Work Text:
The streets of Piltover are covered in white cushions.
Stuffing flutters down from above.
Slow, quiet, cloudy.
It’s a peaceful sight to those ignorant of their ability to smother.
The radiator running under the table makes it hard to get up or be productive. Bundled up it’s cozy, warm. The three of them are moving sluggishly today, to no one’s surprise. With winter making it’s course outside who can blame them?
Serenity has usurped the lab in the shape of quietness. Jayce can hear the tip of Viktor’s pencil moving over paper at a distance. Some designs lay before him on the desk—a few papers, nothing he couldn’t look over in a more than an hour. An adorable but bold girl—Powder—has perched herself on the desk to stare out the window. She has been staring for a while.
Powder’s nose presses against the glass. The blanket she is wrapped in isn’t thick enough to battle the cold on the other side; it gives him the chills, but she won’t come down, too enchanted by the snow dazzling past—the twinkles in her eyes reflect it.
The empty cups on the desk pile up as the day passes. Continually the compulsion to push a hot drink into his company’s hands nags him. Warm milk for Viktor… like he’s still part infant, and hot cocoa drenched in whipped cream for Powder. Midday he hands her pencil and paper hoping she’ll walk to her tiny desk in the storage room close to a heater he placed with the intention to make it a warm wonderland, but instead she draws what she sees outside: Piltover’s snowed over streets, children throwing snowballs—and a monkey, for some reason—three snowmen holding hands.
Work passes slowly, but it passes. As the sun sets the streets turn dark and Powder seems ready to relocate. Finally…
She sheds the blanket as she climbs off. With short steps she comes closer; the way she approaches him question filled. If it’s about snow he would rather have Viktor answer her questions.
She takes a deep breath.
“Could I play outside, Jayce? Please.”
She has never asked that question before. Not when a parade marched the streets, not when the Academy held their conference outside, not on the most beautiful summer’s day.
“Powder, if someone discovers that we’re hiding you the Enforcers will step in. You know this.” Surely she must have expected that answer.
“But it’s dark,” she says. “When it’s a cold evening no one likes staying outside. I can play somewhere people don’t go. Just for a few minutes. I’ll be quiet, I promise. Please.” Her eyes grow big like safety goggles. “Please, please, please.”
Viktor walks over to meddle. If only he was as strict with Powder as he is when his partner accidentally leaves trash on his desk. They both wish for her happiness, who says a little discipline can’t get her there?
“She has a point,” Viktor says as he puts his coat on, it’s two sizes too big. How chilling that the wind can easily sneak in there. Thankfully, he still wraps a thick scarf around his neck an extra pair of leg warmers around his calves. “I’m sure you two can find an empty corner of snow on your way home.”
Powder looks inspired. With a smile like that he can’t blame Viktor for conceding. It’s a hard fight against her immediate happiness.
“If you’re so supportive of this idea, why don’t you do it?”
Viktor rolls his eyes before tapping his cane. “I would. If I could… Something tells me that—eh, playing on the dark slippery road would result in a failed waltz and a hole in my noggin.”
Great, now he feels like an asshole.
“Come on, Jayce. You know the chances of being caught out there are infinitesimal compared to here in the lab.”
Viktor’s brain is lovely until you have to argue against it.
“Fine. But no longer than thirty minutes,” he gives in against his own wishes. As much as he hates this weather, he wants to see them both happy.
Powder cheers and hugs him. She’s all giggles as she puts her boots on. He makes sure to wrap her in some extra layers of protection: two scarves, two coats, ear warmers, a beanie, cotton mittens, wool mittens, and an extra pair of socks.
The flashlight scatters light over white. They walk in deliberate steps, Powder lagging behind him. The shape of his breath speaks to the uncomfortable truth of human impermanence.
“Are you stalling?”
She shakes her head. “Its hard to walk—in this.”
With straight legs and arms she wiggles forth. Her movements much resemble those of an injured penguin.
Jayce can only sigh.
They find a spot not too far from home. There aren’t many streetlights and it’s a moderate area of snow, completely untouched and fresh for the taking.
Powder’s hands dig into the coldness to shatter the fuzz around. Dust flies into the air and in his hair. He keeps his cool. Standing still in the night breeze he can feel an uncomfortable feeling pressing on his skin.
Powder is engrossed. There’s no hesitation before getting on her back and flapping her arms around. The snowballs she throws against the light post shatter before they reach the goal. A snowporo she builds sports one of her mittens as a hat.
