[ jayce's chest expands like two balloons still filled with fluid— but at least they move. the sunken cavity rises and falls, rises and falls with each breath of life viktor gives him. parts of jayce, such as his limbs, his hands, twitch and unfurl with an abberant jerk to the movement itself, like it wants to shift. the muscles were energized, now they only needed the brain to switch on. consciousness to reactivate.
their chances look dim the longer jayce just doesn't breathe on his own. the air whistles in and bubbles the blood still sitting in his lungs, but that is what repeats— soft whistling, expansion, and a subtle spuming reverberating inside its broken casing like blowing through a straw into a glass of water. if viktor doesn't give up, neither does jayce, and the result of that shines through like the surprise pop from an ignition. with one more push of viktor's blow, the hardest one yet— jayce finally reacts. he lurches violently and coughs inward, a warning sign for viktor to retreat with his mouth, because the second time jayce coughs, it's a messy expulsion. blood, blight and frothy sputum stain his teeth versicolor and splatters wherever the blots fall. strangely enough, it doesn't feel as dire as his earlier breathing. it might even be more of a relief than something to panic about.
jayce's convulsing to disgorge the blood continues for a short while, barely enough to fully clean his airways— but he is gasping, wetness scratching his throat and a deep bubbling recoiling in his chest that makes it feel like someone threw him into the ocean and placed a boulder on top to keep him there. he takes his first breath after laying dead for a few hours, which shouldn't be possible, but here he was: back. not exactly alive. not entirely dead. very disoriented as his eyes reel back into his head when he tries to open them.
he can't translate if what he's feeling under his ribs is immense pain or bizzare pleasure. it feels like lava and ice course through him with each thrum, leaving a trail of intense vigor behind, an obscure warping that— distorts, disrupts the pain, and growls within his marrow like the mercury hammer's core would respire. it's the same wordless whisper that came from rubbing his rune, that humming in his brain . . .
he is hushing nonsense, none of the sounds actual words yet beyond broken syllables. it's not until an uncoordinated hand tries to pad at his collar down to the hole in his chest, weak, sloppy and unaware it's gaping because there's something there, there's pressure and vibrating, and burning when he breathes so maybe he should whack it off— ]
I-I'm . . . Ready, V—
[ his voice is so hoarse, garbled, not unlike someone trying to talk under waves and yet he still speaks. he's ready to "try again", but it seems he's in dire need of aid first. or, well.
perhaps he's a bit beyond that. it should be hurting more than he shows. it should be excruciating. but it's likely jayce is a little too detached from what's happening to catalog what he's feeling at all.
[Viktor tries and tries and tries again. Like Jayce, he is a master of persistence. He shows far less restraint in this part than the other, needing that final reaction. Needing Jayce to inhale on his own. If he can't, this really was all for nothing-
He feels that shuddering reaction, finally, and reacts fast himself. Viktor scoops Jayce's back up from the bed of the truck and pivots him, supporting him so the man can hack and vomit up any bile he needs to. Viktor pats heavily at his back to aid him through it, muttering only semi-coherent encouragements to let this out-
It doesn't really sink in for Viktor that this... really worked. Not until Jayce speaks. Recognizes him. Calls him V-]
Jayce! You're... you're alive! You're alive... [Jayce probably isn't coherent enough yet to recognize the mirror of their circumstances to where he's once been. That can sink in later. Viktor is wrapping both arms around him to hug him from behind, burning his face into the back of Jayce's shoulder. There are a mass of tubes hanging from Viktor, leading into Jayce to transfuse him with shimmer. It's a real tangle of limbs and machinery, a web of wiring and plastics.
All worth it. Viktor turns his head and presses and ear to Jayce's back. He can hear his heart beating within the man. No, no longer his. Jayce's heart. He's alive.
Somehow, Viktor saved him, brought him back from the dead. Nothing else matters.]
[ oh, he's so wet and sticky, what has he been laying in? the smell is starting to make his nose pinch, he tastes iron and something unidentifiable— his eyes are rolling less when he tries to glance around yet remains unfocused as the world dances and splits into two, sometimes three in his dizzying vision. the thing that soothes what starts as agitation (he wants to move, he wants to know where he is, what he's doing here and that's probably a bad idea), there are spindly purple arms decked with gold around his wide shoulders. all around them. has he heard those words before—? ]
My line . . .
[ his words come in sluggish drawls, like he's still being jostled from a deep sleep his most recent memories need to catch up to him. jayce knows the accent, and the face that sharpens through his foggy focus when he turns it sideways and snags viktor's burried profile. he doesn't know what all of this is. there's tubes? does he need these? should he pull at them? he's not at a hospital, he doesn't need tubes (but jayce's movements are lazy enough to be redirected; he's still getting a feel for his surroundings).
something more striking to look at is . . . viktor, right now, anyway. hugging him like this. was this a dream? he'd like to hug him, too, but only manages to revolve his head and knock the back of his skull against his partner's. a clumsy arm misses its mark when it slabs up and fails to grasp. it takes a few more tries to manage hooking his fingers onto the metallic groove of viktor's arms. huh. they're so long. they're bigger than him, even. ]
You got . . . So big, [ jayce still feels like he's dreaming— like this is surreal. an out of body experience, a funny skip in time to wake up to. ] What're they feeding you—?
[The last thing Viktor expects after all that emptiness, all the grief, and all that suffering is joke. The break in tension is so pure and brilliant. He wheezes out a laugh, cracks a smile despite everything.
Viktor sounds so happy,]
Haah, it's you, really you. You're back... [that's Jayce, humorous despite everything, despite all the worst things. Viktor wants to squeeze him, but he's afraid of his own strength and the man's own, fragile state of being. Just holds on, for now, keeps him still and secure, stops any of his dizzy struggling from tearing or pinching the tubing connecting them. That's all still necessary, until Viktor can check and the double-check Jayce is stable.]
I, I did everything I could. I understand now- I understand. How you... couldn't let me go. [they are just the same, Viktor isn't going to think critically on their codependency. All he can think about is how grateful he is and how proud of himself this makes him.
[ did he? or was that something he wanted to say to the viktor of his deathbed vision? either way, it was nice, hearing viktor chuckle at him, and for what reason? jayce couldn't make sense of what was so endearing when he was clearly telling the truth. it was sweet like honey. it made him want to just sit there and talk about their days. he loved seeing viktor happy and could not recall the last time he did.
