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Chapter Text

Viktor startled awake, flailing blindly until he realised where he was; the lab, not his bedroom. He gasped in a breath deep enough that he began to cough, burying his face in his elbow to cover his mouth. Jayce looked more startled than he was, concern creasing his handsome face as he held his hands up awkwardly, clearly regretting having grabbed Viktor by the shoulders. When his coughing had turned into a wheezing breath, Viktor shook himself and ran his hand through his hair. "What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, and Jayce blinked at him confusedly.

"Great question. You first," Jayce said as he struck up what should have been a casual pose, leaning against the desk, but the slump of his shoulders belied his exhaustion as much or more than the dark circles beneath his eyes. Viktor almost pitied him, but Jayce wouldn't want that any more than he himself did.

"I'm working the problem," Viktor said, rubbed his eyes, then stuck his hands back into the control handle ports of the HexCore's charging desk. The isometric cube whirred to life, crackling with arcane energy as Viktor squinted at it and turned the handles slightly, nudging the rune plates in different directions so fast Jayce found it dizzying.

"Uh-huh, just like you were when I dropped by this morning, with breakfast, when you'd been there all night."

"Mmmhm," Viktor replied, hardly listening. The HexCore pulsed blue-white, sending out a shockwave that ruffled the papers weighed down on the desk and sent a pen rolling off to clatter onto the floor.

"And, you're wearing the same clothes you were then." He laid one large hand on Viktor's shoulder again, stopping him.

"I always wear the same clothes, it's called a uniform, mister fancy-pants councilor," Viktor retorted, but there was more weariness than anything else in his voice, and the smile he gave Jayce did not reach his eyes.

"Vik," Jayce said, softly enough that Viktor looked away, biting his lip - he knew exactly what admonishment was coming so that it nearly went unsaid. "This isn't good for you, for anyone. Have you slept at all? Eaten anything?"

"Miss Young brought me a sandwich earlier," Viktor replied, twisting the control handle again, just enough to keep the HexCore active and floating while they talked instead of having to start over.

"And you ate it?"

Viktor didn't respond, Jayce sighed. "You can't do this to yourself, Viktor, you're not just burning the candle at both ends, you've cracked it in half to find the wick and burn it from a secret third direction," he said, winning a wry little chuckle from his partner, "You need to go home."

"No, I need to work the problem."

"The HexCore will be here tomorrow, it's not going anywhere."

"No, but I might not be," Viktor said, so quietly that Jayce hardly made out the words. He pulled his hands out of the control unit and the HexCore clanked to the table, inert. "None of these combinations works, I can- I can control for every variable except longevity, bigger, smaller, color, shape, material, it doesn't matter… They just, every one, keeps rejecting the mutation. I tried acceleration, slowing it to a halt with modifiers. Time, with parameters of nil to nil, I varied those values a lot, no difference, nothing statistically fucking significant, I-" his words broke off as his voice cracked, and Viktor put his head in his hands. He was too proud a man to break down sobbing in front of Jayce, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that the bigger man would never judge him for it, but sympathy was somehow worse. "I'm going to die because I'm not smart enough to find the solution. Here lies Viktor, he was bad at math."

"Vik…"

"Don't. Just… Go home, Jayce, you have mere hours until the Council starts up again, one of us needs to get some rest."

"Yeah, and it's you," Jayce said as he lowered himself down, crouching until he was eye to eye with Viktor slumped on his stool, "My turn for the all-nighter, just like the old days. I'll do what we do best, alright? You don't have to do this alone, you're not alone, let me take the weight of this for a little while, you're so tired you're just gonna divide by zero and never notice. We'll do this together but not until you sleep. Go home, Viktor."

Viktor remained looking down at his lap, but his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. "I, eh, I've been here since Monday; I don't think I can make it," he said, nibbling on his lower lip nervously, "But I'll, I'll watch you work."

"Mm, not good enough," Jayce said, squeezing Viktor's shoulder, "Let me just… Wait here."

"Where else am I going to go?"

"Stuff it," Jayce retorted as he hauled himself back to his feet with a groan. The last thing he wanted to do right now was an all-nighter; his head was pounding, every muscle of his body was tense and exhausted, but for Viktor he'd do it. For Viktor, he'd do anything.