She’s happy; he loves to see her happy, yet he feels conflicted. There’s something sad about having to watch her play in the dark like she isn’t worthy of being seen during daytime. It’s not true, of course, but… are they sending her that message by hiding her, even if they’re only doing so out of protection?
Powder throws another snowball. She giggles when it lands on his shoulder. Some of it leaks into his collar.
This can’t be over fast enough. Even without the cold he can feel his hands shaking like they’re sending the signal of a bad omen. He pictures it: a mist appearing out of nowhere and shallowing them both. A harsh wind wiping the streets empty. Powder screaming for help when no one can hear her. The frostbite claiming her skin. A vehicle slipping and hitting her. A last warm breath escaping through short puffs. Rime and slaughter. Her tiny corpse amidst the storm.
Jayce looks around. While his thoughts trailed off the flashlight drifted in a different direction making him lose sight of where she was playing. He doesn’t see her.
He almost calls her name, but they must not cause suspicion.
Instead he yells, “come.”
There is no response.
His heart picks up it’s pace. He steps off the curb and onto the patched grass. Cold leaks into his boots.
“Come here.” His voice is firm now. The flashlight dashes back and forth as it tries to find a trace of her. The small footprints sparkle all over the place—left, right, left, right, back, circles. The harsh air beating on his lungs fights him every step of the way.
“Powder,” he yells, not caring if someone hears him. He needs to see her. He needs to know that she is okay. “Powder.”
Surely she can’t have gone far. Unless… someone took her when he wasn’t looking. The culprit would have know that it will be hell to look for her in this weather. Why? Why did he ever comply? This was a terrible idea from the start. He was foolish to convince himself otherwise. He knew it, dammit. Nothing good comes from the cold.
As he runs back to the street he almost trips over a pile of snow. Something catches his foot.
On the wet grass sits a smooth artificial block of snow pierced by a thick branch. It resembles a hammer. Powder must have crafted it.
“Surprise!” She jumps out from under a thin layer of snow. Jayce stumbles back in terror, heart still beating in his chest. He tries his best to grab onto the branch but its too old, it cracks, and he slips.
His head hits the ground.
Powder screams again, not as a surprise.
Something shakes him.
She calls his name, over and over.
Everything is white, the path bare, just as he remembers: the landscape of his nightmares.
❆
His mothers fingers are turning as she holds onto him, from flesh to red, from red to white, from white to black. They’re surrounded. Prisoners to fate in the hands of death. She has always protected him. She drops. He yells for help over the frosted mountainside, his young voice coated in desperation. There’s no one around, no one for miles, leaving them helpless. The cold wind cuts his skin, and it hurts. Each inch of his body gradually burns into numbness.
His digs under her. His mother’s body is too heavy. He can’t lift her. He’s weak. Useless. He yells again, begging, pleading for help, for anyone. He’s alone, and it is then that he realizes how fragile he really is, how fragile life is. How everything can go bad in an instant. How nature has no mercy.
In the distance he sees something, something in white too thin for a snowman.
❆
“Jayce?”
A bright light shines on his face. The fuzzy silhouette of a hooded figure shakes his arm.
Oh… no. He tripped and lost his train of thought again. Powder must have ran to a neighbor.
“Jayce?”
His eyes focus. It’s Viktor still wearing that good for nothing coat. He has never seen him look worried like this.
He pulls himself up. A small coat and multiple beanies fall off as he sits. He’s terribly cold now. He basically ate snow…
“Do you feel okay? Does your head hurt? Jayce?”
“I’m okay. I just slipped. What are you doing here?”
Powder stands behind him, she has shed most of the protective clothing, her face much too red. She’s going to get a cold.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeats over and over. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t respond, so Powder ran all the way to my apartment. I was so slow to get here. You’ve been out for a while. Oh, Jayce, can you walk? Come, let’s take you to the hospital.”
“No.” There’s no way he’s walking through blocks of snow. “I’m fine. I feel fine.”
“Don’t be stubborn. You blacked out. You probably have a concussion, or worse—”
“I’m fine. I’m tired, I want to go inside.”
“What nonsense.”
“It’s too far.” Walking home and to the lab in weather like this is anxiety inducing enough. Walking multiple streets to the hospital so many things can go wrong. No way. No way. “Viktor, you said it yourself: you’ll fall. You’ll definitely fall.”