"couldn't let me go". now, that's an odd thing to bring up— jayce takes a bit more time to focus on his surroundings, but the more he does the more he slows, and furrows the space between is eyes. why was he laying on the back of the cargo bed? why was hooked up to . .
carefully, rather than pulling blindly, jayce follows the tube connecting him to viktor. he was connected to viktor. in fact, how many things was viktor connected to? he tries to see, cranes his neck, and gets distracted by further details painting the scene. the viscous plash of opaline liquid around his legs dribbles off the cargo bed. it stains his clothes. he's not wearing a shirt. his chest is—
he remembers his chest flaring with pain, he remembered the herald. his mage, carefully steering his eyes away from the pluck of his heart from its home. the rhythmic, easy pulse starts to quicken. a rushing snare drum pressed against the wall of his spine and leveled shoulders rising and falling. his hands stay suspended, beginning to shake in front of him; the escalated breathing jostles the fluid still in his lung sack, interrupts the intake only by a fraction with a whooping cough before it resumes. the way his ribs are . . . thrumming with his heart is strange. the entire sensation, now that he is becoming more and more aware, is strange. like it has room to move rather than being wedged between tight muscle. it was a furnace but why was he so cold—? ]
W— Why is it, like that? My— [ his chest. something is very wrong with his chest. it glows like a purple neon sign from the inside, and he shouldn't be getting the feeling that the inside was only a dip away. the skin is off, the base of his collar bone is . . . cut. he can't see the smooth transition to his abdomen. there's a space in the way. he's caching up to the memory of drowning in his own blood. of bleeding out. of his arm, and his leg. to keep from dreadfully inching his fingers closer to his chest, jayce follows the rough grooves of his arm up his neck. it invades his face.
only a singular eye of his is fully hazel-gold— his right. the other, his left, is tainted with the same color and pattern as the anomaly's unusual kisses all over him. before jayce speaks, he croaks, his lips quivering and his gaze now wide with fear. not of viktor. not his beloved.
he fears what has happened and what is happening to him. ] You . . . How?
[Oh. Oh no. Viktor's joy is quickly swept out from beneath him. Jayce realizing just the state he's in, remembering anything that happened to him before this- Viktor reaches his hands to take Jayce's. He tries to quell the shivering and shaking by gripping onto him for support and stability. His hands... they're so overlarge now, still thin and elegant, but Jayce always had the much larger set.
Viktor gasps, trying to not be frantic, but he's so worried Jayce will just... die again of shock or horror,]
You are alive. That's- That's what matters..! Steady... steady, stand by, please. I need you to stay with me. [a rattling of words, familiar phrases between them from back in the laboratory days. How many times had they needed to tell one another steady and stand by-? Too many to even count, so mundane were the phrases, but they feel so weighty to recall in such a dire moment. Let them ground Jayce, just a little, in Viktor's company and embrace,]
How- I-? I... reviv- [no, let's not use that word, something less magical and more medical-] -r, resuscitated you. Transfusion with my blood- and you still need it! Don't... pull at anything.
[Viktor pants, desperate to calm himself as well, seeing all he wrought upon Jayce. It's so much torture, isn't it?
Sometimes, death is a mercy...
No, there is no mercy in Viktor. He is cruel in this precise way. Jayce admitted he was, too. They are just the same. It is more truth than ever.]
[ steady steady steady. he's looking for viktor because he doesn't think he could look anywhere else without wandering more, learning more. he needs his pillars, he needs his ground. he needs him, right now, and creaks out words like tightened wood groans when forced to bend. ]
O— Okay.
[ that's a start. holding his hands. gripping them like they'd blow away if he'd let them slip. viktor's hands were so much bigger, now. it's almost comforting that he's being engulfed by his size difference, but jayce does not want to think of the implications that brought. more memories. these hurt his very soul, and he jayce is so, so glad that automated chill of words aren't what's speaking at him. ]
You— you changed, I remember— I'm not mad, I— I didn't want, to die, just—
[ they were one in the same, weren't they? jayce can't be mad. he once did this to viktor. he knows he'd do it again. he doesn't care if that amount of interdependancy is unhealthy or wrong, it's them.
but it is an overwhelming amount of information coming in too fast for jayce to assimilate step by step. he is piecing things together, pulling memories like they'd been tied to threads. every tug earned him another following string of events, and another— oh, so this was what it was like. with some differences in circumstance, of course, but one thing would still haunt him: he didn't come back the same. he feels like there's something inherently wrong with him. there is a surge, an energy under his skin. a burning in his veins and an icy coldness in his flesh and bone. he could still feel, but his pain feels dulled. not because there is none, because he could still feel this embrace, these hands, the only real warmth he has because their wildly contrasting temperatures were on different spectrums entirely— and viktor was an external factor. jayce warms up only because of him.
there is, additionally, the state of his appearance that is not easing him. a breeze weaves through them and jayce could feel it brushing a flow inside him. he gasps, quiet and shocked and choking back the need to cry. he was so bloody. it's really open. oh, dear gods, he's got his chest open and he can't feel it, thank god he can't feel it but holy shit he should feel it. he's squeezing viktor's hands harder and harder, trying to look elsewhere but he feels absolutely sick. all in his head, of course. his digestive system doesn't work in a traditional sense anymore. his stomach doesn't flip when its shut down and unresponsive. he won't vomit. that feels wrong, too. ]
Scared, please— talk to me.
[ jayce has always been open about what he feels, or at least he tries very much to be when he recognizes them. he's trying to do that now. ]
You should be... furious. I've done- a terrible thing to you. [One of many, but Viktor is sternly set in his ways. He wouldn't undo any of it, except how badly he tore into Jayce as the Herald. In that state, Viktor wasn't himself. His emotions, much as he yearns to just turn them off and be rid of them, are what make him. To be without them was a horrifying experience and it hurt Jayce... so profound and horrifically.
Viktor adjusts his arms and legs, pulling Jayce sidelong into his lap. Cradling him with one arm around his back to keep him upright. Viktor's other hand and stay held to Jayce's or check over his work... he knows it looks just awful, the splayed open chest, the tubes leading them together. Still, they both need reckon with it or there is no continuing on. It must be this way. It is the only way left.]
I- know. I'm scared too, Jayce, of losing you. I don't- really allow myself to get scared. You know this. [Viktor is a fearless man, he has always moved through his life knowing it will be short and difficult. That didn't make it not worth living. He was so intent on making something of himself- all he really wanted was to be alongside Jayce through whatever might happen-]
You don't want to hear that. Right now. My apologies- I... don't know what to say.
[he dips his head and nudges his forehead softly to Jayce's, not sure if he'll welcome that, Viktor won't push it if Jayce flinches away. Something to comfort Jayce? What would make any sense? Something to busy the man's mind, something flippant and far afield,]
... what would you rather be, a snowball or a rock?
[ jayce stays quiet in regards to how he should be feeling; perhaps it's because he understands profoundly the panic and greif that ravished him when he thought he lost viktor, did not stop to think about the repercussions and actually thought . . . he'd done something good with the hexcore. that keeping viktor alive was the right thing to do, but did not take into consideration he promised viktor to destroy what saved him. it's hard to take anything into consideration when you have to make a decision. viktor, at least, knows what it implies. knows it for what it was. jayce only realized the same fact later, when he had more than enough time to ruminate on it.
they deserve each other. they're even, now. they share the worst of their acts between them and no one else. even in this case, it is . . . perfect. jayce needed viktor's disapproval then to evolve as a person. viktor needed the opposite from jayce now— acceptance, to realize something he was blinded to. he could remind him about that . . . later. in a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. right now he is hanging by a thread, a drop away from panic. he has to force himself to look anywhere else but these tubes, else he invites the intrusive thought to rip them out.
he finds that distraction, instead, in viktor's hold. he dares not flee from it because jayce has always been a tactile creature, he's always craved this. he shrinks into him like he would cling to a lifeline, allows himself to be small as he bends his knees and curves his back to the arch of viktor's chest. his only discomfort is in wondering if this feels . . . gross, to him. if all this watery gasoline-blood soaking him would deter him. but then again, both of them were very, very gross right now.
jayce heart skips and slows just a tad, there's still a frightened race to it but it is not wild. there's a difference in the pacing from a few seconds ago to now. he closes his eyes, breathes in because it calms him, a shame that it triggers a cough or two, but nothing he can't chug through. it's the pressure to his forehead that stills him the most, makes his breathing actually stop for a few seconds before he exhales, with relief, and pushes his neck forward in turn. if the beat is still quick, it's for a different reason. he doesn't mind . . . just staying there, for a bit. he'd thought he lost this.
he doesn't mind at all. ]
A— rock. So I wouldn't . . . Disappear.