They'd stopped the pretense of going home every night early in their careers and slowly but surely more amenities had made their way into the lab. First it was the coffee press and a kettle, then a little carrying case of Viktor's medications so he could keep working on bad pain days, then a sofa they, or more rightly Jayce with Viktor's supervision, had rescued from some movers across the square who were going to dump it. Jayce had agreed with Viktor about impractical Piltovian sensibilities then; the sofa was nearly new, just heavy and a pain in the ass to move, but worth it. Plush and long enough for even Jayce to stretch out and nap, it had been a lifesaver over the years even if now it had seen better days. Viktor insisted it was merely broken in, not worn, and if Jayce replaced it without his say so he would keep the couch and throw Jayce in the trash heap instead. Right now it was a mess of throw pillows, courtesy of his mother, scattered notes and pencil nubs that by rights should be thrown out if not for Viktor's Zaunite thriftiness. Smiling to himself, Jayce clear it all away to a nearby countertop and positioned the pillows where they needed to be, the soft ones by the armrest and the firm, cylindrical pillow near the center to hold Viktor's knee up and keep the pressure off his spine. The blanket needed a refresh, but shaking out the pencil shavings would have to do for now. He tossed it over the back of the couch for the moment before returning to Viktor, who hadn't moved.

Viktor had his chin resting on one hand, elbow on the table, staring darkly at the inert HexCore as if glaring at it could force it to give up its secrets. He didn't move as Jayce approached and stood at his shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Vik, we always do," Jayce reassured him, reaching out his hand to help his partner stand.

"Do we? I seem to remember a whole… cabinet, of abandoned designs," Viktor said barely above a whisper, "I thought I'd have more time."

The soft wistfulness of that statement struck Jayce to the heart. It wasn't resigned, not exactly, Viktor would never give up, but he was in many ways a pragmatist who took things as they were while he tried to change them. No use ignoring reality even when holding onto hope; he'd said that before, in a few variations. Normally Viktor's chaotic drive to change that reality was enough. It had to be enough. Jayce took Viktor's free hand in his, because if he didn't get the other man moving, they'd stand here til dawn talking or Viktor would fire up the HexCore again. Viktor gripped his wrist tightly and accepted the pull to his feet, wavering until Jayce slipped his arm around his back for support. Now that he stood out of the shadows, the soft light from the other side of the lab revealed the shine to his eyes, the wet tracks down his cheek. Viktor saw him staring and turned his head away, lips pressed into a tight line. Jayce's heart pounded dizzyingly fast and in that moment he felt like a child again, lost and cold and unable to do anything to help someone he loved. Viktor had been fading away for weeks and pulling him upright had been easier than it should have been, than it would have been even two weeks ago, and his clothes hung loosely on a nearly emaciated frame. He never ate enough, even when he was healthier, and now his body burned through fuel like a wildfire, fighting the disease eating him from within.

"Please don't cry," Jayce said plaintively, letting go of Viktor's wrist and reaching impulsively for his face, turning Viktor back to face him. "We'll fix it, we'll get you more time, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jayce," Viktor said, smiling at him through fresh tears that he only let fall due to sheer exhaustion mitigating his efforts at projecting normalcy. In the morning, if asked, he'd deny it happened. "You're here and that's enough."

"No! No it's not, I need you. I'd never have, I wouldn't be-" Jayce shook his head, stumbling over words that wouldn't straighten themselves out into phrases that made sense, that could express what he meant. Jayce stammered for a moment before he gave in to impulse, leaning in quickly and gently, lovingly, pressed his lips to Viktor’s, before pulling back sharply as if the action had surprised him.

Viktor gasped and raised a hand to his lips as if he could feel the ghost of Jayce there. His eyes were wide and he watched Jayce’s expression slide from worry to panic, to clear embarrassment, his cheeks red.

“Oh Jayce…” he whispered sadly, “I’m sorry.”

“I know, it was stupid, I just-“

“Stop,” Viktor said, leaning his head tiredly against Jayce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t manage that until I have nothing left to give you, but I’m glad I know what it’s like.”

Jayce found he was the one sniffing away tears now, his arms around Viktor’s frail form. “Well, if… if that was okay, can I just carry you to the couch?” He asked warily, and Viktor snorted.

“Fine. Tell no one.”

Jayce scooped him up in his arms carefully and laid Viktor down on the worn sofa, setting his crutch beside him leaned against the coffee table in case he needed to get up. Viktor pulled the blanket around himself and the relief on his face at being comfortable gave Jayce a moment of peace. He crouched down at Viktor’s side and saw his partner’s gaze flit about his face and rest on his lips, his eyes going distant.

“Can I kiss you again?” Jayce asked softly, and Viktor smiled, but that smile turned into a twisted grimace as he tried not to cry. He shook his head ever so slightly.

“No,” he whispered, looking away, “it’s not fair to you, not now.”

“But-“

“Find the cure, then maybe we can try that again,” Viktor said sadly, “but I’m not going to make this any harder than it has to be, for you.”

Jayce looked like he wanted to protest but Viktor stopped him with a glare that held a lot of weight considering how exhausted and gaunt he looked. So instead of a kiss, Jayce just pulled the blanket higher up to his chin and squeezed Viktor’s shoulder.

