Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jayce stared up at the Hexgate with a satisfied sigh. He’d probably had a little too much to drink tonight, but he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. He almost wanted to shout from the rooftop like a drunk academy student, but it didn’t seem like the kind of behaviour appropriate for a councillor.

Despite his reservations about his whole councillor thing, he had to admit it was a little bit fun, especially with Mel at his side. He didn’t know how he would have gotten through the night without her. She’d been a steady touchstone at his side the entire time, a place to return to whenever he felt like he was about to flounder in this world of politicking and subtle cloak-and-dagger games.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Mel appeared next to him, smiling and as golden as ever. “You did well today,” she said.

Jayce smiled at her. “I had a good teacher,” he told her genuinely. He really didn’t know what he would have done without her help tonight.

Mel chuckled, a sound Jayce wanted to hear more of. “It’s only a matter of time before those old fools on the Council officially accept your research,” she said.

A cool wind blew over them, teasing its fingers through his hair. Jayce turned to look back at the Hexgate, towering over the cityscape. “My father put hammers in the hands of the people, and they built this magnificent city,” he said. He reached a hand out towards the gate as it lit up, as though he might catch the waves of arcane energy with his bare hands. “Imagine the wonders they could create if we put magic in their hands.”

Mel let out a pleased hum. “The world will never be the same,” she said.

They paused for a moment, staring out across Piltover. Jayce glanced back at Mel in the dark, the golden flecks on her face and shoulders gleamed like tiny stars. She leaned into his space, her fingers coming to trace the back of his hand.

“The Medardas usually only take from the world,” she said, a tinge of melancholy sparked in her eyes for just a fraction of a second. Her gaze flicked up to meet his. “We’re not often in the position to give anything back.”

As Jayce inhaled to reply—something about how he never could have done this without her—a flash of blue over her shoulder drew his eye. It took him a moment to see through the dim light and his slightly tipsy vision, but he realised that it was a butterfly, fluttering in the wind. It was small, but there was a strange luminosity to its wings, reminding him almost of the blue light that Hextech emitted. It even sort of moved like one of the little motes of light that the arcane crystals gave off when they were activated. Jayce couldn’t help but be entranced.

Unbidden, the image of Viktor hunched over at the Hexcore invaded his mind. He was good at hiding it, but Jayce had known him for seven years now, and he could tell that Viktor hadn’t been doing well in the last little while. It made his heart twist and stomach curl to watch sometimes, especially when Viktor refused to slow down on their work. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions regarding his health and safety—a notion he’d instilled into Jayce several times, sometimes at the end of a cane swinging dangerously close to Jayce’s head—but Jayce couldn’t help but worry.

“Jayce?” Mel’s soft voice broke through Jayce’s unintentional reverie. She was still leaning slightly into his space, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“S-sorry,” Jayce stammered. He glanced back to where he’d seen the butterfly, but it was long gone. He sighed and brought a hand up to rub his eyes. “I think I ought to call it a night.”

Mel retreated, a twist of annoyance and hurt flashing through her eyes before her usual neutral expression took over. “Of course,” she said with a pleasant, measured smile. “Shall I walk you back to your quarters?”

“No, that’s alright,” Jayce said. “I was going to stop by the lab I think.”

Mel cocked an eyebrow. “Industrious of you, though I wonder when you take time to rest.”

Jayce chuckled. “No no, not for that,” he said, “I just want to make sure Viktor went home to rest. He’s been spending too much time in the lab lately.” His hand tightened slightly on the railing. “It’s like prying barnacles off a ship sometimes, getting him to put down his work. I… I worry about him.”

Mel’s eyes softened somewhat. “You care deeply about him,” she said, not a question.

“He’s like a brother to me.” The response was automatic, instinctive almost, even though it had the habit of not feeling like it was the right thing to say lately.

Mel finally softened enough to let a small smile shine through on her golden face. “Well, give him my regards,” she said.

“We should do this again,” Jayce said, reaching out to grasp her arm before she could pull away completely. He traced his hand down and caught her fingers with his. “I enjoyed tonight, really .”

Mel looked down at their joined hands and smiled, vulpine and knowing. “I’m glad,” she said, squeezing his hand for just a moment before extracting herself. “I look forward to next time,” she called over her shoulder as she stalked away.

Jayce watched her go, unable to tear his eyes away from her swaying figure. A twinge of regret arched through him for a half-second—maybe he could catch up to her and follow her to wherever she was heading—before he remembered the butterfly, remembered Viktor, and the worry in his gut took over. Running a steadying hand through his hair, he took one last deep breath before making his way towards the lab.

No matter how many times he walked through the halls towards the lab at night, fully aware that he had every right to be there at whatever hour he wanted, Jayce still felt as though he was sneaking around. He avoided the patrolling night guards as much as possible, clinging to walls and shadows and trying not to get ‘caught’. Perhaps it was a leftover of having to sneak in that night, so many years ago, Viktor at his side, the risk of banishment hanging like an axe over their bare necks. A tad thrilling perhaps, but not something Jayce was ever interested in repeating if he could help it.

As Jayce turned the corner to the hall leading to the lab, he could already see the flickering blue light creeping out through the cracks in the door. With a sigh, Jayce picked up his step, already imagining the disheveled and exhausted state Viktor was in. He hoped the other man would be fairly easy to scrape off of whatever project had caught his attention this time, though Jayce had the uneasy feeling that it wouldn’t be that simple.

Already rehearsing what he was going to say, Jayce pushed open the door of the lab just in time to see Viktor cough up blood all over the work table in front of the Hexcore before beginning to collapse. It was a spacious lab, even someone with long legs like him had to take several long loping strides to go from one end to the other. Somehow, Jayce made it to Viktor just in time to catch him before he hit the floor, cradling him in his lap.

“Viktor!” Jayce cried, panic boiling in his stomach.

Viktor’s eyelids fluttered minutely before his face contorted in pain and he started coughing again—horrid, wracking things that sprayed blood down his own front. It sounded like he was trying to expel his own lungs with the force of the attack.

Jayce was frozen in terror. Every part of his brain screamed at him to do something , but the noise overwhelmed his senses and all he could do was hold Viktor close while he jolted and convulsed with the force of his coughing. Warm, wet blood soaked through his shirt, sticking to his skin.

Eventually Viktor’s coughing subsided and he was left gasping for breath. His eyes peeled open, foggy at first before finally landing on Jayce. His lips moved, but there was only a strangle gurgle from his throat.

“Viktor,” Jayce breathed, still barely comprehending what was happening. His whole body trembled like a spring about to snap.

“Jayce,” Viktor said, the word mangled by the state of his lungs and the blood in his mouth. One pale hand reached up to try and grab a hold of Jayce’s shirt, but his fingers only slipped through the blood, unable to find any purchase.

“Jayce…” Viktor said again, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he went completely limp.

Everything after Viktor passed out felt like some kind of fever dream or hallucination. Jayce could remember gathering him up in his arms and running out of the lab, calling for help. He remembered nearly crashing into the night security watchman, running past the man towards the emergency infirmary. He remembered shoving his way into the ambulance when it arrived, shouting that he wasn’t leaving and they couldn’t make him. Yet it all felt like some kind of strange daydream, something his brain had cooked up to torture him with.

After arriving at the hospital, Viktor had been ushered away by a team of white-clad doctors, all squawking amongst themselves like distressed birds. Jayce had made to follow, but he’d been strong-armed back by a small army of nurses, shown instead to a waiting room. He’d sat there for a time—hours, days, years perhaps—until one of the figures in white came to fetch him.

All kinds of words were thrown at him—pulmonary lesions, hematogenous spread, degenerative, terminal —and all of them made Jayce’s stomach roil with nausea. ‘Caused by exposure to fissure gasses’—Jayce had to stop himself from flinching. How much time had they wasted on petty projects for the Council, when they should have been working on things that would actually save lives ?

A chilling thought occurred to Jayce—had Viktor been hiding this from him? He’d noticed that Viktor had been paler lately, that he was having more trouble with his leg, but he’d assumed that if it was bad, he’d at least mention it to him. Had he tried, but Jayce just been too distracted by other things to really absorb it? Viktor had asked about using Hextech for more projects for the Undercity every so often, had that been some sort of warning? A sign Jayce just hadn’t picked up on? The thought was enough to have Jayce heaving into the first toilet he could find.

When the doctors finally let him see Viktor, the other man was still unconscious, reclining on the hospital bed with a nasal cannula draped delicately across his face. Jayce all but collapsed into the chair next to the bed, only noticing then that he was still covered in blood. It flaked off of his hands and formed an unpleasant crust on his clothes, but he didn’t even consider going home to change. He couldn’t leave, he had to stay by Viktor’s side.

Hours ticked by. The sun began to rise over the city, spilling in through the window—Jayce shut the curtains. Viktor continued to sleep, his breathing rasping in the quiet of the room. Once, a nurse poked her head in and softly asked the councillor if he needed anything, perhaps some tea or coffee, but Jayce waved her away, barely hanging onto his manners. He kept his eyes trained almost exclusively on Viktor, watching for any minute change, any sign he was in distress or that he was waking up.

A profound sense of uselessness settled over Jayce’s shoulders. Viktor could have died if he hadn’t been there, and he almost wasn’t. He’d spent the evening wining and dining with Mel, playing politician and agreeing to shady business, the kind of thing he’d meant to stamp out. Hadn’t that been his plan? He wasn’t so naive to think that Piltover was as squeaky clean as it presented itself, but he’d never imagined he’d ever become a part of that layer of grime. He felt dirty—he felt used . He’d never wanted to be a councillor, what was he doing ?

Jayce buried his face in his hands, forcing a sob into a groan. He’d let himself get distracted. He was no politician, he was an inventor, a scientist . His best friend had almost died and Jayce was going to fix it. Until then, Jayce couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. His councillor duties would just have to wait.

A soft sigh from the bed had Jayce almost bolting up from his chair. Viktor’s eyelashes fanned like tiny butterflies against his cheeks as he stirred, slowly regaining consciousness. Jayce was next to him immediately, taking his cold, thin hand in his own.

“Viktor?” he called softly, heart in his throat.

Golden eyes slowly fluttered open. “Jayce?” Viktor rasped weakly. His fingers twitched in Jayce’s grip, his thumb applying just the faintest amount of pressure against his knuckle.

Jayce stared down at Viktor, everything that had happened that night coming crashing down around him. It was nearly enough to make him crumble—but Viktor needed him. He had to keep it together.

“Viktor,” he said again, fighting to keep his voice steady, “the doctors they—” the sentence broke off in his throat, crushed by the force of the unshed tears. Jayce squeezed Viktor’s hand again, wishing he was stronger than this.

Viktor stared up at him with a look of deep resignation. He let out a long sigh. “How much time do I have?”

Despite Jayce’s protests, Viktor insisted on returning to the lab as soon as possible—meaning the very next day. Jayce did his best to try and persuade Viktor to take at least one day of rest to recover, but he wouldn’t hear of it. In a way, Jayce could understand—finding a cure was a matter of urgency, and Viktor’s time was distressingly limited. On the other hand, taking a day or two to rest and recover probably would have done Viktor some good. At the very least it might have eased the impression Viktor gave off of a walking corpse, skin pale and wan and stretched thinly over protruding bones. Jayce couldn’t shake the memory of the blood pooling down Viktor’s front, the image haunting the back of his mind like an unfriendly spectre.

Still, Jayce followed Viktor back to the lab dutifully, determined to find a cure. They were the two smartest people in the entire city, there had to be something they could do. Hextech was practically a miracle unto itself—healing the sick was just another stepping stone for the two of them combined.

First things first, Jayce had something he needed to put to rights. After making sure Viktor made it to the lab alright, he reluctantly left him to go and find Mel. There was something he needed to discuss with her. He only hoped that she would be willing to listen to him.

Jayce found her in her chambers, painting a beautiful scene of red-sailed ships in a harbor. He knew that she noticed his arrival, she was too observant not to, but she neither turned to look at him or stopped her strokes. He watched her for a moment, taken in by her beauty. She’d been one of his first supporters with Hextech, and always pushed him to achieve more. With her at his side, he almost felt like he could do anything .

Perhaps in another life, he and she might have…

“I didn’t know you painted,” Jayce said, breaking the silence.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Mel answered, voice neutral. If she was at all upset that he’d left her last night, she showed no sign. “Have you come to discuss next time ?”

If only , Jayce thought. “Actually, there’s something important I need to talk to you about,” he said, heart suddenly aching in his chest. “I need to step down from the council,” he announced in a rush, wanting the words out as fast as possible.

Mel’s spade scraped against the canvas in a rare show of genuine shock. She lifted her spade away and took a step back from her painting, not turning to look at him. “What brought this on?” she asked. “I had the impression that last night went well.”

“It’s not that,” Jayce assured her. “Last night…” The memory of Viktor collapsing into his arms made him shudder. There was still dried blood under his fingernails. “Viktor’s dying, Mel.”

Now Mel finally turned around, green eyes wide with shock and even a bit of sadness. “Oh,” she breathed. “Jayce, I’m so sorry.”

Jayce took a deep breath to brace for the next words. “The doctors said it’s from gasses from the fissures where Viktor grew up,” he said, trying not to choke. “It’s the kind of thing we wanted to fix with Hextech.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes starting to sting with tears. “We’ve spent years doing what the council wants. The Hexgates, the crystals, all of it because they asked us, when we should have been working on the things that would actually help people .”

Mel stepped closer, one hand reaching out to touch his arm, a small offer of comfort. It may as well have been a wrecking ball for the way Jayce crumpled, falling against her and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She stiffened for a moment, but then her hands came up to his back, pressing him close.

“I know the Council is important,” he said, “but I just can’t right now.”

Mel said nothing for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. “They won’t take this well,” she told him. “You’ve only just begun your work as a councillor. Taking a step down now will seem like weakness.”

“Viktor needs me,” Jayce insisted. “I promise I’ll come back after we figure it out, but right now I need to focus on what’s most important.”

Mel let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said. “The Council, this city is important.”

“I know,” Jayce said—he squeezed her tighter, praying that she’d understand, “but I can’t afford any distractions right now.”

Mel rested her cheek against his shoulder and let out a long sigh. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, completely honest for once. “I’ll speak to the Council on your behalf. Perhaps a chat with Mrs. Kiramman and Heimerdinger first, to inform them of the situation.”

Jayce could have cried. “Thank you Mel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Mel pulled back to smile up at him. “I could hardly chain you to your councilor’s chair,” she said with a little flick of her eyebrow that might have made Jayce’s stomach flutter if the situation was different. Her face became serious. “This is not the best time for this kind of backpedalling. The tensions in the Undercity—”

Jayce groaned and rested his forehead against hers. “I know, I know ,” he said. “The Hexgate, the riots, I know. I was meant to help with all of that… but Viktor needs me right now. I… I owe him my life Mel. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. None of this would be here. I never would have figured out Hextech if it wasn’t for him.”

Mel let out a soft hum. “He’s an important man, for all that he tends to hide in the shadows,” she said. “I’ll inform the Council that a reprieve is in order, barring any emergencies of course.”

“Of course,” Jayce agreed immediately, knowing that even this much was an incredible ask. “I can’t thank you for this enough Mel. Really.”

Mel smiled and stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Go, save him,” she said, before pulling away from his embrace.

Jayce stared down at her for a moment, the phantom warmth of her lips tingling on his skin. He thought of last night, of leaving her on the roof of that building. Next time she’d said, a suggestion, a promise. Jayce knew he should feel thrilled—Mel was beautiful, intelligent, exquisite —but right now all he could think of was Viktor, waiting for him in the lab, still suffering an ache in his lungs and body from the night before. Jayce had to get to him, he had to be by his side.

“Thank you,” he said one last time before he pulled away. He turned and left the room quickly, anxious to return to Viktor.

Despite Jayce and Viktor working practically day and night, progress was slow. Several times it seemed like they were close to a breakthrough, only to be shunted back by an unforeseen problem rearing its head. Jayce did his best to remain optimistic, but the lack of even a direction to focus on was beginning to fray his nerves. Worse still was how it seemed to be taking a toll on Viktor—several times Jayce caught him slouched in his chair, staring listlessly at the Hexcore as though attempting to telepathically communicate with it.

Making matters even more frustrating was the Council—Mel had broken the news to them about his reprieve from his duties, but as she had predicted, it hadn’t exactly gone over well. Salo and Hoskel were, predictably, the most outraged by Jayce’s decision, both casting doubts on his fitness to even be a councillor and complaining of him shirking his duties. Heimerdinger was more sympathetic, as was Shoola, surprisingly. Cassandra, on the other hand, seemed more upset than anything else—she actually came down to the lab for the first time to speak with him, but Jayce only told her he was too busy and refused to entertain her for more than a few minutes. A decision that was surely going to come back and bite him in the ass later, but Jayce was determined not to be distracted by anything .

“If you need to go and speak to them—” Viktor said once Jayce had managed to get Mrs. Kiramman out of the lab and lock the door behind her.

“No, it’s fine,” Jayce said, running a hand through his hair. “This is more important right now.”

Viktor’s mouth stretched into a thin line, but he said nothing and turned back to his notes. Jayce crossed over to where he was working and peered over his shoulder, trying to decipher what he was working on.

“Any new ideas?” he asked.

Viktor sighed. “No, not really,” he said, tossing down his pencil and rubbing his eyes. “I feel as though I’m running around in circles, getting nowhere and exhausting myself in the process.”

Jayce laid his hands on Viktor’s shoulders. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

“There may not be time ,” Viktor said, suddenly struggling to his feet. He hobbled over to the blackboard, staring up at the diagrams and equations, desperately searching for something, anything that might make sense. “I can feel my body… eroding .”

Jayce went to stand next to Viktor, wrapping one arm around his shoulders in a half hug, and said nothing. He glanced over to the portion of the work table where the Hexcore sat, glowing eerily in the dim light of the lab. The pool of blood had been cleaned, but Jayce still shivered at the memory.

Viktor gave a sudden shudder, breath hitching in his chest. Jayce’s heart jolted in a moment of terror, then broke when he realised Viktor was holding back tears. Jayce pulled him close, and Viktor all but collapsed into his chest, one hand coming up to clutch at his shirt.

They stayed that way for several minutes, Viktor muffling his cries against Jayce’s chest and Jayce’s heart aching for him. Viktor wasn’t one to let himself be vulnerable in front of others, let alone let someone see him cry, and to see him break down like this made Jayce even more aware of just how much was at stake here. Jayce held him securely, not so tightly as to crush him, but hopefully enough to show that he would be there for Viktor no matter what.

Eventually Viktor’s trembling seemed to subside, and he laid his cheek against Jayce’s chest with a shaky sigh. Jayce rubbed his back and nuzzled his nose into Viktor’s hair—he still smelled faintly like antiseptic from the hospital.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested. “We’ve been at this for a couple hours, we could use something to eat. I’ll make you some sweetmilk.”

Viktor said nothing, but gave a small nod after a pause. Jayce led him over to the old couch to sit and busied himself with preparing some sweetmilk for Viktor and some coffee for himself. They could figure out lunch in a minute or two, once Viktor had settled down a bit.

Jayce handed over the steaming mug of sweetmilk and sat down next to Viktor’s slouched figure. They sipped at their respective drinks in silence, Jayce patiently waiting for Viktor to come back to himself. Every line in his body screamed exhaustion, and Jayce wanted nothing more than to gather him up in his arms again.

The lab remained silent for what felt like hours. It was a heavy silence, filled with anxious contemplation and a sense of lingering dread watching them from the shadows. It settled around Jayce’s shoulders like a big cat, calm for the moment, but with the ever present threat of claws and teeth ready to tear into his flesh. He shifted slightly, glancing sidelong at Viktor—the smaller man was still sipping at his sweetmilk, staring off into nothing. No, not at nothing, he was looking at the Hexcore, probably still running calculations in his head. Jayce could feel the beginnings of a fond smile on his lips at the sight.

Abruptly, Viktor sighed and slumped against Jayce’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. Jayce wasted no time in wrapping his arm around Viktor’s narrow shoulders, pulling him close.

“Viktor?’ he called softly, hesitant to break the oppressive silence.

“Jayce,” Viktor answered, voice slightly rough from crying. “I am… frightened ,” he admitted with a shudder. “I do not want to die.”

“You won’t ,” Jayce declared, setting down his mug and turning on the couch to face Viktor. “We’re not going to let that happen. I promise .”

Viktor stared up into Jayce’s eyes, the bluish shadows under his eyes only making their gold colour stand out more. “You can’t promise that,” he said quietly.

“Well I do,” Jayce said firmly. “I refuse to live in this world without you Viktor.”

Viktor shut his eyes as though in pain. “Please don’t say that,” he said.

Jayce reached up and cupped his face in his hands. Viktor’s eyes snapped open in shock. “Viktor,” he said, running his thumbs over the sharp cheekbones he could have picked out of a crowd of thousands. “I swear, I’m going to do everything in my power to save you.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, time dilating like they were free-falling into a black hole. There were still tiny flecks of tears on Viktor’s long eyelashes, and seeing them made Jayce’s heart do something strange and complicated inside his chest. Later, neither of them would be able to say who moved first, only that they met somewhere in the middle.

Viktor’s lips were cool, but the inside of his mouth was warm, like the sweetmilk Jayce could still taste. His hands still cupped Viktor’s face, and he made full use of that fact, caressing his cheekbones and tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss. A tiny noise escaped Viktor’s throat and Jayce swallowed it up.

They parted for a moment, but it was only a moment, as Jayce dove in again, licking into Viktor’s mouth once more. In the back of his mind, Jayce felt as though he’d just figured something out, like he’d been staring at the same problem for days upon days only for the solution to leap up and slap him in the face, making him feel like a genius and an utter dunce in a single second. How had he not seen this? How had he wasted all that time searching when the answer was this simple?

Viktor’s hands came up to Jayce’s chest, fingertips nudging against the buttons of his vest. A shiver ran up Jayce’s spine—all of a sudden he was no longer close enough. He tangled one hand in Viktor’s hair, the other found itself on his waist, pushing up his shirt just enough to feel soft skin. Viktor gasped, clenching his hand in Jayce’s shirt. With a quick, nimble movement, he’d popped open the top buttons of said shirt and pulled it aside. Cool hands slipped into Jayce’s collar and gripped at his shoulders, kneading at the strong muscle under the warm, tanned skin.

There was a mole on Viktor’s neck—Jayce had caught glimpses of it over the years, peeking out from under shirt collars like a shy star behind a cloud. Jayce left Viktor’s mouth to chase it down, kissing and sucking at the skin before marking it with a bite. Viktor cried out, his nails digging into Jayce’s shoulders in response.

In short order, both of them shed their shirts, discarding them somewhere on the lab floor. Jayce hunted down more moles across Viktor’s chest, determined to find every single one. His fingers skimmed over Viktor’s chest brace, fingertips tracing the complex series of clasps that held it together—for the first time since they’d come together, he paused. Things had undeniably shifted in a way that could never be undone, but it still felt as though this —removing Viktor’s brace—would be the point of no return. Here was the threshold of a new horizon that could not be walked back once stepped over. While Jayce’s body and soul howled to keep going, to wrap himself around Viktor until their atoms were mixed together, his mind finally caught up and pumped the brakes.

“Viktor,” Jayce said breathlessly, pulling back to stare into those molten gold eyes.

“ Jayce ,” Viktor answered, firm and demanding. He reached for the clasps himself and started to flick them open with all the ease of muscle memory.

That was all the permission Jayce needed.

They made quick work of the chest brace—Jayce setting it aside carefully before turning his attention to the leg brace. He’d worked with Viktor on the design of both braces, building them himself and carefully adjusting and improving them over the years—it only took him moments to remove the outer shell of the brace. Before he could overthink it, he tugged off Viktor’s pants and removed the inner part of the brace that rested directly against the skin. When it was finally off, Jayce sat back to stare down at the sight below him.

Beautiful . It was the only word he could think of, staring down at Viktor laid out below him. Acres of pale skin seemed to glow like moonlight, speckled here and there with moles, some already marked by Jayce’s mouth and teeth. His rib cage flexed and moved under the luminous skin as he laid there, panting already. Jayce’s hand rested on a thin thigh—if he wrapped his fingers around it, he could almost entirely encircle it. The thought ran a shiver up Jayce’s spine.

“Jayce,” Viktor breathed softly, snapping Jayce out of his reverie. He made the mistake of looking up at Viktor’s face—flushed across those sharp cheekbones and the angular bridge of his nose. Bright liquid gold eyes stared hazily up at him, half anticipatory and half trepidatious.

“ Jayce ,” Viktor said again, a plea. He trembled under Jayce’s touch. Underneath Jayce’s bulk he almost seemed fragile , like he would shatter apart if Jayce made the wrong move.

Jayce knew better. There was nothing fragile about Viktor.

Jayce dove to capture Viktor’s pouty lips in yet another kiss. He wrapped his hands around skinny hips, growling at the realization he could almost completely encircle them. Viktor gasped and threw his arms around Jayce, trailing over his muscled back before coming around to feel up his stomach and pecs. Jayce made a noise that could be categorised as a squeak when Viktor pinched his nipples.

“Jayce,” Viktor panted into his ear, sounding more confident now. He licked over the shell and bit into the lobe, sending sparks of sensation through Jayce. “Fuck me,” he ordered.

“ Viktor ,” Jayce groaned, hips thrusting forward to grind into Viktor’s. He wasn’t even out of his pants and he was already aching . What was Viktor doing to him?

No time to think about that. Jayce moved down Viktor’s chest, revisiting the moles he’d already found and endeavouring to find new ones, until he reached the top of Viktor’s cotton briefs. He wasted no time in peeling them away, not bothering to hold back a moan at the sight of Viktor’s wet cunt coming into view. Gods he was already soaked . It was all Jayce could do not to simply dive in face first.

Sparing a glance up at Viktor’s face, Jayce carefully situated himself between those thin, beautiful thighs, taking special care to support the weak leg over his shoulder. Viktor’s core was so close he could smell it, the scent making his mouth water and his cock throb in his pants. He blew a hot puff of breath over the area just to listen to Viktor whine and feel him squirm. Thin fingers tangled in Jayce’s hair and yanked.

“You take too long,” Viktor hissed, accent sharpening the words like flint. Another yank had Jayce’s face pressed right into the damp fur—a deliberate thrust upwards of his hips up might have made Jayce pass out from sheer lust if he didn’t have a job to do.

The first taste of Viktor on his tongue was like perceiving heaven. He licked a long stripe up from Viktor’s core all the way to his clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently. Viktor gasped and moaned, hips bucking up, nearly tossing Jayce off of him. Jayce tightened his grip on Viktor’s hips and pinned them down, resuming his work. He licked and suckled at the sweet little cock, swirling his tongue around it and moaning when it throbbed in his mouth. Viktor whined and panted his name, fingers tangling in his sweaty locks, at times dragging him forward or pushing him back, like he couldn’t decide if it was too much or not enough.

Jayce dipped down to lap at Viktor’s dripping opening, slurping noisily and moaning in delight at the taste. He pressed in as deep as he could go, fucking into Viktor with his tongue. Viktor moaned above him, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Jayce, please ,” he whined, squirming against Jayce’s mouth.

“ Fuck you taste incredible,” Jayce moaned before diving back in. He returned to swirling his tongue around the prominent cock, one hand detaching from Viktor’s hip to thrust a finger deep inside the slick cunt.

Jayce could have stayed where he was for years , doing nothing but pleasure Viktor with his mouth and hands. He pushed another finger into him, curling and thrusting them according to what made Viktor cry out the loudest. All the while he kept his lips and tongue and teeth busy with Viktor’s cock, thick fur tickling his nose.