[ from this. it's enough. this is more than enough. ]
That's just... what you are, Jayce. A, a precious stone. Carved with a rune, even.
[So much sentimentality is spilling out of him now. It's really unlike Viktor, so used to holding such emotion down. Having been without his feelings entirely, they all floods back in rapidly. He felt his entire person disappear, face oblivion, then kickstart anew.
Viktor does feel very, terribly and wonderfully, alive.]
I'll carry that rock around the rest of my life. Like you did.
[He wonders if he should tell Jayce what he's done. How Viktor has managed to "repaired" him. He wonders if it would be too disturbing to know. If the process was better left unexplained.
This is Jayce. He takes comfort in knowledge, in understanding how things work. He should not be denied that about himself. The man has never been incurious.]
... you carry a part of me now. Your heart was- nonfunctional. [Torn to absolute shreds is more accurate, but Viktor speaks in more scientific terms,]
I replaced yours with mine. So you would not risk... a, a rejection of the transfusion. It isn't very strong, but it does what is required. I hope that's... alright.
[ jayce's eyes snap open when viktor goes a quarter through with his words. a precious stone. every word after that takes his breath away, quite literally. he's staring at him, his lips move but nothing comes out. his eyes fly all over viktor's precious face and the middle of his eyebrows wrinkle. he's— actually hearing something like that. like this. please, let this be real.
he doesn't feel breathless, but jayce feels like he should inhale before he does need it. he doesn't— know what to say. jayce wasn't expecting viktor's heart on his sleeve when choosing between a snowball or a rock. he goes through a scope of emotion the more he allows viktor to continue, goes from melting into a fluttering pile of butterflies to feeling his gut drop like an anchor.
his what, where? ]
Viktor, [ his heart. let that sink. it doesn't and yet the shock seizes him like a meteor crash. viktor gave him his heart to live. his heart is what's giving him fuel. working hard, nonstop. does he— have any idea what he's done? jayce is overwhelmed, shaking his head in disbelief and locking his eyes, immediately soddened. if it wasn't forked open he'd put his hand over it. jayce does the next best thing, rerouting his hand to the top of his blood caked collar bone and prodding around the dent above it for a pulse. it is a good thing jayce doesn't necessarily need a strong heart anymore. only a working one. ] I . . . I don't—
[ believe it? it's not . . . something horrible, or eles the curve of his trembling lips would be so high. but jayce's brows crease next with question following his emotional tears, but then— his eyes briefly unfocus only because he's trying to think, to visualize the possibilities. viktor is ingenious. he's an engineer, an inventor. what was within their reach? their knowledge in, how much time? it couldn't have been too long if his body was even viable enough to resuscitate (even though that in itself was a miracle draw). did he—
jayce's brows relax with an answer on his tongue, but that doesn't take away the utter bewilderment in the vast spectrum of colors in his eyes as much as his voice, needing confirmation. ]
[Seeing Jayce look so besotted while also spilling over with tears is oddly comforting. That's him. That's the Jayce Talis that Viktor's known so long. That he loves, in every way. Just fails to voice in any kind of a normal way. Viktor will literally rip his own heart out to give it to the man before he'll utter those frank words. Ridiculous of him.
Viktor gives the most passive shrug to the question. Downright blaze of him, like it's the easiest answer he has to offer in all this.]
Of course I did.
[his body is a biomechanical nightmare, but that doesn't feel far from what Viktor already understood of himself. He had been falling apart so long in his natural form that enhancements had been required to keep him going long before now. His leg and chest brace, the anchors in his back... he had experience in modifying himself. This was just another feat of engineering to undergo.]
It isn't very impressive. A pump with some batteries. You'll probably scold me for how shambles it is, but it functions. That is all that matters. [Viktor can spare elegance for practicality and that's what he's mechanical heart is. Scrap and wit. It suits Viktor, he thinks.]
[ if any of that wasn't a confession, jayce wasn't talis. he keeps quavering his head slowly, back and forth, his red-stained teeth making a small flash before jayce has to suck in his lower lip, because— his expression is contorting and his tears make new, wet trails over the dirt on his face as they fall. it's funny, how viktor's own heart finally swells for himself. with a little help from jayce. hands return to the arms around him and squeeze, try to pull him in for something tight and remnant of a hug from behind, the best he could give this way, sideways.
his palm finds the other's nape, the inorganic braids of shimmer-fused metal and nestles fis forehead back to him. jayce lets out an objecting click of his tongue, ]
I'll cut you some slack, this time. [ one that follows a snort— a bit of a sob, a bit of a laugh, and his voice an exhausted drawl that has found a starting point in getting through this. it's always been right in front of him. he thought he lost viktor. he nearly gave up. he's so glad he didn't— he's glad viktor didn't either, even if the price they had to pay was . . . big. jayce would pay anything due.
it feels just a bit more possible to accept that he's . . . not right. it would never be easy— jayce feels like the second he finds himself alone he would spiral. but, not right now. he doesn't have to worry about that now. ]
[Viktor cannot help a smile at Jayce's commentary. He's getting more lucid without it being full blown panic. It's so devastatingly hopeful. Something they have in such, such short supply here. Viktor wants to believe the man will be able to live. There's no letting him go, the cost far too sunk.
He tries to hug Jayce however is possible, his tall and thin form pretty good for it, though he's still cluttered with valves and tubes connecting them. No kinking those, that would be uncomfortable...]
But you never let that scare you off. You always find a way to... persist.
[ he's crazy and he loves that about him. he's crazy enough to match jayce's freak, and jayce matches his. so much, that— jayce now tries desperately not to let his eyes wander lower down viktor's face when he smiles at him from profile. the mole just above his lip is right where he catches himself, redirecting his eyes forward and waiting out the time they needed for the procedure to finalize. his first direct confession was ignored. his first attempt at a kiss was a traumatic disaster.
as much as he yearned to feel it, now was not a good time, he's got a damn hole in his chest and they're both connected to each other through tubes on top of organs. if he's smart, he probably shouldn't try again at all. this . . . is more than he thought he'd get. more time. another chance, and a drastic spectacle of viktor's feelings. he loves him and that's that. he has his heart, now. he doesn't need more than this. ]
I told you, [ jayce pats the top of viktor's slender hands, then rubs at each bump of his golden-clad knuckles. ] I promised you.
[ i told you i loved you, too. ]
. . . Viktor, [ something is stirring in him, a feeling. a feeling that . . . he doesn't need to hide anymore. he has viktor where he's always wanted him. aware and understanding of everything. he can be transparent. he could finally spill the truth that he was angry at jayce for hiding. that viktor wasn't ready. ] This isn't the first time you've given me a part of you.
[There's romance and then there is whatever the fuck these two have going on.