“You know I didn’t need any extra motivation,” he teased, and Viktor managed a slightly crooked smile in response.

"You never do."

"And you," Jayce said as he stood, giving Viktor a firm look, "need to not be a martyr. Not fair to me, not harder for me. You're the one suffering."

Viktor rolled his eyes. "Ehhh, for the moment."

"Yeah, 'til I cure you," Jayce replied, "Get some sleep."

Viktor grumbled something blearily in reply that sounded like protests, but by the time Jayce settled down at his desk, the runic encyclopedia they had concocted open in front of him, he could hear the soft, wheezing snore of a very deeply unconscious lab partner.

Chapter Text

Jayce worked out potential rune combinations for the plant mutations until he couldn't force his eyes to focus on a page anymore and his head was pounding. Still on the sofa, Viktor had hardly moved; waking him to go home seemed like a cruelty. So, Jayce pulled the blanket back up over his shoulders and left a cup of water within easy reach should he wake, before slipping quietly out of the lab to head home, runes still tumbling through his mind in a jumbled parade interrupted only by the memory of kissing Viktor. He wanted to kick himself for doing that without preamble, when Viktor was so pre-occupied, so sick, but… if not now, when? If they didn't find a solution and he'd never shown how he felt, Jayce knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself. Even now, well, how his mother had reacted upon finding out the truth of how he and Viktor met showed him well enough that was not an option no matter how much he didn't want to do all of this without Viktor.

The next morning, Viktor was gone. Jayce's blue blanket was folded over the back of the sofa and there was no sign of his partner. Jayce sighed heavily. Well, it wasn't as if he had anything to show for a sleepless night of work. Viktor had been thorough in writing down every combination of runes that he'd tried, with what plants, and precisely how long the evolutionary changes maintained themselves before fizzling out. He was a little embarrassed to admit he hadn't come up with many more, and he questioned their efficacy. Without Viktor to manipulate the HexCore expertly, they'd remain hypothetical for the time being. Just in case Viktor returned from wherever he was, hopefully home resting, Jayce left the page from his notebook on the HexCore control desk where Viktor would see it and weighed the edge down with a nearby mostly-empty coffee mug. That would have to do for now. The council waited for no man, even one of Progress, especially one who felt like he hadn't achieved anything, right now. Without Viktor, Jayce wasn't sure he'd have the will to achieve anything again and found himself staring down the well of a future filled with nothing but politics and what could have been.

Few council meetings ended without Jayce wishing he'd never accepted the position in the first place, and the majority left him feeling drained of all creativity and will to live. One time, he'd said as much to Viktor, who had scoffed and told him now he knew what it was like to live in the sumps. Somehow it was a radical and unpopular position to propose diverting more of Piltover's funds underground when the rabble rousing of various gangs had begun reaching a breaking point - between petty crimes of the desperate, scuffles with enforcers in the shipping yards (both air and sea), and several explosions of questionable origin. After he'd made the HexGem powered hammer, Jayce had been struck with a pang of anxiety so severe over the fact that he had compromised himself, had made a weapon, that he hadn't taken it out of the Talis forge house. That he'd felt powerful and in control for the first time while wielding it didn't mitigate the feeling of failure in the back of his mind. He'd had a vision of storming into the Undercity swinging that hammer, putting an end to the violent gangs pillaging the low end of Piltover, the drug runners sneaking shimmer into back alleys and night clubs. That was what the council wanted him to be; the defender of their future, leading progress forward by leaps and bounds regardless of the cost.

Would Viktor still have looked at him with such sorrowful love if he knew about the hammer?

Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that question before even mentally asking it. Viktor would be horrified. He would tell him there was always a choice, a solution that wasn’t violence or greed or anything too intrinsically Piltovian. If he were here.

The lab was still empty at the end of the day, none of Viktor’s notes moved, the HexCore control terminal still powered down and the core itself inert. It looked different, the defined edges of the blue rune panels blurred and smoothed, and Jayce felt a pang of annoyance at Viktor upgrading their project without even telling him, much less asking. Viktor had a better affinity for the rune attenuation from the start, but still… maybe it was about the plant mutations, and he wasn’t here because he’d figured someone out. Hopefully that was it, and he wasn’t just missing. In the beginning he hadn’t thought much of it after the first time when he’d panicked, it was just another quirk of Viktor. Once, when he’d followed him, all he’d found was Viktor browsing the undercity market stalls and having a meal at a bar whose kitchen Jayce wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot pole. After that, he had dialed his concern down to annoyance, and that only if deadlines were coming up.