“Jayce,” he sighs. “I can’t drive. Even if I could it would be much too dangerous with the roads like this. It’s a short walk, it will be over in no time.”
“I’ll sleep it off.”
Viktor grabs his arms, his eyes more intense than ever, strict as his mother used to address him when he disobeyed. “Absolutely not, Jayce. You need a doctor and you need your brain. Hextech needs your brain. Any head injury is serious, and I won’t let you give up your good health just because you don’t feel like walking.”
Powder nods in agreement.
“Besides,” Viktor continues. “You’re setting a terrible example.”
He hates this. He absolutely hates this.
But… Viktor is right.
He so often is.
The two of them walk through the dim lit streets in a pace that snails could top. Viktor is supporting his arm like he’s actually supporting anything. It should be the other way around.
The streets were never this long. His teeth clash and his breath is an uneven mess.
The snow makes it hard to know if they’re even walking on the road. Viktor’s cane makes an occasional quick skid, terrifying. Why he hasn’t modified that thing yet is a mystery.
With each step the wind is harsher, louder. It clashes against the high brick walls, shaking windows and fences. Snow could fall off one of the rooftops at any second, crushing them and suffocating them to death. Viktor could slip so easily, it wouldn’t even be the first time he has seen him fall, but this one would be uglier, quicker, his neck cracking as it snaps, his spine twisting.
Then there’s Powder. She seemed nervous about staying home. She will find it takes too long and run off towards them, then she would get lost. Once they return she’ll be gone so long that finding her is impossible. Or—she’ll go to bed obediently, but forget to close the window and freeze to death.
Had he closed it this morning? Had he left it open? He can’t remember.
The wind continues howling, like it’s rushing over a mountain. It could only mean one thing—
“A storm is coming.”
Viktor looks at him like he hit his head. He’s wat too calm as looks up at the sky. “It’s the wind.”
They continue. It will take forever to get back. The hospital must be busy with snow injured people. He’s going to see frostbite, isn’t he? Stiff fingers befriending necrosis. Winter gore. He wants to stop, return home. Rest in his warm bed, anything else than this.
“I can’t do it,” he says as he gets another strange look. “I can’t do it.”
“We’re halfway there…”
Only halfway.
They stop at an empty intersection. It’s dead. the nearest shops are closed, people are laying in their warm beds with closed curtains. Fast asleep. With this wind… if something happens… no one would hear them scream for help.
“Let’s switch coats,” Viktor says. “Yours is all wet. Mine is warm.”
He lets go as he starts unbuttoning it.
Jayce can’t stop him fast enough. “No, no. Keep it on.”
“It’ll fit, I think. A little snug maybe, but dry. Have my scarf too.”
Viktor is already so pale, his cheeks red, a wet coat would make him sick, surely. A lung infection would be an even greater risk for someone who grew up in smog, he’ll die all because Jayce was dumb enough to hit his head.
With his coat half-off Viktor looks frail. His collarbone peeks out. The cold will freeze his limbs. He’s not made for this.
“Don’t take it off,” Jayce screams like he’s having a meltdown. “DON’T.”
Viktor looks at him like he’s crazy. Then hesitantly, he slides the coat back on without buttoning it.
Jayce shakes his head. He can’t find the right way to express himself. Other people don’t get it, they don’t think about the horrible things that could so easy happen this time of year. How a fallen icicle is powerful enough to pierce the skull. How the low visibility gives any accident the upper hand.
“Is… there something wrong?”
“I’m okay.”
“Those aren’t tears, gathering at the corners of your eyes?”
How pathetic. How incredibly pathetic to lose it like this. It’s snow; a dark evening. It’s a walk to the hospital.
It feels like he’s marching through hell.
“I can’t do it,” he says again as his knees buckle. “Let’s just go home. Please. I’m done.”
Viktor looks through the empty streets.
“But why?”
“I’m—I—” he feels like a child. He sounds like a child, “—scared.”
“Of… of the snow?”
The running snot burns his nose. If he ever does get out of this he’ll never recover from the humiliation. The positive images Viktor had of him completely shattered by one bad day. He’ll start thinking that he isn’t in his right mind.
“Have you always been afraid of it?”
“I—No… But for—a long time.
Viktor’s hands move up and down like he’s trying to warm him up. It isn’t working, not physically. It does make it easier to talk.