They're already cuddled up in the rotting decay and blood pool. It's unsavory, but not enough to spoil the moment of accomplishment and elation of Jayce returning to him.]
I have? Ah, in your future-? What of me?
[Viktor asks this quietly, curiosity bleeding out of him so obviously. Jayce being from further along is of simultaneous great interest and causes him such anxiety. He dies. Jayce brings him back using the Hexcore. Jayce falls down a fucking ravine... and crawls himself up out of it.
He realizes he's in love with Viktor. Had been. For who knows how long.
Viktor wants to know what more happened. It was too much to process before, but if he waits to have processing power, he'll be waiting forever. Everything is too much and so nothing is.]
[ jayce pauses in his continuation. he thinks twice about now, then comes to a swift conclusion that there was no bettsr time. ]
In my future, [ settling his hand on top of viktor's he pulls at two fingers, guiding them past the webs of rough patches and colored pink-purple webbing . . . to right over the rune in his wrist, tracing over it and its symbol. the source of his obsession. the comfort during his stress. safety in a blizzard. awe and wonder in a world sometimes so bleak. ] and in my past.
[ he should take small steps, starting with the steady implication that was bound to distract them a little more from the nest of gore they've made. night makes it look like dark water. ]
[Logically, no, but with arcane fuckery and enough grief, all things are possible. Viktor's paradox is unknown to him, but he had felt the echoes of it. That desire to rescue Jayce and his mother, something he never voiced before their shower talk. The pull of the acceleration rune in Heimerdinger's lab, leading him to steal away with it and Jayce's research notes to return to him. Against all better judgement, against his gratitude towards the Dean of the Academy.
Viktor was always so willing to cast everything aside... for Jayce. For the slimmest hope of their dream.]
[ no . . . it doesn't. he thought that too, until everything connected. jayce raises his brows and cants his head in a way that passively agrees with him, but. with his wrist upward, the webbing and arcane trails worse than when he was completely human face the night sky, full of strange stars and unknown constellations and that— damned, shattered moon. ]
It was you who gave me this, Viktor. When I was a boy. [ the gem reflects the nighttime lights off of the smoothly cut edges, and it is still a spot he will rub, even now. when he's done that, looking for comfort . . . it was so clear what it was about, now. it's always been him. they've always called to each other somehow. were always there, even when they diverged, and waiting for them to unite when they were prepared to. ] You saved me, and my mother— You were the Mage.
[ jayce parts his lips one more time, but nothing comes out until a few moments after. he lowers his voice to a bare hush, as low as the leaves when they shiver on overhead branches lining the long road ahead of them. a long road, indeed. he doesn't know where to go from here, exactly. but he does know he hast to go forward. if viktor is with him, he would. ]
You were always my dream, and I . . . Realized that too late.
[At any other time, at any other circumstance, Viktor wouldn't believe it. Jayce really held that for the correct moment. There's no resistance to the idea, no energy to mount a guarded and skeptical defense. The explanation simply washes over Viktor uncritically, but not incuriously. He has many questions. He's pretty sure he can save most of them or leave them be.
He just needs affirmation that he's put this together, because it's not logical, it's all feeling. This is what happens to him?]
That's... what the hexcore does to me? It makes me a mage-? [On Runeterra, you have to be born a mage. It is inherent, fated, predestined. To become one... Viktor huffs and smirks. Him-? A brittle, sickly boy from the Undercity? With no family name and no prospects? The only place in the world for him the one that he clawed out and forged with his own wit and will?
Viktor wobbles his head slightly,]
Eeeh, a bit too poetic... don't you think?
[A joke, but there's that profound truth inside it. Him. A mage.
The mage who came to Jayce's rescue.
He likes the sound of it. He doesn't have a heart left to swell, but that same emotion is still there. Warmth, affection, yearning. Loving and being loved.]
[ poetic? if only the paradox stopped there. it would have been beautiful if it stopped there. it's just an ongoing tragedy with them. ]
I wish it could be. [ he is whistful at best. ] The hexcore . . . Changed you, for a long time. Like the Moon Warp did.
[ all this metal was so similar to when jayce had fused him with the hexcore, but . . . more. so much more. ]
You lost everything to become that mage. That's why he found me. [ to show him the importance of his emotions, and banes, and everything he's been through that made him viktor. to show him that the suffering is what made the journey. to tell him that with even those very things he saw as flaws, he was loved because of them. that's what made him viktor and no one else. ] You told me there was no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit.
[ that viktor corrected a fault, but only after being the only surviving person on runeterra. only after damning himself and everyone else. ]
[It's Viktor's turn to just... well up with tears and spill over. His eyes are still shimmer shot and so it's all tinged purple, running down his face to take in those words. He shakes his head as if denying it, but affirms with his whole being,]
Yes... Yes, that is what it was like.
[Field of dreamless solitude. A poet, indeed. Viktor supposes the mage had nothing but time to think that one up. He speaks to how it had been as the Herald, just needing to tell someone about it. Have it be heard. He knows it doesn't excuse his actions, his violence and cruelty, but he cannot bare the burden of that experience alone. It is too much to go unspoken,]
Endless, vast numbness. Profound loneliness. So empty even I wasn't there.
[they both died for a moment there, hadn't they? Jayce's body failing him and Viktor's mind giving way. His arms curl protectively around Jayce, wishing to hold him so close they fuse together. He's more gentle than that, knowing it would hurt them both if he was too brutish.
In a more tender display of his desperate affections, he kisses Jayce's temple, his eyelid on the side of his still golden eye, his nose. Peppering him with no real direction. So different from when the Herald pushed his face to Jayce's, driven only by cold logic.
He just loves the man so much, he doesn't know what else to do with himself to show that. Viktor's done everything he could, hasn't he? He mutters, nuzzled to Jayce's cheekbone,]
I only want to exist where you are, Jayce. You've showed me that.
[ if there was any way to go, jayce would want to leave the world with viktor. not at the same time, like they had— that was about the same as losing each other to different paths and succumbing to that horrible loneliness. this had been . . . something of a rebirth, if they could get past gritty, unhealthy haunt they've weaved. maybe there's no cure for unwell they were in the head, but jayce was done worrying about what others thought, and he'd made up his mind about viktor a long time ago. it was together or nothing.
the side of jayce's head pushes into viktor's neck, a dirty hand fastening to the defined slant of his cheeks to soothe his tears. he had callouses, cuts, bruises, the remains of his bodily oil spill under his nails and yet he still manages a gentle, accessible touch. he was there to listen. he's glad to be. it makes this hole in him manageable, or at least jayce would like to think so when emotion blanketed reality.
cupping the man's face from the side finishes in him rubbing the veined corners of his eyes dry, although that might just leave it grimy and smudged. thought that counts— but viktor's display makes him freeze up. the dip of his temple gains warm, earnest lips. his eye is rewarded, his nose— damn it, even his nose is revered. his nostrils were an ugly, splattering stain of crimson-pink all the way past his neck where he had bled out. there are other aimless little places and jayce fights the urge not to look at him, fingers beginning to squeeze his hugging arms, caressing the press to slant following his beard with his profile. it was so very different. it was everything. ]
Then I didn't fail, after all.