Now that concern was more to the tune of; could Viktor make it back up the lifts and across the bridge before dark? The council was already enforcing curfew, not that it had helped the rising unrest, and a blockade was next. Fair or not, it would stop the attacks, while they… tried to figure something out. Jayce spun his chair around and looked at the wilted plants in clay pots scattered around the HexCore table. Viktor had such a gentle heart, that he was willing to risk killing even plants showed how desperate he was. There was no counting the amount of spiders he’d caught in notepaper and carried to a window rather than sweeping them away.

”Where are you, Vik,” Jayce said to the empty room, glancing back over at his notes from the night before, still where he’d left them for Viktor that morning. He couldn’t go further without his partner, but he did have something else to work on.

He’d been taking notes dutifully at the council meetings on anything regarding the Undercity, mostly to relay that to Viktor, and if any of that information made its way underground, well, he didn’t know and what he didn’t know couldn’t come back to bite him later. What most of the public didn’t know was that not all the attacks were random acts of desperation, there were claimants, demands made; many of them were merely a flex to show how easily Piltover’s defenses could be bypassed - first by vandals, then by terrorists, and soon perhaps by the chemtanks and shimmer mutated berserkers that had rendered the Undercity dangerous. Viktor really shouldn’t be going down there anymore, as weak as he was and in his Piltovian clothes.

Jayce was gripping his pen so tightly he feared it would snap, and had to force himself to relax. Viktor was fine, ideally he was just home resting. That’s what he’d tell himself, to keep that anxiety down so he could get something done.

What he needed the most, however, was Viktor; his knowledge on how one would even get a message to a chembaron safely, and unread. With his face plastered all over airships, he could never go himself, nor could anyone from his office. Sky, perhaps? She was familiar with the Undercity but something didn't sit right with sending the quiet, bookish young woman below ground alone with how everything was. Well, the point was moot anyway until he figured out exactly what he was going to do, and how. The council wasted hours, days even, talking about the 'Zaun problem' as they'd termed it; how much to give, how much to press, but always in the terms of keeping the Undercity under Piltover's heel. Today's meeting had made it even more obvious that it wasn't about history of the cities, or legacy, or stability or any of the other terms bandied about. It was about money. If Zaun were free, they could impose import and export taxes on their goods, the goods Piltover needed to prosper. They could set their own wages, strike without enforcers breaking up protests, and slowly transfer the fruits of their labor from top to bottom, and the rich simply couldn't have that. Money over lives is what it came down to, lives of people like Viktor, and Sky, who had so much to give the world yet so much taken from them.

Jayce twirled the pen between his fingers. Asking himself 'what would Viktor do' was an old habit at this point, one which he'd long since stopped feeling embarrassed for asking himself, and it seemed clear now what his partner would say. Viktor had always been reckless, putting progress ahead of his own well being, but he had very rarely been wrong. When you're trying to change the world… don't ask for permission.

Viktor had never been able to take the secret ways in and out of the Undercity, but he was an expert in not being noticed nonetheless. Beneath the ground he was just another one of the poor grey-touched cripples, so long as he dressed the part, above ground it didn't matter whether he dressed Piltie or poverty-stricken, the eyes of everyone but Jayce slid right over him as if he weren't there. His imperfections too stark a contract to Piltover's golden progress for anyone to feel comfortable acknowledging. Most of his interactions, from councilors to shopkeepers, had the other looking fastidiously anywhere but at his crutch, his brace, and more lately his gaunt face.

At the bridge's heightened security, he couldn't tell whether he'd been recognized as Viktor from HexTech or merely seen as in no way a threat to be waved through without trouble. He almost felt silly at the care he'd taken to conceal his ill-gotten vials of shimmer. Here he was being exactly the thing the enforcers were trying to stop - at least in theory, as Viktor had no desire to give the shimmer to some idiot academy student going to a nightclub. If anyone topside knew where it came from, how it had come about, they'd likely be too disgusted to use it recreationally. Viktor was almost too off put from seeing what was left of Rio, knowing that what he needed to use to have a chance of survival came from her synthetically preserved corpse. If it worked, well, he'd need more, and he could apologize to her then. Some good could come of her suffering, if he were able to combat his wasting body and continue his work.

By the time he made his way back up the winding streets to the lab, Viktor's vision was fuzzy on the edges and his bad leg threatened not to take his weight even with the brace supporting him. He collapsed down on the sofa, tipping his head back against the cushions. No one else was here, he could just… close his eyes for a minute.

When he opened them the lab was dark except the dim light over the entrance and the soft blue glow of the power up button on the HexCore command module. Blinking groggily, he sat up, leaning over with his elbows on his knees as awareness came rushing back to him. Ah yes, the experiment. Jayce was still away on councilor duties, and this late at night it was unlikely he'd return. Good. He wouldn't approve of stepping so far into the unknown without any means of turning back. If he failed, he'd die. If he succeeded, he may still die, just slower. To his own pragmatic view, what were a few more weeks or months of pain worth when there was a chance he could end the cause of that pain, the flaws in his body that could never be cured.

