce hesitated but gave a quick nod. “Okay. Just… be careful.”

For a while, the only sounds were the clink of tools, the soft sweep of a broom and the low hum of the hexcore. Viktor worked silently, though his eyes kept drifting to it as if drawn in despite himself. The glow was mesmerizing, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to sync with something deeper…. something beyond science. There was intelligence in its light. Possibility.

Jayce was wiping down a soot-blackened panel when he turned and caught sight of Viktor, standing far too close to the device. One small hand hovered near its surface, just inches away from touching it.

“Viktor!” Jayce’s voice cracked the silence like a whip. “Don’t—don’t touch it!”

Viktor flinched back, startled. His hand dropped to his side, and he took a step away. “I wasn’t—I’m sorry…” he said quietly, not meeting Jayce’s gaze.

Jayce’s chest heaved as he let out a deep sigh. “Just… don’t. It’s not safe.” His voice softened on the last word, but the damage had been done. Viktor shrank back a little further and wandered to the other side of the room, away from the hexcore… and Jayce.

An uneasy silence settled between them. They resumed cleaning without another word, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Jayce scrubbed harder than necessary, his stomach twisting with guilt. He hadn’t meant to snap. He didn’t even know why he had. Fear, obviously. But also something deeper. Something harder to name. He hoped against hope that what little progress he made with the boy hadn't fizzled away.

Viktor, for his part, was quiet, though he kept his back to Jayce. He swept slowly, methodically. but his mind was clearly elsewhere, still orbiting the glow of the hexcore… still haunted by curiosity. The silence stretched long into the evening, filling the lab with all the words they wouldn't say.

Jayce looked up at the miraculously undamaged clock. Time had flown by, it was already almost 9 p.m. Most nights Viktor and Jayce wouldn't even discuss going home until after midnight, if they went home at all. But this was far from another dull day of research.

He glanced toward the younger Viktor. The boy stood quietly, inspecting the wall of framed newspapers again. His eyes moved over the headlines, taking them in with the same intensity as always, but there was a tired weight to his posture. He leaned against the broomstick more than his crutch now, his small frame slouched with exhaustion he wouldn’t admit to.

Jayce approached him cautiously as if the boy were a spooked horse. “I think we’ve done enough here for tonight, let's get some rest.” he said softly.

Viktor looked up at him, as though emerging from deep thought. He gave a slow nod and leaned the broom against the wall. Jayce grabbed his own jacket along with Viktor’s, which now was comically large for him. With an apologetic smile, Jayce handed it over. Viktor slipped it on, it nearly reached his knees, but it would be enough to keep him warm while they waited for a carriage outside. Together, they stepped out of the lab. Jayce paused to switch off the lights, casting the room into shadow once again. Viktor walked out first. Jayce lingered a moment, eyes drawn to the faint blue glow of the hexcore at the room’s center. Then, with a final glance, he closed the door behind him.

Their descent began in silence. The stairwell was dim, it's cold white walls lit by electric torch sconces that threw long shadows as they walked. The spiral staircase wound tightly downward, two stories of cold, echoing steps that curved without end. Jayce walked slowly, adjusting his stride to match Viktor’s uneven gait. Each clack of the crutch on marble echoed sharply. With every step, Viktor leaned a little more into the wall. His breaths became shallower, his shoulders tighter.

Jayce kept close but didn’t say anything and didn't offer help, respecting the boy's autonomy. It was maddening to see the boy so clearly hurting but Jayce knew that offering help would only make it worse. This flight of stairs was difficult even for the older Viktor, but he at least had the advantage of adult muscles and longer legs that could skip multiple steps. This Viktor had no such luxury as he slowly descended, step by slow step.

They passed the first landing.

Viktor stumbled slightly, catching himself with a sharp hiss of breath. Jayce paused, eyes flicking toward him in quiet concern.

“I’m fine.” Viktor muttered.

Jayce nodded and resumed walking, though his expression tightened.

The second flight was worse. Viktor’s pace had slowed to a crawl. His crutch hit the stone off-beat. At one point, he stopped completely, gripping the railing with one hand, eyes squeezed shut.

Jayce turned. “Viktor—”

“I…” the boy whispered. Then, after a long pause, his voice barely audible: “Jayce… I need help.”

Jayce stilled. For a moment he just looked at him, surprised. Viktor’s pride had always been ironclad, forged by necessity. This wasn’t easy for him. But he’d said it. He’d asked.

Jayce stepped down a few steps, kneeling slightly in front of him. “Climb on.” he said, without a trace of judgment.

Viktor blinked, eyes flicking between Jayce’s back and the rest of the staircase. “Are you sure?”

Jayce gave him a sideways grin. “Wouldn't be the first time I’ve carried you down these steps.”

Jayce smiled at the memory, it had been the night of the grand opening celebration for the hexgates. He and the older Viktor had far too much to drink. Viktor, ever the perfectionist even in his inebriated state, had insisted on returning to the lab to grab some notes before calling it a night. They may have indulged in a few more celebratory shots there too, courtesy of the whiskey Jayce kept tucked away for special occasions.

By the time they made it to the stairwell, Viktor could hardly stay upright, teetering with every step. Jayce had stepped in before he could take a tumble, insisting on carrying him the rest of the way. And Viktor — brain muddled by champagne and whiskey, his pride temporarily dulled — begrudgingly allowed it. Though not without a steady stream of slurred complaints the whole way down.

In the present the younger Viktor began to climb on. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around Jayce’s shoulders. Jayce adjusted his grip, looping Viktor’s legs securely behind his back, rising in one smooth motion.

Viktor rested his head on Jayce’s shoulder, still eager to look around. His crutch tapped lightly against Jayce’s side, dangling from his hand.

“Comfortable back there?” Jayce asked, descending with easy, steady steps.

Viktor gave a soft hum. “Don’t drop me.”

“Never.”

The staircase, which had felt like a mountain only moments ago, passed swiftly beneath them. Jayce’s boots hit the final step with a solid thud before carefully kicking open the heavy front doors to the cool night air outside.

Luckily there was a carriage already idling not far past the cobbled path, its lanterns glowing warm against the darkness. The horses pawed gently at the ground, steam curling from their nostrils.

Jayce stepped forward and gently knelt so Viktor could dismount. The boy slid off his back with quiet care, landing lightly on his good foot. Jayce helped steady him, handing over the crutch with no fanfare. Viktor looked up at him, something unreadable in his gaze. Gratitude, yes—but also trust. A deep, hard-won trust that needed no words.

Jayce just smiled and gestured toward the open carriage door. “Hop in.”

Viktor climbed in slowly, settling into the velvet seat with a soft exhale. As Jayce joined him and the door closed behind them, the carriage began to roll forward with a soft jolt, hooves clopping rhythmically against the cobblestone.

Outside, the city passed by in flickering shadows and golden streetlamps. Inside, silence sat between them—comfortable, warm.

Viktor leaned against the carriage door, his breath misting the cold glass as he took in the unfamiliar grandeur of Piltover. Towering spires, gilded balconies and glimmering streetlamps framed the street in a way that felt more like fantasy than reality to him. His gaze flicked from ornate shopfronts to the finely dressed citizens inside, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and wariness.