[ he can't take it. he pulls his head back to look at him. he doesn't regret it, but he does stare for too long, touching the mole under his eye and following the veiny trails of purple down the curve of his face— jayce shakes his head at himself and huffs what should, or could, be a laugh somewhere. it triggers a few coughs, and a weird, watery gurgle that he curses the shit out of. ]
I'm a mess, Viktor.
[ he's trying to laugh at the expense. maybe that will be enough copium. ]
[A worn bark of a laugh escapes Viktor at the last comment. Yes, they do keep saying that to one another. A mess is them, distilled. A testament to the truth and resilience of their love really ever present. Only love could drive men to this sort of tolerance for disgust and horror.]
I am sorry, for... for the indignity and the hurt. I feel guilty to put you through this, but not... remorseful. [He wouldn't change what he did, after all. Any way he could bring Jayce back to him, Viktor would attempt again and again. Even if it caused him to go utterly mad.
Already feels that way, but at least he's content in his madness. Happy, even.]
Can you move any of your limbs? Feel beyond just pain?
[ yeah . . . that's about what he'd felt, now. it was worse when he was a bit younger— he had no remorse and no guilt for both a lack of consideration for viktor's autonomy and the disregard of a promise kept. jayce hadn't realized the scope of what he'd done, and maybe that's what was the most hurtful to viktor.
jayce feels slight relief when he manages to steer his gaze away, once more, a grotesque smile filling the gaps of their awkwardly crude affections. that took all the will power available to him and gods, he hopes to whatever higher being existed (mage viktor????) that viktor knows he's not kissing him back not because he doesn't want to. oh, no. it's because he deserves something proper and level headed after everything. they both do.
viktor's apology is accepted with a dip of his head, a sweet rub of his thumbs over inorganic limbs, and the press of lips to purple-gold palms, a linger there, mess to bloody mess, that felt okay whilst sharing in their muck. it's okay, he murmurs.
jayce tests it out; first stretching out one leg, rotating his foot and bending his knee. then the other, left side, accompanied by the many clicks of his brace fitting the gears into proper place for a stretch and bend. that and the rotation brings strain to his teeth and neck, a quiet agh as the exposed bone grates against its fissures, but that's not something entirely new. he could move his arms and hands, his overtaken wrist. maybe a wave of all his fingers was in order, to measure movement capabilities. it's all successful. ]
I can feel . . . Touch. Your heat. Joints are functional. Thermoregulation might be, uh . . . Compromised. The pain feels— [ he looks for the word, a descriptor for what felt like he was reading off notes, ] veiled.
[ it is present, but quiet enough to be tolerated. a dull ache where he'd hurt instead of dolor that'd render him nonfunctional. ]
It's there, but it feels blunted. [ there's a better word, for that, he realizes: ] Chronic.
[ he could just, you know. be exhausted and rightfully achey, but this does feel different. he knows chronic pain now, in his leg. it's spread everywhere he's opened. back. shoulder. leg. chest. ]
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their chances look dim the longer jayce just doesn't breathe on his own. the air whistles in and bubbles the blood still sitting in his lungs, but that is what repeats— soft whistling, expansion, and a subtle spuming reverberating inside its broken casing like blowing through a straw into a glass of water. if viktor doesn't give up, neither does jayce, and the result of that shines through like the surprise pop from an ignition. with one more push of viktor's blow, the hardest one yet— jayce finally reacts. he lurches violently and coughs inward, a warning sign for viktor to retreat with his mouth, because the second time jayce coughs, it's a messy expulsion. blood, blight and frothy sputum stain his teeth versicolor and splatters wherever the blots fall. strangely enough, it doesn't feel as dire as his earlier breathing. it might even be more of a relief than something to panic about.
jayce's convulsing to disgorge the blood continues for a short while, barely enough to fully clean his airways— but he is gasping, wetness scratching his throat and a deep bubbling recoiling in his chest that makes it feel like someone threw him into the ocean and placed a boulder on top to keep him there. he takes his first breath after laying dead for a few hours, which shouldn't be possible, but here he was: back. not exactly alive. not entirely dead. very disoriented as his eyes reel back into his head when he tries to open them.
he can't translate if what he's feeling under his ribs is immense pain or bizzare pleasure. it feels like lava and ice course through him with each thrum, leaving a trail of intense vigor behind, an obscure warping that— distorts, disrupts the pain, and growls within his marrow like the mercury hammer's core would respire. it's the same wordless whisper that came from rubbing his rune, that humming in his brain . . .
he is hushing nonsense, none of the sounds actual words yet beyond broken syllables. it's not until an uncoordinated hand tries to pad at his collar down to the hole in his chest, weak, sloppy and unaware it's gaping because there's something there, there's pressure and vibrating, and burning when he breathes so maybe he should whack it off— ]
I-I'm . . . Ready, V—
[ his voice is so hoarse, garbled, not unlike someone trying to talk under waves and yet he still speaks. he's ready to "try again", but it seems he's in dire need of aid first. or, well.
perhaps he's a bit beyond that. it should be hurting more than he shows. it should be excruciating. but it's likely jayce is a little too detached from what's happening to catalog what he's feeling at all.
maybe that's it. ]
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He feels that shuddering reaction, finally, and reacts fast himself. Viktor scoops Jayce's back up from the bed of the truck and pivots him, supporting him so the man can hack and vomit up any bile he needs to. Viktor pats heavily at his back to aid him through it, muttering only semi-coherent encouragements to let this out-
It doesn't really sink in for Viktor that this... really worked. Not until Jayce speaks. Recognizes him. Calls him V-]
Jayce! You're... you're alive! You're alive... [Jayce probably isn't coherent enough yet to recognize the mirror of their circumstances to where he's once been. That can sink in later. Viktor is wrapping both arms around him to hug him from behind, burning his face into the back of Jayce's shoulder. There are a mass of tubes hanging from Viktor, leading into Jayce to transfuse him with shimmer. It's a real tangle of limbs and machinery, a web of wiring and plastics.
All worth it. Viktor turns his head and presses and ear to Jayce's back. He can hear his heart beating within the man. No, no longer his. Jayce's heart. He's alive.
Somehow, Viktor saved him, brought him back from the dead. Nothing else matters.]
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My line . . .
[ his words come in sluggish drawls, like he's still being jostled from a deep sleep his most recent memories need to catch up to him. jayce knows the accent, and the face that sharpens through his foggy focus when he turns it sideways and snags viktor's burried profile. he doesn't know what all of this is. there's tubes? does he need these? should he pull at them? he's not at a hospital, he doesn't need tubes (but jayce's movements are lazy enough to be redirected; he's still getting a feel for his surroundings).
something more striking to look at is . . . viktor, right now, anyway. hugging him like this. was this a dream? he'd like to hug him, too, but only manages to revolve his head and knock the back of his skull against his partner's. a clumsy arm misses its mark when it slabs up and fails to grasp. it takes a few more tries to manage hooking his fingers onto the metallic groove of viktor's arms. huh. they're so long. they're bigger than him, even. ]
You got . . . So big, [ jayce still feels like he's dreaming— like this is surreal. an out of body experience, a funny skip in time to wake up to. ] What're they feeding you—?
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Viktor sounds so happy,]
Haah, it's you, really you. You're back... [that's Jayce, humorous despite everything, despite all the worst things. Viktor wants to squeeze him, but he's afraid of his own strength and the man's own, fragile state of being. Just holds on, for now, keeps him still and secure, stops any of his dizzy struggling from tearing or pinching the tubing connecting them. That's all still necessary, until Viktor can check and the double-check Jayce is stable.]