Jayce would understand, in the end.

Viktor hauled himself off of the sofa and stretched, hissing as he arched his back, the muscles sore from too much exertion that no one else would have found excessive. Removing this weakness was worth the risk. After so long treating the lab as a second home, Viktor could navigate just fine in the meagre wash of light pollution through the windows. When the HexCore hummed to life, he plopped down on his stool and stared into its depths for a moment, the edges blurring together in his vision until it was a uniform blur of blue-purple in his unfocused gaze, an arcane abyss to fall into. He caught his head nodding off and shook himself to wakefulness. Carefully he reached out a finger and touched the core, feeling the strangely organic texture it had taken on when fusing with the plant matter of his tests. It sent a zing of electricity through him that was enough to wake him up fully. Refocus. He only had a few hours until even coffee wouldn't be able to keep him awake.
Rifling through the drawers, he found an injector he'd used for… something, some medication that hadn't done what it had promised to do and had only made him nauseated. The empty capsule was still lodged in it, easy enough to fill with shimmer from one of the vials hidden in his cane. Watching it swirl and glow in the soft blue light of the HexCore mesmerized him, reminded him of the arcane, the pure forms written about in stories. That was a thought for later. If he was right, and he very often was, the mutation would bind flesh to metal and imbue it as needed. Now came the harder part.

After setting the injector aside, Viktor removed his brace and shimmied out of his trousers without getting up, before putting the brace back on a bit more tightly than was comfortable for daily wear although now his skinny legs had wasted enough that meant the brace was as tight as the straps would allow. Tears blurred his vision and he blinked them away. Weakness was temporary, flesh was just something he hadn't figured out how to master yet. He powered up the HexCore and manipulated it to a slight variation of what he'd been using to empower the plants, then let it idle, levitating and whirring almost like it was alive. Viktor scooted his stool over to the workbench for a fine bladed knife and rolled his way back.

Flesh first, while the razor was sharp. He swallowed thickly and bit his lip. Pain was an old nemesis, but he normally went out of his way not to cause anymore than he had to endure. The runes came easily to him regardless; strength, flexion, balance, completion, union, change, and a dozen slight variations oozed blood slowly by the time he was finished with a rotation rune with calibration modifiers on his ankle so his foot wouldn't drop and trip him. Scratching companion runes into the brace was much easier, though he cringed at marring the beautiful steelwork Jayce had made for him. What if it didn't work?

It would.

Viktor took as deep a breath as he dared to not trigger a coughing fit and picked up the injector. Was it meant to be intravenous? Intramuscular? Subcutaneous? He should have asked Reveck, but rather thought he wouldn't have gotten an answer beyond dry laughter. It probably didn't matter, as long as his body took it up; he'd just wait until hit and then trigger the runic resonance. He bit his lip in concentration as he pressed it against his thigh, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.

His eyes shot open a heartbeat later and flickers of purplish pink swirls danced in his vision like ghosts. The rush of power made every cell in his body flare into desperate action, back arching, limbs stretching, he screamed not out of pain but out of too much of everything. Too much awareness, too much life.

Viktor woke up on the floor in darkness lit only by the dim glow of the whirring HexCore on the table above, and somehow even that was much too bright, he could see everything as if it were day. He raised a hand to block out the light and winced at a flash of pink scarring his vision like lightning. It faded out of view and he blinked stupidly up at his hand that was not his own; greyish purple and gold, shots of pink like shimmer pulsing through where he knew veins should have been in his wrist. It felt… normal enough as he moved his fingers, but when they brushed against his thumb the sensation was new; not duller or stronger but so different his mind didn't know what to think of it, leaving a blank space in his mind to mentally trip over. He was alive. Viktor lowered his hand to the floor and flinched as it made a metallic clank on the floor. There had been no metal on his hand, had there? Certainly not. Slowly he pushed himself up to a sitting position, the room spinning wildly in a pink-tinged blur for a moment before it settled and he could begin to take stock of himself.

Firstly, he was alive.

Secondly, he'd been an idiot and not noted the time before his experiment began and thus had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but surely it had been more than the handful of seconds he'd managed to extend the mutation to previously, and he felt no more withered than usual. In fact, less. He'd been staring at the HexCore, the shell of which now matched his hand in substance, and was nearly afraid for a moment to look down at himself and see what had become of the leg that now very pointedly did not pain him. Steeling himself, he looked down.