Across from him, Jayce sat hunched over his leather-bound journal, flipping through pages thick with diagrams and notes. His brows furrowed in concentration as he mentally sorted through equations and rune patterns, finally settling on a configuration he was eager to test in his workshop at home. He glanced up only when the carriage began to slow, its wheels crunching to a halt against the cobbled road.

To his surprise, Viktor was already asleep, head tipped against the door, the rhythmic sway of the carriage having lulled him into unconsciousness. Jayce barely had time to react before the coachman swung open the door without warning, nearly sending Viktor tumbling into the street.

“Whoa—careful!” Jayce shot forward, one arm darting out to catch Viktor’s shoulder and steady him.

“Oh! My apologies Mr. Talis!” The coachman exclaimed, quickly reaching out to help, placing a firm hand on Viktor’s other shoulder to keep him upright.

“No worries.” Jayce replied with an anxious laugh. Though his eyes flicked back to Viktor, who was now blinking rapidly awake, clearly disoriented.

Startled by the stranger’s touch, Viktor quickly pulled away, a flush rising to his cheeks as he stumbled out of the carriage. He brushed past both of them in a flurry of awkward motion, shoulders hunched in embarrassment, eyes firmly on the ground.

Jayce stepped down from the carriage and gave the coachman his fare. The older man accepted it with a sheepish smile and a final, murmured apology before climbing back onto the driver’s perch. A crack of the reins, and the carriage rolled off into the misty evening, the sound of wheels fading into the clatter of the city.

Turning to Viktor, Jayce gave a reassuring nod and fell into step beside him. The boy’s shoulders sagged with fatigue, each footfall slower than the last. Wordlessly, Jayce guided him up the stone steps and through the grand entryway of his home. Inside, warm golden light spilled from electric wall sconces, casting long shadows across polished wood floors. The space was expansive, well-kept but not too ostentatious; it was equal parts workshop and living space. Viktor barely seemed to take any of it in, his eyes glazed with exhaustion.

“I know you’re tired but you should get cleaned up before bed,” Jayce said gently, leading him down the hall and gesturing toward the bathroom. “Towels are on the rack, and there are spare toiletries under the sink.”

Viktor gave a small, grateful nod and slipped inside without a word. The door clicked shut behind him.

While the sound of running water echoed softly down the hall, Jayce made his way to his bedroom, rifling through drawers in search of something that might fit. He quickly realized just how little he had that would suit someone Viktor’s size. Most of his clothes would hang off the boy like a poorly fitted curtain. Eventually, he settled on a clean gym shirt and a pair of old drawstring shorts. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

When Viktor finally emerged, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, Jayce handed over the makeshift sleepwear.

“Here,” he said. “It’s the best I could find for now. I’ll pick up some clothes for you tomorrow.”

Viktor accepted the bundle silently and ducked back into the bathroom to change. When he returned, Jayce had to suppress a smile. The shirt nearly swallowed him, the short sleeves brushing his elbows, and the waistband of the shorts had to be held up with one hand to keep from slipping. Still, it was an improvement over sleeping in his dust stained clothes.

“This way,” Jayce said, guiding him down the hall to his room. The space inside was warm and well-lit, with high ceilings and shelves lined with books and magic trinkets. Against the wall was a massive bed that looked as though it belonged in a luxury estate rather than a scientist’s home. Thick blankets and pillows were layered across it, inviting and impossibly soft. Jayce was a big man who enjoyed spreading out to sleep so the bed was one of the first luxuries he treated himself to after hextech got funding.

Viktor hesitated, but the exhaustion etched into his features betrayed how badly he needed rest. After a moment, he gave in and padded across the room, climbing carefully onto the bed. The mattress gave only slightly under his weight, and the oversized bedding seemed to swallow his small frame entirely. Viktor sank into it without resistance, he burrowed in half-buried beneath plush fabric with only his head peaking out.

Jayce lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Viktor settled in.

“Get some rest. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.” He said, tucking one of the many pillows under one arm.

Viktor nodded, and in a small voice said.

“G'night.”

“Goodnight, Viktor.”

Jayce turned off the light and closed the door behind him. Then he turned toward the hallway, already thinking about the night’s work ahead. He climbed the stairs to his workshop, the quiet click of the door behind him sealing off the rest of the world. He tossed the pillow onto the worn couch in the corner that was now going to be his bed for the night. Not that sleep felt necessary. The spark of revelation buzzed in his mind like static, the kind of charged anticipation that made his blood hum and his fingers twitch with urgency. He could feel it… he was close. Close to finally cracking this mystery.

Equations sprawled across the chalkboard in increasingly erratic handwriting as he revised formulae and tested runes, one after another. Light shimmered and pulsed across etched metal, illuminating the dim light of the workshop in brief flashes of arcane brilliance. Time blurred. Minutes collapsed into hours, and still, he pressed on, chasing that elusive solution with a single-minded intensity.

Jayce looked up when he heard the soft creak of the workshop door with goggles still over his eyes. He quickly pulled them off when he saw what had opened the door. Viktor stood in the doorway, small and fragile in the flickering light. He wasn’t saying anything, just gripping the edge of the door frame with white-knuckled fingers, his thin frame silhouetted against the hallway’s darker gloom.

He looked like a ghost of himself.

His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, cheeks still damp with tears that hadn’t fully dried. His posture was slumped, as though he could barely hold his own weight. There was a tightness in the way he stood… too still, too careful. Jayce could see it now, in the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his knees seemed to lock, bracing against pain.

“Viktor?” Jayce asked quietly, setting his tools aside and rising to his feet.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Viktor whispered, voice frayed and barely audible over the hum of the workshop’s ambient machinery. “The room it’s… too dark. Too big."

Jayce’s heart ached at the sound of Viktor’s voice. The long, stressful day and the unfamiliar surroundings had clearly worn the boy down. He was homesick, clearly but as Jayce stepped closer he realized it was more than that. Up close, the signs were impossible to ignore: a pale sheen of sweat clung to Viktor’s brow, his small body trembling with the effort of staying upright. He had one arm wrapped protectively around his side, as though even breathing too deeply sent a jolt of pain through him. There was a quiet, desperate tension in the way he stood, like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force of will. Jayce’s expression softened. This wasn’t just exhaustion or sadness—this was Viktor in pain, trying not to show it.

“It’s flaring again,” Viktor whispered, his voice so thin it barely carried across the room. “My leg… hurts.”

Jayce lowered himself into a crouch in front of him. Jayce had known that the older Viktor lived with chronic pain. But he’d always assumed it was something that had come later, a gradual cost of time and wear. Seeing it now, in this small, hurting version of him… that was something else entirely. This wasn’t new. This was always the case.

The realization settled heavily in his chest.

He didn’t reach for Viktor right away. Instead he met his eyes, keeping his voice low and steady.

“Your leg, huh?” he said softly. “I can get you some pain meds.”

Viktor gave a small nod, quick and almost ashamed. His face crumpled a little at the edges, like he was trying to hold back tears.