I, I did everything I could. I understand now- I understand. How you... couldn't let me go. [they are just the same, Viktor isn't going to think critically on their codependency. All he can think about is how grateful he is and how proud of himself this makes him.
Finally. He saved someone's life.]
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[ did he? or was that something he wanted to say to the viktor of his deathbed vision? either way, it was nice, hearing viktor chuckle at him, and for what reason? jayce couldn't make sense of what was so endearing when he was clearly telling the truth. it was sweet like honey. it made him want to just sit there and talk about their days. he loved seeing viktor happy and could not recall the last time he did.
"couldn't let me go". now, that's an odd thing to bring up— jayce takes a bit more time to focus on his surroundings, but the more he does the more he slows, and furrows the space between is eyes. why was he laying on the back of the cargo bed? why was hooked up to . .
carefully, rather than pulling blindly, jayce follows the tube connecting him to viktor. he was connected to viktor. in fact, how many things was viktor connected to? he tries to see, cranes his neck, and gets distracted by further details painting the scene. the viscous plash of opaline liquid around his legs dribbles off the cargo bed. it stains his clothes. he's not wearing a shirt. his chest is—
he remembers his chest flaring with pain, he remembered the herald. his mage, carefully steering his eyes away from the pluck of his heart from its home. the rhythmic, easy pulse starts to quicken. a rushing snare drum pressed against the wall of his spine and leveled shoulders rising and falling. his hands stay suspended, beginning to shake in front of him; the escalated breathing jostles the fluid still in his lung sack, interrupts the intake only by a fraction with a whooping cough before it resumes. the way his ribs are . . . thrumming with his heart is strange. the entire sensation, now that he is becoming more and more aware, is strange. like it has room to move rather than being wedged between tight muscle. it was a furnace but why was he so cold—? ]
W— Why is it, like that? My— [ his chest. something is very wrong with his chest. it glows like a purple neon sign from the inside, and he shouldn't be getting the feeling that the inside was only a dip away. the skin is off, the base of his collar bone is . . . cut. he can't see the smooth transition to his abdomen. there's a space in the way. he's caching up to the memory of drowning in his own blood. of bleeding out. of his arm, and his leg. to keep from dreadfully inching his fingers closer to his chest, jayce follows the rough grooves of his arm up his neck. it invades his face.
only a singular eye of his is fully hazel-gold— his right. the other, his left, is tainted with the same color and pattern as the anomaly's unusual kisses all over him. before jayce speaks, he croaks, his lips quivering and his gaze now wide with fear. not of viktor. not his beloved.
he fears what has happened and what is happening to him. ] You . . . How?
[ he chooses to focus on that, first. ]
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Viktor gasps, trying to not be frantic, but he's so worried Jayce will just... die again of shock or horror,]
You are alive. That's- That's what matters..! Steady... steady, stand by, please. I need you to stay with me. [a rattling of words, familiar phrases between them from back in the laboratory days. How many times had they needed to tell one another steady and stand by-? Too many to even count, so mundane were the phrases, but they feel so weighty to recall in such a dire moment. Let them ground Jayce, just a little, in Viktor's company and embrace,]
How- I-? I... reviv- [no, let's not use that word, something less magical and more medical-] -r, resuscitated you. Transfusion with my blood- and you still need it! Don't... pull at anything.
[Viktor pants, desperate to calm himself as well, seeing all he wrought upon Jayce. It's so much torture, isn't it?
Sometimes, death is a mercy...
No, there is no mercy in Viktor. He is cruel in this precise way. Jayce admitted he was, too. They are just the same. It is more truth than ever.]
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O— Okay.
[ that's a start. holding his hands. gripping them like they'd blow away if he'd let them slip. viktor's hands were so much bigger, now. it's almost comforting that he's being engulfed by his size difference, but jayce does not want to think of the implications that brought. more memories. these hurt his very soul, and he jayce is so, so glad that automated chill of words aren't what's speaking at him. ]
You— you changed, I remember— I'm not mad, I— I didn't want, to die, just—
[ they were one in the same, weren't they? jayce can't be mad. he once did this to viktor. he knows he'd do it again. he doesn't care if that amount of interdependancy is unhealthy or wrong, it's them.
but it is an overwhelming amount of information coming in too fast for jayce to assimilate step by step. he is piecing things together, pulling memories like they'd been tied to threads. every tug earned him another following string of events, and another— oh, so this was what it was like. with some differences in circumstance, of course, but one thing would still haunt him: he didn't come back the same. he feels like there's something inherently wrong with him. there is a surge, an energy under his skin. a burning in his veins and an icy coldness in his flesh and bone. he could still feel, but his pain feels dulled. not because there is none, because he could still feel this embrace, these hands, the only real warmth he has because their wildly contrasting temperatures were on different spectrums entirely— and viktor was an external factor. jayce warms up only because of him.
there is, additionally, the state of his appearance that is not easing him. a breeze weaves through them and jayce could feel it brushing a flow inside him. he gasps, quiet and shocked and choking back the need to cry. he was so bloody. it's really open. oh, dear gods, he's got his chest open and he can't feel it, thank god he can't feel it but holy shit he should feel it. he's squeezing viktor's hands harder and harder, trying to look elsewhere but he feels absolutely sick. all in his head, of course. his digestive system doesn't work in a traditional sense anymore. his stomach doesn't flip when its shut down and unresponsive. he won't vomit. that feels wrong, too. ]
Scared, please— talk to me.
[ jayce has always been open about what he feels, or at least he tries very much to be when he recognizes them. he's trying to do that now. ]
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Viktor adjusts his arms and legs, pulling Jayce sidelong into his lap. Cradling him with one arm around his back to keep him upright. Viktor's other hand and stay held to Jayce's or check over his work... he knows it looks just awful, the splayed open chest, the tubes leading them together. Still, they both need reckon with it or there is no continuing on. It must be this way. It is the only way left.]
I- know. I'm scared too, Jayce, of losing you. I don't- really allow myself to get scared. You know this. [Viktor is a fearless man, he has always moved through his life knowing it will be short and difficult. That didn't make it not worth living. He was so intent on making something of himself- all he really wanted was to be alongside Jayce through whatever might happen-]
You don't want to hear that. Right now. My apologies- I... don't know what to say.
[he dips his head and nudges his forehead softly to Jayce's, not sure if he'll welcome that, Viktor won't push it if Jayce flinches away. Something to comfort Jayce? What would make any sense? Something to busy the man's mind, something flippant and far afield,]
... what would you rather be, a snowball or a rock?