His bare legs were now even more mismatched than ever, in substance as well as form. Viktor reached for himself then paused, swapping for his non-dominant hand to feel the matter of him from the outside. It felt like metal, but was warm like flesh and gave slightly under pressure. Something new entirely. There were lines of gold here as well but also silver that he belatedly realize must be remnants of the steel from his brace now woven into the fabric of his very being. His leg, to his disappointment, was still twisted inward, bowed slightly at the knee, toes turned in toward his left foot. Perhaps that didn't matter, it had mattered less in the past before he'd become so weak, and the pain was gone. The new metallic substance trailed off up and over his hip, thin pale tendrils of purple climbing just high enough to peek out of the top of his underwear. It had sought out his hip then, followed his desires like arcane power was supposed to. Beneath him the stone floor was cold, more so on his left leg than right, his brain still glitching at what he was feeling. His own hand felt warm on his thigh. Around him the pink in his vision was beginning to fade to a level he found reasonable and very slowly he rolled to his side and pulled himself up to stand, unwavering, unaided, and felt a smile spread across his face.

Chapter Text

Traversing the sloped streets down toward the river had been so much easier, Viktor hardly needed to lean on his crutch, using it less and less as he became used to the movement of his new leg. Eventually he paused and took off his left shoe, having never bothered with the one for his transmuted leg, and evened out his stride. Piltover's swept streets were clear enough it was simply cold, and even if he hurt himself, well what was a sharp stone in comparison to what he'd freed himself of? Never in his life had he walked so swiftly, so evenly, his twisted leg bearing his weight without protest, his foot no longer dropping when he raised it and tripping him up, only a slight unevenness to his steps. He must have looked a fool, barefoot and laughing and hunched over as he meandered through empty midnight streets, unsure if he were high on shimmer or life. What they would think of him was only a fleeting thought. No one here could possibly understand, no one but Jayce. Jayce was special, Jayce saw him.

Jayce had kissed him. Viktor grinned.

If he could heal his leg, why not his spine? His lungs? Sure his body was different but if Jayce hadn't minded his sickly, wasted form, how could this bother him, this… amalgamation of Viktor and the work they had devoted their lives to?

By the time he'd walked as far as his chosen direction could take him, the promenade overlooking the river Pilt and beyond it, the sunken topside of the Undercity, Viktor was desperately out of breath and he paused, leaning against a stone parapet to pant his dizziness away. Still, he hadn't coughed the whole trip. That had to be the remnants of shimmer, pink figments at the edges of his vision. That wasn't cured, but he thought he perhaps had long enough to try something he'd never experienced. Viktor looked down at his mismatched feet, one with shimmering golden-pink running through it like electricity, turned inward to point at the other - dirty and scuffed from the cobbled streets. Taking as deep a breath as he dared, Viktor closed his eyes and felt; wind in his hair, the smell of saltwater carried on it, mismatched cold and damp beneath his feet. He let his crutch fall to the side and stood steady, free in a way he had never experienced.

A laugh burbled out of him, manic and a little wild as he took his first step unaided, then another, and another until his feet were pounding the stone path and that laughter became a roar of exalted triumph. Viktor ran until the muscles of his human leg ached, until his lungs burned, it felt like forever, it felt like flying as he hopped down a quick two stone steps, darting behind one building and out into the moonlight again, only vaguely aware of where he was going, following the sound of waves that he could barely hear over his own harsh breathing that had begun to rasp in his chest.

Before him was a stone wall, a pillar of moonlight shining in from the right as the alleyway turned back to the promenade. Viktor skidded a little, unused to taking a turn so fast, shoulder scraping the stone wall as he nearly fell, arms flailing, barely regaining his footing before he barrelled headfirst into an immovable object and fell to the ground with a startled yelp. That shocked him out of his manic reverie, and all the more so when he looked up to see-

"...Jayce?" he gasped, breathless, confusion evident even in one whispered word.

The last of his exuberance fled upon seeing the man behind him, pistol drawn and steadied with his other hand, an eye like a hot coal glowing in the shadows of his face.

"Hey, hey no, no he's not with me, I mean, he is, but I didn't-" Jayce sputtered, stepping between a startled Viktor and the line of Silco's gun, clearly torn between explaining himself and a natural urge to rush to Viktor. His eyes darted between the two of them.

Silco huffed derisively and lowered his pistol, holding it loosely at his side, pointing at the ground, just in case this was a diversion and there were enforcers lurking around the corners. "If I'd known the other HexTech founder was also coming, I would have waited," he said dryly, but the expression on his face demanded an explanation. He'd been wary enough to accept an invitation to parley in secret with a councilmember - especially the only one with whom he was confident he could not win a fight.

"I'm not-" Viktor began, as he tried to haul himself to his feet, cut off by a wet, rasping cough that had been building the entire time he'd run. Letting it out was the only choice, and he waved Jayce away as he knelt on the ground, coughing and gagging until blood dripped from his lower lip onto the ground. He could have sworn there was a hint of pink shine in it for a moment.