Jayce hesitated—just for a moment. The boy was clearly guarded, careful about his space. But right now, he also looked like he was barely holding on. So Jayce opened his arms.

He didn’t say anything.

And Viktor didn’t need the invitation twice.

He stepped forward and folded into the embrace with silent urgency, burying his face into Jayce’s shoulder. He held his breath at first, as though even his crying had to be controlled. But Jayce could feel it… his small chest shuddering, a tremble that worked its way through him like a silent storm.

“Breathe, Viktor,” Jayce said gently, his hand resting lightly on the boy’s back.

Viktor let out a ragged, gasping breath and that was all it took. The dam broke. A muffled sob burst from him, and then another. Then he was clutching Jayce’s shirt with small, desperate fingers, like he was afraid of being pushed away.

“I’m sorry.” Viktor choked out, the words barely audible through the fabric of Jayce’s shirt.

Jayce leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “What for?”

“For—for crying,” Viktor sniffled. “Mom says… boys shouldn’t cry. Shows people you’re—” He was cut off by a hiccupping sob. “shows people you’re weak.”

Jayce closed his eyes for a second, controlling the onslaught of negative emotions. Then he wrapped both arms more firmly around the boy.

Jayce spoke, his voice firm but kind. “You can cry, Viktor. Here you won’t ever have to hide that.” He took a deep breath to steady his own emotions once more. “You’re not weak… you’re the strongest person I know.”

Viktor didn’t answer with words. He just sobbed harder, grief and pain pouring out in broken, gasping waves. Jayce held him through all of it, his broad hand slowly rubbing circles on the boy’s back, murmuring quiet reassurances until the worst of it passed.

Eventually, the sobs began to fade, tapering off into shaky breaths. Viktor sagged against him, exhausted, his head heavy on Jayce’s shoulder. Jayce leaned back slightly to look at him. Viktor’s face was red and blotchy, tear-tracked and snot-smeared, eyes glassy with lingering emotion.

Jayce gave him a small, understanding smile.

“Come on,” he said gently. “I know what might help.”

Viktor didn’t say anything, just nodded again and allowed Jayce to pick him up with one arm and carry him downstairs. In the kitchen Jayce set Viktor down and began to work with calm precision. He opened a small tin of powdered sweetmilk, one of the few comforts he kept stocked from childhood. The scent of vanilla and spices filled the air as he stirred it into a steaming mug of hot water, the soft clatter of the spoon echoing in the stillness between them. He then poured in the medicinal syrup, a bitter root tonic whose flavor would be masked by the sugar in the drink.

Viktor sat at the table, hands folded tightly in his lap until Jayce slid the mug in front of him. He accepted it without a word, wrapping both hands around the cup like he was drawing in its warmth with every breath.

“It’s sweet,” he murmured after a sip, almost surprised. “Like… like cinnamon and cream.”

Jayce smiled faintly. “Sweet milk. It’s what my mom used to make to help the medicine go down.”

Viktor drank slowly, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease, the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock marking the return of calm. When he finished, Jayce rinsed the mug and flicked off the kitchen light, the house dim again but no longer unfriendly.

They climbed the stairs in silence, Viktor once more reclaiming his autonomy to scale them unassisted. Back in Jayce's room, Viktor hesitated again at the foot of the bed, fingers nervously gripping the edge of the blanket. He looked at Jayce with a small, hesitant vulnerability.

“Would you… stay?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Please.”

“Of course.” Jayce smiled.

Jayce pulled a pillow and an extra blanket from the bed, spreading them out on the floor beside it without ceremony. He settled in with a soft exhale, arms folded under his head.

There was a rustle above him. Viktor had moved his pillow from the middle of the bed, edging over until he was as close as the frame would allow, his head now resting just above where Jayce lay. Viktor could feel his presence even without seeing him. The room felt smaller now—not in a claustrophobic way, but in a comforting familiar one. Closer. Viktor’s breathing slowed, falling into rhythm with Jayce’s, and within moments, both of them slipped into sleep, the kind that only comes when you finally feel safe.

When Jayce awoke, sunlight was already streaming through the windows, casting long golden bars across the floor. His body protested as he sat up, every joint stiff and sore from a night spent on the hard ground. He groaned quietly, stretching to work out the knots in his back, but the discomfort quickly gave way to a sharper jolt of unease.

The bed was empty.

Viktor wasn’t there.

The embers of panic lit up in his stomach. Jayce tried to smother it with reason. He’s probably just up early. Maybe in the kitchen. Or the bathroom. But the usual quiet in the house now unsettled him. He rose to his feet, the ache in his muscles forgotten, and began to search.

At first, he moved methodically checking the kitchen, the small sitting area, even the narrow hallway. But each empty room only fed the flames of his anxiety. His pace quickened. Doors were pushed open faster, footsteps heavier. He called Viktor’s name once, then again, louder, worry bleeding into his voice.

Finally, he threw open the door to the workshop—and stopped short.

Viktor was there, seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the pneumatic tube station. Scattered around him were opened tube parcels, their contents unwrapped and scattered. Candies, small desserts and mechanical puzzles littered the floor around him. He was wearing new clothes, a well fit albeit wrinkled long sleeve button up and dark blue pants. The boy didn't look up. He was deeply focused, pen scratching across paper as he wrote something with meticulous precision.

Jayce let out a breath, the tension drained from his shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of relief and only a bit of exasperation. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Viktor in silence for a moment, marveling at how focused and intense the boy looked as he disappeared into his work… just like his older counterpart.

“Good morning.”

Viktor jumped slightly, his head whipped to the doorway but he relaxed once he saw that it was only Jayce.

“Good morning.” Viktor replied sheepishly as he began collecting candy wrappers from the floor.

“I see you’ve figured out the pneumatic tube system.”

Jayce’s gaze drifted toward the machine in the corner. Sleek in function but unapologetically industrial in design, it was one of the city’s newest technological marvels, patented just a few years prior. Twin bronze cylinders stretched from floor to ceiling like polished sentinels, their surfaces lined with riveted seams that gleamed in the morning light. Gears ticked softly behind a glass-paneled housing near the base, and fine copper piping laced around the structure like veins feeding a living mechanism.

The invention had revolutionized communication across the city. Letters, documents, and even small parcels could now be sent from one district to another in under an hour, bypassing the usual delays of couriers and foot traffic. It changed the rhythm of Piltover almost overnight. Jayce, fascinated and only a little jealous that he hadn’t thought of it first, had been among the earliest to have one installed in his home.

“Mhm. I’ve been talking to Ms. Med—to Mel. She sent me some stuff. She told me to tell you to expect a package here before we leave for the day.” Viktor said, stashing his wrappers in crinkled wax paper.

Jayce nodded. “Seems like she sent you a lot of stuff, you didn’t have just candy for breakfast did you?”

Viktor’s face flushed red.

“There were some cakes… “ he said in a small voice.

Jayce barked out a laugh, after a hard day and even harder night the boy had earned an unhealthy breakfast.

Jayce left Viktor to his writing with the promise that he would clean up after himself once the letter to Mel was finished. The boy gave only a small nod in acknowledgment, then hunched back over his letter with the kind of focus that made it clear he barely registered the words.