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they deserve each other. they're even, now. they share the worst of their acts between them and no one else. even in this case, it is . . . perfect. jayce needed viktor's disapproval then to evolve as a person. viktor needed the opposite from jayce now— acceptance, to realize something he was blinded to. he could remind him about that . . . later. in a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. right now he is hanging by a thread, a drop away from panic. he has to force himself to look anywhere else but these tubes, else he invites the intrusive thought to rip them out.
he finds that distraction, instead, in viktor's hold. he dares not flee from it because jayce has always been a tactile creature, he's always craved this. he shrinks into him like he would cling to a lifeline, allows himself to be small as he bends his knees and curves his back to the arch of viktor's chest. his only discomfort is in wondering if this feels . . . gross, to him. if all this watery gasoline-blood soaking him would deter him. but then again, both of them were very, very gross right now.
jayce heart skips and slows just a tad, there's still a frightened race to it but it is not wild. there's a difference in the pacing from a few seconds ago to now. he closes his eyes, breathes in because it calms him, a shame that it triggers a cough or two, but nothing he can't chug through. it's the pressure to his forehead that stills him the most, makes his breathing actually stop for a few seconds before he exhales, with relief, and pushes his neck forward in turn. if the beat is still quick, it's for a different reason. he doesn't mind . . . just staying there, for a bit. he'd thought he lost this.
he doesn't mind at all. ]
A— rock. So I wouldn't . . . Disappear.
[ from this. it's enough. this is more than enough. ]
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[So much sentimentality is spilling out of him now. It's really unlike Viktor, so used to holding such emotion down. Having been without his feelings entirely, they all floods back in rapidly. He felt his entire person disappear, face oblivion, then kickstart anew.
Viktor does feel very, terribly and wonderfully, alive.]
I'll carry that rock around the rest of my life. Like you did.
[He wonders if he should tell Jayce what he's done. How Viktor has managed to "repaired" him. He wonders if it would be too disturbing to know. If the process was better left unexplained.
This is Jayce. He takes comfort in knowledge, in understanding how things work. He should not be denied that about himself. The man has never been incurious.]
... you carry a part of me now. Your heart was- nonfunctional. [Torn to absolute shreds is more accurate, but Viktor speaks in more scientific terms,]
I replaced yours with mine. So you would not risk... a, a rejection of the transfusion. It isn't very strong, but it does what is required. I hope that's... alright.
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he doesn't feel breathless, but jayce feels like he should inhale before he does need it. he doesn't— know what to say. jayce wasn't expecting viktor's heart on his sleeve when choosing between a snowball or a rock. he goes through a scope of emotion the more he allows viktor to continue, goes from melting into a fluttering pile of butterflies to feeling his gut drop like an anchor.
his what, where? ]
Viktor, [ his heart. let that sink. it doesn't and yet the shock seizes him like a meteor crash. viktor gave him his heart to live. his heart is what's giving him fuel. working hard, nonstop. does he— have any idea what he's done? jayce is overwhelmed, shaking his head in disbelief and locking his eyes, immediately soddened. if it wasn't forked open he'd put his hand over it. jayce does the next best thing, rerouting his hand to the top of his blood caked collar bone and prodding around the dent above it for a pulse. it is a good thing jayce doesn't necessarily need a strong heart anymore. only a working one. ] I . . . I don't—
[ believe it? it's not . . . something horrible, or eles the curve of his trembling lips would be so high. but jayce's brows crease next with question following his emotional tears, but then— his eyes briefly unfocus only because he's trying to think, to visualize the possibilities. viktor is ingenious. he's an engineer, an inventor. what was within their reach? their knowledge in, how much time? it couldn't have been too long if his body was even viable enough to resuscitate (even though that in itself was a miracle draw). did he—
jayce's brows relax with an answer on his tongue, but that doesn't take away the utter bewilderment in the vast spectrum of colors in his eyes as much as his voice, needing confirmation. ]
—You made another—?
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Viktor gives the most passive shrug to the question. Downright blaze of him, like it's the easiest answer he has to offer in all this.]
Of course I did.
[his body is a biomechanical nightmare, but that doesn't feel far from what Viktor already understood of himself. He had been falling apart so long in his natural form that enhancements had been required to keep him going long before now. His leg and chest brace, the anchors in his back... he had experience in modifying himself. This was just another feat of engineering to undergo.]
It isn't very impressive. A pump with some batteries. You'll probably scold me for how shambles it is, but it functions. That is all that matters. [Viktor can spare elegance for practicality and that's what he's mechanical heart is. Scrap and wit. It suits Viktor, he thinks.]
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his palm finds the other's nape, the inorganic braids of shimmer-fused metal and nestles fis forehead back to him. jayce lets out an objecting click of his tongue, ]
I'll cut you some slack, this time. [ one that follows a snort— a bit of a sob, a bit of a laugh, and his voice an exhausted drawl that has found a starting point in getting through this. it's always been right in front of him. he thought he lost viktor. he nearly gave up. he's so glad he didn't— he's glad viktor didn't either, even if the price they had to pay was . . . big. jayce would pay anything due.
it feels just a bit more possible to accept that he's . . . not right. it would never be easy— jayce feels like the second he finds himself alone he would spiral. but, not right now. he doesn't have to worry about that now. ]
You're . . . Brilliant.
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[Viktor cannot help a smile at Jayce's commentary. He's getting more lucid without it being full blown panic. It's so devastatingly hopeful. Something they have in such, such short supply here. Viktor wants to believe the man will be able to live. There's no letting him go, the cost far too sunk.
He tries to hug Jayce however is possible, his tall and thin form pretty good for it, though he's still cluttered with valves and tubes connecting them. No kinking those, that would be uncomfortable...]
But you never let that scare you off. You always find a way to... persist.
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[ he's crazy and he loves that about him. he's crazy enough to match jayce's freak, and jayce matches his. so much, that— jayce now tries desperately not to let his eyes wander lower down viktor's face when he smiles at him from profile. the mole just above his lip is right where he catches himself, redirecting his eyes forward and waiting out the time they needed for the procedure to finalize. his first direct confession was ignored. his first attempt at a kiss was a traumatic disaster.
as much as he yearned to feel it, now was not a good time, he's got a damn hole in his chest and they're both connected to each other through tubes on top of organs. if he's smart, he probably shouldn't try again at all. this . . . is more than he thought he'd get. more time. another chance, and a drastic spectacle of viktor's feelings. he loves him and that's that. he has his heart, now. he doesn't need more than this. ]
I told you, [ jayce pats the top of viktor's slender hands, then rubs at each bump of his golden-clad knuckles. ] I promised you.
[ i told you i loved you, too. ]
. . . Viktor, [ something is stirring in him, a feeling. a feeling that . . . he doesn't need to hide anymore. he has viktor where he's always wanted him. aware and understanding of everything. he can be transparent. he could finally spill the truth that he was angry at jayce for hiding. that viktor wasn't ready. ] This isn't the first time you've given me a part of you.
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They're already cuddled up in the rotting decay and blood pool. It's unsavory, but not enough to spoil the moment of accomplishment and elation of Jayce returning to him.]
I have? Ah, in your future-? What of me?
[Viktor asks this quietly, curiosity bleeding out of him so obviously. Jayce being from further along is of simultaneous great interest and causes him such anxiety. He dies. Jayce brings him back using the Hexcore. Jayce falls down a fucking ravine... and crawls himself up out of it.
He realizes he's in love with Viktor. Had been. For who knows how long.
Viktor wants to know what more happened. It was too much to process before, but if he waits to have processing power, he'll be waiting forever. Everything is too much and so nothing is.]
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In my future, [ settling his hand on top of viktor's he pulls at two fingers, guiding them past the webs of rough patches and colored pink-purple webbing . . . to right over the rune in his wrist, tracing over it and its symbol. the source of his obsession. the comfort during his stress. safety in a blizzard. awe and wonder in a world sometimes so bleak. ] and in my past.