Jayce's wide-eyed face appeared before him, equal parts worried and baffled, offering him a hand up which Viktor instinctively took with his right hand, forgetting for a moment his change until Jayce's eyes went wide. Viktor's gaze flitted past Jayce's broad shoulders to the chembaron still holding his gun loosely with a casual slouch that Viktor knew well to be an affectation of nonchalance rather than the real thing. Trust in the Undercity was hard won by. Jayce pulled him up, hands on Viktor's shoulders, wanting to ask, bursting with questions that he couldn't voice in present company. Viktor had run into him. Run.

"It really is unwise to aggravate the grey cough so badly," Silco mused, and that snapped Jayce out of his stupor.

Letting go of Viktor, he whirled around to face the other man, whose hand clenched on the grip of his pistol. "How do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked, the accusatory tone making Silco raise his eyebrows at him.

"I'm a trencher, Councilor, as everyone from your side of the river so dearly loves to remind me. I was raised in that smog and have watched many succumb to it; the burning, cloying itch that grows until you're drowning on land in your own blood," he said, mismatched gaze piercing Viktor to the core, but his expression softened a little in a way that was almost more unsettling than the gun. "You're young to be so deep in it."

Viktor nodded glumly, half-hiding behind Jayce. If the chembaron had seen his hand, or foot, he gave no sign of it; perhaps to an outsider it would seem like nothing.

Silco pulled back his coat and slipped the pistol back into its holster and took from his pocket a rolled up sheet of paper; Jayce's list of demands and strictures that must be agreed to, to bring his vote to the council. "I have a proposition for you, Talis," he said, handing it back to him, "Allow Zaun to deal with our criminals in our own manner, a clean slate between our cities and, in exchange, should the council choose the right path, I'll cure his chem poisoning."

A pang of adrenaline gripped Viktor's chest, heart thumping loudly. His gasp nearly sent him into another coughing fit, but he truncated it as best he could.

Jayce took an unsteady breath. "Why should I believe that?" he said, and he was just Jayce now, not Councilor Talis, just a man scared of the loss to come.

"We all have people we care about, Councilor," he said quietly, "A life for a life seems fair."

"Oh."

Silco nodded at Jayce's sudden understanding, and offered him the paper. "It will require some amendment," he said.

"Yes, yes, of course, just… how do you intend to do it?"

"With a pen, ideally."

Jayce felt like he was about to explode. He'd been heckled and toyed with by socialites and councilors but that was about money, about prestige, not about his partner's life and that he could not easily abide. Viktor's hand on his arm stopped him from doing something rash; looking down at Viktor standing on his own, no crutch in sight, filled him with a hope he hadn't felt in months.

"I'd like to know," Viktor said, "Please. Every doctor I've seen says there's no hope of even buying time, at this point."

"The specifics are for me to know, and you to find out when the council chooses rightly," Silco said, "but I'm not asking for blind trust, I am many things but a liar is not one of them." He gestured vaguely to his face. "Chem poisoning takes many forms, luckily for you what needs repaired is internal so the appearance is irrelevant. I didn't walk out of a decade in the mines a healthy man, yet here I am. Piltover decries shimmer because they see the weapon I've made of it, poisoning your city like it has poisoned mine. As usual, they fail to see the bigger picture.”

“Shimmer… did that?” Jayce asked, aghast, and Silco chuckled darkly.

“The alternative was far worse, and had I done it today the result would be different. I was a test case,” he said, and wouldn’t clarify any further. His words sparked a recognition in Viktor’s eyes that he wasn’t sure he liked.

Viktor, however, understood the unsaid beneath words that was common in the cautious Undercity, and nodded. Whatever Reveck had given him hadn’t made him a monster, and it was the runes that had changed his body, all it had done was let him run, and breathe enough to do it.

Finally taking the document from Silco, Jayce read back over it and nibbled at his bottom lip as he concentrated. “So we’d amend the apprehension of the terrorist Jinx to be, uhm, remanded to the jurisdiction of the chembaron,” he said, pulling a nub of a pencil out of his pocket to scribble away a line and write above it, “and I suppose the shimmer production, can’t… stop?”

Silco stared at him placidly and made a hand gesture as if to say ‘go on’.

"But, open negotiations on containment of the street drugs, harm reduction, and lean into the, er, actual uses," Jayce said as he wrote, "Otherwise, I think the rest had no argument?"

"Oh I have a great many arguments but they can be reserved for council discussion after an accord is reached," Silco replied, his burning gaze flipping from Jayce, to Viktor, and back, "I am… intimately familiar with the havoc the grey wreaks on the body; I'll leave you to it, because you will want to hurry." His subtle threat held less weight than Jayce probably realised; Viktor was a child of the underground in his own right and Silco was not unaware of the source for many capital improvements that had happened since HexTech took off. Viktor had not forgotten his people and it seemed he'd convinced his Piltie partner of their validity as well. Loyalty was worthy of reward, even if the loyalty were not to him.