Jayce moved through the rest of his morning in the rhythm of habit. The oddness of the situation lingered in the corners of his mind. But it didn’t disrupt the routine of shaving, dressing, and checking last night's notes. Just as he was pulling on his coat, there was a soft knock at the door. Jayce opened it to find a familiar courier standing on the stoop, holding a small brown-wrapped parcel and a clipboard. A quick signature, a muttered thank-you, and the package was his.

He glanced at the label and saw Viktor’s name, written carefully he turned it over in his hands as he closed the door behind him. It was light but solid, and when he peeled back the top of the wrapping just enough to peek, he saw more clothes inside—neatly folded, not wrinkled due to the space constraints of the tube system. Something glittered beneath the fabric. A puzzle box. Brass and polished wood, etched with intricate mechanical patterns, clearly hand-crafted and designed to challenge even a sharp mind.

Jayce smiled faintly.

Viktor had finally come down from the workshop, the telltale clack of his crutch accompanying his slow measured steps.

“It’s for you,” Jayce said, holding out the parcel once Viktor had joined him in the hallway.

Viktor blinked, surprised, and accepted it with one hand. He turned it over slowly, studying the wrapping before meeting Jayce’s eyes.

“Ready to go?” Jayce asked.

Viktor nodded, and with the parcel tucked under his arm, he followed Jayce out the door.

The morning air was brisk, tugging at their coats as they stepped onto the worn stone walkway. Jayce hailed a carriage, the clatter of hooves echoing through the quiet street. They climbed in, the door closing behind them with a soft thud. As the carriage pulled away, a quiet energy stirred within Jayce. He could feel in his bones that he was on the cusp of figuring out the one missing piece within the hexcore. But his anticipation was tempered by the bittersweet sense that this bizarre chapter of their lives was nearing its end. And endings, even necessary ones, never came without leaving something behind.

Chapter Text

We passed upon the stair, spoke of was and when

Although I wasn’t there, he said I was his friend.

Which came as some surprise.

I spoke into his eyes.

‘I thought you died alone.’

‘A long, long time ago.’ 

Oh no, not me. I never lost control.

You’re face, to face…

With the man who sold the world.

Viktor and Jayce stepped into the lab, the heavy metal door creaking open on oiled hinges. Morning light filtered in through the high windows, catching on polished surfaces and casting long lines across the floor. The space, once cluttered with discarded schematics, broken tools, and half-forgotten projects, was now… mostly clean. Clear workbenches, swept floors, tools sorted and returned to their rightful places. The results of their late-night cleaning efforts had transformed the room into something functional again, something ready.

Viktor didn’t speak as he entered. His gaze swept the room once, briefly pausing on the hexcore pulsing faintly in its containment cradle at the far end of the lab. He gave it a wide berth, skirting the edge of the room as if unwilling to even pass too close. Then, without a word, he made his way to one of the stools near the workbench and climbed up with practiced care, the parcel still clutched in his arms.

He tore into the parcel almost as soon as he was seated, fingers working quickly through the brown wrapping with a mix of focus and barely-contained excitement. Jayce had noticed the boy looking down at it the whole way over, his hands absently toying with the twine on it as if holding back by sheer force of will. Now, at last restraint gave way to eagerness. He peeled back layers of paper to reveal the neatly folded clothes and beneath them, the gleaming puzzle box. Viktor regarded the clothes with little more than a glance, then he pushed them aside to reveal more candy and the puzzle box.

Jayce chuckled softly at the sight. He let Viktor be. There was something almost sacred in that quiet absorption—the kind of peace that didn’t ask to be disturbed. Carrying last night’s notes in hand, Jayce crossed to the other end of the lab where the Hexcore waited, pulsing gently like a heartbeat beneath glass. He set the papers down, fingers already moving across the console as he prepared the next round of diagnostics and low-level energy tests.

The lab was filled with a comfortable hum, the faint whir of machinery warming up, the soft scrape of wood as Viktor adjusted his puzzle and the steady shuffle of tools in Jayce’s hands. For the first time in a while, things felt… settled. Not calm, exactly, but in motion. Like something new was beginning.

“Can I help?” 

Once more Viktor had unintentionally snuck up on him, and once more Jayce found himself startled. 

“Janna— you finished your puzzle already?” Jayce asked.

“I finished it twenty minutes ago.” Viktor said, holding it up to show the interlocked brass and wood had been separated, revealing a small note of congratulations and some gold foil wrappers that had probably once contained chocolate coins. 

Jayce rubbed a hand down his face, suddenly feeling foolish for not realizing that Viktor would already be fiercely intelligent. He let out a quiet sigh and gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said. “You can help. Just be careful not to touch the lead seal—the solder is still hot.” 

Viktor’s eyes lit up, and he moved around to Jayce’s side, his small hands already reaching for the appropriate tools. Together, they worked on the temporal anchor, carefully aligning the internal frame before fitting the outer chassis back into place. They fell into a comfortable rhythm of Viktor setting in washers and bolts then Jayce tightening them with a few turns of a ratchet. They worked in companionable silence, the clink of metal on metal the only sound in the room. Jayce found himself stealing glances at the boy—how focused he was, how naturally he moved in a lab setting, like it was second nature. He felt a sudden wave of jubilation wash over him… it was really him. It’s Viktor, still young but he clearly already had the fire of ambition in his veins. 

Then, quietly, Viktor spoke. “What’s the older me like?”

Jayce’s hand paused mid-turn, the ratchet stalling against the bolt. He stared down at the half-assembled device. He set the tool down and leaned back in his chair, considering.

 “He’s… someone I admire, deeply.” Jayce began slowly, carefully choosing his words. “The smartest, strongest man I know. When he sets his mind to something, he follows it through—no matter how difficult, no matter how long it takes.”

Viktor stayed silent, listening. 

“He’s brilliant. Makes complicated equations and theories look easy.” Jayce continues, ”I’ve seen people spend days struggling with problems he solves in a single afternoon.”

Jayce hesitated, then added more quietly. “He even saved my life once.”

Viktor looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

Jayce offered a faint smile but didn’t meet Viktor’s eyes. “Yeah. He did. But that’s a story for another time.”

The boy didn’t press further, sensing the weight behind Jayce’s restraint. Jayce didn’t really think the topic of why he put his own life in danger was appropriate for a ten year old to hear. 

They returned to their work in a quiet rhythm, the soft clicking of metal and the occasional scrape of tools filling the space. After finishing the first side of the chassis, Jayce carefully rotated it and settled it back into place. He glanced over at Viktor, hesitating a moment before asking, “What’s your mom like? The older you… he never talked much about her.”

Viktor didn’t look up right away. He placed in another bolt then sat back as well, eyes on his lap. “She’s nice,” he said simply. “but strict. She works at a textile factory, the big one… she gets home after my bedtime so I mostly only see her in the morning.” 

Jayce nodded slowly, but said nothing. Viktor continued after a pause, fiddling with washers in his hand.

“She’s saving up to send me to the Academy in Piltover,” Viktor added, more softly this time. “But for now, I don’t go to school, I just… learn from books. Sometimes she buys me worksheets.”