[ he should take small steps, starting with the steady implication that was bound to distract them a little more from the nest of gore they've made. night makes it look like dark water. ]
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[Logically, no, but with arcane fuckery and enough grief, all things are possible. Viktor's paradox is unknown to him, but he had felt the echoes of it. That desire to rescue Jayce and his mother, something he never voiced before their shower talk. The pull of the acceleration rune in Heimerdinger's lab, leading him to steal away with it and Jayce's research notes to return to him. Against all better judgement, against his gratitude towards the Dean of the Academy.
Viktor was always so willing to cast everything aside... for Jayce. For the slimmest hope of their dream.]
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It was you who gave me this, Viktor. When I was a boy. [ the gem reflects the nighttime lights off of the smoothly cut edges, and it is still a spot he will rub, even now. when he's done that, looking for comfort . . . it was so clear what it was about, now. it's always been him. they've always called to each other somehow. were always there, even when they diverged, and waiting for them to unite when they were prepared to. ] You saved me, and my mother— You were the Mage.
[ jayce parts his lips one more time, but nothing comes out until a few moments after. he lowers his voice to a bare hush, as low as the leaves when they shiver on overhead branches lining the long road ahead of them. a long road, indeed. he doesn't know where to go from here, exactly. but he does know he hast to go forward. if viktor is with him, he would. ]
You were always my dream, and I . . . Realized that too late.
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He just needs affirmation that he's put this together, because it's not logical, it's all feeling. This is what happens to him?]
That's... what the hexcore does to me? It makes me a mage-? [On Runeterra, you have to be born a mage. It is inherent, fated, predestined. To become one... Viktor huffs and smirks. Him-? A brittle, sickly boy from the Undercity? With no family name and no prospects? The only place in the world for him the one that he clawed out and forged with his own wit and will?
Viktor wobbles his head slightly,]
Eeeh, a bit too poetic... don't you think?
[A joke, but there's that profound truth inside it. Him. A mage.
The mage who came to Jayce's rescue.
He likes the sound of it. He doesn't have a heart left to swell, but that same emotion is still there. Warmth, affection, yearning. Loving and being loved.]
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I wish it could be. [ he is whistful at best. ] The hexcore . . . Changed you, for a long time. Like the Moon Warp did.
[ all this metal was so similar to when jayce had fused him with the hexcore, but . . . more. so much more. ]
You lost everything to become that mage. That's why he found me. [ to show him the importance of his emotions, and banes, and everything he's been through that made him viktor. to show him that the suffering is what made the journey. to tell him that with even those very things he saw as flaws, he was loved because of them. that's what made him viktor and no one else. ] You told me there was no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit.
[ that viktor corrected a fault, but only after being the only surviving person on runeterra. only after damning himself and everyone else. ]
And fields of dreamless solitude.
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Yes... Yes, that is what it was like.
[Field of dreamless solitude. A poet, indeed. Viktor supposes the mage had nothing but time to think that one up. He speaks to how it had been as the Herald, just needing to tell someone about it. Have it be heard. He knows it doesn't excuse his actions, his violence and cruelty, but he cannot bare the burden of that experience alone. It is too much to go unspoken,]
Endless, vast numbness. Profound loneliness. So empty even I wasn't there.
[they both died for a moment there, hadn't they? Jayce's body failing him and Viktor's mind giving way. His arms curl protectively around Jayce, wishing to hold him so close they fuse together. He's more gentle than that, knowing it would hurt them both if he was too brutish.
In a more tender display of his desperate affections, he kisses Jayce's temple, his eyelid on the side of his still golden eye, his nose. Peppering him with no real direction. So different from when the Herald pushed his face to Jayce's, driven only by cold logic.
He just loves the man so much, he doesn't know what else to do with himself to show that. Viktor's done everything he could, hasn't he? He mutters, nuzzled to Jayce's cheekbone,]
I only want to exist where you are, Jayce. You've showed me that.
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the side of jayce's head pushes into viktor's neck, a dirty hand fastening to the defined slant of his cheeks to soothe his tears. he had callouses, cuts, bruises, the remains of his bodily oil spill under his nails and yet he still manages a gentle, accessible touch. he was there to listen. he's glad to be. it makes this hole in him manageable, or at least jayce would like to think so when emotion blanketed reality.
cupping the man's face from the side finishes in him rubbing the veined corners of his eyes dry, although that might just leave it grimy and smudged. thought that counts— but viktor's display makes him freeze up. the dip of his temple gains warm, earnest lips. his eye is rewarded, his nose— damn it, even his nose is revered. his nostrils were an ugly, splattering stain of crimson-pink all the way past his neck where he had bled out. there are other aimless little places and jayce fights the urge not to look at him, fingers beginning to squeeze his hugging arms, caressing the press to slant following his beard with his profile. it was so very different. it was everything. ]
Then I didn't fail, after all.
[ he can't take it. he pulls his head back to look at him. he doesn't regret it, but he does stare for too long, touching the mole under his eye and following the veiny trails of purple down the curve of his face— jayce shakes his head at himself and huffs what should, or could, be a laugh somewhere. it triggers a few coughs, and a weird, watery gurgle that he curses the shit out of. ]
I'm a mess, Viktor.
[ he's trying to laugh at the expense. maybe that will be enough copium. ]
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I am sorry, for... for the indignity and the hurt. I feel guilty to put you through this, but not... remorseful. [He wouldn't change what he did, after all. Any way he could bring Jayce back to him, Viktor would attempt again and again. Even if it caused him to go utterly mad.
Already feels that way, but at least he's content in his madness. Happy, even.]
Can you move any of your limbs? Feel beyond just pain?
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jayce feels slight relief when he manages to steer his gaze away, once more, a grotesque smile filling the gaps of their awkwardly crude affections. that took all the will power available to him and gods, he hopes to whatever higher being existed (mage viktor????) that viktor knows he's not kissing him back not because he doesn't want to. oh, no. it's because he deserves something proper and level headed after everything. they both do.
viktor's apology is accepted with a dip of his head, a sweet rub of his thumbs over inorganic limbs, and the press of lips to purple-gold palms, a linger there, mess to bloody mess, that felt okay whilst sharing in their muck. it's okay, he murmurs.
jayce tests it out; first stretching out one leg, rotating his foot and bending his knee. then the other, left side, accompanied by the many clicks of his brace fitting the gears into proper place for a stretch and bend. that and the rotation brings strain to his teeth and neck, a quiet agh as the exposed bone grates against its fissures, but that's not something entirely new. he could move his arms and hands, his overtaken wrist. maybe a wave of all his fingers was in order, to measure movement capabilities. it's all successful. ]
I can feel . . . Touch. Your heat. Joints are functional. Thermoregulation might be, uh . . . Compromised. The pain feels— [ he looks for the word, a descriptor for what felt like he was reading off notes, ] veiled.
[ it is present, but quiet enough to be tolerated. a dull ache where he'd hurt instead of dolor that'd render him nonfunctional. ]
It's there, but it feels blunted. [ there's a better word, for that, he realizes: ] Chronic.
[ he could just, you know. be exhausted and rightfully achey, but this does feel different. he knows chronic pain now, in his leg. it's spread everywhere he's opened. back. shoulder. leg. chest. ]
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