A particular curl of his fingers had Viktor crying out and arching his back. “Oh! J-Jayce!” he moaned. “Right there! Don’t stop!”

Jayce was more than happy to obey. He thrust in a third finger and pressed them into that spot, rubbing and circling until Viktor was trembling. He was so hard in his pants that just the faintest bit of friction against the couch was driving him insane . If Viktor kept grinding himself onto Jayce’s face like he was, Jayce just might embarrass himself and ruin his underwear.

Viktor came with a cry, hips jolting so hard he almost crushed Jayce’s nose. Jayce kept sucking and thrusting his fingers until Viktor finally shoved his head away, the overstimulation getting to be too much. Jayce sat up on the couch, gasping for breath—he wiped at his mouth and chin, smeared with Viktor’s wetness.

Below him, Viktor laid panting on the couch, one arm laid over his eyes. A bright red flush dusted over his cheeks and down his chest, drawing Jayce’s gaze. There was a little cluster of moles on the inner thigh of Viktor’s weak leg, Jayce noticed. He didn’t even have to think about it before he moved to kiss them, nuzzling into the soft skin. If there were kind Gods out there, they’d let him stay in this moment forever.

“Jayce,” Viktor called roughly. Jayce looked up to see two points of molten gold staring down at him, burning like stars in the night sky.

Jayce abandoned the cluster of moles and stretched up to kiss Viktor’s pretty, pouty lips. Viktor sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Jayce’s shoulders. He must have been able to taste himself on Jayce’s tongue, but he gave no indication of disgust or even pause. In fact he seemed determined to lick the taste right out of Jayce’s mouth. Jayce groaned at the thought, grinding his hips down into Viktor’s, almost dizzy from how hard he was.

Viktor pulled back from the kiss to stare up into Jayce’s eyes. One thin hand came up to trace along his jaw and over his cheekbone—it was as if he was trying to memorize the shape by touch. Jayce sighed and leaned into the touch, nuzzling into Viktor’s palm and turning to kiss his wrist.

“Jayce,” Viktor hummed—he didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing his name fall from Viktor’s lips. “I want you to fuck me.”

Liquid frisson raced up Jayce’s spine. “Are you—”

“ Yes ,” Viktor cut him off before he could finish asking. “Please Jayce. Please .”

Jayce shivered and started fumbling with his pants, shucking them off in record time. He hissed slightly as his dick was finally freed from the confines of his underwear and exposed to the cool air of the lab. Without warning or any preamble, Viktor reached down and wrapped a hand around the shaft—Jayce was certain he blacked out for a microsecond.

“Fuck Viktor,” Jayce groaned through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

Viktor gave a disappointed hum, reluctantly letting go and lying back on the couch, spreading his legs invitingly. Jayce groaned and surged forward, shivering as his cock finally finally came into contact with the slick heat between Viktor’s legs. For a moment all Jayce could do was grind pathetically against him, too out of his mind with lust to string a coherent thought together. It wasn’t until Viktor reached between them to try and grasp at Jayce again that he remembered that there were other steps he needed to take. Pulling back just enough to give himself the space, Jayce lined himself up with Viktor’s slick folds and began to press in.

Jayce knew he was larger than average—he’d heard as much from previous partners. There was a certain type of person that would have flaunted that, walked around with misplaced pride as though they’d done something other than have the right genes. Jayce wasn’t that kind of person, and his first concern was always that he would hurt his partner. He carefully watched Viktor’s face as he slid his cock into his slick pussy, trying to pay attention through the haze of lust for any sign of discomfort. Viktor’s eyes fluttered closed  and his mouth went slack in pleasure, no sign of discomfort anywhere to be found.

They groaned in unison as Jayce bottomed out, fully seating himself inside of Viktor. The wet heat was almost enough to make Jayce lose himself right there, but he forced it down, clenching his fists in the couch cushions so hard he thought he heard a seam pop.

Viktor’s arms came up to wrap around Jayce’s shoulders, pulling him close, panting breaths tickling Jayce’s ear. Jayce again sought out the little mole on Viktor’s neck, lavishing it with kisses and attention. He wanted to worship Viktor, cover every inch of his skin with kisses and wax poetic about how beautiful he was, how much Jayce needed him in his life. Even without the disaster that had started their entire acquaintance, Jayce never could have survived this long without Viktor.

Acknowledging that in his own head, much less saying it out loud, felt too big for Jayce right now, especially when he needed to be focussing. Focussing on Viktor , writhing and trembling beneath him, soft moans and whimpers falling from his lips. His fingertips dug into Jayce’s shoulders, blunt nails scraping across his skin. Jayce moaned and pressed kisses to Viktor’s jaw, completely overwhelmed already.

“ Jayce ,” Viktor moaned into his ear. “ Please .”

Groaning deep in his chest, Jayce began to roll his hips against Viktor’s, slowly at first before he began to pick up force and speed. Viktor’s drenched pussy dragged against his cock with an obscene array of squelches, a lurid symphony to backdrop their—lovemaking? Tryst? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Viktor Viktor Viktor . It wasn’t long before he was pounding into Viktor, gripping him tightly around the waist so they didn’t tumble off the couch from the force of his thrusts.

“ Fuck ,” Jayce groaned between sucking kisses into the arched column of Viktor’s neck. “I’m so close Vik.”

Viktor moaned and wrapped his legs around Jayce’s hips. “Yes, please Jayce,” he gasped through stuttered, punched out breaths. “Please come in me.”

Jayce was so delirious with arousal that time was an abstract concept at this point. He could feel his hips beginning to stutter and lose rhythm as he approached his climax. Loosening one hand from its vice grip on Viktor’s slim hip, he clumsily reached down to where they joined and sloppily rubbed against Viktor’s cock.

Viktor howled, eyes rolling back into his skull and back arching as his inner walls fluttered and clenched around Jayce’s cock. His nails scratched long lines across Jayce’s back and his good leg kicked out before coming back down to squeeze Jayce impossibly closer. Jayce couldn’t last, too overwhelmed by Viktor surrounding every one of his senses. He only managed two more jolty half-thrusts before he careened over the edge, burying himself as deep as he could go inside of Viktor. It felt like he was at the center of the universe and getting blasted into trillions of atoms all at once. The only thing Jayce could anchor himself against was Viktor—he pressed his mouth against Viktor’s in a sloppy approximation of a kiss, wanting to taste him, devour him, become a single fixed point in space and time with him.

By the time his senses started reordering themselves into something vaguely resembling his own consciousness, Jayce had all but collapsed on top of Viktor, unconsciously holding himself up just enough not to crush the smaller man beneath him. With great effort, Jayce pulled back and sat up on the couch, wincing as his cock slipped out of Viktor’s cunt, a thick glob of cum following. It was an absolutely obscene image, one that sent a shiver of arousal coursing through Jayce, almost enough to make him begin to harden again, but one look at Viktor’s overwhelmed and exhausted face chased the idea from his head.

“Viktor?” Jayce called softly, reaching one hand up before it stopped mid-air. “Are you… are you with me?”

Viktor cracked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling for a moment, seemingly oblivious to Jayce’s question. When his eyes finally flicked down to capture Jayce’s gaze, his eyes were still somewhat hazy, but there was a sharpness underneath them that told Jayce he was still present. He reached up and took Jayce’s still hovering hand, lacing their fingers together, light enough that Jayce could still pull away if he wanted. A shade of worry passed over his face, and Jayce realised he was nervous, afraid to show such vulnerability even after what they’d just done.

Jayce wrapped his large hand around Viktor’s smaller one, squeezing their palms together. He leaned over and pressed the back of his hand against his cheek, nuzzling the pale, cool skin, half-desperate for Viktor to understand . To understand the thing Jayce didn’t think he could ever articulate it in words even if he had an eternity to do so.

Viktor stared up at him for a long time, taking deep breaths. Finally he moved to sit up. “It’s cold,” he mumbled, voice rough.

That jolted Jayce out of his head and back into his body. “Oh! Right, hold on,” he said, sitting up and reaching for the blanket haphazardly tossed over the back of the couch. He moved to toss it over Viktor, then hesitated when he remembered the mess between his thighs. “Shit, hold on.”

Tossing the blanket over Viktor’s top half, Jayce scrambled up from the couch and set about finding a clean washcloth and wetting it at the little sink in the corner of the lab. He returned to the couch and carefully began to clean the mess that was already starting to go tacky from between Viktor’s legs. He tried to keep his touch light, but Viktor still let out a small noise when Jayce ran the cloth over his swollen core.

“Sorry,” Jayce mumbled, feeling the heat blooming across his face. “I should have been more gentle.”

Viktor reached out with a hand and smacked his fist into his shoulder. “I’m not made of glass,” he said, sounding genuinely annoyed. “I asked for it.”

A million counter arguments jumped up into Jayce’s throat, but he swallowed them back, knowing he’d just end up chewing on his own foot. “Right,” he said instead, the word strained. He finished cleaning Viktor the best he could and pulled the blanket down to cover him entirely, then got up to clean himself.

As Jayce cleaned the slick off of him as best he could, he felt Viktor’s eyes following him, burning like hot metal into his back. When he finally turned back to look at him, Viktor was sitting up on the couch, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, staring at him with an unreadable look in his golden eyes. Jayce felt both pinned in place and drawn in by those eyes. Without really noticing his own body moving, he ended up right in front of Viktor, staring down into his eyes.

The unacknowledged thing that had been too big for Jayce to parse earlier now raised its head from the murky depths to stare Jayce dawn. There had been a breach in the tenuous boundary that they’d never recognized until now. Or at least Jayce had never recognized it—had Viktor? Either way, there was no going back to before , now that Jayce knew .

Viktor stared at Jayce for a while, searching his face. A quick glance down reminded Jayce that he was still very naked—they both were. He flushed and moved to cover himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, stepping away and setting about finding his clothes, feeling a little foolish as he struggled into his pants.

Viktor let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t trip,” he said. “You’ll crack open your head, and we need that.”

It’s so relieving to hear Viktor say something so normal that it startled a laugh out of Jayce. He finally managed to get into his pants and leaned down to pick up Viktor’s brace. “Come on, I’ll help you back into it.”

Viktor let out a resigned sigh. “I can do it myself you know,” he said, though he dutifully raised his arms anyway.

“Of course you can,” Jayce answered, moving in to settle the brace in place. “I like helping you.”

The brace was both intricately complicated and breathtakingly simple. The piece was specific to Viktor, designed by himself and Jayce, as well as a few consulting medical professionals who were more familiar with human anatomy. Jayce had made all of the metal work himself, even including the surgical pins that were embedded into Viktor’s spine. It had been a gruelling process, but the doctor’s had declared it a success. A revolutionary new medical treatment even. Everyone had praised Jayce for his insightful design, inviting him out to do interviews and give talks and attend parties. All the while Viktor was bedridden for months in recovery.

Jayce helped Viktor back into the brace, adjusting it to fit perfectly against his spine before snapping it shut. Wordlessly, he bent to pick up the inner part of the leg brace and held it up. Viktor obligingly sat back against the couch and lifted his bad leg. Jayce settled in front of him and began fitting the brace onto the thin limb.

“Do we need to adjust it?” Jayce asked, noting how the brace didn’t sit perfectly against Viktor’s skin. Not enough that it wouldn’t do its job, or cause damage heavens forbid, but enough that Jayce’s trained eye could notice.

“I may have lost a bit of weight,” Viktor admitted, glancing away as though he’d admitted something shameful.

Jayce’s stomach twisted. He gripped Viktor’s leg and bent to press a kiss to his knee. “We’re going to find a way, Viktor,” he said. “I swear.”

Viktor stared down at him, expression unreadable. After a moment, he lifted his hand and brought it to rest on Jayce’s head, stroking his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. Jayce stayed where he was, soaking in the touch. He was a tactile person, he touched Viktor often, but Viktor rarely initiated contact. His slender fingers trailed against Jayce’s scalp before his palm came down to cup Jayce’s cheek.

“You are a fool,” Viktor said softly, affection lacing his words. “Maybe we both are.”

“It’s worked for us so far,” Jayce said, smiling up at him. He finally stood up. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

Viktor smiled back, but his eyes were suspiciously wet. “I suppose I should put my clothes back on in that case.”

“If you must,” Jayce said with a teasing lilt to his voice. “ I certainly wouldn’t mind the view.”

Viktor flushed, then glared at him. “I believe that would violate several safety protocols of the lab.”

“I think we already violated those pretty thoroughly already,” Jayce pointed out, reaching down to pick up Viktor’s shirt to hand it to him. “Also, since when do you care about lab safety?”

“Since I’d rather not be walked in on while naked in our place of employment,” Viktor replied curtly, fumbling into his pants and underwear.

“We own this lab, let them try to kick us out,” Jayce huffed. “Also I locked the door. No one can get in.”

Viktor grumbled something in his native language that Jayce didn’t catch and finished dressing. He looked a little ruffled, and his eyes were still red from crying, but there was a spark of life back in his expression again. Jayce could have leapt for joy at the sight. Instead, he crowded into Viktor’s space and bent to press a kiss to his lips, then a second one to the mole on his cheek for good measure.

“Ready to get back to work, partner?” Jayce asked, resting his forehead against Viktor.

Viktor blinked at him, then broke into a smile. “Yes,” he answered.

Jayce felt his face split open with a huge grin. He pulled away from Viktor, moving towards the blackboard, ready to start anew. “We’ve tried reverse polarity, right?” he asked.

“In all its forms, twice over,” Viktor said. “It’s a dead end. It wasn’t even that good of an idea to begin with.”

Jayce sighed. “I know, I know . I just feel like we’re missing something that’s staring us right in the face.”

Viktor hummed, hobbling over to where the Hexcore was glowing, flashes of blue energy arching off of it every so often. “It’s a complicated problem, I doubt the solution will be simple.”

“Or it will be so simple we’ll feel like idiots for not seeing it,” Jayce said, walking over to stand next to Viktor. The Hexcore crackled ominously.

Viktor hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing. The Hexcore continued to spark and twitch, as though reacting some kind of unknown stimulus. Suddenly Jayce had a really bad feeling.

“Maybe we should call it a night actually,” Jayce said, stepping back from the core, watching it with more than a little trepidation.

Viktor didn’t answer, seemingly entranced by the Hexcore. Inexplicably, he slowly reached a hand up like he was about to touch it bare-handed. The Hexcore spun and twisted, as though it was… excited by the prospect. Jayce’s stomach dropped.

“ Viktor ,” Jayce warned, reaching out to grab his wrist, to stop him before he could contact the strange thing that seemed to him like a venomous snake poised to strike.

Viktor stopped, jerking slightly like he was only just realizing what he was doing. Still, his hand remained in the air as though frozen. Jayce closed his hand around the thin wrist and tugged, meeting a surprising amount of resistance. A flash of worry crossed Viktor’s face—Jayce could feel him try to pull his hand away, only for something to try and pull him closer to the Hexcore.

“Jayce,” Viktor said, voice trembling slightly.

“Let go,” Jayce said, yanking Viktor’s arm with more force. It wouldn’t budge.

“This isn’t me,” Viktor pleaded, a note of panic creeping into his words. “I’m not doing this.”

The Hexcore jolted and twisted, sparking with energy. If Jayce had to put a name to it, it seemed angry . Angry at him for interfering in whatever it was doing to Viktor. He could hear various detritus around the lab shifting and clinking as magic began to build up in the space. An arc of blue energy struck out suddenly, slamming into Viktor’s stomach.

Viktor howled, his entire body jolting like he was being electrocuted. Jayce shouted and wrapped his arms around him, pulling with all his might. Viktor stayed where he was, despite Jayce knowing full well he could lift the other man over his head like a sack of potatoes under normal circumstances. Desperately, Jayce looked around for something, anything that could help.

A hammer floated by his head—a Talis family hammer, one of many they had scattered about the lab. Jayce made a grab for it, missing once before managing to grip the head. Flipping it around, Jayce turned back to the Hexcore—it was still flashing and sparking, still connected to Viktor by an arc of blue energy. Gritting his teeth, Jayce swung the hammer down on top of it, hoping to smash it to a million pieces.

As the hammer connected with the top of the Hexcore, everything flashed white. For a moment Jayce couldn’t tell where he was in time and space. When he managed to make sense of up and down again, the head of the hammer looked as though it had somehow fused to the Hexcore and Viktor was no longer at his side. Jayce attempted to wrench his arm back, but something held him in place. No matter how hard he twisted and pulled, he couldn’t get free.

Someone shroud Jayce’s name. Turning around, he could barely make out the image of Viktor, struggling to his feet across the lab, watching him with wide, terrified eyes. Jayce yanked harder on the hammer, to the point where he was sure he might pull his shoulder out of the joint. He opened his mouth to try and shout for Viktor, but his breath was sucked out of him by the energy surging around him.

Suddenly the Hexcore seemed to expand somehow, filling the space and encompassing Jayce completely. Reality seemed to split and multiply and condense all at the same time. Jayce could barely keep up with what was happening. The only thing that pierced through the chaos was Viktor’s voice, shouting his name. It was all he could do to turn his head to look to where the voice was coming from. Through the fractalized surges of pure chaotic arcane, Jayce glimpsed Viktor. Their eyes met for a single instant, gold and bronze reaching across planes of existence for one another. A strange sense of rightness flowed over Jayce, as though the only thing he should be doing was stare into those eyes for all of measurable time.

A flash of white overtook everything. And then Jayce was Gone.

Chapter Text

Viktor coughed, trying to clear the dust from his already ravaged lungs. He could just barely hear the sound of something pounding against the lab door over the ringing in his ears. Blinking away tears, he looked up and tried to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

The lab was in shambles. Debris were scattered everywhere—tools and parts and half-finished projects littered the floor. The desk near the epicenter was shattered to smithereens and the blackboard closest to it was cracked straight down the middle. The Hexcore was calmly floating in its containment space as though nothing had happened. Jayce was nowhere to be seen.

The door of the lab finally smashed open with the sound of rending metal. Several enforcers stormed inside and began shouting overtop of one another. Viktor tried in vain to wave them back, worried that they might set something off again, but they didn’t seem to notice or care. Two of them grabbed him roughly and began dragging him out of the lab.

“W-wait,” Viktor tried to protest before a fit of coughs prevented him from speaking further. He needed to investigate the site before the enforcers trampled all over everything. He needed to understand what just happened.

The enforcers didn’t even deign to look at him as they practically carried him out of the room. Viktor attempted to struggle, but it didn’t seem to matter in the slightest. Within a minute he was deposited somewhere outside the lab, plopped down into a chair with enough force to make him groan in pain. An emergency medical responder rushed over, but was held back by one of the enforcers.

“I need to check him,” the medical responder, a blonde human man in his late thirties, insisted, pressing against the enforcer’s arm.

“We need to question him,” the enforcer said. “It’s protocol.”

“He’s no good to you if he’s dead,” the medical responder snapped.

The enforcer glanced down at Viktor. “He looks fine.”

Viktor swore he could see the medical responder’s eye twitch. Before things could devolve into an actual fight between the two of them, a small furry body barreled into the space between them.

“Viktor!” Heimerdinger cried. “Oh my dear boy, are you alright? What happened?”

Viktor attempted to answer, but another round of coughing had him hunching over in his seat, feeling like his body was trying to forcibly expel his lungs. Heimerdinger made a distressed noise and the medical responder finally managed to push past the enforcer and began to assist him. Viktor wanted to tell them all to stop, to forget him and figure out what the hell happened . He wanted the enforcers out of his lab, he wanted to examine the Hexcore, he wanted to know where Jayce was.

The medical examiner settled a breathing mask over his face, flooding his lungs with the gasses they needed and flushing out whatever chemical debris had irritated the already wrecked tissues. Viktor took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head. People were still talking around him, at him, but he kept playing back those last moments before the explosion in his head. The Hexcore acting erratically, the strange urge he’d had to reach out to it, the strange energy that pulsed through him.

The look on Jayce’s face.

Viktor rubbed his stomach where the energy had flowed into him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to describe what it had truly felt like. It was as though his entire nervous system had lit up in a pain so alien it almost felt pleasurable . Even thinking of it now made Viktor’s stomach swoop oddly and his pelvic floor clench in a strange way.

Though maybe that last part was due to…

Viktor put his face in his hands. What the fuck was going on ?

A small hand touched his knee. “Viktor my boy,” Heimerdinger called softly through Viktor’s tornado of thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Viktor pressed his fingers into his eyes until spots lit up behind his eyelids. “I have no idea, professor,” he groaned, slumping backwards against the wall.

“What happened?” the enforcer demanded, taking a step forward. The medical responder glared so hard at him that he swiftly rescinded that single step.

Viktor did his best to give an acceptable abridged version of events, leaving out how he’d felt… entranced by the Hexcore. He also left out what he and Jayce had been up to before everything had happened—that could stay between him and Jayce.

Speaking of…

“And you’re certain Counselor Talis was in the lab with you?” the enforcer asked for the third time.

“ Yes , he was right next to me,” Viktor said, refraining from hissing the words.

“Well he’s nowhere to be found anywhere in the lab,” the enforcer said, crossing his arms. “There’s no trace. Not even a body. Or bits of a body.”

Viktor shivered at the mental image. No , he thought instinctively, Jayce wasn’t gone, he was just… gone . Somehow he knew this to be true, even without confirming or contradictory evidence. He would know if Jayce was dead .

Heimerdinger gave a huff and turned to the enforcer. “Have some decorum, sir,” he said, sounding more irritated than Viktor had ever heard him before. He turned back to Viktor. “Let’s get you somewhere calmer.”

Viktor shook his head. “I need to get back into the lab,” he protested.

“No one goes in until we finish our investigation,” the enforcer growled.

“You don’t even know what you’re looking for,” Viktor snapped, at the end of his patience. “If you haven’t already contaminated everything inside, I’ll need to take readings and examine the energy patterns and—” he cut off with another round of coughing.

“You’re in no condition to be doing any of that,” the medical responder said. “You need to go to the hospital to check for anything more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” Viktor snapped, weakly pushing the man aside. He seemed neither impressed nor convinced.

“Viktor,” Heimerdinger said gently. “Perhaps you should take a moment to process—”

“Process what ?” Viktor growled, rounding on the yordle with barely restrained anger. “None of these people know what they’re doing in that lab. They could destroy years of work, they could corrupt any actual useful information with their blundering, they could—”

They could destroy whatever it was that Viktor needed to bring Jayce back .

Viktor clenched his jaw, trying not to let his rage stew. It wouldn’t do anything but make him seem desperate and hysterical, which wouldn’t help his case in the slightest. It was difficult however, with the image of Jayce’s terrified face running through his mind over and over again.

Heimerdinger laid a gentle hand over Viktor’s where it was clenched on his thigh. “I’ll fetch Ms. Sky,” he said. “She can oversee the investigation to make sure nothing dangerous is disturbed. In the meantime, you should get a proper checkup.”

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling the rattling catch in his chest. He tried to let himself feel satisfied with this outcome, knowing it was probably the best he was going to get, but his gut still curdled. “Alright,” he grit out, the word scraping like sandpaper.

Heimerdinger patted his hand. “We’ll get this sorted in no time my boy,” he said.

Viktor gave a non-committal grunt. “I need my crutch,” he stated. It was still in the lab somewhere. Hopefully it wasn’t broken.

“Nothing leaves the lab until we clear it,” the enforcer said.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the medical responder hissed, standing up and swiftly making his way into the lab, storming right passed the enforcers. After a few minutes, he returned with Viktor’s crutch in tow.

Viktor took his crutch and hauled himself to his feet, the medical responder and Heimerdinger hovering around him like anxious flies. The crutch wobbled ever so slightly—a stabilizing disk had been knocked around a little, nothing a few turns of a wrench couldn’t fix. Viktor bit his lip, thinking unbidden about how Jayce always used repairs on his cane or crutch or brace as an excuse to tinker with the design, to make improvements, to make Viktor more comfortable.

There was a small gush of fluid from between Viktor’s legs. Jayce’s spend from earlier, buried so deep inside him that it had been missed when they cleaned up. Viktor suppressed a shiver and followed the medical responder down the hall. Hopefully this would all get resolved quickly and he could get back to his lab and start to figure this out himself as soon as possible.

Viktor gagged and spat into the toilet bowl, head throbbing. He forced himself to breathe slowly, hoping that it was over for the morning. Theoretically there shouldn’t even have been enough in his system for him to have a second wave, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

When at last the nausea passed, Viktor flushed the toilet and set about cleaning himself up. As he brushed his teeth he stared at his reflection in the mirror, mind a blank. He tried in vain to think of something to do that day, something that wouldn’t just end up with him doing the same thing he’d been wasting his time doing for the last two and a half months.

How did that old adage about insanity go again?

Viktor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as the tangled strands tugged at his scalp. When had he last showered? The days all seemed to blur together now. Groaning, Viktor began to shed his night clothes. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere to be today.

When Viktor emerged from the bathroom, he hobbled over to his ratty old couch and flopped down on it, only dressed in a terrycloth bathrobe that he left hanging open. He groaned and stretched out his bad leg, wondering if he should attempt a short walk today to help stretch it out. A glance at the coffee table and the myriad of newspapers atop it made him pause that thought.

First page spreads from the last month featured blurry reproductions of his face, most commonly cut and blown up from an old photo of him and Jayce at the Distinguished Innovator's Convention from several years ago. Some used a slightly more recent ID photo they must have bribed someone at the civil office to get. The articles they accompanied ranged greatly, with more moderate titles such as ‘ Man of Progress Presumed Dead After Laboratory Accident’ and ‘ Explosion in Hextech Labs Linked to Disappearance of Piltover’s Man of Tomorrow ’, to the outright salacious ‘ Possible Undercity Terror Attack Kills Hextech Inventor ’ and ‘ Councilman Dead by Zaunite Plot to Undermine Hextech? ’

Viktor stared down at the papers, willing himself to get up and finally toss them all in the trash where they belonged. They were piling up and making a mess, and looking at them made his already upset stomach twist uncomfortably. He shut his eyes and rested a hand over his forehead, trying to soothe away the already growing headache.

It had seemed at first like things would return to normal quite quickly—after all, there was nothing in the lab but a slightly exploded lab. Viktor had expected to have to go over what happened leading up to the explosion in detail, perhaps a few times to be thorough, and then maybe answer a few questions about what his experiments were because enforcers couldn’t tell what was actually relevant to their investigation to save their lives, and then Viktor would be allowed back into his lab to investigate things himself. Annoying and tedious, but ultimately harmless to himself and his work, not accounting for the time wasted.

(Viktor tried not to think of time, tick tick ticking away like water through his fingertips, tasting rot on his breath with every exhale and feeling another cut among the thousands with every inhale.)

However, as news had begun to circulate of Jayce’s ‘disappearance’, things had taken a sharp turn. The public, already jumpy due to growing tensions due to unruly actors in the Undercity, had latched onto the story of the explosion with a fevered tenacity. Newsmedia outlets, smelling blood in the water, wasted no time in whipping up a frenzy of speculation. When someone somewhere caught wind that the beloved Man of Progress’s partner ( assistant in the versions that sought to make the narrative as comfortable as possible for their dear readers) was a Zaunite, it had been the beginning of the end. Suddenly there was a suitable villain in the narrative, and now that the beast had been uncollared, it trampled through Viktor’s life, destroying everything he’d built since crossing the bridge all those years ago.