“She sounds like a strong woman,” Jayce said quietly, the weight of his thoughts behind the words.

Viktor nodded, his eyes downcast. “She says I need to be strong too… so I won’t have to hide when bad people come. So I can stand up for myself.” He hesitated, voice softening. “But it’s hard.”

His fingers fidgeted with the washers more, moving them faster now between his fingers. Jayce could hear in the boy’s voice the effort it took to say that.

“I meant what I said last night, y’know. The older you is the strongest person I know, you’re going to be fine.”  Jayce said, leaning back over the chassis to tighten the last few bolts. “You just need to believe in yourself more.”

Viktor nodded but otherwise didn’t reply. With his part done he silently watched Jayce work. The man could feel Viktor watching so he kept his expression steady, but inside, his thoughts stirred. 

Jayce’s initial impressions of Viktor’s mother hadn’t been favorable, shaped only by the sparse details the boy had offered. But now, he believed he understood. Life in the Undercity was already unforgiving and raising a disabled child alone while working long hours in a textile factory must have demanded impossible strength. It wasn’t surprising then, that she might have become hardened by circumstance. The kind of woman who demanded her child be strong too—not out of cruelty but out of necessity. Even if it meant her love came across as distant, or her expectations left little room for comfort. It was likely the only way she knew to prepare Viktor for the world they lived in.

Her efforts and sacrifice were already paying off, Viktor had no formal education. Barely any teaching. Just scraps of learning pieced together in stolen moments between surviving the undercity and long lonely days. And yet somehow, this boy— this ten year old —was already helping him reconstruct a piece of experimental tech twenty years beyond his time’s most advanced technology. It was something Jayce already vaguely knew but to hear the details made it nonetheless shocking, the Viktor he knew didn’t rise from privilege or luck. He rose in spite of everything.

Jayce leaned back, wiping his hands on a rag as he studied the device before him. The temporal anchor was complete. Its chassis, now forged from a stronger more resilient metal, gleamed beneath the workshop lights. The settings had all been recalibrated, the internal mechanisms refined with painstaking precision. Everything was in place. The machine was almost ready.

The familiar sense of pride and excitement bloomed in his chest. Only a few more adjustments then the final test would be all that remained, and if it worked as expected, it would mean success. It would mean the anomaly was corrected.

But it would also mean he’d lose Viktor. This version of him at least. the wide-eyed, quietly brilliant boy would be gone. Returned to wherever, whenever, he truly belonged. Jayce stared at the device and joy curdled into dread. Success would come at a cost he wasn’t ready to pay.

“Mel!”  Viktor exclaimed, pulling Jayce from his thoughts. 

Jayce looked up as the door creaked open and Mel strolled in, her usual confident expression was softened by a warm smile. The moment Viktor saw her he sprang to his feet as quickly as his leg would and snatched up his finished puzzle then made his way eagerly over to her.

“I finished it,” he announced proudly, thrusting the completed puzzle into her hands. “In less than an hour!”

Mel blinked in surprise, eyebrows lifting as she turned the complex, interlocking shapes over in her fingers. “You did this? In under an hour?”

Jayce, still seated by the inertial anchor, nodded with a faint smirk. “He really did.”

Mel hummed. “I’ve seen grown men give up on this thing. And the ones who didn’t? Took them hours—sometimes days.”

Viktor’s face lit up with pride, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He immediately launched into an excited explanation of how fast he had completed the smaller puzzles she had sent earlier in the day, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Jayce watched them, amused.

“You two seemed to have had a lot to talk about while I was passed out,” Jayce said, arching a brow in mock suspicion. “Should I be worried?”

He didn’t bother to hide the teasing lilt in his voice, clearly fishing.

Mel and Viktor locked eyes. A silent exchange passed between them, and just as Mel opened her mouth to speak, Viktor interrupted her.

“You said you wouldn’t tell him!”

Jayce’s curiosity deepened. He leaned forward, grinning. “Now I have to know. What was he saying about me?”

But Mel only folded her arms. “I wasn’t going to tell him.” She turned to Jayce. ”Sorry. I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Mel laughed, then handed the puzzle back to Viktor. The boy’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and he quickly turned away, avoiding Jayce’s eyes as he shuffled over to the desk. He placed the puzzle down gently and began rearranging the others, fixating on the task to avoid more questions.

Mel approached Jayce, her steps quiet. “How’s the progress on the hexcore?” she asked, her voice casual but curious.

“The anchor that allowed us to harness the hexcore’s power is nearly finished.” Jayce replied, though his voice lacked the usual spark that came with being on the cusp of completing a project.

Mel picked up on it immediately. “Is everything alright?”

He hesitated, then offered a small, melancholy smile. “Yeah. It’s just… I know he has to go back. And I do miss our Viktor, awfully. But… I’m not ready to say goodbye to this one either.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their eyes drifted to the boy at the desk, who was carefully lining up his puzzles in neat rows, utterly absorbed. The two adults felt themselves wrapped in a shared ache that neither of them could quite put into words.

“It’s going to be hard,” Mel said quietly, her gaze fixed on the boy across the room. “He’s still so young… and there’s so much light in him. It’s almost impossible to believe he becomes our Viktor.” Her briefly amused voice softened with sorrow. “But we can’t let that stop us. We have to set our feelings aside and do what’s right—for him.”

Jayce sighed and ran his hand through his hair. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the boy as he tinkered with a gear puzzle, his brow furrowed in concentration, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on the adults behind him.

Finally, Jayce huffed and turned back to the workbench. With a reluctant hand, he picked up the temporal anchor. The device felt heavier than it should have, like it knew it held the weight of what it represented. Steeling himself, Jayce got to work, beginning the dreaded task of correcting the anomaly within the hexcore once and for all.

Mel joined Viktor and together they sat at the desk, their quiet conversation interspersed with laughter as they played a card game she had brought for him. The boy’s eyes lit up each time he won a hand, his worries forgotten for a while in the warmth of her attention. A short distance away, Jayce worked in focused silence, his tools moving with practiced precision as he made the final adjustments to the temporal anchor. He carefully secured it into place, then turned his attention to the hexcore. His brow furrowed in concentration as he initiated a test that just might be the last..

A flicker of light pulsed through the devices, bright blue and contained. A soft shockwave rippled outward, stirring the loose papers on the desk and making the light fixtures tremble. But it quickly subsided, leaving behind a hum of stabilized energy. The temporal anchor, now fully operational, cradled a small orb of blue and violet light at its center. The hexcore rhythmically shifted between two different rune combinations, keeping the anchor stable. Jayce stared at it for a long moment, the weight of what just happened began sinking in.

It was complete.

The anomaly was corrected. The moment they had been preparing for had finally come. It was time to say goodbye.

“Is it working?” Viktor asked, clambering up from his seat to be by Jayce’s side.

“It is.” Jayce murmured, still looking at the glow of the hexcore and the orb. 

“Wow… what happens now?” Viktor breathed, staring at the machine with wonder.

“I believe it’s time for us to say our goodbyes Viktor.” Mel said, joining them standing in front of the hexcore. 