“When the weather is like this, it—scares me. Like—death is hiding around the corner. As if it’s—only a matter of time before it claims me, or—Powder, or—you.”
There’s layers of clothing between them but he feels so vulnerable he might as well be naked. Viktor gets near as he hugs him. This close he can feel frozen tips of hair against his cheek.
He has seen Viktor hug Powder before, often times a little awkward. Never has he initiated anything like this.
“I’m so sorry, Jayce. I didn’t know.” His voice is warm in his ear. “I never would have pushed you to take her outside if I knew.”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s pathetic.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with weakness. There’s so many other ways in which you’re excellent.”
The smile Viktor gives him could wash away a flood of tears.
He wishes the hug could last forever. It’s soothes him like a lullaby. How addicting—comforting like the soup your mother makes when you’re sick.
It’s the boost he needs. He lets go of one last tear before finding the courage to keep walking.
Somehow they make it.
Inside the hospital it’s much warmer. The waiting room is pretty much empty. Apparently people know better than to play outside in the dark on a cold winter night. Viktor’s arm has remained locked into his, with his head against his shoulder as he’s reading a flyer, something they found on one of the chairs. He must be tired. There’s posters on the walls, some with poems, some with first aid instructions, but Jayce doesn’t feel the need to read. With his attention on his partner’s breathing he’s distracted enough.
Sadly it’s a short wait.
When the doctor arrives Jayce doesn’t want to get up. It’s much cozier sitting next to Viktor.
She asks him a dozen boring questions.
“Did you vomit?”
No.
“Do you feel like vomiting?”
No.
“Does your head hurt?”
No.
“Blah-blah-blah.”
Then he’s told to follow a finger. Then to walk a straight line all while feeling ridiculous.
“Some good news,” she says after she’s finished asking about his medical history. “No other signs of internal bleeding. Although… It’s strange that blacking out is the only indicator of a concussion. Did you experience any unusual symptoms before falling?”
“Before?” He thinks. What a strange question. “I guess I was in a bit of a panic. I—eh, I thought I—uhm—lost something important.”
“I see, I see.” The pencil taps her lips. “Do you have a stressful job?”
Yes, taking care of a young girl. “Most on the Council would say so.”
“I see… Could be a psychogenic blackout—a stress induced loss on consciousness. I would recommend seeing a specialist to help you manage your workload.”
Work and Powder give his life meaning. It’s not something worth giving up. It’s the damn cold getting under his skin.
“No need.” He shakes his head. “I can endure it. It will get better once winter is over.”
They stand in the doorway after tucking Powder into bed. She had fallen asleep while watching the streets with a closed window. Maybe he should have know as much, she’s a smart girl.
“Normally I would walk you home.”
Viktor smiles. “Aren’t you lucky that the doctor recommend you to take three days off in case it was actually a concussion? You won’t have to walk through any snow this week.”
Yes, it had been a relief. And a great excuse. He’s going to need those days to recover from reliving the scariest experience of his life.
“I’d rather be in the lab with you.”
Viktor’s nose and cheeks are red. It’s not such a scary sight anymore. They look soft, delicate, friendly.
“I can still come over, if you like. I’ll bring you soup.”
Nah, ah. “And walk over the icy road carrying a heavy pot? Please don’t. And Viktor, please start wearing a thicker coat.”
Viktor’s eyebrows curve offended. “You worry too much about me. I grew up in the fissures, you think I’ve never gotten a fever? If anything my immune system could beat the strongest Topsider’s.”
“Alright, but—”
“Jayce, I know I look frail, but if you need to worry about me I will tell you. Honestly, I don’t appreciate the initialization. Focus on yourself and Powder.”
With the other people in his life he tries to be the one taking care of them, whether it be Caitlyn or Powder, even with his mother he wants to be strong enough not to need her. Viktor always finds a way to support him, to say the right things, like he’s not afraid to see him for who he is. Talk about chilling.
“Alrighty… I try to.”
Apparently winter does has some perks. Only a few. The snow resting on his partner’s eyelashes had looked so graceful. The apartment’s heat has turned the ice in his hair to water, and it sticks to his forehead, wrapping around his lids in an organic pattern.
Viktor doesn’t need to leave. Not really. They enjoy each other’s company enough like a second home. Together everything becomes easier.
Viktor doesn’t need to leave.
He could stay the night, they could share his bed, where it’s warm.