Contrary to what an outside observer might think, Viktor had been perfectly happy to have Jayce take the spotlight, soak up all the accolades, and bask in the admiration of the public. He understood the need for a public face, someone to present their ideas with a confident smile and a brazen flourish, and for that he’d been eternally grateful for Jayce. However, he had no need for any of that sort of attention himself—it would only interfere with his work. The public turning him into their scapegoat made no difference to him at all.

What got to him was the way that everyone else started treating him as a suspect. The enforcers' questions had gone from simply demanding clarification to outright fishing for motivation , as though their suspicions had any merit at all and weren’t simply fueled by public perception. Furthermore, the council’s support had quickly dried up as well. Viktor had never had much to do with them personally, that had always been Jayce’s wheelhouse, but he’d at least expected them to want to protect their investment in Hextech. Instead, he was being left out to the wolves, with increasing pressure from the public to ‘do something’ about that awful trencher brat who’d snuck his way into the upper echelons of Piltover, staining everything he touched with his Undercity grime.

And of course, there was the little fact that Viktor was still dying.

Viktor closed his eyes and imagined himself setting fire to the scattered newspapers. They’d catch pretty quickly, and there were enough of them that they’d sustain a burn long enough for the furniture to catch as well. From there the blaze would quickly hop from room to room, crawling along the carpet, the drapes, the wooden floor. The kitchen was mostly stone and brick, and the bathroom was perpetually damp, so they’d likely survive more or less, but the living room and the bedroom would be consumed by an inferno. The building’s fire suppression system was pretty old, almost as old as the building itself, but it would probably kick in by the time it reached the hall. The rest of the people in the building would be able to evacuate pretty easily. If the fire department responded fast enough, probably only Viktor’s apartment would be destroyed.

Along with whatever was inside it.

A knock at the door startled Viktor out of his thoughts. Scowling, he pulled his robe closed and hobbled on his crutch towards the door. A quick glance through the peephole sent a further wave of irritation up his spine. Leaving the chain on the door, he unlatched the deadbolt and peered through the crack.

“What do you want?” Viktor snapped, already wishing for this encounter to be over.

Sheriff Marcus scowled at him. “You’ve been summoned to the council,” he stated firmly.

“Do you have a warrant?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew better—every self respecting Zaunite knew better.

Sheriff Marcus’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Clearly he was not a fan of having his authority questioned. “The council sent me to personally escort you,” he said.

“So that’s a no on the warrant,” Viktor replied coolly. He had every right to slam the door in Marcus’s stupid face and tell him to go fuck himself for good measure, he wasn’t under arrest. Most likely there was nothing they could convict him with.

But this was the first time in weeks the council had reached out. They wanted to speak with him personally . Despite his reservations, Viktor had to admit he was too curious to pass up this opportunity. There was a chance it would backfire horribly, but he’d never know if he didn’t actually take the bait.

Viktor sighed. “Wait a moment, I’m not dressed,” he said.

Marcus forced a smile. “Please take your—” Viktor cut him off by slamming the door shut in his face.

Nearly half an hour later, Viktor let Marcus lead him out of the building. Initially walking with a quickstep, Marcus was forced to stop and wait for Viktor, who refused to speed up his pace, despite the clear irritation on the enforcer’s face. As they walked through the streets, Viktor could hear the whispers and feel the stares at his back. Another wretched consequence of his recent notoriety—he was now often recognizable on the street.

They eventually made it to the council chambers. Viktor could hear indistinct murmuring through the door and braced himself. With any luck, he would at least get to know what was taking the investigation so damn long.

Stepping inside, an immediate hush fell over the room. Viktor glanced around, taking stock of each person present. Shoola seemed to be speaking with Bolbok, though it was difficult to discern at this distance if it was a conversation or a monologue, as he couldn’t hear if Bolbok was speaking back. Mrs. Kiramman was speaking with Salo of all people, the two of them glancing in Viktor’s direction as he walked in—Cassandra’s face went dour, while Salo gave Viktor an unsettling grin, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. Both Mel and Heimerdinger were on their own, both looking tense—Mel was at the window, her back to Viktor, but he could trace the hard lines of her shoulders, while Heimerdinger was already seated, fingers steepled together  and staring down at the stone council desk with an expression of wrangled frustration and resigned pity. Hoskel was predictably consumed by his puzzle box, completely tuned out of the atmosphere of the room.

Marcus led Viktor to the middle of the circular council desk. Usually there was a chair set out of him, or if there wasn’t, Jayce would make a fuss until one was fetched. Now there was nothing—Viktor grimaced, resigning himself to the discomfort of having to stand for who knew how long.

The council members began to take their seats. The room was uncharacteristically silent, void of the usual chatter that always preceded these meetings. Granted, all of those meetings had been about their new Hextech inventions, and he’d always had Jayce at his side, so perhaps Viktor’s data pool was limited.

As the councillors finally settled, Heimerdinger took a deep breath and finally looked up at him, eyes swimming with regret. Viktor prickled under the gaze, swallowing down the bitterness that came with such looks. He stood as tall as his frail body would allow and met Heimderdinger’s eyes defiantly.

“Shall we get this started then?” Salo said, too cheerily for the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Mel’s eyes flicked in annoyance at Salo briefly before returning to Viktor. “Would you like a seat brought for you before we begin?”

Viktor shifted his glare to her. “I’ll be fine,” he said, barely softening the words down from a snap. “What is this about?”

A hesitation followed, several council members glancing between each other, before Salo finally broke the silence. “This is about the murder of Councillor Jayce Talis,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Icy fingers gripped Viktor’s spine. “Murder?” he repeated. “It was a lab accident.”

“So you say,” Salo said, grin not fading.

“There’s no evidence other than circumstantial,” Mel pointed out. “Isn’t that right, Sheriff Marcus?”

Attention turned to the Sheriff, who hadn’t left the chamber. His eyebrow twitched slightly as he met Mel’s gaze, but he kept his face neutral. He cleared his throat. “While it is true that our investigation hasn’t revealed conclusive evidence that foul play was involved, we can’t rule it out as a possibility.” Marcus shifted his eyes to Viktor—the faintest of smiles touched his lips. “Given the character and history of the only witness, we have our reasons to place him as a suspect.”

Viktor felt his stomach grow hot, but before he could say anything, Heimerdinger piped up. “Now I don’t feel that’s warranted. I have known young Viktor since his academy days, and I can vouch for his character. He’s a brilliant young mind and I believe incapable of such an act as murder.”

“Did he not sneak his way into the academy under false pretenses?” Bolbok asked, his gears clicking and whirring. “Such is not the character of an honest man.”

Heimerdinger looked ruffled. “It is the character of an ambitious man,” he countered.

“Ambition can be a powerful catalyst,” Shoola said with a grimace. “It can be the spark behind both great innovations and catastrophic destruction.”

Salo turned to Mel. “Were you not witness to this man breaking into Heimderdinger’s lab to perform illegal experiments, in service of his own ambitions?” he asked, stressing the word ‘man’ in a way that made Viktor’s skin crawl.

Mel’s face hardened. “Both Viktor and Jayce were present that night. And may I remind you that we have all benefited from that ambition ten times over in the ensuing years.”

Bolbok made a few clanking noises. “Our initial vote was to ban Hextech. This incident has only proven that the use of magic is too dangerous to be continued,” he said with a hiss of air.

Shoola turned to glare at him. “You say this, and yet you’ve had no qualms about profiting off of Hextech for all these years until now,” she said. “Do not act as though it is the magic you are having an issue with now.”

Bolbok’s metal chassis shuddered, which was perhaps the equivalent of acting offended. “Magic nearly destroyed my entire race—”

“So you continue to remind us, and yet you’ve been more than happy to grow fat off of the spoils of Hextech,” Shoola shot back, remaining composed, though Viktor noticed her tapping a single golden-clad finger against the table. “If you’re going to be a hypocrite, at least own up to it.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Salo said, practically shouting over whatever Bolbok’s reply was. “This is about the murder of the one responsible for Hextech, not Hextech itself.”

“ Alleged murder,” Mel corrected. “I have seen no evidence in support of this theory.”

“Viktor was the only witness to the incident, and his account has several holes in it,” Sheriff Marcus said. “Furthermore, first responders to the scene reported that the lab door was locked at the time of the explosion, something that the suspect has failed to elaborate on.”

Viktor clenched his teeth. “Jayce and I were discussing a… private matter,” he said.

“Again, this is all coming from the single witness to the incident,” Salo said. “A ‘witness’ whose character is questionable at best.”

Viktor felt his irritation bubble up before he could temper it. “What motive would I have to kill my lab partner? Jayce and I have worked together peaceably for years now, why on earth would I suddenly decide to murder him?”

“Perhaps you felt as though you were running out of time to make Hextech your own,” Salo said, that oil slick grin sliding back onto his face. “Your condition has become terminal, hasn’t it?”

Hot rage seethed under Viktor’s skin. “My medical records are a private matter.”

“We got a warrant,” Salo explained flippantly. He leaned forward, eyeing Viktor like a predator. “All of the inventions Hextech has patented only have Jayce’s name on them.”

“Only because your official forms for the patents require a last name,” Viktor said. “It was simply easier to let Jayce file the paperwork than have to go through the rigamarole of filling out the extra forms to prove that I legally exist.”

“You sound a little irritated,” Salo hummed. “Could it be that you began to resent our dear departed Mr. Talis after all these years of being stuck in his shadow?”

Viktor was not a man for violence, but he imagined that satisfaction he would feel if he leapt over the table and beat Salo’s stupid face in with his crutch. “ You sound as though you have only conjecture to go off of and are trying to invent a plausible motive,” he said, reveling in the annoyed twitch of Salo’s eyebrow. “I did not murder Jayce, and if you only allowed me back into my lab to begin running tests, I might be able to find out what actually happened.”

A silence fell over the council chamber, and Viktor could feel a slight change in the air. Several council members shared glances and Salo’s grin intensified. Heimerdinger refused to meet Viktor’s gaze, filling him with a deep sense of dread.

“Regardless of who is or is not at fault, the fact remains that Jayce Talis is dead,” Mrs. Kirraman said, the first words she’d uttered since Viktor had entered. She looked up at him finally, blue eyes icy. “Someone must be held responsible for it.”

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, but Viktor almost didn't want to believe that such an outcome was possible. “You cannot be serious,” he said, barely choking the words out.

“Despite there being no evidence to support foul play,” Shoola said, glaring briefly at Salo, “it’s undeniable that the experiments in that laboratory have resulted in the death of a citizen of Piltover. The council cannot let this go without someone being held accountable.”

“As I said, magic has proven too dangerous to be tampered with further,” Bolbok said, settling back in his chair.

“You’re going to shut down Hextech,” Viktor concluded, giving voice to the inevitable. “You’re going to destroy our life’s work.”

“Recent events have shown that there is too much risk in continuing any Hextech projects,” Mel said, voice even. “As such, we have no choice but to shut down the laboratory and destroy all projects therein.”

Viktor could barely hear her over the blood rushing in his ears. “And the Hexgates?” he asked, because he had to know.

Mel had the decency to flinch, though it was only the barest twitch of an eyebrow. “The Hexgates are currently under investigation, but at this time, due to their importance to the city’s economy, they cannot be shut down.”

Hostel scoffed, the first noise he’d made the entire meeting. “Could you imagine?” he said, not looking up from his puzzle box. Viktor imagined stuffing it down the old blowhard’s throat.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Viktor couldn’t help a sardonic laugh from bubbling up in his throat. “This has nothing to do with Jayce,” he said. “This is about you . All of you.” He looked around the circular table at every member of the council. Only Heimerdinger couldn’t meet his gaze at all. “You’ve always wanted more control over the Hexgates, right from the start. Now that Jayce is gone, all you need to do is get rid of me.”

“You’re not being cut off entirely,” Shoola cut in, ignoring Salo’s scoff. “You will receive a generous pension from all Hexgate operations.”

“I’m a dying man,” Viktor snarled. “Any pension you pay would only have to be paid for a short time, letting the lot of you to cut it up amongst yourselves once I’m gone. Frankly, I’m not sure why you didn't just decide to drag your feet until I kicked off, it’s not as though—”

A horrible realization interrupted Viktor’s line of thought. He turned to Heimerdinger. “You,” he breathed. “You knew Jayce and I were working on ways to extend my life. You were worried that I’d succeed, and you’d have no choice but to keep dealing with me.”

Heimerdinger finally looked up, distress and anguish in his eyes. “No, that isn’t it boy. I’m sorry, I—”

“Be quiet ,” Viktor snapped, betrayal making his belly hot. He tried to straighten up as best he could, tried to make himself seem as much like the figure of righteous fury he felt he was. “I should have known you Pilties would pull something like this. Well congratulations , you have your capital interests secured and your Zaunite scapegoat all ready to be thrown to the wolves. I hope you all choke on your avarice.”

It was decidedly unwise to go off on the council in the middle of the council chamber, but Viktor was too furious to reign himself in. He wished he had the strength to storm out of the room, head held high, but he was still lightheaded from throwing up that morning, and even standing there was making him break out in a cold sweat. He should have accepted that chair.

The council chamber existed in silence for a moment, as though Viktor’s declaration had chased all of the air out of the room. These people were unused to being called out to their faces, so perhaps Viktor’s rant had actually stung like the slap it was meant to be. Regardless, most of them kept their faces stoic, though Salo’s grin had been replaced with a vicious sneer and Heimerdinger still looked devastated. Mel’s face remained impassive, but there was something in her eyes that made Viktor feel a twinge of regret for his words.

Only a twinge though.

“We regret any distress this causes,” Mel said, her voice as infuriatingly even as it always was, “but I’m afraid this decision is final. You will receive your pension in the mail.”

Viktor wanted to shout at her, wanted to fly into a rage and curse them all out. How dare they? How dare they ? His entire life’s work, the thing that was going to help the people of the Undercity, forever in the hands of those who only wanted to use it to line their own pockets. He wanted to drive his crutch right through their thick, greedy skulls. He’d be doing the world a favour. If Jayce was the one here, they wouldn’t even think of taking Hextech out of his hands.

But Jayce wasn’t here. He was… gone.

Pain was shooting up Viktor’s leg. He really should have taken that seat.

The fight bled out of Viktor like arterial spray, leaving him feeling dizzy and unsteady. Without another word, he turned and began hobbling out of the council chamber. Sheriff Marcus came to stand at his side, as though to escort him, but Viktor managed to summon up the last dredges of dignity and fury and struck out with his crutch, slamming the sturdy metal into his shin.

“ Piss off ,” he hissed in Old Zaunite, his native language. Though he likely didn’t understand the words, the intent was clear to Marcus, who staggered back with a sneer, grumbling insults under his breath.

Viktor made his way out of the building, down halls he had become entirely too familiar with in the years since he and Jayce had begun their partnership. He stepped out onto the street and paused , blinking in the afternoon light. It was still barely after midday—the meeting with the counsellors had taken less than an hour. Less than an hour was all it had taken to completely rip the floor out from under Viktor’s feet.

It occurred to Viktor that he still had the key to the lab. He could simply let himself in and take all of the unfinished Hextech projects—they were his by right, if no longer by law. The idea was so tempting that he even began to step in that direction, but even as he began walking, he knew it was impossible. Not only were some of the projects too large for a single person to move, but even if he squirrelled away the smaller projects, the enforcers would know immediately that it was him who took them.

Still, Viktor’s feet moved him in the familiar direction of the lab, muscle memory taking over. Viktor could have closed his eyes and still ended up at the lab. No one stopped him as he shuffled through the streets, into the building, up the elevator, through the halls, and suddenly he was at the door to the lab. There was no one guarding the hall or the entrance, and despite there being a sign nailed to the door declaring it an active investigation scene, when Viktor tried the door, it wasn’t even locked.

“ Idiots ,” Viktor hissed, once again in his native tongue. It felt cathartic to use it now, the familiar roll of the vowels and sharpness of the consonants settling his stomach like an antacid.

As Viktor stepped inside, he took stock of the absolute mess the enforcers had made of the space. Though the debris of the explosion had been cleaned up and the furniture had been righted and such, everything was completely out of place. Notes were haphazardly shuffled together in disorganized stacks, experiments that had no business being anywhere near each other were shoved unceremoniously together, and perhaps worst of all, the blackboard was so smeared and smudged it was completely illegible.

Swallowing back a hot rush of anger, Viktor walked through his and Jayce’s lab. There was an unnatural stiffness in the air, like the room had been taxidermied, stolen of its lived-inness and stitched back together wrong. Viktor almost couldn’t breathe, though there was nothing obstructing his lungs for the moment.

The room was oppressively still, almost hostile towards Viktor’s intrusion. As he walked further into the lab, he noticed here and there the signs that others had been here. A coffee mug that was neither his nor Jayce’s set out on a counter, some scribbled notes that didn’t match his or Jayce’s handwriting, some chairs set up in a way that neither he nor Jayce would ever think to arrange them. Enforcers, most likely, making use of the space as though they had any right to it. The thought made Viktor’s stomach boil.

A flicker of light in the corner of the room made Viktor jolt. When he spun to look, he came face to face with the Hexcore, pulsing and twitching in its usual place. Clearly, the enforcers had given it a wide berth, afraid to go near it. Viktor almost couldn’t blame them—the rune seemed to emanate malevolence, as though it could feel the intrusion into its territory.

Viktor thought back to that day, the way it had reached for him, or he’d reached for it? It all blurred together in his mind. All that was clear in his mind was the gut wrenching feeling of being caught, like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws, the teeth milimetres from breaking his skin, ripping him to shreds, and yet he still struggled because maybe there was still a chance. The raw animal panic had superseded almost everything else. Everything but the image of Jayce, burned into the backs of his eyes, caught in some kind of—Viktor didn't know what to describe it as—before it had flashed bright enough to blind the sun and then disappeared, taking Jayce with it.

Viktor still didn’t know what he’d seen, what he’d felt. Every time he tried to picture it, his stomach writhed where the energy had slammed into him, vicious and alive . Staring at the core now, his lower belly clenched and cramped unhappily, like he was getting a cramp.

For a half-second, Viktor thought about taking the Hexcore. Obviously whatever happened to Jayce was tied to it, so it would make sense to subject it to further study. He aborted the idea as soon as it formed—again, if he took anything of note, the enforcers would know exactly where to look (though, considering what their ‘investigation’ had heralded so far, maybe he was overestimating their abilities). Moreover, something in Viktor rejected the idea of interacting with the thing ever again. Just looking at it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The Hexcore flexed and quivered where it floated, runes turning and spinning lazily. Viktor remembered the way it had spun and flexed and twisted that day, energy flaring off of it in a way he’d never seen before. The scientist in Viktor demanded to study the phenomenon, to get to the bottom of what it had done to Jayce—perhaps even get Jayce back , improbable as that was. However, the human animal in Viktor was too tired, too aware of the futility of attempting. Everything in this lab was now the property of the council, and the last thing they were going to do was let Viktor back in to potentially mess with their bottom line.

For much longer than a half-second, Viktor pictured himself setting the whole lab ablaze. It was all getting destroyed anyway, why not get ahead of it? There were several combustive elements in the lab that would explode if they reached temperatures too high. People might get hurt.

Viktor gritted his teeth—explosions and fires were commonplace in certain districts of Zaun. Leaking gasses, industrial accidents, outdated wiring in poorly maintained buildings, people jerry-rigged heating devices in futile attempts to keep homes from freezing to death in cold months, all kinds of things could cause things to go up in flames. How many stories had Viktor heard of someone down in the mines being reduced to a charred corpse because of misplaced incendiary material? Piltover had a robust fire department, and any explosive material was carefully handled—in fact, the last time there had been any kind of major explosion in the city had probably been Jayce’s lab, the day he first met the man.

The materials in this lab, the one they had shared since that fateful meeting, would cause an even larger explosion than the one that had sent the city into such a tizzy back then. An explosion of that magnitude would compromise the structure of the entire building, while the shockwave would break every window in the area for at least a mile radius, not to mention what damage the ensuing fire would cause.

Let it , whispered the little part of Viktor’s brain that felt vindicated whenever he heard news of the Undercity getting one over on Piltover. Let these rich fucks get a taste of retribution for all the ways they’d fucked over everyone in the Undercity for years . It would serve them all right.

Viktor took a deep breath, the anger slowly leaching out of him. As angry as he was, he wasn’t a man of violence, he never had been. Furthermore, the people who actually deserved his ire wouldn’t be the ones affected.

Defeated, Viktor found the couch and sank down on it, dropping his face into his hands. It was all pointless, he realised. They had won— Piltover had won. He’d been warned, by his parents, by the few friends he’d had in the Undercity, that even if Viktor ‘made it’ in Piltover, topside would just squeeze him for all he was worth and then discard him when he was all used up. He was nothing to them, nothing but another vein of valuable minerals to be extracted for the profit of those at the top. He’d been a naive fool to think otherwise.

The sound of the door opening made Viktor jolt. He looked up only to notice that his vision had blurred with tears. He frantically wiped them away, cursing in his head.

“Viktor?” Sky’s voice called out from the other end of the lab. “What are you doing here?”

Viktor looked up again, vision cleared. “Ms. Young?” he asked, surprised for a moment before it clicked. Sky would have her own key, and if she heard the news, of course she’d come to the lab to collect anything that might be her own.

“I was just… I just came to think,” Viktor said, turning away from her. Maybe in the dim light, she wouldn’t notice the tears.

Footsteps echoed closer—Sky wore sensible shoes, but she liked the sound that hard heels made on the stone floors of Piltover’s buildings. After a hesitation, a weight settled on the couch next to Viktor, close enough that Viktor could feel the heat of her body across the scant inches between them.

“Same here,” she said softly. “It’s not fair.”

Viktor scoffed. “What did we expect? They’re as greedy as any chem-baron and as ruthless as Noxian generals, they just dress it up in politeness and politics,” he grumbled. “They would have found a way sooner or later.”

Sky let out a long sigh. “Jayce wouldn’t have let this happen.”

Viktor closed his eyes, bracing against the pain. “He would have done his best,” he said. “Maybe that would have been enough.”

The weight of silence was the only answer to that. Sky turned to him, eyes filled with worry. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

Viktor let out a long sigh. “What can I do? If I fight through legal means, the council only needs to drag the case on until my health deteriorates far enough. If I try and take anything here,” he waved a hand at the scattered corpse of his life’s work surrounding them, “they will only use it as confirmation of their biases.”

Sky pressed her lips together, eyes beginning to shine. “It’s not fair ,” she reiterated. “We worked so hard .”

Viktor closed his eyes, almost following her into tears. Instead, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into an awkward hug. He was not a touchy person, that was Jayce’s wheelhouse, but he’d known Sky for so long, he could make an exception this once he supposed. She leaned into his side, letting her tears fall silently. Viktor said nothing—he wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

Eventually Sky managed to compose herself. “They offered me a job you know,” she said. “They wanted me to take over managing the Hexgates.”

Viktor hummed. “They probably offered you quite the salary for it too. It’s a good offer.”

“I already told them where to shove it,” Sky huffed.

A laugh jumped out of Viktor’s throat. “I had no doubt you would,” he said. “What will you do instead?”

Sky let out a long breath. “I’m not sure yet, but… listen, don’t worry about me,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

Viktor said nothing—he had nothing to say. What was he going to do? He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t lock himself up in the lab and refuse to come out, he’d just be forced out. The thought of going back to his cold apartment made him shudder in disgust. What would he do there, crawl into bed and wait to die?

No matter what direction he tried to turn, Viktor was cut off. There was nothing for him anywhere. He had nothing, he was nothing. Everything he’d ever set out to be was now lying bleeding at his feet. He could feel its weight like an albatross around his neck, wire digging into his flesh like an accusation. All that work, and what was he at the end?

Just another poor cripple from the Undercity without a patron or name.

“I’ll find something,” he told Sky, forcing a tired smile. “You focus on yourself anyway. I’m sure Heimerdinger will write you a glowing letter of recommendation if you ask.”

“I don’t want anything from him,” Sky huffed. “Not after this.”

“People like us can’t afford to think that way,” Viktor told her flatly. “We must claw our way to the top, even when it gets shit under our nails.”

Sky grimaced, but he could see the stubborn resolve behind her eyes crumbling. “I’ll think about it,” she muttered.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, Viktor having nothing to say and Sky not knowing what to say next. “The enforcers will be here soon,” Viktor finally said, giving her an out.

“Do you want to try and sneak anything? They might not search me,” Sky offered.

Viktor shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t make a difference,” he said. He glanced down at the couch they were sitting on, the very same one he and Jayce had defiled that day. The blanket Jayce had wrapped him in was draped over the back of it. He reached out and tangled his fingers in the soft fibers. “Maybe something… personal.”

Sky looked like she had a million things to say, but thankfully she kept them to herself. “Right,” she said. She glanced around the lab. “Want to borrow my shoulder bag?”

Viktor hauled himself off of the couch painfully, tugging the blanket along with him. He folded it carefully and draped it over his arm. “I should be fine,” he said. “Thank you though, Ms. Young.”

Sky smiled as though she was about to cry again. “Of course,” she said. She stood and carefully fixed her appearance before standing straight, the picture of professional cordiality. “It’s been an absolute pleasure working with you, Viktor.”

Viktor offered her a smile. “With you as well, Ms. Young,” he replied.

With that, they left the lab—Sky still had business in the building, but there was nothing left for Viktor. The blanket still draped over his arm, he slowly made his way down to the main floor. No one stopped him, no one noticed him. Viktor stepped out into the golden afternoon, not knowing where he was headed next.

Chapter Text

Viktor walked for what felt like hours. The sun began to cast long shadows on the ground. All around him he could hear the faintest whispers—perhaps people recognized him from the many newsprints that were in circulation, or perhaps he was simply so disheveled that it offended them. Viktor couldn't really bring himself to care.

His leg and spine were screaming in pain, hot and molten as sharp as a knife with every step, but VIktor didn't stop. He couldn’t. If he stopped, if he rested, he’d have to think about something other than the pain. He’d have to think about the lab, about the Hexcore, about Jayce . He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t face that. Not yet.

Viktor wandered blindly through the city, clinging to his cane, the blanket draped over his arm. The sun sunk lower and lower, and the air began to cool. By the time Viktor realised he was starting to get cold, he’d found a familiar place.

Machinery slowly chugged along behind him as Viktor stared out from the little cubby tucked away sixty feet up from the little pool below him. The water was as clear as it ever had been—which was to say it was somewhat murky, but was still probably the cleanest water easily available to the Undercity. Even in the dark, Viktor could see the little stretch of beach where he used to play with his little boat. If he squinted, he could see a few figures moving around there, a small fire being lit and blankets getting spread out—teenagers getting drunk and high probably.

A cool wind picked up, tugging on the ends of Viktor’s hair, making him shiver. Now that he’d stopped, he could feel the full extent of the damage done to his leg and back. There was no way he’d make it back into the city in this state, not without passing out. With his newfound status as Piltover’s greatest pariah, he didn’t think he wanted to risk putting himself at the mercy of strangers. With a groan, Viktor carefully lowered himself to sit at the edge of the drop, unfolding the blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders to keep warm.

For a few minutes, Viktor tried to concentrate on his leg and back, on the damage, on the pain. He almost wished he’d kept walking, kept making it worse until he collapsed so he wasn’t able to think. Instead, he could feel his brain beginning to come back from where it had been hiding. The crying of the wounded animal that was his body could only drown it out for so long.

Hextech was no longer his. Jayce was gone. He was dying. Jayce was gone. He needed Hextech to figure out how to cure himself. Jayce was gone. If he tried to go against the council, he’d either be thrown in prison or bogged down in bureaucratic nonsense until he died of his illness. Jayce was gone. He had no one to turn to. Jayce was gone. All of this happened because Jayce was gone .