“Oh…” Viktor murmured, looking up at Mel. She couched down in front of the boy. 

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Viktor,” Mel said, her voice steady and deliberately measured. “I wish you safe travels.” She handed him the parcel—his neatly folded clothes, the puzzles he’d completed and cherished, all carefully repacked for the journey ahead. Viktor stared down at it for a long moment, clutching it tightly in his small hands. Then, without a word, he surged forward and threw an arm around her.

Mel froze, surprised by the sudden affection, but only for a heartbeat. Her arms came around him, gently but firmly, as she leaned into the embrace. She closed her eyes, holding him as if trying to imprint the moment into memory.

When they parted, Viktor turned to Jayce, his eyes shimmering, the parcel now held against his chest like a shield. Jayce was smiling, but the sadness behind it was unmistakable. He dropped to one knee, leveling himself with Viktor. The boy hesitated, then extended his crutch toward him.

“This belongs to the older me.” Viktor said softly.

Jayce looked at the crutch, then back at the boy’s earnest expression. His smile deepened, touched. “Keep it,” he said gently. “I’ll make him a new one.”

A quiet stillness fell over the room. The kind that precedes a goodbye neither party wants to say. Then, Viktor opened his arms. 

Jayce didn’t need the invitation twice. 

He reached out and pulled the boy into a fierce hug, one arm wrapping around his small back, the other cradling his head. He held on tight, as if the strength of it alone could make up for the years they’d never share.

When they finally pulled apart, Jayce’s voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so glad I got to meet you, Viktor. I know… I know you’re going to grow up to be an incredible man.”

Viktor looked past him, his gaze drawn to the hexcore then the glowing orb nestled inside the temporal anchor. He clutched the parcel tighter.

 “I… I don’t want to go.” Viktor whimpered, voice wavering at the sudden confession. “You’re my only friends.”

The words struck like a blow to the stomach. Mel’s breath caught. Jayce’s expression crumpled. Without thinking, both adults reached for him at once, pulling him into a shared, tearful embrace. No one spoke for several seconds—their grief, their love, their helplessness all tangled together in the silence.

Mel was the first to find her voice. Her hand gently stroked Viktor’s hair as she whispered, “You’ll find us in your world, Viktor. We’ll be there. This won’t be forever.”

That seemed to soothe something in him. He drew back, sniffled once, then rubbed furiously at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. The tears didn’t fall. He wouldn’t let them. He nodded, his expression small but brave. 

“How do I find you?” Viktor whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jayce’s heart clenched. He glanced at Mel, then looked around the room, searching… thinking. His gaze landed on a corner of the lab where the framed newspaper clippings were. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and grabbed one. The glass cracked under the pressure of his hands as he ripped the backing away, caring nothing for the frame now. The paper came free with a brittle rustle, aged and yellowed, the print still legible.

Jayce returned and knelt before Viktor again. He handed the article to the boy, holding it gently as if it meant something sacred. Viktor looked down and read the bold headline:

“Unauthorized Research Leads to Explosion in Upper City.”

Below it, in smaller print:

“Multiple Minor Injuries. One Academy Student in Custody, Other Suspects Remain at Large.”

Jayce pointed to the date stamped at the top of the page. “That’s the day we met for the first time in my world,” he said softly. “I’m sorry it can’t be sooner.”

Viktor’s fingers tightened slightly around the brittle edge of the page. His eyes scanned the date, and realization dawned—it was years away. The flicker of hope that had danced in his gaze dimmed slightly as the weight of time settled over him.

Still, he didn’t argue. He folded the paper with delicate care, as if afraid it might fall apart, and gently tucked it into the parcel beneath his puzzles.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

There was a quiet solemnity to his voice now, the kind that came from understanding something too big for his age. He didn’t press further. He simply nodded, accepting the gift, the date and the promise of a future reunion even if it felt like a lifetime away.

Viktor turned to Jayce, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m ready.”

Jayce swallowed hard, nodding once as he stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Alright. All you need to do is place your hand on the glowing sphere inside the anchor.” His voice cracked slightly despite himself. “Mel—get back, just in case.”

Mel hesitated, casting a worried look toward Viktor. But she did as asked, stepping to the far side of the room. Jayce remained by Viktor’s side, kneeling once more so they were back at eye level.

He could see the fear flickering behind the boy’s eyes brave though he was, his hand trembled as he lifted it toward the heart of the anchor. Jayce reached out and steadied it, just for a moment, giving it the smallest squeeze before letting go.

“It’s okay,” Jayce said softly. “I’m right here.”

Viktor looked up at him, searching his face. 

Jayce gave him a trembling smile, eyes glistening. “You’re going to be alright.”

And Viktor—only ten years old and already so full of promise and strength —nodded.

He touched the sphere.

In an instant, a blinding surge of energy exploded outward, swallowing Viktor in radiant blue light. The force knocked Jayce back, sending him sprawling across the floor as a deafening boom cracked through the room. Mel braced herself behind the chalkboard as magical energy arced all around them. The walls groaned with the impact, light tearing through every seam in the structure.

And then—silence.

Smoke curled through the air in ghostly tendrils. Jayce coughed and forced himself upright. His ears rang. His limbs felt leaden. But none of that mattered. He looked towards Mel who peered from behind the board, unharmed. 

With that certain Jayce stumbled toward the hexcore, heart pounding. The air was thick and humming with residual magic, the temporal anchor once more was cracked open and smoking. The glowing sphere within vanished without connection to its power source. 

And there—lying amid the swirling smoke—was a figure.

Not a boy.

A man.

Viktor, older now, lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious. His chest rose and fell in slow breaths. His face, lean and tired, was unmistakable.

Jayce stood over him, eyes wide, throat tight. He dropped to his knees beside him, awe and heartbreak mingling in equal measure.

He had sent the boy home.

And in his place, the man had returned.

For a moment he was frozen, on his knees beside the older Viktor—his Viktor. urgency tightened in his chest, he placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

“Viktor,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Can you hear me?”

Viktor’s eyes blinked open slowly, unfocused at first, as if the world around him hadn’t fully settled into place. He turned his head slightly, gaze drifting across the room with distant curiosity, like he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

“I’m alright,” he said at last, his voice soft and faraway, almost trance-like. “I… It feels like I’ve just awoken from a very long dream.”

He didn’t seem in pain, just lost in a hazy space between sleeping and waking, his thoughts still half-rooted in whatever place he’d just returned from.

“Viktor!”  Jayce sighed, as soon as Viktor sat up Jayce pulled him into a near bone crushing hug. The smaller man tensed slightly, but eventually melted into the embrace, one hand coming up to pat Jayce’s back. He was startled when Mel stepped out of the smoke in front of them.

“M—Ms. Medarda!” Viktor exclaimed. “How did you… how long have I been unconscious?”

Mel sat on the edge of the nearby worktable, arms folded as she regarded Viktor carefully. “It’s been almost two days. ” she said gently.

Viktor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Two days?” he echoed, voice hoarse with sleep and confusion.