Barely had he disappeared around a corner before Jayce was looking over Viktor with concern, holding him by the arms while he took in what he could; no brace, no cane, the strange hand, no shoes… "What did you do, Vik?" he breathed, the question laced with wonder rather than accusation or horror that Viktor had feared to hear.

"Magic," he said, grinning up at Jayce manically before breaking out into laughter, "Like we've never seen before! I'm… I don't know what I am, but it doesn't hurt, Jayce!" He held up his HexCore mutated hand to show him, illuminated seemingly from within in a way that dim glow of street lamps and moonlight couldn't account for. Those sparks of shimmer-pink had faded and were more golden now.

Jayce took that hand in both of his and examined it, turning Viktor's hand palm up and tracing a finger over the interconnecting woven patterns of his new flesh, while slowly shaking his head in wonderment. "You maintained the mutation?" he asked, "How?"

Viktor's grin grew a little sheepish as he reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the half-empty vial of shimmer as an explanation. Jayce's eyes grew wide. "You didn't."

"Yes, I had to, I asked a- a friend about our quandary, it was his idea, and he was right."

"You could have died, Viktor," Jayce replied softly, his strong, warm hand around Viktor's strange purple wrist. It still felt different, but it felt like Jayce nonetheless.

"That's not much deterrent to me anymore," he said softly, "Maybe what Silco said is true, if the council takes the offer, and I won't but- until then, I have to act as though I will. If I do, I'm glad I got to experience this, I never knew what it felt like. How do you not just run everywhere you go?"

Despite his concerns, Jayce laughed. The situation was too amazing not to, no matter the heavier implications. Viktor hadn't stood this tall, unaided, since perhaps the night they met. "I guess I take it for granted," he said, looking down at Viktor's leg, the only evidence of his ailment were the wear-lines where his brace had rubbed the fabric of his trousers threadbare. The purple toes of his new foot were turned inward still, but it didn't seem to destabilize him as it had "I'm glad you felt it too, you deserve it, you deserve everything," Jayce said, "I wish I could have seen it, I would have helped you."

"Ehhhhh, you'd have told me to be cautious," Viktor said as he tucked the shimmer back into his pocket, "I don't have time for that. Sometimes you have to act and not wait for peer review."

Jayce was still holding Viktor's hand and found he didn't want to let go; as Viktor wasn't complaining, he didn't - just gave his hand a little tug and jerked his head toward the alleyway Viktor had come from.

"You told me something like that at the start. If you're gonna change the world, don't ask for permission," Jayce said, grinning down at Viktor as they walked together, the quick staccato of Jayce's boot heels even and measured and the uneven sounds of Viktor's bare feet not nearly as staggered as they used to be. He still stepped a bit gingerly on his right leg, and Jayce couldn't say if it was habit or pain or something else, but Viktor kept pace as he hadn't in years and it was all he could do to keep his welling tears from falling. This was happiness, he couldn't cry now.

"It's worked out pretty well for us so far," Viktor mused.

Jayce nodded. "Yeah… I think this will too, once I uhm, pitch it to the council."

Viktor's uneven steps stopped and he gave Jayce the sort of exasperated look that reminded him too much of his mother. "You did this on your own?"

"I thought you'd be proud of me!"

"I am, that's not the point! You met with a chembaron under cover of darkness and didn't tell anyone where you were going!" Viktor exclaimed, "You could have been killed."

Jayce cringed a little and pulled a face. "Yes, well, I'm alive? You weren't at the lab so I thought if I can't help solve your problem I could solve something else, and this was the only thing that came to mind."

VIktor let out a huff of laughter and shook his head. "Never cease to amaze me, Jayce Talis," he said wistfully, "Maybe I should get out of the office more often if this is the kind of thing you do in my absence .There is a whole drawer of abandoned blueprints you know."

"Yeah, but none of those are going to help people here and now," Jayce said, starting to walk again and lamenting the loss of Viktor's hand in his, "I wanted to show you- show you that I can be better, that our goal is still there, even if I've been neglecting our mission. I should never have taken the seat on the council, my place is in the lab; with you."

Luckily the depth of night would be enough to hide how furiously Jayce's cheeks were burning after that statement. Viktor's illness put a lot of things in perspective, not least of which were his own priorities. "Once I get this treaty through, I'm going to step down for someone from Zaun to be a go-between," he said, "Get back to what I do best."

"Have you considered," Viktor said, a teasing edge to his voice, "That maybe what you do best is simply whatever you set your mind to?"