Viktor let out an anguished cry into the night sky. The teenagers below stopped their chatter for a moment, looking around for the source of the noise. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been holding out hope that he could fix it. If he just had access to his lab, he could find out what happened to Jayce, and if he could figure out what happened, he could figure out how to reverse it. He could bring Jayce back . He only needed the time.

But what time did he have? Even if he did get his lab back by some miracle, how long would it take to find out what that strange phenomena was? How much longer to figure out how to reverse its effects? If it was even possible to reverse the damage done?

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling his lungs rattle and pop. How much longer did he have? Months? Weeks perhaps? Less than a year certainly. It had taken himself and Jayce nearly four years to get the Hexgates running perfectly, with setbacks sending them back months at a time. That had been with the both of them working nearly nonstop.

What hope did Viktor have, all on his own, time slipping from between his fingers like water droplets?

With a sob, Viktor curled into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. Hot tears burned his cheeks, his leg throbbed in pain, and the only thing he could think to want at this time was Jayce . His big, strong arms wrapping around him and holding him against that furnace of a broad chest. How long had Viktor spent yearning , convinced Jayce would never look at him the way he’d imagined in only his most indulgent dreams?

The memory of Jayce’s heated skin against his made Viktor shudder for a different reason. That simmering desire and intimate vulnerability culminating in an event that should have moved the cosmos, but in reality had been but a brief moment. Such a bestial act for the way it had changed a fundamental truth of the universe. Or, it would have been, had Jayce not..

Viktor whined and sniffled, his hands coming up to grip at his hair. Two months of truncated despair were crashing around him, cutting into him like shards of broken glass. What did he have left? Who did he have left?

Below him on the beach, the teenagers started talking again, clearly having given up trying to find the source of the cry from earlier. A joyful laugh floated up, carried by the wind.

Viktor cried himself into unconsciousness. He woke the way he’d woken up for the last month—to the feeling of his stomach attempting to wrench itself inside out. Viktor scrambled up just in time to lean over the edge of the alcove and dry heave into the sixty foot drop. There was nothing in him to come up other than stringy bile that tasted foul on his tongue, but his stomach insisted on attempting anyway.

When his guts gave up trying to expel themselves out through his oesophagus, Viktor spat one last time before settling back against the cold metal of the alcove and curling up into a ball. The blanket had slipped down his shoulders slightly, but it was only a matter of adjusting it so it covered his entire form.

The faint smell of Jayce tickled against his nose, eliciting a startled whimper from Viktor’s throat before he could quash it. The distinctive mixture of his preferred aftershave—pricey but only for the quality, rather than the prestige—smoke and sweat from the forge, rosewater—sprayed into his laundry just the way Ximena taught him—and the faintest hint of hair products he always denied using. It was such a specific combination but so undeniably Jayce that it made Viktor’s eyes water. The last time he’d smelled this had been…

Panting under Jayce’s bulk, clutching at those tanned muscles, riding waves of pleasure he hadn’t even thought were possible.

Viktor buried his nose into the blanket and inhaled deeply, past the point of shame. There was no one here to see him anyway. No one would come for him here. He was alone and adrift.

A stray sob escaped out of Viktor’s raw throat, but he was too exhausted for more tears at this point. Lifting his head, Viktor looked out over the little oasis at the edge of the Undercity. The teenagers had left at some point last night, leaving only a blackened circle where their fire had been. They’d likely not left any trash behind, taking it along for scrap—nothing went to waste in the Undercity. The sun was peeking out over the horizon, and around him the city was beginning to groggily prepare for the day to come.

By this time, Viktor would usually already be at the lab, reaching the doors just as the sun was coming up. He enjoyed the silence at that time of day, just before the rest of the world woke up. The Undercity never seemed to sleep, or if it did, it did not rest easy. Piltover, though it had an active nightlife, seemed to sequester itself from the night, and as a result the streets tended to be quiet. In the early morning, it almost felt as though the whole world was silent and empty, and Viktor was the only person to witness it.

He didn’t have the lab anymore. Everything in it was probably gone by now. He had nowhere he needed to be.

Viktor stared listlessly down into the water, trying to think of something he could do that wasn’t just him going through the motions. By the time he gave up on it, the sun had fully risen over the horizon—not that it reached this spot. Even though it was one of the few spots that actually received natural sunlight regularly, it was still the Undercity.

The water below churned slightly, disturbed by some unseen force. Viktor watched it swirl and thought about boats. Well, his boat, the one he’d built and sailed on these waters so many years ago. He’d had to make it several times over, as his early prototypes had a tendency to sink or fall apart. He remembered being upset at first, running to his mother as fast as his twisted leg could carry him and burying his face into her skirts. He remembered her thin, trembling fingers in his hair as she cooed and soothed him.

“Well now you know better for the next time,” she’d told him after he’d cried out all his tears.

Viktor had looked up at her, toweringly tall to his diminutive, childlike perspective but still so thin and frail. He’d understood at once, his scientist brain already encouraged by his chemist father and her own work as a druggist. He’d gone right back to building, improving with every failed design, until he’d made something that worked .

He’d been so proud of it, that little wind-up boat. His father had laughed in delight and danced him around the room, declaring him the greatest toymaker in the Undercity while his mother laughed from her plush sofa in the corner. Viktor rejected the title, prideful and ambitious even at that age, and told them he would be the greatest inventor in all the world. His parents had laughed even harder, but had started saving from that day forward to try and get the tuition for the academy, knowing it was nothing less than their brilliant son deserved.

In the end, through all their scrimping and saving, they’d only managed to be able to afford the uniform. His mother had not lived long enough to see him off topside, and his father had died shortly before Heimerdinger discovered him, an accident in the mines where he mixed his explosive concoctions collapsing a tunnel on him. Viktor had received a mangled body in a cheap wood box and a life insurance cheque.

Viktor was well and truly alone in the world.

He thought of his little sunken boats—a tiny graveyard of his failures at the bottom of this beautiful place.

Viktor leaned his weight forward, staring down into the drop once more.

It was a nice spot to die.

As Viktor began to tilt himself further over the edge, his eyes closing and letting out a long breath like  sigh, something seemed to take hold of him. His muscles froze and locked in place before they convulsed, jerking him back away from the edge. A horrible feeling of nausea, thousands of times worse than what he experienced just minutes before, rose from deep in his very soul. The twisting agony choked out the air in his lungs, so all he could do was gurgle and moan from the pain. He crawled back from the edge of the drop, his arms and legs spasming and jerking painfully as though they were trying to move of their own free will. Viktor gritted his teeth and braced himself against the pain, praying for it to stop or at least kill him quickly.

Eventually the pain left him as suddenly as it had come, leaving Viktor gasping on the ground, several feet from the edge of the alcove. Taking a few minutes to gather himself, Viktor slowly sat up, shaking from the aftershocks. He gripped the blanket that he’d unintentionally dragged along with him in his thrashing and pulled it up onto his lap mechanically, just to give his hands something to do while he tried to figure out what that just was.

That was not me , Viktor thought, staring blankly forward. Whatever he’d just experienced, he was almost ninety-eight percent sure that he’d not moved of his own volition. Something had taken control of his body and forced it away from the edge.

That’s insane , Viktor thought to himself. Clearly he was hallucinating—yes, that made sense. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday and he’d spent the night out of doors, all after receiving a devastating psychological blow. He was not in his right mind—nearly throwing himself off of a sixty foot drop was evidence enough of that.

Except it had felt so real. He could still feel his muscles twitching in the aftershocks of the involuntary movements. In that moment he’d been resolved to the fall, and even if there was a part of him that did want to live, there were better ways to go about it than nearly twisting himself in half.

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He realised then that his other hand had unconsciously come to rest on his lower belly, an action that tickled something at the back of his mind. He shook off the feeling and struggled to his feet, having to hobble over to his crutch to retrieve it from where he’d left it the night previous. Taking one last look out over the little oasis where he’d played as a child, he turned and began limping away.

About an hour later, Viktor sat on a park bench in one of the ‘poorer’ neighbourhoods of Piltover, scarfing down a sandwich bought from a street cart. He stared blankly out over the little park, which consisted of a couple slides of varying sizes, a swingset, a set of teeter-totters, and a slightly run-down jungle gym. In the back of his mind he thought of the Undercity, and how places like these were so broken down and scattered that they barely existed. The Undercity didn’t have the resources to make spaces like this, and far be it for topside to condescend to extend their charity to the greasy sumprat urchins, lest they stain their nice clothes.

Viktor shook away the thought, focussing on the task at hand. So, there was something that wanted Viktor alive, or at the very least didn't want him dead right this minute, and it had the power to take over his body and move him without his consent. While that sounded insane, Viktor supposed it was no less insane than shunting an entire airship from one side of the globe to the other in an instant.

That brought up an interesting avenue of thought, Viktor realised, crumpling and uncrumpling the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in. Given the evidence, Viktor would hazard a guess that, whatever this force was, it was connected to the arcane in some fashion. It made the most sense—he’d been tinkering with the arcane for years now, who was to say that he wasn’t connected to it somehow? Perhaps through exposure? Or perhaps… that incident the night he’d collapsed. That strange vision he’d had. What if that was it?

Once again, the night two months ago flitted across Viktor’s brain. Before Jayce had been taken, the Hexcore had reacted to him, called to him. He remembered his hand moving on its own, towards the pulsing core, and being stuck there, unable to break away. Was the Hexcore to blame for this?

Viktor buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths and tried to think. The Hexcore was the most likely candidate he had so far at least— he’d been the one to propose that the arcane could learn, could think and react in ways that they’d never considered. His theory on wild runes was new, but it had seemed both plausible and enticing. Perhaps the Hexcore was now connected to him after the two incidents in the lab. Perhaps… it wanted him for something.

And it was going to be destroyed today.

Viktor wanted to scream. He should have taken the damn thing when he had the chance. He should have grabbed it and gotten out of the city, or disappeared into the deepest bowels of the Undercity, never to be found again. Piltover would have gone into a panic, but what did he care for it? There was something bigger he needed to uncover.

The murmuring of voices floated over to where Viktor was sitting, causing him to look up. A mother and her child had turned up at the park, unbothered by the early hour. The mother set her child loose on the playground equipment and went to sit down on a bench, her prominently round belly settling heavily in her lap.

Viktor watched from afar, glancing at the child running around the little park, screaming in that way children did when they just wanted to make noise, but more often having his gaze drift over to the mother. She seemed content to simply soak up the early morning sun and watch her elder child run around, her youngest still tucked away safely within her body. She rested one hand on top of her belly, gently stroking and drumming her fingers against it. Perhaps the little one inside her was not as settled as it appeared and she was attempting to soothe it, perhaps out of maternal protectiveness, or perhaps in an attempt to save her internal organs from whatever abuse they might suffer from a cranky invader.

Once again, Viktor found himself having unconsciously brought his own hand to his own belly, as though mirroring the woman’s movements. That little tickle in the back of his mind became a full blown itch, like a bug had crawled into his brian matter and was skittering around on its little bug legs. He furrowed his brow and tapped a finger against his stomach, trying to cast away the itch and scratch it at the same time. There was something there, but he just couldn't quite grasp it.

As though suddenly brushing against the wire he’d been searching for and getting a jolt because he hadn’t realised it was live (not that he’d ever done that in the lab… more than thrice), the memory of the accident in the lab came rushing back. More accurately, the energy that had slammed into his lower belly, alighting his whole body with pure overwhelming sensation. And just minutes before, Jayce’s body above him, surrounding him, filling him.

Could it be that he was…

Viktor jumped to his feet and grabbed his crutch, quickly hobbling away from the mother and her child. It was only when he rounded the corner that he realised that what he was doing should have been impossible. The memories of yesterday were foggy and immaterial, but he distinctly remembered the pain he’d been in by the time he’d finally made it to the alcove. It had been the kind that should have laid him up for days , swimming in a pain-killer induced fog. Yet somehow, he was walking around just fine this morning, not even a twinge of the agony from the night before.

Shutting his eyes, Viktor surged forward and away from the park. Too many things. There were too many things to think about right now. He had to compartmentalize or he was going to go mad. He walked through the streets, trying hard not to think about what was happening to him, happening to his body. It was useless however, as now that the floodgates had been opened, he couldn’t stop the rushing thoughts.

He’d been throwing up every morning for weeks, sometimes in the afternoon as well. He’d written it off as stress, but if he was, he’d be far enough along to start feeling symptoms without necessarily knowing yet. He’d been unusually hungry lately, despite the nausea, he realised for the first time. He was so used to ignoring his body’s need for food until it was almost screaming at him, but lately even the slightest of hunger pangs were intolerable to him. He’d thought it was simply the product of an idle mind, having nothing else to do while he waited for the investigation to hurry the fuck up , but that explanation seemed foolish now.

Furthermore, he’d been ignoring it, but now it was staring him in the face, refusing to go unacknowledged any longer, but his body had stopped wasting away. Viktor could still feel the blight eating away at his lungs and organs, but it was no worse than it had been two months ago. While he realised his time wasn’t that limited, he’d still been tracking the disease’s progress, and he should have at least had more trouble breathing than he did currently. That and his apparent new ability to heal overnight, pointed in some very strange directions.

Viktor stopped to grind the heels of his hands into his eyes. Forget going mad, he was going to explode . He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before one of the well meaning early morning citizens stopped to ask if he was alright. He tried to walk calmly, heading back towards his apartment, mind still turning fast enough to be used as a centrifuge.

As he neared his home, he passed the apothecary he always stopped at to refill his medications. He stopped, staring into the window. Technically speaking, he hadn’t actually confirmed anything, only come to the realization that it might be there. Certainly his symptoms all lined up fairly neatly, but there were perhaps a thousand other things that might be the cause. That he’d readily accepted the impossible was only a testament to how frazzled he was.

Because it was impossible, Viktor thought as he stepped into the shop, keeping his head down. Years ago, before he’d even made it topside, he’d been told he’d never be able to conceive. His body simply wasn’t strong enough for it.

It hadn’t never bothered Viktor, of course. He’d never really given much thought to children, his own or otherwise. He’d always known his clock ran shorter than most, and he’d decided to turn his attention to his career instead. It had been the logical choice, he’d told himself. What sort of horrible parent would he be to bring a child into this world, only to be forced to abandon it when he inevitably died while they were still too young to lose their parent? That would be cruel of him.

He purposefully did not think of his mother when he came to this conclusion, burying his emotions deep down inside where they couldn’t tarnish his memories of her.

Viktor quickly bought the tests he needed—more than one, to eliminate false positives—and hurried out of the store. He could feel the eyes beginning to follow him, recognising him from the pages of the newspapers, even though the newscycle had started to move on to other disasters. He made it to his apartment and locked the door behind him, the bag on his arm swinging so violently from his rushing that it banged against the door.

The apartment was the same as he’d left it when he’d been called away by the sheriff, papers still scattered everywhere. Viktor ignored the mess and headed directly to the bathroom—he didn’t want to put this off.

An hour later, Viktor stared down at five different positive pregnancy tests, hands curled in his hair.

He was pregnant.

With Jayce’s baby.

Viktor pulled his hands down to cover his eyes, feeling the stinging wetness gathering there and the constricting in his throat. Of course, of course this would happen. The universe had never been content to just make him miserable, it had to make him suffer . He had to be ground into the dirt, only given enough room to look up and see all that was out of his reach, before the boot came down again and buried him further into the mud.

A wave of nausea rose in Viktor’s belly, creeping up his throat. He swallowed compulsively and brought one hand down to rub against his roiling stomach. When the wave passed, his hand drifted lower, to where a tiny little life was just barely there.

Viktor took a shaky breath. He had to get rid of it. There was no other choice. It would never survive anyway, and even if it did, it would kill him in the process. Even if it didn’t kill him, he’d die anyway from his illness, taking it with him to the grave. There was no way keeping it was possible.

Not that this should have been possible at all . It almost made Viktor want to laugh—yet another insane, impossible thing happening to him on top of all the other insane impossible things. He was really starting to rack them up.

Viktor thought of the second incident, the one that had taken Jayce away. The Hexcore had started with his hand, moving him against his will, but near the end, the energy had surged into his abdomen, specifically his lower belly. Had… had that been the catalyst? Had the Hexcore gotten him pregnant?

The absolute absurdity of that sentence sent Viktor into a fit of involuntary laughter. Pregnant by magic . Of all the things to happen to him, of all the possible realities he could have lived in, it had to be this .

Viktor’s hand still caressed his lower belly, just under his navel. There was nothing to feel, not this early, but now he knew , and there was no unknowing. A small cluster of cells was dividing and growing and beginning , a spark that would ignite into a flame.

If he let it.

Again, Viktor realised that he needed to terminate as soon as possible. He couldn’t keep it. It would die, or it would kill him and then die. Even if, by some cosmic miracle, it did live, Viktor wouldn’t be around to watch it grow.

An unexpected and unbidden tide of emotion crashed over Viktor, stinging his eyes. He didn’t want children. Or, perhaps more accurately, he’d never let himself want children. It was a door that was shut to him, and so wanting it was nothing but an exercise in self-flagellation. Even with it dangling in front of him now, he could not allow himself to want it. Even if…

Even if, buried deep down in the depths of his heart, he still felt the sting of disappointment knowing he’d never have children.

Even if, in the privacy of his own mind, he kept the smallest fantasy alive, that one day, by some cosmic miracle, he could have a child.

Even if this was the last piece of Jayce he’d ever have.

A sob tore itself out of Viktor’s throat, raw and scraping like barbed wire. Jayce would want this child. Jayce liked kids, and moreover he loved his family. He visited his mother regularly, and barely went a month without speaking to Cait. He spoke fondly of his father, a man he had only the vaguest recollection of. Whenever some distant Talis cousin came by, he’d go out of his way to try and connect with them. Even if their tryst in the lab was only that, a one-off fluke brought on by a volatile emotional cocktail, he’d want this child. He’d take care of Viktor and he’d love this child. That was just the kind of man he was.

Tears burned Viktor’s already overtaxed eyes. Suddenly everything was simply too much. He struggled to his feet and shuffled out of the bathroom, heading straight for his bed. He couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with this. He wanted the whole world to go away and leave him alone.

Crawling into bed and pulling the covers over his head, Viktor quietly sobbed himself to sleep, one hand still clutched protectively over his belly.

So, here’s what Viktor knew at this point.

One; he was pregnant with Jayce’s baby and it was the Hexcore’s fault somehow.

Two; something, probably the Hexcore but it wasn’t for certain, wanted him alive. Whatever the force was, it had the ability to heal his aches and pains, possibly heal his illness, and take over his body if he put it in danger.

Three; the Hexcore was most likely destroyed by this point and even if it wasn’t, there was no way for Viktor to access it for any kind of study or testing.

In short, he was fucked.

Viktor sighed and ran a hand through his hair for the fiftieth time since he’d woken up two hours ago, feeling like he’d been on the worst kind of bender. After a shower, more food, and a fresh pair of clothes, he’d sat down to work out what he was going to do.

So far he’d come up with nothing.

Viktor was a scientist, he was used to failure, it was all part of the process of success. However, he usually worked on the assumption that success was attainable, if only he worked at it hard enough. Now, he couldn’t even begin to consider what a ‘successful’ outcome of this scenario would look like. There were too many unknown variables, and he had too few options open to him, now that he was out of favour with the council.

Not that Viktor hadn’t considered going to them. Not the council proper of course, but perhaps Heimerdinger, or Mel, or even Mrs. Kirammen. They’d all have reasons for helping him, whether out of affection for a former student or as an investment for the future.

Yet the moment Viktor thought of having to actually speak to them, crawl on his belly to any of them after what they’d done, the memory of their betrayal reared its head and left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He couldn’t trust them. Their help was always conditional, and he was sick of playing their stupid mind games and dancing to their tunes.

Besides, he thought, resting a hand on his stomach, they didn’t deserve to be a part of this.

Viktor immediately took his hand away, chastising himself for the thought. He still hadn’t decided—he still didn’t know if this was something that was possible at this point. It was technically still impossible , but he’d moved past that by this point. The impossible was now possible and very much so real, and now he had to deal with it.

The impossible is now possible , Viktor though, the words nibbling at the edges of his somewhat frayed psyche. If that were true, and so far it seemed to be, then… perhaps there was a chance that this impossible thing could keep being impossible and even make it to the end?

Viktor took a deep breath, turning the concept over in his mind. Whatever this force was, it seemed invested in keeping him alive. If it was, didn’t it follow that it would keep things in his body alive? That certainly seemed easier than having to physically move him around if he tried to toss himself off another ledge.

The beginnings of a plan began to form in Vitkor’s mind. His heart started to trip along in his chest, and for the first time in the last, two days? Three days? Whatever. He felt hopeful. He felt like he finally had a direction to point himself in. Maybe it wasn’t what he’d expected, but it was something .

Mind spinning along, Viktor stood and headed for the kitchen. Tea, he needed something to drink while he laid out his next steps. He quickly prepared a mug and set the kettle to boil. When the tea was finally steeping, he reached into the cabinet for the sugar. As he picked it up, he spied the top of an old box of rat poison tablets shoved into the back of the cabinet, gathering dust where it hadn’t been touched since Viktor moved in.

Viktor was a scientist. Conclusions were not made on only one point of data.

Keeping his intent clear in his head, Viktor reached for the box and pulled it out. The tablets were expired, but he couldn’t remember if that made them more or less dangerous to consume. It didn’t matter, he thought, if this didn’t work, he was already a dying man, and he would have taken this child into the grave with him no matter what he did.

Viktor shook out a tablet and moved to toss it back like he did for all his other medication.

Before his hand could make contact with his mouth, his entire arm convulsed painfully, wrenching his hand away and flinging the tablet across the kitchen to disappear with a quiet skittering under the stove.

Viktor stared after it, panting harshly through the pain and rubbing his shoulder. Well then, that answered that at least.

“If you keep this alive,” Viktor said aloud to the empty air, his other hand coming down to once again rest on his belly, “then I’ll do whatever it is you want.”

If there was an answer, it was not one that Viktor had the capacity to hear or understand. His fingers clenched, pressing into his still flat belly. The timer for his tea rang out.

Jayce groaned, head throbbing. For a solid minute he simply existed, floating in a soup of awareness, knowing he felt like shit but not perceiving much else. Eventually, hard stone materialized against his back, his sense of gravity returning to tell him that he was lying down on it. His lungs screamed, and he realised he was holding his breath. Jayce gulped down dusty, putrid air and coughed, nearly blacking out from the pain the spasms sent through his body. Gods, it was like even the tips of his hair were alight with agony.

After some time, Jayce managed to push through the pain and prop himself up on his elbows, taking a look at his surroundings for the first time. There wasn’t much to see—in every direction was a thick, gery-green fog, obscuring strange, alien structures around him. The ground was nothing but hard stone, no plant life to be seen, though moisture dripped down from above.

Hauling himself to his feet with much effort, Jayce tried to piece together what had happened and what he was doing there. He’d been in the lab with Viktor, they’d just finished putting their clothes back on after, ah, being intimate with each other, then…

Bile bubbled up in his throat, and Jayce nearly toppled over again as he vomited up everything in his stomach, which wasn’t much. He wiped his mouth and took a few deep breaths, regathering his thoughts. He remembered Viktor, the lab, and a white flash that hurt like nothing he’d ever felt, but everything around that was blurry and hazy, like a projector lens had been knocked out of place. Or maybe his brain had been knocked out of place—that flash certainly felt like it had hit him hard enough.

As Jayce wracked his brain, a fragment of memory bubbled up, a snapshot of a sliver of time. Viktor’s face, watching him in horror and terror, mouth beginning to form the first letter of his name. Then, nothing, just the flash.

He had to get back to Viktor.

A distant crash sounded, almost sounding like thunder, but somehow more metallic. Jayce looked around trying to see through the fog. “Hello?” he called cautiously. “Is anyone out there?”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of those strange, unnatural thunderous noises. Then there came the sound of footsteps on the rocky ground.

Jayce wheeled around, heart hammering in his chest. “Who’s there?’ he called, wishing distantly that he had some kind of weapon with him.

The footsteps got louder, closer. Jayce squinted through the fog, trying to see who, or what, was coming towards him. Before his imagination could get carried away conjuring monsters, an unexpectedly familiar form slowly emerged from the fog, stopping several feet away so Jayce could only get a vague look. It didn’t matter though, Jayce would know that figure anywhere—after all, it had haunted his dreams since he was a child, since that day he and his mother had nearly frozen to death on the side of a mountain.

“ You ,” Jayce breathed, dumbstruck. It was him, the mage . He was sure of it. Somehow it made perfect sense even though it made no sense at all.

The mage said nothing—only silently stared at Jayce. There was nothing in his posture that said he was surprised at all to see Jayce here, in this bizarre, alien landscape.

“Did you bring me here?” Jayce asked. It made as much sense as anything else—the mage had waved his staff and suddenly he and his mother had disappeared from the mountaintop and reappeared in that beautiful meadow. Conceptually, bringing him to this strange place from his lab wasn’t far removed from that.

Again, the mage stayed completely silent. Jayce shivered—it was drizzling a light rain, and everything around him felt damp and cold. Even the air had a wet chill in it, stinging his lungs with every breath.

“Where are we?” Jayce asked, trying once again.

For a moment, the mage continued to stare silently at Jayce, as though he was the one waiting for Jayce to do something. Then, with a strange tilt of his head, he turned and began walking back the way he came, quickly disappearing into the fog.

“Wait!” Jayce shouted, nearly tripping over his feet as he broke into a run. The foolishness of what he was doing wasn’t lost on him—running breakneck through a fog he could barely see through after someone whose intentions he had no way of discerning.

It was probably better than standing around looking confused at least.

Jayce’s feet slammed into the hard ground, propelling him forward in the direction he’d seen the mage disappear. Just as he began to consider stopping for a breath, another figure became visible through the mist. Jayce put on a burst of speed, mind racing so fast he didn’t know what he was going to ask first.

His mind came to a complete stop when the figure fully materialized—rather than the mage, it was some kind of statue. An incredibly macabre statue at that, it’s humanoid body composed of some kind of—metal? stone? Jayce couldn’t even begin to guess the material. Whatever it was, it was sharp and brittle, a skeleton in the shape of a human body. The figure was reaching out, whole body lunging forward at Jayce.

As Jayce was inspecting the horrifying visage of truncated decay that was the face of the statue, the mist behind the figure cleared for a moment. He almost paid it no mind, too absorbed by the statue, but the sight was too familiar for his brain to ignore. Chest seizing, Jayce stepped around the figure to gaze down in horror into the landscape that stretched before him.

“ No ,” Jayce breathed, falling to his knees at the sight, the statue behind him recontextualizing into something sickeningly more gruesome. “It can’t be.”

Below him stretched a scene from a grotesque nightmare. Familiar landmarks that Jayce had spent almost his entire life around were now nothing more than corrupted amalgamations laying palimpsest over the memories he carried. Sharp spikes of what was maybe metal or stone or something worse jutted out of every surface, all following a similar direction, evocative of blast residue from some kind of explosion. At the epicenter was something that made Jayce’s stomach turn hard enough that he thought he might throw up again.

What was once the Hexgates rose out of the same green-ish grey fog that choked the entire landscape. It punched through the heavy clouds, bathing the structure in the only direct light that Jayce could see. The whole structure was covered—or now made of—the same spiky corruption that had taken the entire rest of the city. Whatever had happened here, in what so clearly used to be Piltover , had obviously come from the Hexgates. Come from Hextech .