Jayce nodded slowly. “Yeah. A lot’s happened.” He took a breath and began to explain—everything. How Viktor had vanished during their experiment, how in his place a much younger version of himself had appeared, confused and scared. He spoke of the boy’s attempts to flee, of how they’d kept him safe and ultimately, how they returned him to his own time… and Viktor to theirs.

Viktor sat quietly through it all, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed but distant. He drank in every word without interrupting, his eyes slowly shifting toward the center of the room where the hexcore and the damaged temporal anchor rested. He stared through them as though seeing not just the devices but something far beyond… something just out of reach.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. “I don’t remember any of it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “not the last two days… and no childhood memory of meeting either of you.”

A thoughtful pause hung in the air before the conclusion dawned on them all at once. “Then he really must’ve been a Viktor from a different timeline,” Jayce murmured.

Viktor’s eyes lit up suddenly with a spark of energy, the haze breaking as if someone had flipped a switch inside him. He leaned forward, gesturing animatedly. “Do you realize what this means? The hexcore—if it can do that, if it’s truly capable of powering the anchor enough to break through temporal layers—then we’ve only scratched the surface of what’s possible!”

His words began to tumble out faster now, full of wonder and urgency. Jayce blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden animation and familiar gleam in Viktor’s eyes. That unfiltered joy of discovery. It was the same look the younger Viktor had worn, wide-eyed and alive with curiosity.

“Where’s my crutch?” Viktor asked suddenly, glancing around.

Jayce scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I, uh… gave it to the kid.”

Viktor shot him a mildly annoyed look but let it slide with a sigh. “Of course you did.”

Mel stepped in to help, and between the two of them, they eased him into a nearby rolling chair. Once seated, Viktor wasted no time. He wheeled himself eagerly over to the work desk, brushing aside empty candy wrappers as he began flipping through Jayce’s notes with deft fingers. Page after page flew by as he caught up on everything that had been discovered in his absence.

Jayce and Mel stood back, watching him from across the room. For a moment, they said nothing… just quietly observing as the man they had feared might never return to them came roaring back, his mind already racing ahead into a future they hadn’t yet dared to imagine.

Jayce lingered near the edge of the workspace, arms crossed, watching Viktor dive headfirst into the pages of scattered notes like a man starved. But something still tugged at him, a quiet thread of curiosity he couldn’t ignore.

“So,” he began casually, eyes flicking toward Mel, “are you really never going to tell me what he wrote about me? The kid, I mean.”

Mel gave him a sidelong glance, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I told you—I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Sworn to a ten-year-old from another timeline. Doesn’t really seem binding under the circumstances, does it?”

Mel laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’ve clearly taught you too much about politics.”

He chuckled, but the question still hung between them. “Was it really that bad?”

Her smile softened then, her voice lowering just slightly as she finally relented. “No… quite the opposite, actually.” She paused. “He looked up to you, Jayce. Said you inspired him. That you made him feel like he was strong.”

Jayce blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

Mel turned to go, but tossed one last comment over her shoulder, almost as an afterthought. “Oh. And he had a little crush on you, too.”

Jayce’s mouth opened, then closed again, no words arriving to fill the gap. He stood still, stunned by the weight of something he hadn’t expected—something that lingered bittersweet in his chest.

“I have council duties,” Mel added lightly, already making her way to the door. “don’t let him overwork himself.”

She called out a quick farewell to Viktor. He barely glanced up from the desk, lifting a hand and replying with a distracted, “Goodbye, Ms. Medarda.” before returning immediately to whatever new set of calculations had captured his attention.

Jayce was still standing there, lost in thought, when Viktor’s voice called out across the room. “Are you just going to stand there all day?” he said, not looking up. “We have work to do. Starting with a new crutch, preferably one that doesn’t make me feel like a grandfather.”

Jayce snapped out of it with a quiet laugh, the sound full of something warm and whole. He stepped forward, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he joined Viktor at the desk. Jayce settled into the chair beside him, the weight of the past few days finally beginning to lift. Without looking up, Viktor handed him a piece of candy, then unwrapped one for himself and placed it in his mouth with a quiet hum.

Viktor flipped a page in the notebook, eyes scanning the scrawled equations. “You let the younger me make a mess of my desk.” he said offhandedly, taking in the scattered wrappers, leftover candies and wax paper.

Jayce glanced around, lips twitching into a small smile. “Technically, Mel was the one who gave that stuff to him.”

Viktor let out a low chuckle. “Then I suppose you are only partly to blame.” He then pointed to an equation on the page. “This equation is incorrect.” Viktor said, finger tapping lightly against the margin.

Jayce leaned in, peering at the notes, and the two of them slipped naturally into conversation. Numbers and theories passed easily between them, the clutter of the room fading as they returned to a rhythm long-missed but never forgotten.

Whatever waited ahead, they would face it together. And for now, that was enough.

With that decision, the threads of their timeline began to pull loose in silence, unnoticed. The path before them was no longer a fixed outcome. Whether this would end in glorious progress or bloody heartbreak was known to no one.

Somewhere, across the vast sea of timelines…

Viktor slipped through the entrance of an apartment complex, barely sparing a glance at the group of enforcers gathered outside the doorway. He didn’t have time for hesitation—not today. Sixteen years of waiting, of planning, of agonizing solitude had all led to this moment. He wouldn’t risk it now, not when he was this close.

The elevator was out of service, the aftermath of the recent blast still evident in the scorched metal casing and frayed wires. Without pause, he turned toward the stairwell. Each step sent a sharp ache through his leg, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on, ascending floor after floor with single-minded determination. The enforcers posted on each landing gave him sideways glances, but none cared to stop him.

By the time he reached the top floor, sweat clung to his brow and his breath came in short gasps. He still didn’t stop. From his pocket, he withdrew Heimerdinger’s council identification badge and held it up to the guards stationed outside the door. They examined it, exchanged a brief look, and then stepped aside to let him pass.

Viktor stepped into the room. Inside, the sheriff turned to face him—a tall, imposing woman with a crown of steel-grey hair and sharp, discerning eyes. She nodded in greeting, and Viktor returned the gesture with polite formality.

His gaze swept past her, scanning the room until it landed on the man seated near the far wall. Jayce. He sat hunched forward, elbows braced on his knees, his head buried in his hands. Even in disarray, even diminished, there was no mistaking him. He looked younger than Viktor remembered. Leaner, the edge of his shoulders not quite as broad… but it was still him nonetheless. Distress suited him in an odd way, though Viktor forced the thought aside.

He was pulled from his amazement by the sheriff’s voice. “I take it you are Professor Heimerdinger’s assistant. Is there any special protocol we should be following here?” she asked, her tone edged with exasperated formality.

Viktor offered a measured smile, slipping effortlessly into the role he’d rehearsed. “There will be no need. Professor Heimerdinger has personally requested that the Academy handle the inquiry into Jayce Talis’ involvement. It’s a matter of internal jurisdiction… one of great importance to Piltover’s academic community.”

It was a lie, a bold one. The sheriff narrowed her eyes. “And what of the illegal equipment I see strewn about here?”