Scrambling to his feet, heart still thundering in his ears, Jayce was once again seized by the thought—

He had to find Viktor.

Chapter Text

It took the rest of the day for Viktor to come up with a complete plan, then several days for him to execute it. There came a few knocks at his door once or twice, but he completely ignored them. There was no one in the Uppercity that he had any interest in speaking to. Ever again if he could help it.

Selling his apartment and all of the furniture in it was an unsurprisingly quick affair. Piltover, for all its many faults, was always eager to do business. All of Viktor’s notes and books collected over his time in the city were transported away into a secure storage location, to be moved later when he’d found a permanent residence. His mail was all set up to be delivered to a PO box near the bridge. Easy to get to without being out of Piltover’s city limits—so there was no way for the council to claim they couldn’t mail his pension cheques due to him being ‘unreachable’.

Once all of this was taken care of, Viktor packed up what few possessions he wanted to keep on his person, a couple changes of clothes, and headed out for the bridge.

In the years since his leaving for topside, the Undercity had gone through many changes. For a while it seemed like things would reach a boiling point and possibly even upend the scales completely. But then they’d gone back to being quiet, as though the Undercity was too exhausted to keep up the fight. Several years ago however, it seemed things had started to shake up again. Viktor didn’t know the whole of it, he’d been too far away and admittedly didn’t keep an ear to the ground, but he knew that at the center of things were the two most prominent figures in recent Zaun history, Vander and Silco.

Viktor didn’t know the men personally, but he knew of them of course. Few Zaunites could claim not to know about them. They’d been at the epicenter of change in the Undercity since Viktor was a child--first through bucking against the chokehold the Uppercity kept them in, until they’d seemed to go out in a blaze of glory during an attack on the bridge that nearly shoved Piltover out of Zaun’s business entirely. They only resurfaced some years later, back at the centre of things (or Silco had, at least. He’d never heard of Vander going underground, but Viktor wasn’t sure on the details).

All of that wouldn’t have been enough for Viktor to go to them for any kind of help--again, he didn’t know them at all. If it weren’t for one little detail, Viktor wouldn’t have even have considered them an option.

That detail being that they owed Jayce a favour.

Back when Jayce’s apartment had been blown to pieces by his unfinished and unstable experiments, Piltover had lost its mind trying to find the culprits. A pack of Undercity kids had been spotted leaving the scene, so of course they needed to be rounded up and reminded of their place. When a young girl had come forward, claiming full responsibility, Jayce had taken a single look at her, the same age as Caitlyn at the time, and refused to prosecute her for the breakin. When the city still wanted to move forward with charges for the explosion, he’d pulled a favour and gotten her the best lawyer he could get. Instead of being locked away in Stillwater for ten to twenty years, the girl had gotten an astoundingly light sentence of six months in a juvenile center and two years probation. The girl’s adoptive father had turned out to be Vander, and he’d been astounded and confused by Jayce’s generosity despite the fact the girl had literally robbed him.

“She helped me really,” Jayce had told him. “If it wasn’t for her, I might never have figured out Hextech. I feel like I owe her that at least.”

So, Jayce had the good graces of Vander.

It had been seven years, and Jayce hadn’t really kept up with things in the Undercity, but Viktor hoped it would be enough. He was keeping his expectations low, but really all he needed to do was find a place to disappear to in Zaun. With the pension he was getting, he wouldn’t have to worry about funds, and the strange magic presence that was protecting him would hopefully last throughout the entire pregnancy. If he could make it through the next seven and a half months, he would be fine.

He had to be fine.

Navigating through Zaun was not the same as strolling through Piltover. The streets were narrower and more crowded, almost choked with people and carts and goods and people pulling carts of goods. Trash and debris collected in the gutters and there was always noise--constant chatter, music being blasted, the occasional shouting match from somewhere. Every so often an actual fight would break out and cause people to both go scrambling and crowd around to watch.

One would imagine that it would be a nightmare for someone like Viktor, limping along on his crutch, yet he found the experience much improved over Piltover’s overly spacious promenades. For one, the unnecessary extra space Piltover gave everything made walks much longer than Viktor felt they should be. For another, Uppercity denizens tended to either not notice his crutch until he was right next to them, and subsequently refuse to make space for him or make an exaggerated flourish of accommodating him, as though it were worthy of praise to simply be polite.

Down here, in the clogged streets of Zaun, accidents in the mines and factories were so commonplace that someone with mobility issues was a dime a dozen. People on the streets simply glanced at the cane and gave him the space he needed. Viktor was both more noticeable and more invisible in Zaun. It was quite refreshing to come back to the culture after being away for so long.

Viktor picked his way through the streets towards the Lanes. He got a few curious looks here and there, probably because of his slightly more Piltovan style of dress, but no one stopped him, even to ask for spare change. Still, he kept his bag tucked close just in case--it wasn’t as though he could chase after any purse-snatchers if they tried anything.

Now that he looked around though, Viktor noticed that things had changed significantly since the last time he’d come down here. People seemed… not cheerful , but more relaxed. The air was still stuffy and clogged with smog, but there was less litter and trash everywhere, as though actual effort was being put into trying to keep things clean. Strangest of all was the light--the city had always been aglow in sickly neon and smokey gas lamps, but now it seemed as though actual natural light was filtering down onto the streets. Not a lot of light, the sky was still choked by ominous fog, but it had thinned enough that at least some sunlight was making its way down into the Lanes.

The sight almost made Viktor feel hopeful.

By the time Viktor made it to the Last Drop, it was early afternoon and the bar was starting to fill with patrons looking to grab a drink and a bite to eat for lunch. Viktor carefully squeezed his way through the crowd and headed for an out of the way booth to hole up in. He could wait until the rush was over and he could get a private moment to speak with Vander.

Viktor sat at the booth for twenty minutes before someone approached him. A pink haired woman with biceps that could rival Jayce’s and tattoos creeping out from under her clothes put a hand on the table and leaned over to get into his space.

“What’re you drinking?” she asked, tossing a bar towel over her shoulder with the hand not leaning on the table. She seemed a little annoyed, though that could have been from having to deal with the lunch rush.

“I’m fine,” Viktor said. Drinking probably wasn’t good for the baby. Would he even be able to, or would he be forced to toss it across the room like the poison tablet?

The woman narrowed her eyes. “If you’re not going to order anything, can you free up the table for actual paying customers?” she drawled, clearly forcing herself not to grit her teeth.

Viktor supposed that was reasonable. It was busy in here. “Something non-alcoholic and whatever it is you’re serving for lunch.

“Water and biscuits with gravy it is,” the woman said, knocking her knuckle against the table and sauntering off before he could try and ask for something else.

Viktor sank back in the booth and closed his eyes, fighting off a headache. He wondered briefly if he should leave and come back when it was quieter. Perhaps he could visit some old haunts of his and see how they’d held up over the years.

The pink haired woman dropped off his food and water and then left him alone, which was just fine by Viktor. He picked at his plate slowly--the biscuits were fairly standard, but the gravy was actually really good. His water had a sliver of lemon in it, but he knew that was just to cover the aftertaste that Undercity water always had.

Viktor tried to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible, but as the hour passed and people began to leave, he became more and more aware of eyes on him. The pink haired woman sat behind the bar, cleaning glass after glass and occasionally glancing up at him. Viktor got the impression that she was restless and perhaps even looking for something interesting to happen. There was something vaguely familiar about her that Viktor couldn’t quite place.

As the hour concluded, it became clear to Viktor that the bar wouldn’t be clearing out completely anytime soon. It figured, the Last Drop being such an important centre for action within the city. Bracing himself, Viktor stood and approached the bar. The pink-haired woman was in front of him within a second.

“What do you want?” she asked, possibly meaning to ask him what he wanted to drink, but it came out more as a demand.

“I need to speak to Vander,” he told her.

The woman scoffed. “Should have just fucking said so,” she grumbled before walking off. Someone else at the bar called after her, genturing to their empty drink and she turned around and shouted. “Chill for a minute Rino! I’ll get to it!”

The man, Rino supposedly, slumped back down in his seat. “ Man , that girl,” he grumbled. “Dunno what Vander’s thinking tryna put her in charge of the bar. She hates it.”

“Try telling her to quit though,” another patron said. “She’d chew off her own arm before letting go of this place.”

“She needs a better outlet,” yet another patron voiced, to which several others nodded.

“She needs a girlfriend,” someone else laughed. “She needs to get laid .”

From there the conversation moved on. Viktor tuned it out, watching where the woman disappeared to. After several minutes, she reappeared, a beast of a man in tow. Viktor knew him instantly as Vander, the Hound of the Underground--there was little mistaking him for anyone else. While men built like carthorses were not uncommon in the Undercity, few gave off the same presence as a man like Vander did--a mixture of commanding yet calming. The entire bar stopped to take heed of him as he entered before they returned to their drinks and conversations, unbothered but certainly aware of the man’s presence.

Vander took a moment to look at Viktor, likely assessing him for threats. Seeing nothing but a skinny scientist with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, he gestured with his head to a booth in a quiet corner. There were three people already in it, but they quickly vacated when they noticed Vander coming.

“Vi says you wanted to speak to me,” Vander said the moment they sat down. “Can’t say I know you, and I know most people in the Lanes.”

“I’m originally from closer to the fissures,” Viktor said, letting his accent do the authenticating, “but I haven’t been living in the Undercity for some time now.”

Vander noticeably relaxed. “I see,” he said. “Made it up top, did you?”

Viktor clenched his hand under the table. “For a while,” he said.

Vander let out a long sigh. “Heard that one before,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pipe and began stuffing it with tobacco. “So, what is it you think I can do for you?” he asked.

“You can not light that please?” Viktor said. “I’m pregnant.”

Vander paused, hand’s stilling. His eyes flicked down to Viktor’s flat midsection before coming back up to his face. Dutifully, he tapped the tobacco back out into the box it came from.

“Congratulations,” he said, stowing the tobacco and the pipe. “Or condolences.”

Viktor huffed. “If only it were simply so black and white,” he mused. He placed a hand over his belly, forcing himself not to wish that Jayce was with him. “I need a place to stay out of the way of the council.”

Vander’s eyebrow raised. “The council?” he asked. “How’d you get mixed in with them?” he glanced down at Viktor’s belly again. “Is it… one of theirs?”

“Eeh, sort of,” Viktor said. “Let me explain.”

Viktor gave Vander a basic retelling of events, leaving out some of the more fantastical elements with the Hexcore and his apparent magic guardian force. He didn’t pull any punches about the council’s actions however, and made sure to mention Jayce’s previous dealings with Vander’s family.

“Yeah I remember him,” Vander said. “Strange bloke, but seemed to have a good heart. I remember something about him becoming some bigshot inventor, but that kind of stuff is more Silco’s area. Didn’t know his partner was one of ours.”

“Few people do,” Viktor said. “I dislike the spotlight. My work should be the focus of attention, not myself.”

“Fair enough,” Vander said. He sat back in the booth and thought for a moment. “Baby’s his?”

Viktor nodded, his voice clogging in his throat.

“Why not go to his family then? He doesn’t have a fancy name?” Vander asked.

Viktor hid a wince, thinking of poor Ximena. “He does. Did,” he said. “His mother… she doesn’t need to be dealing with this right now. Not while she’s still grieving her son.”

Vander’s eyes softened marginally. “Hm… Well, speaking as a parent, I’d rather know than not,” he said, glancing over to where the pink haired woman was still manning the bar, looking halfway to starting an argument with a patron. A faint smile drifted over his face before he refocused on Viktor. “But, your business is your business I suppose.”

“Thank you,” Viktor said softly, feeling small all of a sudden. He shook it off--he needed to focus. “Besides, what’s important is that I’m out of the eyes of the council.”

Vander hummed. “Tall order. They’ve got more eyes than most people realize, especially if they’re on the hunt.”

“They aren’t,” Viktor said, “and it’s going to stay that way.” He placed a hand on his belly. “They cannot know.”

Vander’s eyes went dark. “You think they’ll try to do something to the baby?”

Viktor nodded. “This is the last piece of Jayce in this world, the only thing that has a legitimate claim to his house, and all that it entails,” Viktor said. “The council has already shown themselves to be unscrupulous in their efforts to shut me out, I don’t want to think of what they might do if they found out I had the Talis heir tucked away.”

The other night, Viktor had woken from a nightmare, trembling with cold sweat, where he’d been held down on the counselor’s table while they cut into his belly, scooping out every trace of Jayce from inside him, hollowing him out, their faces ranging from impassive to sickeningly gleeful as he thrashed and screamed. Realistically, Viktor knew it was a dream, but how easy would it be to pay off the right people to slip him an abortifacient? In his tea at a cafe he frequented? In his food at a restaurant? In his medicine that he took every day? They had access to his medical records, after all.

Even worse than that was the thought of what might happen after the child made it into the world. Viktor knew that he likely wouldn’t be around long after they were born, and the thought of what the council could do with his child without someone there to protect them sent a chill up his spine.

He couldn’t let this child fall into their hands.

Vander took a deep breath, broad chest expanding before he let it all huff out in a long gust. He was holding back anger, Viktor realised. His fingers curled protectively over his stomach. He almost startled when Vander stood up from the booth.

“I owe Talis for keeping my girl out of Stillwater,” he said. “I’m not about to let his kid end up in the hands of those greedy Pilties.” He smiled down at Viktor. “But you know, I would’ve helped even if I didn't owe him.”

Relief settled over Viktor like a hot bath, the tension leaching out of his body. He’d been sick with stress and paranoia since he’d found out. Finally he could relax, at least a little. He took Vander’s hand and pulled himself out of the booth.

“I don’t need much,” Viktor said. “Only a place to stay that the council won’t look for me.”

Vander chuckled and gestured for Viktor to follow him towards a set of stairs that led up to the second level. “I’m sure we can manage a bit more than that,” he said. “We ought to talk to Silco first though. He’s the brains behind everything.”

Viktor nodded and carefully ascended the stairs, gripping the railing to help haul himself up. He didn’t look forward to having to explain everything again to yet another person, but hopefully this would land him in a safe enough place where he’d be sure that no one would come looking for him.

Vander led Viktor into a decently sized office furnished with worn but well cared for furniture. Sitting on the opposite side of a large oak desk that was probably older than Viktor by a decade was a thin, sharp-nosed man with deep scarring across the left side of his face. When he looked up, Viktor noticed that his left eye was false. The man set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, one good eye looking Viktor up and down, sizing him up.

“What sort of stray have we decided to take in this time?” Silco asked, piercing teal gaze not leaving Viktor though the question was clearly for Vander.

“This is Viktor,” Vander said. “He needs help keeping out of sight of the council.”

“The council?” Silco asked, finally glancing at Vander. When the larger man didn’t deny it, he fixed his gaze back on Viktor, his good eye narrowing slightly. “Why would the council have any quarrel with you?”

Viktor braced himself. “I’m one of the inventors of Hextech--”

“I know who you are, Viktor,” Silco said, cutting him off. “I keep an eye on all Zaunites of prominence, whether or not they reside in the Undercity or topside.” He steepled his hands and leaned forward on his desk. “You’ve been a great asset to Piltover for many years now. Why would that suddenly change?”

Viktor felt the accusation like the lingering burn of a slap to the face. “Our goal was always to help people, the Undercity included,” he defended, unable to take the sting against his and Jayce’s dream. “Our work on the Hexgates was only to appease the council so that we might have further freedoms in the future to work on more appropriate projects. Air filters and water treatment being some of the first of our priorities.”

He thought back to the Atlas Gauntlets and the Hexclaw, destroyed by now. Two small little things to ease the council into the idea of working on projects exclusively for the benefit of Zaun. It had chafed Viktor, having to coddle the council like children on the verge of a tantrum, but he knew better than to step on the toes of the people who held their funding in a chokehold. So he’d capitulated, though he couldn’t say he regretted the projects they’d completed.

The last two he and Jayce had finished together.

In the present, Silco’s eye didn’t quite soften as such, but it lost some of its accusation. “Well, the question still stands,” he said, voice as smooth as whisky. “Why turn your back on the council now?”

Viktor ran through the story again. The moment Viktor mentioned the pregnancy, Silco’s eye widened and glanced down to his belly before coming back up to his face. He schooled his expression back into one of detached consideration, but Viktor noticed his hands tightening. It appeared that the man held a soft spot for children.

When he finished, answering all of Silco’s questions, the other man sat back in his chair. “I suppose I should have figured that those rapacious dogs would pull something like this,” he said. “They’d rather see us drown in our own blood than ease their strangulation.”

“So you understand why it’s necessary that they do not find out about the child,” Viktor said.

Silco hummed. “They wouldn’t be content to leave well enough alone, that’s for certain,” he said. “A bargaining chip at best, a sword on a hairstring at worst.”

“Will you help?” Viktor asked, his nerves starting to get the better of him.

Silco waved a hand dismissively. “The question is not ‘will’, but ‘how’,” he said. “There are certainly plenty of places to disappear to in the bowels of the undercity, but I would be remiss if I were to say they are stellar places for a child to be born.” Silco tapped his long fingers against the wood of his desk, clearly lost in thought. “We do as much as we can, and it will never be enough.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” Vander said gently, the first words he’d said since they’d entered. “Things are a lot better than they used to be.

Silco grumbled, but seemed content to leave it at that. He looked Viktor up and down once again. “We have many safe houses throughout the city, well out of the eyes of the council, but I’d be remiss if I said they were ideal places for an expecting parent,” he explained.

Viktor pressed his lips together. “Is this my only option?’ he asked.

“No,” Silco answered, his gaze locked with Viktor’s. “There is space here for you, at the Last Drop, under our care.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite generous of you,” he said.

“One might think so,” Silco said, leaning back in his chair slightly. “This is a safe haven, but more akin to a guarded fortress than a hidden sanctuary. We cannot guarantee anonymity here.”

“No one would dare try anything here at the Drop,” Vander cut in. “Not even the council.”

“Of course not, they know better than that,” Silco scoffed. “That doesn’t mean they don’t have their eyes watching this place, checking in from time to time. Normally it’s easy enough to dissuade anything pertinent making its way back to their ears, but some things are too valuable to keep contained for long.”

Silco looked up into Viktor’s eyes--his false eye had a metallic sheen to it, almost like gold. Perhaps it was an alloy of some kind. Whatever it was, it gave Silco an air of both prestige and untouchability. It was much the same as the way many of the counsellors draped themselves in gold and jewels, putting themselves above the masses they presided over. However, Silco differed in that his adornments were practical before they were beautiful. Gold had antibacterial properties, after all.

“We could have you here, but we could not guarantee that the council would not find out about your whereabouts eventually,” Silco explained. “So, you have two options. A safehouse with limited protection and a potentially unsafe environment for your child, but completely out of sight of the council, even in the event of a full scale manhunt. Or here, surrounded by those loyal to us and within easy reach of those willing to fight to protect you and your child, but potentially in the line of sight of the council.” He sat back in his chair, hands resting on the arms, fingers tapping out a rhythm against the wood and leather. “I leave the choice to you.”

Viktor took steady breaths, not looking away from Silco’s gaze. The idea of the council potentially catching wind of where he was made him want to crawl under whatever rock they had set aside, consequences to his health aside, but it wasn’t just his health on the line. Viktor knew better than most the kind of health problems that could arise from gas leaks and chemical seepage, especially to expectant parents. To this day, the rates of miscarriages in some parts of the city nearly matched or even outstripped the birthrates in the same areas.

Viktor could not let that happen to this child.

“If I stay here, what would you have me do?” Viktor asked. He was no fool, and neither was Silco. Until several days ago, he’d been one of Piltover’s premier scientists, one of the inventors of the most revolutionary scientific breakthrough in the last century. He could be a great asset to those who were smart enough to put him to use.

“Nothing you’re uncomfortable with,” Silco said, something hungry glinting in his eye, as though he could smell the opportunities Viktor would present to him.

“And you’d be sure to keep my presence here as secret as possible from Piltover?” Viktor asked, narrowing his eyes.

Silco raised an eyebrow. “As I said--”

“I do not ask for miracles, nor do I expect them,” Viktor cut him off. “I said, ‘as secret as possible ’.”

Silco huffed, clearly unused to being interrupted and not pleased about it. “I swear it.”

“Swear on?” Viktor prompted. It probably wasn’t wise to antagonise the man who he was going to be depending on for his safety, but he felt the urge to show Silco that he was not easily pushed around.

Clearly it was having an effect, as a look of mild annoyance mixed with begrudging respect crossed Silco’s face. “I swear on my honour as a Zaunite,” he said, lifting one hand into the air.

Viktor nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Though, I reserve the right to change my mind in the future, should I feel that I am not as safe here as you purport it to be.”

Silco’s lip curled up in a half-grin, half-snarl. “We’ll see,” he said. He finally eased back into his chair and waved a hand at Vander. “For now, there’s the old guest room.”

“We’ve been using it for storage,” Vander pointed out.

“So clear it out,” Silco grumbled. “I’m sure Vi would love to have something else to do than tend the bar.”

Vander let out a long sigh. “I’ll set her to it,” he said. With that, he turned and exited the office. Silco returned to his paperwork, so Viktor figured following Vander was the thing to do.

“You held your own in there a lot better than most,” Vander said, turning to grin at Viktor over his massive shoulder.

“When you’ve stood in front of a room full of counsellors telling you they are forcibly removing you from your life’s work, it has a numbing effect on your threat assessment,” Viktor said. “Silco is just another man with power. The only difference is how he uses it.”

Vander chuckled. “You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?” he said. “Not surprising, given what you’ve survived so far.” He stopped at a room a few doors down from the office they were just in--tucked near the back of the hall, impossible to sneak in or out of without passing by all of the other rooms.

“Here we are,” Vander said, throwing open the door. “Needs to be cleared out and given a scrub, but it should be serviceable.”

It was a small room made even smaller by an assortment of clutter piled in the corners and leaning against the walls. There was a disassembled bunk bed shoved into one corner and what looked like an old dresser behind an assortment of mops. Faded posters clung to the walls, held there by rusted push pins and inertia.

“Used to be the boys’ room,” Vander explained. “They’ve long since outgrown it though. They’re renting a place close to the river. Nice place once they got the mold scrubbed out of everything.”

“Sounds nice,” Viktor said absently, taking a curious peek into a box. It looked to be old children’s books that were falling apart.

An awkward pause filled the space until Vander cleared his throat. “I’ll run down and get Vi. She’ll move all the heavy things out of the way and help with the bed. Bathroom’s two doors down on the opposite side, alright?”

“Alright, thank you,” Viktor said.

With that, Viktor was left alone in the room. He took a few deep breaths, coughing slightly on the dust. For the foreseeable future, this would be his home. He would live here at the Last Drop, under the protection of Vander and Silco. This was good, he told himself. More visible than he’d like, but surrounded by some of the most powerful people in Zaun.

Obviously Silco wanted something out of him, that much was clear--he hadn’t even tried to make it a secret. If there was some kind of trap or trick here, Viktor had stepped into it willingly, knowing that it was his best option for the safety of his child. To be honest, he’d have almost been offended if Silco didn’t try to take advantage of the situation Viktor presented to him. Viktor could only hope that Silco’s ambitions wouldn’t put him at risk. For now, he just had to trust that he was doing the right thing.

It’s all going to be worth it , Viktor thought, pressing his hand into his belly. It must be worth it.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice cut through the silence, making Viktor jump slightly. The pink haired woman, Vi presumably, stood at the door, casually leaning against the frame. “You’re gonna be staying here?”

“Yes,” Viktor said, dropping his hand.

“Cool,” she said. She slipped inside and grabbed hold of a heavy box. “Maybe something interesting will happen for once.”

The first week Viktor spent at the Last Drop mostly consisted of him keeping to himself in the room he’d been given. He tried to occupy his time by theorizing how the Hexcore might have connected something from the arcane to himself, but he quickly ran out of avenues for exploration. Without access to his lab, without the Hexcore itself, there was very little he could do to test any of his theories.

What he mostly ended up doing was sleeping. It seemed that he’d accrued a considerable amount of sleep debt over the short period since his ousting from Hextech. It seemed that no matter how much he slept, he could still crawl into bed at any time and sleep for several hours, only waking when his stomach revolted--either to demand to be fed or to violently throw up anything he’d eaten.

“If you wouldn’t mind ceasing this behaviour, I would appreciate it,” Viktor grumbled, huddled over the toilet early one morning about a week and a half since he’d arrived. He was answered by another wave of nausea, leaving him heaving into the bowl once again.

A knock sounded on the wooden door. “You alright in there?” came the tired voice of Vi, the bartender and Vander and Silco’s adopted daughter. The same adopted daughter that Jayce had helped, as it turned out.

“No,” Viktor grumbled, only just loud enough to be heard. flushed and set about reorienting himself. By the time he rinsed his mouth, he could sense Vi beginning to get impatient behind the door.

“Wow, you look like shit,” Vi said as he left the bathroom. “You’re really pregnant, huh?”

“Yes, thank you,” Viktor said, shuffling past her, leaning heavily on the wall since he’d bolted to the bathroom without his crutch.

“Couldn’t be me,” Vi said with a whistle. “Not that I’ll have to worry about that anyway.”

“Lucky you,” Viktor said dryly.

Vi laughed and moved into the bathroom he’d just vacated. With a sigh, Viktor made his way back to his room, still using the wall to get around. When he finally made it back, he found himself staring into the small room, mind blank on how to proceed.

He could simply crawl back into bed if he liked,--it didn't seem like anyone would protest if he did, as they all seemed content to leave him to his own devices. Yet the idea of spending yet another day in bed made Viktor’s skin itch--he needed to do something. There was nothing for him to do presently, but there must be something for him to do. At the very least, he didn't think he wanted to spend another day cooped up in the tiny room he’d taken occupancy of.

Mind set, Viktor quickly dressed in something casual and made his way downstairs. He didn’t exactly feel like having any breakfast, but maybe he’d be able to stomach some bread and water to get something into his system.

The pub didn’t open until later in the day, so the entire downstairs was quiet aside from the sounds of puttering in the kitchen. Viktor peeked inside to see Silco of all people, fussing about with a kettle and a hot pan. His bad side was turned to Viktor, but that by no means meant he was unaware of Viktor’s presence.

“Tea?” Silco offered, not looking up from some melting butter in the pan.

“I didn't take you for the type,” Viktor said, coming around the doorway but not entering the kitchen. Silco seemed like the kind of person that would find that annoying.

“I’m not,” Silco said, “but you should not be drinking coffee. Therefore, tea.”

For all that Viktor was staying under his roof free of charge, this was a level of consideration he hadn’t expected out of the man. “A small cup perhaps,” he said, feeling rude to refuse.

Silco gave a curt nod and began fussing with some cupboards, looking up sharply when Viktor stepped closer to help. Message received, Viktor backed out of the kitchen and went to find a place to sit in the pub.

Viktor sat down in the same booth he’d occupied when he’d first arrived at the Last Drop. It once again struck him how quickly everything had changed. Less than a month ago he’d still been expecting to be let back into his lab, completely unaware of the betrayal lurking in the shadows. He’d thought that he’d be given the chance to figure out what happened to Jayce, to figure out where he went.

Viktor’s breath hitched in his chest. He tried not to think about it, but there was still a part of him that believed Jayce was not gone. Well, he was gone , but he wasn’t dead . Something in Viktor’s heart told him that Jayce was somewhere out there, and he needed Viktor’s help to return home.

Or maybe Viktor was just delusional.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost startled when Silco laid down a cup of tea and slice of buttered toast next to him on the table. He looked up to thank the man, but he was already wandering back to the kitchen, growling something to himself. Viktor decided not to protest and picked carefully at his unsweetened tea and simple toast. He knew he needed to eat more than he was if wanted to make sure the baby didn’t starve inside of him, but it was so difficult when said baby seemed hell bent on rejecting everything he ate.

“You are troublesome already,” Viktor muttered, patting his belly. Of course it was still too early for any movement to be felt, but he liked to imagine he could feel a little cherry-sized pebble taking up space in his lower belly. Absurd, but it felt nice to imagine.

Just as Viktor finished his tea, the door to the pub opened with a jingle and several young people crowded inside, talking loudly as they jostled each other. Viktor pressed himself into the booth and watched them, hoping they wouldn’t notice him.They seemed familiar enough with the Last Drop, but he couldn’t help but be paranoid.

“Silco! Vi!” the only girl of the group called loudly, her blue hair swaying behind her in a long braid. “Helloooooo!”

“Are you trying to wake up the whole street?” one of the boys asked. He sported incredibly thick eyebrows and a rather unfortunate mustache. “I swear you could wake up a corpse.”

“I mean, Vi sleeps like the dead,” the largest boy said. There was a strange container tucked under his arm. Viktor couldn’t see inside it, but he thought he noticed a flash of yellow.

“Wake the fuck up!” the girl called again, hopping up on one of the barstools and spinning around. “We don’t have all day!”

The three boys approached the bar alongside the blue haired girl, chatting amongst themselves. The last boy, one with dark skin and off-white locks finally noticed Viktor sitting in the booth and froze, their eyes meeting in mutual shock. Viktor was saved from having to say anything as Silco entered the bar floor with a plate stacked high with toast.

“Silco!” the girl chirped, leaping down from the stool to throw her arms around the older man just as he set down the plate of toast.

Silco wrapped an arm around her thin body while she hung off of him like an affectionate cat. It was such an odd sight to Viktor, who’d mostly heard stories of Silco’s ruthlessness and even violence in certain situations. Seeing the infamous Silco, vicious revolutionary for the Nation of Zaun, acting so domestic gave Viktor pause.

“Good morning everyone, nice to have you on time for once,” Silco said, eyeing the boy with the unfortunate mustache, who looked offended.

“Why me? Powder’s the one who can’t keep a schedule to save her life,” he protested.

“Yeah, but you take forever in the mornings,” the largest boy said. “Grooming that thing on your face.”

“It’s distinguished!” the first boy protested.

“Who’s that?” the dark boy finally asked, cutting through the noise of the argument starting to brew between them.

All eyes in the room turned to Viktor, who froze like a caught rabbit. He was instantly aware of the fact that he was wildly out of place here, in this little domestic scene between father and children. He probably still looked like shit too.

“Ah yes,” Silco said, calm as ever. “This is Viktor. He’ll be staying with us for the time being.”

“Viktor?” the girl, Powder, said, perking up. She dropped out of Silco’s arms and bounded over to the table. “As in Hextech Viktor? That one?”

“Until about two weeks ago, yes,” Viktor said, leaning back from the girl and her slightly manic eyes.

That caused a murmur among the group. “Seriously?” the mustachioed  boy said, eyes wide. “That’s awesome.”

“I heard one of the inventors was from the Undercity,” the largest boy said, hoisting his canester a little higher, “but I never thought we’d ever get to meet him.”

“What happened two weeks ago?” the dark boy asked. “How come you’re here?”

Viktor tried not to grind his teeth audibly. “Following an accident in the lab, I was forcibly removed from my position at Hextech,” he explained. “The council now controls Hextech in its entirety.”

A chorus of hisses and groans travelled through the group. “Fuck, that’s just like those fancy rich fucks,” the boy with the mustache said. “They can’t let us have anything .”

“That really sucks,” the larger boy said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been rough.”

“I believe I raised you all to know that manners would dictate introductions come before interrogations,” Silco said pointedly, fixing plates of toast.

“Oh sorry,” the large boy said, looking sheepish. “I’m Claggor. That’s Mylo, Ekko, and Powder,” he said, pointing out each of his presumed siblings.

“Charmed,” Viktor said dryly, backing slightly further into the booth as Powder leaned even closer.

“You gonna get back at them?” she asked, eyes bright and slightly wild. “We’d help.”

Viktor wondered if she was serious or just trying to mess with him. “Tempting, but no. My goal is to simply be out of their sight.”

Powder leaned back with a huff. “Boring,” she grumbled. She slipped into the other side of the booth as the others began to join them, handing out plates of toast.

Claggor set down the canister he’d been carrying the entire time, finally giving Viktor a proper view of it. Inside through a cylinder of glass was a little yellow flower, swaying gently in its probably environmentally sealed chamber. Viktor couldn’t help but study it.

“An interesting specimen,” he commented. “Is it simply pretty, or will it serve a greater purpose?”

Claggor glanced down at it and swallowed his mouthful of toast. “We’re trying to breed something that’ll filter the toxins out of the air,” he explained. “We’re also working on a mushroom that eats toxic chemicals out of the soil.”

“We tried to do it with a plant first,” Mylo said, brushing crumbs out of his mustache, “but the worst of the chemical spills don’t have enough light for them to thrive. So we went with mushrooms.”

“The only problem is disposal,” Claggor said. “Since they eat up the chemicals, they’re poisonous to eat. We figured we might burn them, but turns out that just releases the chemicals back into the air and we’re back to square one.”

“I’m certain you’ll figure it out,” Silco said, handing out mugs of coffee. He set another mug of tea in front of Viktor.

Viktor wrapped his hand around the mug, thinking of Sky. What he wouldn’t give to put her in contact with these boys. The things they might be able to accomplish if they were able to combine their ideas. He almost considered the idea, but the thought of risking the child stopped the thought in its tracks. Perhaps the idea could be revisited later, when he was more sure of his situation, but for now he would have to keep his thoughts to himself.

He studied the canister the little flower was contained in. It whirred and clicked softly as small fans and internal mechanisms spun gently, keeping the little flower in its perfect little environment. Viktor felt the urge to take it apart to see how it worked.

“It’s an ingenious design,” he said, reaching out to run a finger over one of the outer mechanisms. “Did you build this as well?”

Claggor shook his head and then gestured to Ekko, who lifted his toast in acknowledgement. “Powder and I figured that out.”

“It’s a remarkable device,” Viktor said. “I think I’d enjoy picking your brain about it.”

Ekko gave a little huff and turned his attention back to his breakfast. Powder leaned into his side, flopping her head down onto his shoulder. “Don’t mind his attitude, he’s usually not so modest,” she said. “He’s just got a bug in his hair because he’s not sure he can trust you.”

“I’m getting that a lot,” Viktor said. “Rest assured, I’m no threat to anyone here. I only wish to stay out of sight.”

“And what happens when you get spotted?” Ekko asked sharply, side eyeing Viktor. “You say you’re not a threat, but what kind of collateral damage could your being here cause?”

Viktor felt his chest tighten, but before he could respond, a hand reached out and punched Ekko in the back of the head. “Lighten up little man,” Vi growled. “You know that’s not how it works.”

Ekko swore, clutching his head as Powder crawled over him and practically climbed into Vi’s arms. “Aw he’s just tired because things have been so busy lately. He’s got his grumpy pants on.”

“I’m just trying to look out for everyone,” Ekko grumbled sullenly. Viktor came to the sudden realization that the boy was a lot younger than he’d assumed.

“We know man,” Claggor said. “But you gotta trust Vander and Silco with this stuff. There’s a reason they’ve held things together this long.”

“Yeah seriously,” Mylo said, leaning back and putting his feet up on a nearby stool. “You gotta take off your grumpy pants sometimes.”

Ekko struck out with a kick and knocked Mylo’s feet off the stool. From there the conversation devolved into normal petty sibling squabbles, or at least what Viktor assumed was normal. He placed a hand on his belly and hoped that, wherever his child ended up, they had someone to grow up with.

Chapter Text

Viktor adapted to life at the Last Drop surprisingly well. Though the first couple of weeks of his occupancy consisted mostly of him staying out of the way and feeling miserable for himself, body and heart, he quickly found his pace among the others. He managed to integrate himself well into the little group of scientists that Vander and Silco called their own (aside from Ekko it turned out, though with the way he and Powder looked at one another, there were whispers that it wouldn’t be long until he was officially a son-in-law).

It helped that the group had a vested interest in actually helping the Undercity, something Viktor had been chasing for years with Hextech. Though their projects were significantly smaller scale, they were no less ambitious, and Viktor all but threw himself into the work. Though Mylo and Ekko were somewhat territorial at first, they quickly warmed when it became clear that his expertise was extremely useful. Claggor and Powder had welcomed him outright, though where Claggor did so out of what seemed genuine kindness and a willingness to hear anyone out, Powder seemed more interested in getting Viktor in on her more exciting projects.

“Tell me, what reason is there for a stockpile of explosive paint canisters?” Viktor asked, turning over a little bomb in his hands. It had the crude image of a bear painted on it with oil crayon and spray paint.

“What reason isn’t there?” Powder said, plucking the bomb out of his hands and tossing it carelessly back into the box he’d pick it out of. Her grin faded slightly. “Never know when you’re gonna have to cause a distraction for a getaway.”

Viktor looked down at her. He’d learned by then that Powder had been along for the break in at Jayce’s apartment, and it was clear that she felt responsible for her sister’s stint in prison, short as it had been. He glanced into the box of little bombs, all of them inactive. He could picture it clearly—an enforcer chase suddenly halted by a cloud of bright pink or blue paint, choking the air and obscuring vision in all directions, allowing the Zaunites to escape with their identities intact.

“I suppose you have a point,” Viktor mumbled, looking back to her. “I still won’t help you with your weapon though.”

“Oh come oooonnn,” Powder whined, throwing herself back onto her spinning chair. “It’ll be fun! I promise! I won’t even use it! On people.”

“No weapons,” Viktor repeated, turning to leave Powder’s workshop.

“Spoilsport!” Powder called after him, no malice in her tone.

Despite Viktor’s reluctance to work on anything that could be used as a weapon, he still made himself useful. Though he was somewhat out of his depth with the organics that Mylo and Claggor worked with, he found himself slotting neatly into Ekko and Powder’s orbit. More often than not he ended up staying up late with the two of them in a flurry of inventions and theories. It was almost enough to distract Viktor from the reason he was in Zaun to begin with.

Though his morning sickness calmed after several weeks, the changes to his body became more and more noticeable. His hair grew thick and quickly, curling down past his ears, and his nails grew quite strong. His back and hips had begun to ache as they shifted to accommodate the growing thing inside of his belly. Viktor could already feel his joints starting to come loose due to the hormonal changes.

And of course there was the belly.

Viktor had noticed it out of the blue one evening as he’d been getting dressed for bed. He’d felt uncomfortable and stiff in his clothes all day, and it was a relief to be out of them and getting into his comfortable nightwear. As he unbuttoned his pants, he noticed the deep red marks left in his skin where the waist had been digging in all day. He thumbed along them, finally taking note of how far his stomach stuck out from his front.

“Oh,” he breathed, hand hovering over the curve. It was surprisingly large for him not to have noticed it before—perhaps because it was a bit earlier than he was expecting it. By his calculation he shouldn’t show this much for another month at least.

Calculations be damned, the belly was there, just an inch away from his still hovering hand. Viktor curled his hand into a fist and quickly unfinished dressing before he stepped, fully nude, in front of the cracked full body mirror that had been set up in his room. Looking at himself made it even more obvious—how had no one else said anything? The curve protruded out from his lower belly, like a partly-inflated kickball. Viktor’s clothes weren’t skin tight, but they weren’t exactly drapey either—Piltover’s fashion leant toward well-fitted, so that’s what he tended to wear. It was no wonder his clothes had been getting so uncomfortable.

Viktor inspected himself in front of the mirror. He saw the same skinny, pale, sickly body he always saw when he looked at himself, but now there was the belly. He’d expected it to make him look odd, or even sicker, like the fluid filled pot belly of a starved creature, but it looked surprisingly natural on him. It added a strange softness to his frame, despite all of the jutting protrusions on his bony, angular body. He tried to picture himself with the large, full-term belly that was sure to come, but found his imagination was not quite as good when it came to picturing his own body as it was when picturing new inventions.

Staring at himself for another minute, Viktor finally placed a hand on his stomach, his fingers tracing the slope of the curve from the top down over his belly button to finally cup it from underneath. He’d touched his belly before, his hand unconsciously finding its way to rest just under his belly button where his uterus lay, but there was something monumentous about this . Here was the undeniable proof, to himself and all the world around him, that he was carrying a child within him.

Jayce’s child.

Viktor felt his eyes sting and his throat tighten. Janna , what he wouldn’t give to have Jayce with him now, witnessing this miracle for himself. He would love this, he would love you , Viktor couldn’t help but think as he let the tears flow down his cheeks. Despite his imagination not being enough to picture his own body, he could clearly see in his mind Jayce, smiling and laughing as he lifted his child—some amorphous conglomerate of his and Jayce’s features in infant form—into his arms for cuddles and kisses. He could see Jayce sitting at his kitchen table, eagerly helping with homework, eyes drifting over to a dark head of hair bent over the worksheets with a fond smile on his lips. He could see Jayce cradling a newborn against his chest, tears of joy in his eyes as he whispered sweet nothings into their ear, so that the first thing the child heard was his own loving voice.

Overwhelmed and possibly a little hormonal, Viktor collapsed onto the bed and wept.

He’d face the exact same spiral of emotions in a few weeks when he felt the baby move for the first time.

Viktor often found it a bit difficult to keep his emotions in check as the pregnancy progressed. He blamed it mostly on the hormones flooding his brain and body, making him irritable at the slightest inconvenience and weepy at the drop of a hat, but he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that felt a little vindicated. He’d had everything he’d worked for ripped away from him by the whim of a body of governance that couldn’t give less of a shit about anything that wasn’t their own bottom line, his best friend and the man he loved was gone and possibly dead, he was pregnant by said friend and completely alone in that, and he was still dying. Viktor felt that he was probably allowed to be a bit snappish when the mood struck him.

He did however, keep a very tight grip on whatever magic it was that kept following him around.

Despite his best efforts, Viktor still couldn’t parse what exactly it was . It seemed to be both getting stronger and refining itself as time passed however, having moved on from having him chuck harmful substances across the room to not even allowing him to pick them up in the first place. Ever the scientist, Viktor kept detailed notes and did small experiments whenever he was certain he was alone. Once, he reached for a bottle of cleaning solution, the intention to drink some held firmly in his mind, and found that his fingers refused to close around the bottle, hand cramping with the effort. It was only when Viktor switched his focus on using the solution to clean up some spilled ink that he was allowed to touch the bottle.

It was really a quite fascinating phenomenon, one that Viktor would have loved to study in his lab, but if he thought too hard about his lab and all the things in it that were now destroyed he’d start to get weepy again, so he tried to be content with his little experiments and notebook.

The more challenging aspect of the ordeal was hiding it from the other occupants of the Last Drop. Though he was sure that none of them would necessarily have a problem with magic—Zaun held less prejudice towards the arcane than their Piltovan overlords did—he couldn’t promise them that the force at work within him was not dangerous to others, and therefore risked their safety. Though Viktor had no intention of harming any of them, he also couldn’t risk them turning him out. So, for now, it remained his own little secret, held between him and his growing child.

Well, at least it was not the only strange development he faced regarding his ‘child’.

“Is something wrong?” Viktor asked after the third time the midwife hummed contemplatively during her examination.

He was sprawled back on his little cot, naked from the waist down and his shirt pulled up over his pronounced belly. He was used to all kinds of medical examinations, several of them quite humiliating if he took the time to feel anything about them, but there was always something a little more embarrassing about a house call. He shouldn’t care that his laundry hamper was overflowing, but he couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t judge him for it.

“Wrong? No, don’t think so,” the midwife said. She was a tawny brown vastaya woman with one completely shredded ear and a missing finger, but she’d come highly recommended to Vander as being the best midwife in the Undercity, as well as the most trusted to keep her mouth shut.

Viktor felt she could do with being a little more verbose and tell him what had her so perplexed. “Is the baby okay?” he asked, trying not to get pushy.

“Far as I can tell,” she said. She narrowed her eyes and pressed down on his belly firmly enough to make Viktor grunt. “How far along are you?” she asked.

“Four and a half months,” Viktor told her through a strained breath as she continued to poke and prod at him.

“Sure of that?” she asked, one hand leaving his belly to fish around in her satchel for her stethoscope.

“So sure I could tell you it was in the afternoon and in missionary position,” Viktor huffed, starting to lose his patience.

The midwife snorted. “Fair enough,” she said. She fumbled around putting the stethoscope in her ears, having some trouble with the shredded one, before she put the diaphragm against his belly, adjusting it every thirty seconds and listening intently.

Finally she pulled away, tugging the stethoscope out of her ears and giving Viktor’s belly a pat. “Everything’s fine,” she said, much to Viktor’s short-lived relief, for the next thing she said was, “but you’re having twins.”

“Twins?” Viktor asked, balking. “Are you certain?”

She gave a hum as she began packing her things. “ Technically , you’d need to get imaging done to be sure , but you’d have to come into the clinic for that,” she said. “But let me put it this way.” She pointed down at his belly with one clawed finger. “Either that’s twins, or I’m the Grand Marquise of Piltover.”

“Piltover doesn’t have a Marquise,” Viktor said, though it came out absently. He was transfixed by his belly, by the thought that there was not only one, but two little creatures growing in there.

“And so you’ve got your answer,” the midwife said. “Been at this for nearly forty years kiddo, seen it all. Trust me, you may be a skinny thing that would balloon up no matter how many babies you’re about to litter, but I know the shape and feel of twins.”

She stood and stretched, joints popping quietly. “Keep an eye on yourself, call me if you think anything is wrong. I’d rather be grumpy about being pulled out of bed for indigestion than have a dead baby,” she said matter-of-factly, which Viktor found oddly comforting, for all the image might give him nightmares. “Also, your lungs sound like shit. Get a respirator for when you go out into the city. A good one.”

“Yes,” Viktor said numbly. "Thank you.”

The vastaya gave him a curt nod. “I’ll leave you three to it then,” she said, then turned and left.

Viktor reached down to push his shirt down over his belly, but only ended up with his hands caressing his bump instead. He was probably a ridiculous sight, half-naked and petting his overly-large for four and a half months belly on a cot that creaked if he so much as thought about moving, but he couldn’t help it. Twins, twins . Viktor never thought he’d even have one child, and here he was growing two of them. They’d be all squished up together, constantly in one another’s space as they took up more and more of his body as they grew.

He had never had siblings, but he’d always envied those who did—or he envied the idea of having someone at his side throughout his life. Who was not always a friend but always a constant . Someone to share all of the hurts and triumphs of growing up, who understood in a way few others ever would. It was an idealized vision, that much he knew, but he couldn’t help the impulse, even as an adult sometimes. 

Viktor pressed his fingertips into his belly, the way the midwife had, as though he might be able to feel the shape of his growing babies inside of him. “Please, no matter what happens, take care of each other?” he said softly.

As though in response, he felt the strange, bubbly sensation of a kick inside him.

“Seriously? Twins?” Vi asked later that evening at dinner. “How the hell are you gonna squeeze twins in there? You look like you barely have room for yourself.”

“I’m certain I’ll manage,” Viktor said, trying not to wolf his food down and make himself ill. Again.

“ I think it’s hilarious,” Powder said. “You’re going to be fucking giant .”

“I’m aware,” Viktor said. He wondered if he shouldn’t just start taking his meals in his room again.

“Leave him be,” Vander warned, gruff but with a tinge of warm amusement. “He’s got enough on his plate.”

“Nope, not yet,” Powder said, before she leaned over and dumped the rest of her half eaten dinner onto Viktor’s plate. “There ya go. A lil extra for the second parasite.”

Viktor didn’t dignify her with an answer, but he did take a deliberate bite out of the pork cutlet she’d given him. He really was hungry.

“Joking aside,” Silco said, cutting in over Claggor’s protest at Powder’s betrayal (he usually got her leftovers when she was done), “there is the question of what to do once they arrive.”

Viktor sucked in a breath. He’d been dreading this conversation. “What are your ideas?” he asked. Better to get a gauge of what Silco was thinking first, give himself some time to come up with a way to say ‘I’m pretty certain I’m going to die in childbirth, so I haven’t thought about it much’ without actually saying it.

Silco swiped at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. He was clearly attempting to imitate the elite of Piltover with the move, those rich and powerful scions who held Zaun’s choke chain in a death grip, but he fell short. Viktor had only ever seen said elite dab delicately at their mouths, never swipe. Or perhaps, Viktor thought, the move was intentional , reminiscent of those that put themselves in power but deliberately different, a subtle way to place himself on their level of power yet remain separate from them. With Silco, it could go either way—he was a complex man that Viktor didn’t think he’d ever figure out.

“We’d certainly welcome you if you’d like to stay at the Last Drop on a more personal basis,” Silco began, “but we’d also understand if you feel like you need your own space for your family.”

“Wasn’t it you that suggested I stay here due to concerns about being unsafe in other areas?” Viktor asked, forcing himself to sound normal.

“I did,” Silco said, “but you’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy and, if I may be completely frank without offence, valuable enough to invest in a more secure location with more protection.”

“No offence taken,” Viktor said quickly before Vander could say anything—Viktor could see the lines on the man’s face deepen in a frown as he looked to his husband.

“Your work really is something else,” Claggor said with a smile, clearly trying to smooth over any potential rough feelings brought up by Silco’s callousness. “I don’t think Mylo and I would be half as close to a breakthrough as we are without your help.”

“Seriously,” Mylo piped up. “Your idea for the irrigation system has already saved us months of work.”

Viktor couldn’t help but smile. “I only wish I was better at botany,” he said, but Mylo waved a hand in his face.

“ Please , leave some of the work to the rest of us,” he said, getting a chuckle out of the rest of the table.

“As you can see,” Silco said once the laughter died down, “your talents are appreciated, Viktor. You could do great things for this community, for Zaun, and we’d be remiss to let them go to waste. We understand you’re in a precarious position, but we’re willing to do whatever is in our power to keep you, and your children, safe from the council.”

Viktor took a few deep breaths, feeling oddly emotional at the speech. He refused to get weepy in front of Silco of all people though, he’d never survive the humiliation. “Thank you,” he said once he was sure his voice would remain steady. “I am thankful.”

There was a lull as the rest of the table waited for Viktor’s response. In truth, he’d come to enjoy living at the Last Drop. It was interesting, and there was always something to do with his time. If he was truly honest with himself, the idea of moving somewhere else filled him with anxiety—not only for his safety, but for having too much time on his hands.

Too much time in his own head, thinking about all the things that had gone wrong for him to be here in the Undercity, alone and waiting to leave his children orphans.

“I appreciate the offer,” Viktor said, “but for now I am content here.”

Silco leveled him with a penetrating look, but seemed satisfied enough to take Viktor’s answer. “Well, keep us informed if that changes,” he said finally, returning to his plate.

“I will,” Viktor promised, though he doubted there was much that Silco would be able to do for him.

It plagued Viktor—the idea of leaving his children orphans shortly after their birth. Whatever was keeping him alive and keeping his disease from progressing further couldn’t last forever—Viktor could never be that lucky—and it was entirely possible the birth itself might kill him. He was under no delusions when it came to childbirth, he knew the risks he faced. Whenever he checked his growing belly in the mirror, he couldn’t help but take notice of how narrow his hips were. He’d heard the stories passed around by women—rips and tears and even dislocations and fractures, not to mention the internal trauma. So many things could go wrong, and that was for a healthy body—what chance did Viktor have?

This was perhaps the reason he elected to stay at the Last Drop, despite the increased risk. Vander and Silco were good people, and clearly loved children, taking in several that weren’t theirs by blood, but loving them as fiercely as though they were. Viktor could only hope that, when he inevitably passed, they’d continue to keep his children safe. It would be easier, Viktor told himself, to hide two children with no background and a dead parent than an adult man who could be recognised.

Of course it wounded Viktor, deep in his heart, that he’d barely know his children, and they would grow up without him. In his most fanciful daydreams, Jayce somehow returned from wherever he’d been taken, hale and whole, and came for them, whisking them away to protect them from harm and love them enough for the both of them. In his more realistic ponderings, he wondered if he could somehow get a safe message to Ximena, so that she could know her grandchildren without putting herself or them in danger.

For the moment, Viktor journaled. Or rather, it was more like a collection of letters to be read posthumously by his grown up babies, once they could understand what it meant. He told them a little about his day to day life, a bit about Zaun and Piltover, and even a fair bit about how it felt as they were growing within him. Mostly however, he told them about his life, and by extension, Jayce .

Most nights Viktor ended up curled up on his bed, the blanket he’d taken from the lab, the one Jayce had wrapped around his naked shoulders that day, crying himself into exhaustion with longing.

He always came back and did it again the next day, determined to capture the nebulous essence of the man he loved on paper for two children who would likely never meet him.

Viktor filled page after page of his recollections and musings on Jayce. He wrote down stories of their escapades over the years as they worked side by side in the lab. He told them about how Jayce was a decent cook when he actually paid attention to the recipe, but often got distracted and forgot to finish his meals, so tended to live off of sandwiches. He wrote about the time they’d flooded the lab by accidentally shorting out the sprinkler system and had to have the entire building’s water supply shut off for it to get fixed. He told them about how, after Viktor had collapsed due to anemia and a subsequent conversation they’d had about how important it was for hospitals to have a good supply of blood on hand for those in need, Jayce had made a point of donating every six months, then every four months when he’d learned he was a universal donor.

Jayce had been the rare person who truly, genuinely wanted to make the world a better place. Of course he had his flaws, he was only human after all, but there had been a deep kindness in him, a love for the world that drove him forward, no matter the risks. That, more than anything else, had been what Viktor had fallen in love with, and he wrote as such in the journal. He wanted his babies to understand , as much as Viktor was able to convey, their father, and why Viktor was doing what he was doing. He was doing this out of love, for his unborn children and for Jayce.

He could only hope they’d understand one day.

Viktor was drafting plans for a new back brace with Ekko and Powder in the corner of the pub when Vi walked in, face grim, and put down his mail in front of him.

“Someone’s trying to track you,” she announced, tension rolling off of her shoulders.

Viktor’s stomach dropped. “Who?" he asked, setting down the pencil he’d been using with shaking fingers.

“Enforcer,” Vi said to Viktor’s great horror. “Noticed her waiting near the PO box. She perked up when I opened your box and tried to follow me. She was pretty shit at it though, I lost her pretty quickly.”

Viktor’s vision swam as he tried not to panic. He pressed a hand to his belly, the dread settling bone deep. Not my babies. Please, anything but my babies , he thought desperately.

“You sure you lost them?” Ekko asked.

“Absolutely,” Vi said. She scoffed. “Seriously, she was probably the worst tail I’ve ever seen. All dressed up in her fancy uniform, clearly watching the PO box, and basically rode my ass until I lost her. I’d bet money she’d never even been to the Undercity before now.”

Powder let out a breath, seeming to relax a fraction. “Geez man, you’re either incredibly lucky or not as important as you think you are if the council’s sending a clown like that after you.”

The words snagged against something in Viktor’s mind, stopping his silent panic in its tracks. “Wait, what did this enforcer look like?” he asked.

Vi raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. “Tall, woman, about my age I guess? Sorta blue-black hair, blue eyes. Looked like a really fancy bitch to me.”

“Was she carrying a standard issue weapon, or did it look custom?” Viktor asked.