Without missing a beat, Viktor replied. “Mr. Talis and by extension the research equipment in his possession is no longer the subject of concern for you and the enforcers. Heimerdinger has stated that I should investigate this aspect of the incident due to the potentially dangerous materials that could harm those who do not know how to properly handle them. Your focus should rather be on apprehending the individuals who caused this explosion—the ones still at large, might I add.”

The sheriff didn’t look convinced. Her frown deepened, and after a tense pause, she said, “I’ll be speaking to Heimerdinger directly about this.”

Viktor dipped his head, just enough to show respect, smoothly playing the role of an envoy sent from higher authority. “Of course.”

She lingered a moment longer, her eyes flicking between the two men, then turned on her heel. “Clear out.” She barked to the enforcers. With little fanfare, they filed out behind her.

The door clicked shut. Silence settled over the room. Jayce finally raised his head, confused.

Viktor and Jayce were alone.

“What’s going on?” Jayce asked, startled by the sudden departure of enforcers. “Did Professor Heimerdinger really want to investigate me himself?” Worry was clear in his voice.

“Eeeeh not exactly… but if you wish to remain out of handcuffs we must work quickly before she finds that out.”

Jayce stared at him, confusion and suspicion flickering in his eyes. Viktor could see the questions forming before Jayce even spoke, so he pressed forward, voice low but urgent.

“Listen, there’s no formal warrant yet.” Viktor said. “But that won’t last. if we don’t finish your work and provide tangible proof of the capabilities of hextech, they’ll have what they need to expel you from the academy… or worse.”

Jayce held up a hand, shaking his head. “Hold on—slow down. Who are you? How do you know about hextech?”

Viktor’s stomach twisted. His approach left more to be desired. He had kept the memory of all those articles of Jayce's accomplishments with hextech, written down and stored not long after he woke up from that long dream sixteen years ago. He had only a vague idea of what the future truly held, but enough of one to begin forming a plan. Unfortunately Viktor’s carefully rehearsed rousing speech began to leak out his ears as soon as those golden eyes settled on him.

“My name is Viktor, I’m helping you because I know you.” Viktor said softly. “And I know what you’re trying to do with the hex gems, how close you are.”

Jayce’s expression softened to a more forlorn look. “My research has been stalled for months… I’m about to lose fundi—wait that still doesn’t answer—”

“I’m helping you because I’m your friend.” Viktor said, voice firmer now. “Because no one else is going to. Because I believe in this, in you. And I think… I know you are meant to finish this. But you won’t get that chance unless we work together. Please let me help you.”

Jayce didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched between them, heavy and taut with suspicion. Viktor stood perfectly still. Waiting, uncertain if he had said too much—or not enough.

Jayce’s gaze drifted downward, his brows knitting together. His eyes moved from Viktor’s face to the slender cane gripped in his hand.

“Wait…” he said slowly, his voice quiet but firm. “Let me see that.”

Viktor blinked, confused by the request, but comprehension dawned quickly. Without a word, he crossed the room. Jayce quickly rose from his seat, and Viktor wordlessly lowered himself into it, offering the cane as he did.

Jayce turned it over in his hands, examining the craftsmanship with growing intensity. His thumb brushed over the worn leather handle, then paused at the etched design halfway down the metal shaft.

The crest of House Talis.

It was a little dented, scratched, aged but unmistakable.

The cane itself was of sturdy make and clearly well cared for despite the cracked leather and faint specks of rust below the hand grip. Jayce found a joint mechanism and gently twisted it, revealing how it expanded, transforming into a crutch with a soft click.

“It's collapsible… engineered to be adjusted depending on the user’s needs. It’s incredibly well-designed,” Viktor said.

Then, with a frown, Jayce murmured. “House Talis doesn’t make canes.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, a subtle, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not yet.” he said quietly.

Jayce looked up at him, confusion and disbelief chasing across his features. “Are you like… from the future?”

Viktor met his eyes, the weight of what he carried making his voice low.

“No… but I was briefly a—uh visitor, I suppose. In that future I saw what your theory is truly capable of.”

“It’s not a—“ Jayce stopped his knee jerk reaction and took a steadying breath.  “What you’re saying is impossible.”

“I thought the whole point of magic was to make the impossible possible.” Viktor replied. Jayce gripped the crutch harder between his fingers but said nothing for a long moment.

“How? Is this all because of hextech?” Jayce  finally asked.

Viktor’s expression tightened with urgency and excitement. “I can explain everything in detail later, but I’m afraid our window of opportunity is closing fast. Please… will you let me help you?”

Jayce hesitated for only a heartbeat, then nodded, almost breathless. “Yeah—yes, let’s do it. This is insane.”

“I know.” Viktor chuckled softly.

Jayce immediately began pacing, already half-lost in thought. “Okay, okay—we’ll need to recalibrate some runes, and I need to find at least one surviving hex gem in this mess. I need to reroute the room’s heavy power…” He kept going, voice rising with adrenaline, rattling off half-formed plans as he turned on his heel.

He still held the crutch, absently twisting it in his hands, as his mind raced.

Viktor watched him for a moment, then cleared his throat pointedly.

Jayce stopped and looked over, snapped from racing thoughts. “What?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My cane?”

Jayce blinked, then glanced down at his hands like he’d just noticed he was holding it. “Oh— oh! Sorry,” he said quickly, he reformed it from crutch to cane then began hurrying back to hand it over. “Right, of course. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s quite alright,” Viktor said, accepting it with a small smile. 

Viktor shifted his weight and moved to stand, the motion slow and a little unsteady. Instinctively, Jayce stepped forward and offered his hand. For a heartbeat, Viktor’s face tightened. An involuntary flash of irritation crossing his features, pride bristling at the gesture. Jayce hesitated, already beginning to pull his hand back, but then Viktor reached out and took it.

Their hands met—Jayce’s large and warm, steady with the strength and rough texture of hard labor. Viktor’s by contrast was thin and cold, skin cool like porcelain, fingers wiry and unfamiliar with touch. But for a moment, they held, two mismatched pieces connecting all the same as Jayce helped him to his feet with quiet care.

Viktor’s hand closed around the worn handle of his cane. The cracked leather, warm beneath his fingers, was steadying. It grounded him, tethering him to a memory that now felt dreamlike in its distance. For a moment, he let the weight of it wash over him: the passing years, the long solitude, the quiet ache of waiting. Remembering the man who looked capable of carrying the world—and who told Viktor he was strong enough to do the same.

Now here he was; Young, confident, brilliant and standing less than a foot away. Still filled with nervous, excited energy. Still handsome when he wasn’t trying to be.

Viktor’s chest tightened, but he pushed it down. This wasn’t the time for yearning. They had work to do, work that would change everything.

He cleared his throat softly, more for himself than for Jayce, and glanced toward him. Jayce was staring right at him, his expression focused, curious, wide open in that way Viktor remembered all too well.

Viktor felt the corners of his mouth lift into a faint smile. “So,” he said, voice quieter now. “Where do we start?”

In that moment, neither man knew that their timeline had violently veered off its predestined course. This future too, would descend into uncertainty. Perhaps it would be radiant, or ruinous. The only constant was that at the center of it all was them. Two men trying futilely to hold onto the weight of the world and each other.