Now they all gave him a look. “I didn’t see a standard on her, just something slung across her back that I didn’t get a good look at.”

Viktor didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more worried. “That sounds like Cait,” he said.

“Who?” Powder asked.

“You think you know her?” Vi asked.

“You’re friends with an enforcer?” Ekko asked, raising a pale brow at him.

“Caitlyn Kirammen. She was friends with Jayce, he was like an older brother to her,” Viktor explained. “She became an enforcer a few years ago against her family’s wishes. Jayce was one of the only people who supported her.”

“Any idea why she’d try to find you?” Vi asked, crossing her arms. “Officially or unofficially?”

“Wait, isn’t Kirammen one of the councilor families?” Ekko pointed out. “She could be working for them.”

Viktor chewed on his lip. “I wouldn’t think she would, not on their behalf,” he said. “But… she can be incredibly naive. It’s possible she’s been conned into thinking this was her own idea.”

Caitlyn was certainly an intelligent woman with strong convictions, but she had also been raised in a golden cage her entire life. As much as she struggled against her mother’s control and declared her own independence, she was still quite sheltered from the real world and its consequences. Viktor had never condemned her for it, as it wasn’t her fault her mother was overbearing and had the political means to pull strings to keep her daughter in the relative safety of her own sphere of influence, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wary of what she could be capable of. There was a naive trust within her, a trust in others, a trust in the system, that she hadn’t yet had challenged by anything, or at least not the kinds of things Viktor knew to be true, growing up in Zaun.

He could easily picture how a few choice words could be drifted in her direction, putting the idea in her head that it was best that he be tracked down.

“If she’s after me, she thinks she’s doing the right thing,” Viktor said reluctantly.

“Well, whatever she thinks , she’s a threat,” Ekko said. “We have to deal with her.”

Vi grinned and cracked her knuckles. “I can do that,” she said.

“No, absolutely not,” Viktor said. “Even if she wasn’t a friend, which I’ll remind you she is , she’s not just a regular enforcer. She’s a Kirammen . If something happens to her, her mother will rain down hellfire.”

“What’s this about the Kirammen’s?” Vander asked, ascending the stairs from the lower level, Silco in tow.

Before Viktor could think up a convincing lie, Powder launched into an explanation, seeming to take great glee from the idea of danger. As predicted, things quickly spiralled into a flurry of arguments about what to do—about Cait, about the council, about him . Viktor stayed completely quiet throughout, staring down at the messy draft of the back brace he’d been working on with Powder and Ekko. The one he wore, the one Jayce had helped him create, was incredibly malleable and more flexible than one might assume, but it was reaching the limits of what it could fit around. Viktor’s belly was growing fast, and he’d need something that would be able to compensate for the extra weight as well as fit around the growing children inside of him.

Viktor’s hands tightened where they’d fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Cait was an incredible investigator, but there was no way she would be able to know about his children. It was entirely possible she was just simply worried about him and trying to track him down on her own. He hadn’t been as close to her as Jayce had been, but he’d still watched her grow up, and held an affection for her that he knew was reciprocated. She likely had no idea what kind of danger she was putting him in.

Silco slammed his hand down on the table, shouting something about not letting the council walk all over them, startling Viktor. He noticed the pile of mail Vi had brought him—he received his pension cheques at the PO box bi-monthly, he should have realised it would be easy enough to track down. All one would have to do would be to check in with the postal office. He was surprised no one else had thought to stake it out—he was incredibly lucky for having been so stupid.

Viktor reached for the pile and flipped through the envelopes, just to give his hands something to do while his mind raced. The pension cheque was there, as it always was, as well his usual newspaper and the magazine he subscribed to. There was a letter from the academy reminding alumni that it was time for the yearly donations to come in—they always sent him one, despite the fact that he’d never been enrolled, though they never bothered to send him invitations to their alumni events.

There was also a completely unmarked envelope, hastily put together but clearly done with precision. The cardstock was of good quality, excellent quality even, but slightly crumpled, as though it had been carelessly shoved in a pocket before being stuffed into the mail slot. Curious, Viktor tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents, heart jolting when he recognized the handwriting.

“She left me a letter,” he announced to the still arguing room.

All eyes turned to him. “What does it say?” Ekko asked, stepping back from where he’d been starting to get into Silco’s face.

“Give me a moment,” Viktor said, blinking a few times to get his vision to stop swimming.

Viktor,

I want to begin by apologising for not supporting you more after the accident. I was so consumed by my own grief over Jayce’s passing that I didn’t even consider how you might be feeling. For that I am deeply regretful.

I want to apologize further on behalf of my mother. I want you to know that I completely disagree with her decision to remove you from Hextech. It was unfounded and unfair, and the last thing Jayce would have wanted, even if you had somehow been responsible for the accident, which I entirely doubt.

Speaking of the incident, I have some questions for you regarding it. I suspect there is something else at play regarding the investigation and I would like some clarification on some events. I understand if you would rather not speak of it, but I feel it would bring me Jayce some peace.

You have clearly taken great pains to disappear from Piltover, which I do not fault, but I confess I am worried for you. Things moved so quickly after the verdict that I confess I was severely lacking in my duties as a friend and did not reach you in time. Though I followed your trail as far as I was able, I ultimately decided that, since you seemed adamant to leave behind Piltover and all those within it, I would not persist in following.

However, new developments with the council and Hextech have become concerning. I do not know all of the details, but I have become privy to plans to find you in the Undercity and return you to Hextech. I would think this is a good thing, but something about the situation makes me nervous on your behalf. I understand should you wish to stay hidden, but I would very much like to speak to you. I give you my solemn oath that I will not reveal your location to anyone, should that be your wish.

With lo

Yours

Regards,

Caitlyn

Viktor read and reread the letter, making sure he understood and memorized it back to front. He took a deep breath and held the letter out, barely noticing the scuffle as Powder and Ekko snatched at it, only for Silco to pluck it out of Powder’s triumphant hands. He carefully poured over the letter, ignoring or not caring about Vi and Powder reading over his shoulders. When he was finished, he folded it carefully and handed it back to Viktor.

“Well?” Silco asked, smokey smooth voice curling around barely concealed irritation.

Viktor took a deep breath, trying to come up with an answer. His first instinct was to run, to hide further down in the depths of Zaun and never resurface. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the risks Caitlyn presented, intentionally or unintentionally, if she knew where he was.

However, as he let the panic wash over him, cresting in his chest before flowing out of his fingertips, he tried to consider things more rationally. According to the letter, Caitlyn had followed his trail months ago, possibly even right to the PO box, but hadn’t gone any further out of respect for his privacy. He had no reason to believe that wasn’t the truth, as there was no reason for her to lie and it wasn’t in her nature anyway.

Furthermore, if her letter was to be believed, the council was looking for him anyway, and she was only trying to get ahead of them for his sake, or for the sake of Jayce’s memory at least. Hiding from the council while they weren’t looking for you was one thing, but if they were actually trying to track you down, your chances of slipping past them weren’t good.

Finally, Viktor had to consider what Cait meant by new developments . Despite the idea that Viktor might be able to return to his lab and continue his work being a dream come true, he couldn’t deny the sense of unease he felt. If the council wanted him back after cutting him so thoroughly out of Hextech, he couldn’t think they’re reasons were in his best interest.

Ultimately it all came down to his trust in Cait weighed against his desires to stay hidden. It would be a risk either way, for himself, but especially for his children. Cait had made no indication that she knew anything about his pregnancy, and if she didn’t know, then he doubted the council knew. What it came down to was information , and Viktor would only get that if he met with Cait.

“I’d like to speak with her,” he finally answered. “If only to know what she wants.”

Silco narrowed his good eye and let out a hum. “As you like,” he said.

“Should we set up a place to meet?” Ekko asked. “So she can’t track you back here?”

“That won’t matter,” Silco said. “She’s already seen Vi. it wouldn’t be difficult for her to make the connection, if she’s as good an investigator as she’s rumoured to be.”

“Hey, it’s not like I was expecting a tail,” Vi defended. “And I lost her, didn’t I?”

“Plus, the council knows better,” Vander said, crossing his arms. “They won’t come in here without thinking twice about it.” His fists and arms flexed, and his shoulders had gone stiff. He was nervous, but trying not to show it.

“But they will come here,” Silco countered, good eye sliding back to Viktor, “if they think the risk is worth it.”

Viktor felt his skin prickle. “I did not intend to put anyone here in danger—”

“Danger is something we know all too well,” Silco cut him off. “We would not have offered asylum if we were averse to it.”

“Seriously,” Powder said, leaning against Viktor’s side. “It’s not all about you, y’know.”

Viktor pressed his lips together, casting his eyes down as everyone began to make plans. He’d grown used to their company, but it was quite something to witness them all coming together in his defense. He fought down the tears that threatened to gather in his eyes. Damn hormones.

Eventually, they decided on the easiest plan—Vi would simply go out and lead Cait to the Last Drop, where Viktor would be waiting for her, the rest of the family waiting close by in case things went sideways. Ekko even volunteered to scour the area from above with his Firelights, a group he’d created that was dedicated to keeping the citizens of Zaun safe from both chem barons and enforcers. Viktor wanted to say that it was unnecessary, but feeling the tiny little kicks inside of him reminded him that it wasn’t his own life that he was protecting.

“We can have Sevika at the ready if you like,” Vander said the next day as they were preparing. “She could take you to a safe house.”

Viktor smoothed a hand over his belly, trying to calm his nerves. “I’m sure she has more important things to be doing,” he said.

Vander chuckled. “This time of day? The most important thing she’s up to is probably sleeping off a hangover,” he said. He called over Mylo and told him to run and fetch the older woman.

Sevika was certainly an interesting woman, in Viktor’s opinion. He’d only met her a few times, but she’d left quite the impression on him. She’d apparently worked with Vander and Silco all the way back in the early days, before the massacre on the bridge, and had stayed loyal. Not so much to either Vander or Silco, but to the cause that was Zaun. She had the bearing of the toughest gangster but the conviction of the most dedicated of zealots. As much as Viktor had heard of her, her hobbies included gambling, women, expensive cigars, and getting into fights. Viktor couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by her presence.

Viktor fought down a flinch when the door opened some minutes later, a split-second panicked thought that Cait had somehow found them before she was supposed to. It was only Mylo returning with Sevika in tow however, though Viktor’s nerves remained somewhat frazzled. Sevika walked in his direction and flopped down into the chair next to his.

“So we’re working with enforcers now?” she growled, voice rough from likely being pulled out of her bed at the early hour.

“Cait’s a friend,” Viktor said. “She thinks she’s doing what’s right.”

Sevika snorted. “They all think that,” she said, then settled down in her seat, watching the door.

It took Vi quite a while to return, the morning crawling into early afternoon before Powder burst through the doors. “She’s on her way with the Piltie,” she said.

“Anyone else?” Silco asked from the corner.

Powder shook her head. “Nope. Ekko confirms.”

Silco let out a hum. “Tell them to keep circling, just in case.”

“You got it,” Powder chirped, bouncing out the door once again.

“Deep breaths,” Vander called from behind the bar. “We won’t let anything happen.”

Viktor nodded and stared down at the woodgrain of the table in front of him, trying to keep his mind from spiralling. What would he say to Cait? How would she react? What was it the council wanted from him now? All things he’d never know if he ran now.

The rest of the group had settled themselves around the pub in a display of faux-casualness. Silco and Sevika were seated in the booth in the corner, Sevika with a direct line of sight. Vander was behind the bar, with Mylo and Claggor sitting at one corner, heads bent as if in conversation, but poised to lunge for the doors if it became necessary. Powder was watching outside, ready to run inside with warnings the moment Ekko gave her a signal. All that was left was for Vi to arrive with Cait in tow.

When the bell above the door finally chimed, showing Vi and a dressed-down Cait inside, Viktor’s breath caught in his chest. He’d left Piltover as fast as he could, without saying goodbye to anyone, too focused on keeping his then newly discovered pregnancy as secret as possible. He hadn’t heard from Cait since then, hadn’t met her in person since before the accident—something about her mother or the investigation keeping her from seeing him, he couldn’t remember the details. Seeing her now, unchanged from how she’d been all those months ago, brought to stark realization how little time had actually passed, despite how much it all felt like an entire lifetime ago.

Cait’s eyes roamed around the bar, locking quickly on everyone’s positions, especially Vi’s as she moved towards the bar. When her gaze finally met Viktor’s, she stopped, their eyes locking briefly before she glanced down at his prominent belly, half-hidden behind the table he was sitting at. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in surprise, before she looked back up to Viktor’s face, an ocean of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh, Viktor ,” she said, quickly crossing the bar towards him.

Viktor stood as she approached and let her wrap him in a tight hug. She smelled like the same expensive soap she always did, the familiarity of it sending a slight tremor through Viktor’s body. She was first and foremost Jayce’s friend, almost his little sister, but Viktor had watched her grow into a young woman, and he couldn’t deny the affection in his heart.

Cait stepped back after a minute and looked him over. “ Gods , Viktor,” she said, once again staring down at his belly. “If I had known…”

“I did not want anyone to know,” Viktor said. “It was why I left Piltover the way I did.”

“Of course,” Cait said, brow furrowing. She was clever enough to put together the dots. She bit her lip, hesitating, before she asked, “Is it… his ?”

Jayce’s , she meant. Viktor took a deep breath. “Yes, they are.”

Cait sucked in a shuddering breath. “Gods,” she repeated.

Viktor sat back down and she followed him, still looking shaken. “The council made it clear that they wanted complete control of Hextech. As a Zaunite with no name, I have little recourse to challenge them. As the parent of the heirs to house Talis, which is now a councilor’s house, my claim holds more weight,” he explained. He rested a hand on his belly. “I need to protect them at all costs.”

“Of course,” Cait said, reaching out to place her hand over Viktor’s, the one still laying on the table. “I completely understand. I wouldn’t have thought them capable of something like that, but…” she frowned, hand tightening slighting. “Things have been… strange lately.”

“Strange how?’ Viktor asked.

Cait’s expression darkened—she glanced around the bar, once again taking in the positions of everyone stationed around them. “Council matters shouldn’t be discussed openly—”

“Cait,” Viktor said firmly, “this concerns my children . I trust these people. Please .”

Cait stared into his eyes, clearly warring with herself. With one final glare directed in Vi’s direction, she finally let out a sigh and leaned in close. “Alright,” she said.

Viktor leaned in as she began. “There’s been unrest in the council,” she said. “It seems that the vote to cut you out of Hextech has split the council and they’re having trouble agreeing on anything now. Normally things would eventually blow over and even out eventually, so my mother tells it, but there have been rumors that Heimerdinger has been considering leaving the council.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “Leaving the council? Why?”

“Crisis of faith I suppose, or at least that’s how I’ve heard it explained,” Cait said. “I haven’t personally talked to him, but he’s been withdrawn lately. My mother is worried.”

“It would certainly shake things up,” Viktor said, “but what has that to do with me? If Heimerdinger feels guilty for what he’s done, that’s hardly my fault.”

“True, but there’s more,” Cait said. “Apparently, something has been happening with the Hexgates.”

Viktor felt a chill run down his spine. One of the babies, as if in reaction, gave a swift kick. “What sort of something ?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but shipments have slowed to a crawl,” Cait said. “They’ve brought on Ms. Young, but there’s talk of finding you and offering you back your position at Hextech. It’s the first thing the council has been in agreement on in months.”

Viktor couldn’t believe his ears. They wanted to give him back Hextech—it sounded like a dream come true. Part of Viktor wanted nothing more than to run right back into Piltover and accept, but he knew that would be the height of foolishness. Something too good to be true always was—there was always a catch.

“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with the Gates? Power surges? Frequency fluctuations?” Viktor asked, his mind already spinning scenarios and what their solutions might be.

Cait shook her head. “I have no idea. Technically I’m not even supposed to know there’s anything wrong with the Gates. The official story is that they’re being slowed for routine maintenance, but behind closed doors the council is panicking.”

Viktor ground his teeth together. Of course this would be why the council wanted him back. Their goal was always and had always been to protect their investments . Any goodwill he might have felt for being brought back into his work—which was small to begin with—was vastly overshadowed by his annoyance over the council’s action.

Yet he couldn’t deny that getting back his work was much too tempting to dismiss out of hand.

There would be time to ponder that later though. “You said you had questions about the investigation,” he said, recalling the letter.

Cait’s eyes got that glint they did when she caught a whiff of a lead she was chasing. “Yes, I’ve been following up on it,” she said. “There are so many strange things about the way it was handled that I can’t just chalk it up to coincidence.”

Viktor gave an indulgent half-smile. If only half the enforcers were as driven and dedicated to actually helping people as Cait was, the world might be a better place. “I’ll do my best to answer what I can,” he promised.

Cait went through the entire rigamarole of questions Viktor had  been through before, taking copious notes throughout. Viktor even deigned to tell her—so long as she kept it off the record—that he and Jayce had been intimate just before the accident, which was why he’d been vague about what he’d been doing as the accident happened.

“Oh,” Cait said, blushing slightly. She glanced down at his belly. “Is… is that when—?”

“Yes,” Viktor said, sparing her the embarrassment of having to ask. He ran a hand over his belly, delighting in the kicks that followed, as though they knew he was paying attention to them. “We’d never… it was the only time we were together that way.”

Cait’s expression turned to sorrow. “Oh Viktor ,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. I should have—gods, if Jayce knew that I haven’t been—”

“It’s not your fault,” Viktor told her. “I chose to keep it secret.”

“For good reason,” Cait said. “But I should have tried harder. I could have helped. I could have— should have protected you.” Her eyes hardened and she gripped her pen. “It’s what Jayce would have wanted.”

Viktor sucked in a breath. “Jayce is not here,” he said firmly, bracing himself against the sting. “And even if he was, do you think he would blame you for what’s happened? Jayce ? The man whom you once spilled an entire scalding cup of coffee on and he apologised for being in the way?”

The memory brought up a watery laugh from Cait’s throat. “No, probably not,” she admitted. Her face melted back into one of sadness. “I guess I’m just… sorry that you’ve been alone all this time.”

Viktor couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” he said, genuine emotion strangling his voice. He glanced around at the others, stationed at strategic places around the pub. He hadn’t felt alone, but it was nice to know that there were more people in his corner than he’d thought.

Cait flipped through her notes. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said, mostly to herself. “It’s as though they were trying to find something that would make you the guilty party.”

Viktor clenched his jaw and tried to remind himself how sheltered she was. “Cait,” he said gently, “I know you trust that the council has everyone’s best interests in mind—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Cait said, snapping her notebook shut. “I know what you think about me. I know you think… that you think I’m naive , but these last few months—” She stopped, clenching her teeth. “I knew that not everyone in the ranks was in it for the most noble reasons, but after investigating this —” she drummed her fingers across the notebook, “—I can’t deny that there’s a rot in the enforcers, and it might go deep .”

Viktor stared at her, surprised. He’d had high hopes that Cait would at least keep her hands clean of all the mess that usually came with being an enforcer, that she would remain purely dedicated to her mission to help the people around her, but he’d never considered what would happen if she ever bumped up against the ugliness of what enforcers were capable of. It seemed that she was coming face to face with the true extent of the corruption that had wound itself into Piltover’s foundations, and she wasn’t pleased with what she saw. Maybe he needed to have more faith in her.

“Do you have any idea who might be responsible?” Viktor asked, hoping that was a safe question.

Cait groaned and tossed her notebook on the table. “No, that’s the most frustrating part. Every time I feel like I’m getting close, I hit a wall. It’s as though the system is designed to hide this information specifically.”

“It probably is,” Vi pitched in from her spot by the bar. She raised an eyebrow at them when they looked over at her. “What? You’re talking at normal volume and the rest of the bar is silent. S’not my fault.”

“It’s still a private conversation,” Cait shot back stiffly, cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment. She probably hadn’t realised that her voice had started rising.

Vi shrugged and flashed a grin. “Be better at hiding your privates then,” she said.

“You—!” Cait squawked, leaping from her seat.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Vander said, stepping around the bar, hands up and doing a poor job of hiding a smile. “I think that's  enough for now. 

Chapter Text

True to her promise, Cait said nothing to anyone about Viktor's whereabouts, though she warned him that she was only the first one who'd found him.

“The council is going to look for you,” she said. “If I could follow the trail, they won't be too far behind.”

“You can't stall them?” Powder asked with a derisive snort. She’d developed a pointed dislike of the older woman. “Use your rish Piltie powers to make them look the other way like you all do when you want something?”

Cait flashed her a hard glare. “I cannot, unfortunately ,” she said through gritted teeth. “As a junior enforcer, I shouldn't even be handling investigations.”

“So? Use that fancy name of yours to get your way,” Powder huffed, inspecting the end of her braid for split ends.

Cait bristled. “I'm not going to become part of the corruption that's causing all this harm,” she insisted.

Silco stepped forward before the two girls could row for the third time since Cait had arrived early that morning. “Noble as your intentions are, Powder has a point,” he said, voice gentle but firm. He laid a paternal hand on Cait's shoulder. “As much as I would love to indulge your innocent heart, it's not sustainable in this world. We all must learn to use the cards we've been dealt, good or bad. You've been dealt an unusually good hand. You're welcome to squander or abuse them as others have before you, but you have the choice to do something more noble with them instead.”

Viktor made a mental note to try and limit Silco and Cait's interactions as much as possible.

Cait pursed her lips, but gave a nod. “I understand,” she said. She glanced towards the door. She'd been coming down to the Last Drop for a week, choosing random days so as not to be suspicious. Viktor could only imagine the things she'd seen out in the Lanes—such a far cry from the gilded world she'd been brought up in her entire life. It must have been quite startling for her.

She turned back to Viktor. “I'll come back as soon as I can,” she said. “I'll try and get in touch with Sky and see if she knows anything about what's happening to the gates.”

“Thank you Cait, I appreciate it,” Viktor said.

She shifted her weight towards the door, but didn't move, hesitating. Her eyes darted away and she bit her lip before she stared back into his eyes square on. “Would you like me to reach out to Mrs. Talis?”

Viktor's breath caught. Mrs. Talis, Ximena, Jayce's beloved mother—Viktor hadn't let himself think about her in weeks. Not in any concrete way anyway. He assumed that she might want to take custody of the babies after they were born, after he was gone, but he hadn't actually thought about her . She was his babies’ grandmother, the only other living blood family they had. Surely she deserved to know her son's children?

“Ah, maybe…” Viktor hesitated, hand pressing protectively against his belly.

“I don't have to!” Cait said quickly. “I understand this is all happening quite fast and you still have to decide a whole bunch of things, but… I just thought…” she shifted her weight again. She'd had that nervous habit since she was young, bouncing around their lab in ribbons and kneesocks she was barely too old for. “She might like to know. She… she could help.”

She would help, Viktor knew. She'd take one look at his swollen belly and take him into her arms, ready to lend herself to his needs. She wouldn't even be angry with him. It wasn't in her nature.

And wasn't it selfish of Viktor to keep this from her anyway? These were Jayce's babies he was growing inside of him, her grandchildren. She had a right to know about them, especially if Viktor was only going to be around for a short time after they were born, if he survived at all. Ximena was not the force of will and personality that her son was, but she was currently the sitting matriarch of Talis house. She had raised Jayce alone in a city that looked down their noses at her lowly status when they didn't ignore her completely. Maybe with Vander and Silco's help, she'd be able to protect them.

If Viktor even had the courage to tell her at all.

“I have to consider some things,” Viktor finally said. “I’m… unsure of what I'll be doing going forward.”

Cait nodded, though there was a deep sadness in her eyes. “I understand,” she said softly. She straightened up, regaining her composure. “I'll see you soon,” she promised.

Viktor gave her a nod, and with that she headed for the door, Vi already waiting to lead her out of the city and back to Piltover. As they walked off down the street, Viktor could faintly hear the beginnings of an argument.

“We need to talk about what exactly you’re going to do going forward ,” Silco said, repeating Viktor’s words back to him. “This is becoming larger than anticipated.”

Viktor took a deep breath. “You said you would keep us safe,” he said.

“And we stand by that,” Vander cut in, offering a gentle smile before his face went serious. “But this Hexgate stuff is way above what we were expecting to happen.”

“Piltover doesn't exactly take it well when their bottom line becomes compromised,” Silco said. “We need to think strategically.”

“I know,” Viktor said, running a hand through his hair. It had gotten so thick and shiny, a result of the hormones running through his body. “I know .”

“We could try and get him out of the city maybe?” Ekko suggested. “They're powerful here , but they don't have any real reach outside the city limits.”

“S'probably why they keep Zaun on such a short leash,” Powder scoffed. “Don't want to lose what little power they think they have.”

“It's a good option, but it would take some time to set up,” Vander said. “Safe, covert ways out of the city have their risks, plus there's no telling what’s on the other end when you do get out.”

Viktor considered it for a moment—leaving both Piltover and Zaun behind, finding a place where no one could ever find him. He could start over, become someone, something new. He imagined a little cottage somewhere, by a river perhaps, Piltover and its problems far away, his children safe and sound and growing up without a care in the world. It was a lovely picture, extremely tempting if Viktor was honest with himself. Yet there was something calling him to stay, to see whatever this was through.

Viktor lifted a hand and placed it on his belly, stroking along the curve. “No, I don't want to leave,” he said. “Too dangerous for them.”

“That leaves us with two options,” Vander said. “We either try and find you a place more secret in the city and keep the council from finding you, or we simply wait for them to come here and let them find you.”

“No, not quite,” Silco said suddenly, his good eye glinting in the low light of the gas lanterns. “We could go to them first .”

“Oh boy, it’s finally happened,” Powder said. “The old man has finally lost his last marble.”

“You must be joking,” Viktor said, not sure he had even heard properly. Was Silco seriously suggesting that he willingly turn himself over to the council? “We don't know what the council will do with my children.”

“The council isn't looking for your children, they're barely looking for you ,” Silco said. “They're looking for the one person that knows how Hextech works. You heard the enforcer girl, they're desperate .” His mouth curled into a sharp, fox-like grin. “You have something they want. That puts you in the position of power, not them.”

“You're mad,” Viktor scoffed, but he could hear the logic in the argument. If the Hexgates were malfunctioning, they needed him to fix it. Certainly they could threaten him into doing it, but that wasn't exactly their preferred modus operandi. More flies with honey and all that.

“Maybe so,” Silco said. “But if that girl is as good an investigator as you say she is, then the council has yet to find out about the pregnancy. If they're as dedicated to finding you as you fear, they will find out, and when they find you, they'll be prepared. Strike first, catch them on their back foot, and negotiate on your terms.”

“Silco,” Vander said in a warning tone, “this is dangerous.”

“So it is,” Silco said, eye flicking to Vander. “But it's a danger that is ever-present. We have to decide if we want to run or if we want to fight .”

Vander's face hardened. “ Viktor has to decide,” he corrected firmly.

Silco, at the very least, had the decency to flush the slightest amount before he schooled his face into his usual expression of cool control. “Of course,” he said calmly, turning to Viktor. “The choice is yours boy. Think carefully.”

Viktor didn't want to think carefully, he wanted to tell Silco to go fuck himself—maybe slap him across the face for good measure. The very idea of putting his children in that kind of danger made his skin crawl. For all they were cutthroat businessmen, they held fast to their traditions—they were perfectly happy to shove him off the bridge and let him drown, but there was a reason they had to wait until Jayce was out of the picture. He was from a ‘lower’ house, but a house was a house, and they'd never dare try and take control over Hextech while House Talis had a legitimate heir. If they knew about Viktor's children, they'd all but claw each other to pieces trying to gain control over them, and therefore Hextech's future.

Then again, Viktor couldn't help but see the logic behind Silco's argument. If he staked his claim, forced the council to reckon with him, they wouldn't have much of a choice but to recognize him as part of Hextech. If he was smart and played things well, he could secure a good future for his children.

If he was lucky, he'd even get back his position at Hextech.

“I need to think,” Viktor said, running a hand through his hair. “I—there's so much , I—”

“Take all the time you need,” Vander said, resting a giant hand on his shoulder. “Think about what you want. These are your kids, you're the only one who gets to decide.”

Viktor looked up into Vander's kind blue eyes, so full of understanding. He'd learned a lot about the man since he'd started living with him and his family. He'd made so many sacrifices for his family, some that perhaps betrayed his values, but had been made all the same in the name of keeping his family safe. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I'm going to go lie down,” he announced, exhausted all of a sudden. “I just need some time.”

“Of course,” Vander said, giving his shoulder a squeeze and then a pat as Viktor turned to go up the stairs. Viktor barely got the door closed before he heard the beginnings of a shouting match between Vander and Silco. He'd feel bad if he didn't know that this was how they were about everything.

Apparently their make-up sex was spectacular, if the reinforced and sound-proofed walls around their bedroom were anything to go by.

Viktor flopped down on his cot, grunting as he struggled into a comfortable position. It was getting harder and harder to get comfortable in any position, the larger his belly got. Not only was he having to carry around an extra several pounds out the front, but the pressure on his spine and leg was encroaching on debilitating. He was working with Powder and Ekko to create a new brace system that would accommodate his increased weight and growing belly, but Viktor found himself missing Jayce's insights more and more.

One of the babies kicked hard, shifting against their sibling. Viktor grunted and laid a hand over his belly, as though to soothe them. “It's nap time,” he told them. “Let's settle down, hey?”

His answer was a second, more vicious kick, followed by a series of smaller kicks and wiggles as the second baby woke up and began to copy their sibling. Viktor let out a pained sigh as the two of them began to either play or fight, using his internal organs as their staging ground. It seemed like rest wasn't on the schedule today.

Viktor laid on his side, huffing and groaning softly as his children writhed inside him. He was glad he hadn't had much to eat, or he was sure he'd be seeing it again with the force of the two of them kicking and turning. He was certain at one point they were doing somersaults. Finally, Viktor ungracefully shoved himself up into a sitting position—he frowned down at his belly.

“You two are as energetic as your father,” he huffed, rubbing his hands over his bump in an attempt to soothe them to sleep. “When he got like this, I’d have to yell at him to go to his forge and work it off.”

The memory made Viktor smile. Jayce was a man of action, and thrived when he had an idea he was able to pour his energy into. At times however, there wouldn't be enough work for him to do, or they'd get stuck on a particularly difficult spot and have to slow down to work out the kinks. When this happened, Jayce would often get restless, and when he got restless, he'd get disruptive. More than once Viktor had come into the lab to find that Jayce had decided to deep clean the coffee machine by fully disassembling it. Or that one time that Jayce had decided to ‘update’ their security system and accidentally locked them both inside the lab for five hours. After that, when Viktor could sense that Jayce was getting wound up, he'd tell him to go work out his energy at the forge. Once, Viktor had resorted to locking Jayce out of the lab in order to force the issue.

Viktor quietly murmured the story aloud, continuing to rub his belly, eventually getting his children to settle down. They seemed to like it when he spoke to them, and liked it most of all when he told them stories about Jayce. It never seemed to fail to get them to settle down when they were too excited to let Viktor sleep. It hurt of course, to talk about Jayce, but it also felt better than keeping it down. Later, he'd write the story down in his little journal, the one he planned to give them. Viktor wanted to give them as many pieces of their father as he could.

Silco's words floated back to his mind. It was insanity, but perhaps no more insane than finding an old academy uniform and pretending to be a student. Viktor hadn't thought twice about taking that risk, all those years ago. His only other option had been to accept his lot in life and stay in Zaun, his talents languishing, and that hadn't been an option that Viktor was willing to accept.

He should have gotten arrested. If it hadn't been Heimerdinger himself that found him out, he probably would have been, and he would have been thrown into Stillwater, or back into the gutter he'd crawled out of. He'd gotten incredibly lucky, and he'd continued getting lucky throughout his entire career. He'd all but stumbled over Jayce, and taken a huge risk with his Hextech idea. It would have been easier to keep his head down, to not put himself at risk, to keep working within the parameters he'd been given and play it safe.

If he'd done that, he might never have left the fissures.

Then again, it wasn't himself that was at risk now, was it?

Viktor drummed his fingers over his belly. After they were born, Viktor suspected he'd have an incredibly limited amount of time with them. His disease hung over his neck like an executioner's ax, ready to fall at a moment's notice. The mysterious force, for all it protected him against harm, felt connected to his children, not himself. If Viktor survived the birth at all, he could only imagine a sharp decline for himself. It was unpleasant to think about, but he'd accepted that his time was limited no matter what he did. If his lungs didn't kill him soon, his bent spine would eventually get around to it, or at least become so painful that it'd make him wish he was dead.

That was to say, his children would be alone in the world, and it was up to Viktor to ensure their future was good. He'd been collecting his pension diligently, setting it aside for their care as they grew up. It was quite a lot of money, for all it was a fraction of a percent of what Hextech was worth. His savings had gone into the mix as well, though there wasn't much to speak of—he'd tended to invest most of his salary back into Hextech, not seeing the point in hoarding all that wealth away for a dying man who lived a sparse life anyway. By Piltover standards, it was a modest sum that could be lived off of if one was smart about spending. In Zaun, it was a veritable fortune , and one without any dirt on it. His children could live comfortably until they were old enough to set out into the world.

It had been Viktor's plan for weeks—leave his children in the capable, trustworthy hands of Vander and Silco with the money for their care as thanks. Even if Vander and Silco didn't care for them themselves, they'd know someone who could. They were good people, and they'd do right by any child of the Lanes. Maybe he'd leave instructions to eventually reunite them with Ximena, so she could know her grandchildren one day. It wasn't a grand life, but it was a safe life.

Was that what he wanted for his children though?

Half of Viktor said yes , it was exactly what he wanted for them—a comfortable, safe life where they wouldn't be harrassed by anyone for their blood rights to an empire they had no knowledge of. The other half, the half that he'd listened to when he'd donned an ill-fitted uniform and crossed the bridge, raged at such an idea. His children deserved more . They deserved all they were entitled to and more, damn what the council had to say about it. Wasn't that why he'd done all that he'd done, taken all the risks he'd taken? He'd known, even as a child, that his situation was unfair, that he shouldn't be kept from climbing higher because of the circumstances of his birth. He knew he could reach higher, go farther, than any golden spoon Piltie with more money than sense. He hadn't let himself be cowed back into ‘'his place'—he'd fought for what he wanted.

He'd clawed his way to the top, regardless of how much shit he got under his nails.

Viktor took a deep breath. “I hope you'll forgive me one day,” he said softly.

Though he was willing to take the risk, Viktor refused to be stupid about it.

“Wait, so Vi, Sevika, and the Piltie are going with you?” Mylo asked. “Doesn't that seem like overkill?”

“For the middle of Piltover, I don't think so,” Viktor said, fiddling with the strap of his mask. He was supposed to wear it whenever he went out into Zaun's crappy air.

“Your friend I suppose I get,” Claggor said, handing Powder a wrench as she worked on the wheelchair Viktor was going to use. “Having an enforcer escort means people won't bug you. But why Sevika and Vi?”

“Sevika is going to act as a bodyguard,” Viktor explained.

“And Vi?” Powder asked, peering upside down at her sister standing in the other corner.

Vi shrugged. “I'll be his nurse,” she said.

Claggor let out a choked laugh, which was better than Mylo and Powder, who both burst out laughing. Vi didn't seem phased in the slightest.

“Who's more believable as a nurse?” Vi asked. “Me, or Sevika ?”

“Okay, fair,” Claggor said, once he'd managed to calm down. “But why both of you? Why not just you or Sevika as the bodyguard? Or two bodyguards?”

“Only one member of any type of staff is allowed in the council room at a time,” Viktor explained. “And I’d rather be over prepared than anything else.”

“You think they’ll try something?” Mylo asked.

Viktor bit his lip. “No,” he admitted.

“So you're just being paranoid then?” Powder said, looking up at him with a half-grin.

“I’m just trying to be prepared ,” Viktor mumbled, hands cradling his belly protectively. “This is already a bad idea.”

“You can still back out,” Mylo said.

“No one would judge you if you did,” Claggor offered, reaching out to place a friendly hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “We get this is all pretty messed up.”

“ That’s putting it lightly,” Powder said. She finished the final adjustments to the chair and stood up. “There, should be good to go.”

Viktor did his best to check her work from where he stood—he was getting too big to bend over easily, not that he had an easy time with bending anyway. “So long as it gets me to the councilor’s chamber and back, it’s perfect.”

The chair was something they’d been working on alongside the new brace. It was clear that, as the pregnancy progressed, there was no way that Viktor was going to be able to move around well on his own, even with the crutch. If he wanted to be able to leave the Last Drop at all, he was going to need the chair.

“The motor should hold, but be careful about your fuel,” Ekko said. “There’s only so much battery power we can pack into these things.”

“I can push you if you need,” Vi offered as Viktor carefully flopped down into the chair.

“That may be smart,” Viktor said, adjusting himself in the chair until he felt comfortable. Months ago he might have felt too proud to accept that offer, but he had too much on his mind to think of pride. If he was going to face down the council in a handful of hours, he was going to need to keep his composure.

Huffing and puffing from trying to push himself along with his skinny twig arms and rotten lungs wasn’t the way he wanted to appear in front of them.

“Ready?” Vi asked, stepping behind him and gripping the chair handles.

“Yes,” Viktor answered, choosing not to overthink it. He was doing this, he’d already decided to do this, and there was no point in second guessing now.

“Alright,” Vi said. She turned back to the others. “We’ll be back before dark. If we’re not, something got fucked.”

“Good luck,” Ekko said.

“Don’t get fucked,” Mylo said.

Powder suddenly jumped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her sister. “Come home, okay?” she mumbled, her face half buried in Vi’s side.

Vi’s eyes softened and she wrapped her arm around Powder. “I will, I promise,” she said. She laid a quick kiss to Powder’s head before carefully extracting herself.

“Take care up there,” Claggor said to Viktor. “Remember what Silco told you.”

Viktor nodded stiffly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He strapped his mask to his face as Vi pushed him out the door of the pub, breathing as calmly as he could.

Sevika, who had been waiting for them outside, joined them as they began walking toward the bridge, where Cait would be meeting them. The denizens of Zaun spared him a quick glance as he passed, but their eyes tended to catch on the more well-known figures of Sevika and Vi. As such, they were given a wide berth—everyone knew better than to make trouble with those two around. As they walked and Viktor was pushed, he went over what Silco had coached him on earlier. Viktor knew politicking was not his strong suit, but Silco was nothing short of a master of getting his way. If the council ever faced him head on, he’d have them running in circles within a week. Viktor wondered if the council knew that, and that’s why they refused to deal with Silco at all. He wouldn’t put it past them.

The walk through the Lanes to the bridge wasn’t long, but it felt like hours before they reached it. Cait was waiting for them on the Zaun side of the bridge, exactly as they’d planned, so that they could cross without any issues. She wore a pristine enforcer’s uniform, hat and all, keeping slightly to the side of where some other enforcers were milling about, chatting before they headed off to haunt the streets of Zaun like bad nightmares come to life. She spotted them in the crowd and quickly marched over before anyone else could approach them.

“Don’t you look fancy,” Vi teased as Cait fell into step with them. “All gussied up in your little outfit.”

“It’ll be easier to get through all of the checkpoints and security if I look as official as possible,” Cait answered sharply.

Viktor could hear Vi roll her eyes behind his head. “Please, all you have to do is flash that fancy name of yours around and people will fall over themselves trying to please you.”

Cait stared ahead, eyes hard. “Perhaps,” she said softly.

They passed over the bridge without any issues. The enforcers standing guard watched them, but Cait's presence kept them at bay. The populace around them parted like the wake of a ship, eyes fixed on the intimidating figures of Vi and Sevika, before they landed on Cait, and then finally flicked to him. Or rather, his belly, settled on top of his thighs he was transporting a melon under his shirt. Some people smiled briefly, while others took in the mask and his strange trio of bodyguards and decided pity was the better take. The worst were the ones who took notice of their Zaunite clothes and bearing and sneered, turning up their noses like they'd dragged up the rotten muck from the bottom of the sump.

Viktor hardly noticed the people, he found himself too focused on the situation at hand. Around every corner could be an agent of the council, ready to spring on them, or rush ahead and warn the council he was coming. They weren't exactly hiding him—maybe they should have come in disguise, or at least disguised the belly? He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths to avoid sending himself into a panic.

It probably didn’t help that the city had changed in his absence. It seemed like the Hexgates being non-operational was having a bigger effect on the city that even Viktor could have anticipated. Fruit stalls that were normally packed to the brim with all kinds of exotic delicacies from around the globe were either barely stocked with a pittance of what was usually available or overstuffed with an abundance of local fruits that were in season. Several shop fronts were dark, either having sunk outright or restricting their hours to save money. People talked loudly about all the luxuries that were either nowhere to be found in the city or so expensive as to be out of reach. While Viktor had been settling into a routine in Zaun, Piltover had been scrambling against a decline.

Viktor had to admit it was a little vindicating.

“You’d think no one could ever survive without face powder,” Vi scoffed as they passed a woman scolding a vendor for not having her preferred cosmetic.

“It's funny now, but how long ‘til they start taking it out on us?” Sevika grumbled, glaring at a man who had the audacity to openly gawk at them. He quickly turned and hurried away.

Vi scoffed. “No kidding. They always find a way to blame us somehow,” she said.

“We're here to prevent that from happening,” Viktor said, voice surprisingly steady for how hard his heart was beating.

Cait stayed silent, but Viktor knew she was quietly absorbing the conversation. He hoped she was taking the right lessons and ideas from them. He didn't want her to think that everyone in Zaun turned around and blamed Piltover for all their problems without cause. He'd always avoided such topics with her previously, much the same way he'd done with Jayce, but he felt now he didn't have much of a choice. Perhaps he could act as a buffer between her and the other women in their current company.

They reached the council building without fuss. When Cait announced them to the front desk, the young man looked skeptical, but when he went to fetch a supervisor, telling them that a ‘Viktor’ was here to see the council, he came back looking white as a sheet with a wide smile plastered on his face. From there they were led away to a special waiting area that Viktor only ever been in when Jayce was present and told the council would come quickly. Several assistants came in multiple times offering food and drink, but Viktor declined. Eventually, the booted feet of a squad of enforcers sounded in the hallway, giving Viktor just enough time to brace himself when Sheriff Markus entered the chamber.

Markus had clearly rushed over as fast as possible—his hair was slightly askew and he was panting. His eyes alighted on Viktor and he stepped forward, only to be blocked by Sevika's bulk stepping in his path.

“Who are you?” Markus blurted out, startled.

“Bodyguard,” Sevika announced gruffly. “Step back.”

Markus bristled. “That man is under arrest by order of the council—”

“No he's not,” Cait said from where she'd been standing at attention in the corner of the room. “No warrant for the arrest of Viktor has been issued.”

Markus’s eyes flicked to her in a sharp, hateful glare. “The council has issued a statement—”

“A statement that Viktor is a person of interest, not a warrant for his capture,” Cait said, not backing down under Markus's gaze. “If you have a warrant of arrest, you must present it before the accused at the time of his arrest, if it has not been made public at that time.”

Markus’s glare could have melted steel, but Cait stood firm. He clenched his fists so hard that his gloves squeaked. “Officers Steb and Maddie, guard the door. Make sure no one leaves or enters until the council arrives,” he barked, before finally turning and stomping away.

Two enforcers—a young, red-headed girl and a half fish-folk man—stepped into the room and closed it behind them. Caitlyn huffed, but she was clearly finished making a fuss, for which Viktor was grateful. He didn't think he could take anymore stress before he had to face down the council.

As if sensing his distress, both babies were awake and giving little fluttery kicks to his insides. Viktor rubbed a soothing hand over his belly, muttering in his mother tongue to try and comfort them. Or perhaps himself.

“You good?” Vi asked, keeping her voice low.

“Yes,” Viktor lied.

She glanced at his hand trailing over his belly. “Kids giving you hell?”

“They're very active zlatíčka,” Viktor said, half-affectionate and half-exasperated.

“Probably playing with each other,” Vi said, smiling slightly. "Pow and I used to do that. Stayed up late in our bed and played little games. Thought we were sneaky, but I think mom and dad knew.”

Viktor turned to smile up at her. “You're very close with her,” he said.

“I'd do anything for her,” Vi declared.

Viktor nodded, his heart clenching. “I hope mine will have each other the way the two of you do,” he said, the words half a whisper.

Just then, there came a knock at the door before it opened up and a head poked in. A scrawny assistant that Viktor remembered trailing after Bolbok most often alerted them that the council was assembled and would see them now. Viktor sucked in deep breaths as Vi wheeled him through the doors and towards the council chambers. Cait fell into step next to Viktor's chair, Sevika on his opposite side, Vi between the two of them, dutifully pushing Viktor through the hall.

When they arrived at the doors, Bolbok's assistant scurried forward and opened them wide, more than enough to accomodate Viktor's chair. He smiled nervously at them as they passed, but quickly retreated into the shadows when they stepped into the council chamber.

The councilors were assembled in their usual seats, ready to receive Viktor straight away, no chit-chatting around like the last time. All eyes fell on him, the trio of women surrounding him, and his obvious belly in various orders and levels of surprise or disbelief. The air felt stiff and brittle, waiting to crack at the slightest breeze.

Viktor steeled himself and drew himself up as straight as he could in his chair. “I hear you've been searching for me,” he said calmly.

Surprisingly, there was a pause after he spoke, as though everyone was still absorbing his presence. Even Councilor Medarda seemed thrown for a loop, and it was nearly impossible to catch her on her heel. Eventually there was a cough and someone began to speak.

“We hadn't put out a formal statement,” Cassandra Kirammen said smoothly. She glanced at her daughter. “But it seems that we have some proactive enforcers who decided to forge ahead with the search anyway.”

Cait stood tall and didn't look at her mother, the picture of enforcer stoicism. Though Viktor had also never agreed with Cait's career choice, he couldn't help but be disappointed that Cassandra couldn't seem to feel pride in her daughter.

“Well, I'm here now,” Viktor said, feigning disinterest. “What do you want?”

Several council members looked at one another uncomfortably before Salo spoke up. “Your Hexgates are failing,” he said disdainfully. “Your design clearly needs improvement.”

Viktor refused the bait. “Are you certain you've been maintaining them to spec?” he asked.

Salo looked ready to start frothing at the mouth. Clearly he was furious that they needed Viktor's help. He'd always been a prideful asshole.

“We've been following the original plans laid out by yourself and Mr. Talis,” Shoola jumped in, voice smooth as polished glass. “But recently there have been anomalies that we cannot find the source of. We were hoping to contract your assistance with repairs.”

“I believe that sort of thing falls under Heimderdinger’s jurisdiction now, doesn't it?” Viktor replied. “That's what I was told last time I was in this room.”

Heimerdinger had been sitting dumbstruck in his chair from the moment Viktor had been wheeled into the room. He jumped when Viktor mentioned his name. “Ah! W-well, yes of course I've been doing my best to keep Hextech running smoothly. But I fear I am no expert on the technology and I have exhausted my resources attempting to find the source of the problems.” He leaned forward over the desk, practically shaking. “It was my idea to call upon you and reinstate you to your former position—”

“A decision that has not yet been voted on,” Cassandra said sharply, cutting Heimerdinger off with a sharp glare. “Though we would be willing to bring the matter forward for consideration after repairs on the gates are completed.”

Viktor internally calculated the math on how much force he’d need to spit in her face at this distance. “How generous of you,” he drawled. “And how am I to be compensated for my assistance ?”

“We’d have you under a contract,” Mel said. “Billable by the hour, with a generous stipend and a signing bonus to be paid immediately.”

Mel’s loyal assistant stalked out from a shaded corner and handed him the contract, flinching when Sevika snapped it up first. She backed away under the older woman's harsh glare. Sevika flipped through the pages briefly before handing them off to Viktor, who took his time reading through each page.

It was certainly a generous contract, more generous than the council had ever been before, when he and Jayce had needed to beg and plead for funding. Though the pension was more than enough to keep him comfortable, this kind of money would set him up—or set his children up—forever. Most people would be fools to pass this kind of thing up.

Viktor was not most people.

“Shall we then?” Hoskel said as Viktor closed the folder, clearly annoyed. “The sooner this is dealt with, the sooner things can go back to bloody normal.”

“What Hoskel means to say,” Mel snapped, glaring at the old man across the desk, “is that we’re eager to work with you again. We of course can add… health considerations to the contract, if need be,” she said, eyes flicking to his belly.

Viktor looked up at her, meeting her green gaze. Of all the councillors, she’d always been the one most supportive of their Hextech endeavors, eager to put her money where her mouth was. She’d trusted him and Jayce, or at least trusted their work, something that couldn’t be said of the other councillors. He’d always been wary of her, but had chalked it up to his innate distrust of the Piltover council, bred into him by his Zaunite heritage. Looking back now, he could easily say that his caution had been warranted. After all, she’d voted to have him removed from his life’s work and cast aside like a used up rag. So much for support.

The air in the room trembled like a plucked string, but all of the councillor’s, aside from Heimerdinger, looked completely calm. Clearly they were desperate for his cooperation, yet they all expected him to agree without a fuss. If any of them had been in his position, they would take it without hesitation, and therefore they were confident he would do the same.

Viktor took a deep breath and settled back in his chair. He wanted to imprint these next moments on his mind forever.

“Thank you for your generous offer, but I’m afraid I must decline,” he said smoothly.

There was a half second of complete, utterly stunned silence that Viktor would savour for the rest of his life before the council room erupted with noise. Cassandra lurched forward in her seat so hard she knocked over her teacup. Hoskel began jibbering about the trade routes and his shipments. Bolbok’s chassis whistled and clicked, gears grinding as he attempted to speak faster than his mechanisms could keep up with. Shoola had gone completely still, her gold-tipped fingers frozen in the air above the stone table. Viktor was certain that Salo only let out a howl of incoherent rage. Mel stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock, but Viktor thought he could detect a note of respect in her eyes.

Heimerdinger flitted about in his chair, trying to bring the room back into some semblance of order. Eventually things calmed down enough for him to get a word in edgewise. “Now, we understand that things left off on a sour note the last time we spoke Viktor,” he said, sounding as rattled as he looked, “but I don't want to taint our relationship further by—”

“My decision has nothing to do with what happened the last time we met, Professor,” Viktor interrupted. He ran a hand over his belly. “As you can see, my priorities have shifted in the last few months.”

He looked up at Heimerdinger, feeling much more calm than he had when he'd first entered the room. “A project like this would require much more time and energy than I would be able to commit under these circumstances. I'm afraid, for the sake of my family's future, I must reject your contract.”

“You're throwing away a fortune for nothing—” Salo hissed, leaning over the table like he might lunge for Viktor.

“We understand your reasoning Viktor,” Cassandra spoke up. “I certainly cannot fault you for prioritizing your child before anything else, but I remind you to consider your options carefully. This child will be your legacy ,” she said earnestly. “More than capital, you will need investment . You'll need something to pass on to your child, to continue your name.”

“I don't have a name,” Viktor snapped. “And my children are not an investment or a legacy , they are my children .”

Cassandra looked sufficiently taken aback. Cait shifted slightly where she stood. Viktor took a breath and leaned back in his chair. “As for capital , I do believe this is a paltry sum when compared to the profits that will be made once the gates are up and running again. Considering the likely cost this endeavor will have on me during this delicate time, I do believe the risk is not worth it.”

“We're certainly willing to negotiate terms,” Shoola said. “We can make concessions and considerations for your and your child's health. Had we known of your condition before writing the contract, we would have included them outright.”

“How kind of you,” Viktor said, barely holding back his disdain.  “I believe my decision is final.”

Shoola was beginning to look frustrated. “If you'd like to negotiate —”

“I'm not interested in the damn contract ,” Viktor hissed, throwing the folder to the floor. Papers went scattering everywhere. “You want to negotiate? Fine , let's negotiate .” He leaned forward in his chair. “Give me back Hextech.”

The room went quiet with stunned shock once again. Salo’s grating voice broke through it with all the subtlety of a rock through a window. “Are you out of your mind ?” he snarled.

“We cannot just go back on our word,” Bolbok said with a rattle. “The decision was made, and we must stick to it.”

“Yet there is precedent,” Mel said, almost to herself. “We voted to expel Jayce Talis and destroy his research, but when they proved potentially lucrative, we reversed our decision.”

Bolbok let out a hiss of air, clearly displeased. “The optics of such a decision—”

“I'm much more concerned for the livelihoods of our citizens than I am over the potential optics of admitting we made a hasty decision,” Shoola countered. “How many more Piltover businesses will have to shut their doors before we’re forced to do something drastic?”

“We can’t just let this little—” Hokel waved his hand vaguely in Viktor's direction, “—walk all over us. He can't simply refuse a demand of the council.”

Viktor sucked in a breath. Behind him, from somewhere in the corners of the room, Sheriff Markus and his two enforcers shifted, their leather boots creaking as they readied themselves for an order. Vi’s fists clenched at her sides, her biceps flexing. Sevika didn't so much as twitch, but Viktor could feel her go uncannily still next to him. For a moment, it felt like the half second before a trap was sprung, the mechanism tripped but the snare not yet closed around his throat.

“We cannot force him to work with us,” Mel said. “I believe we stripped ourselves of any advantage in that regard when we voted to remove Viktor from Hextech in the first place.” She settled down in her seat, shoulders square and chin high. Well played , her eyes said. “I am in favour of restoring Viktor to his former position at Hextech, thus making him responsible for the maintenance of the Hexgates.”

The other councillors looked to Mel, then around at each other. Slowly, Viktor could see the lines being drawn, the decisions being made. He hoped he didn't look as sweaty as he felt.

“I vote in favour of Viktor's restoration,” Cassandra said.

“I vote in favour as well!” Heimerdinger practically shouted.

“I vote in favour,” Shoola  said.

“I vote in opposition,” Salo sneered. “This is a farce .”

“I’m also in opposition,” Hoskel grumbled. “We can't just give Hextech away without further negotiation!”

“I abstain,” Bolbok said, lacing his fingers together and sitting back in his chair.

“Four to two, one abstain, the motion passes,” Mel declared. She gave Viktor the slightest of smiles. “Welcome back, Viktor.”

Viktor gave her a nod. “I’ll begin work once the paperwork is sorted,” he said. “Ah, and one last thing.”

Mel raised her brow at him, waiting for him to continue. “That pension,” he said. “I want it doubled and applied to any dependent I may leave, should something happen to me.”

“Done,” Mel agreed, ignoring Salo's noise of protest. Hoskel looked as though he might say something, but a combined glare from Cassandra and Shoola had him shrinking in his chair.

“Thank you,” Viktor said. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. “If you'll excuse me, today has been quite exhausting. I must return home to rest. Doctor’s orders, you understand.”

“Of course,” Heimerdinger said, practically vibrating in his seat. “Please take all the time you need. We'll have someone bring you the documents post-haste.”

“I'll try and have them sent back as soon as I'm able,” Viktor said. He signalled for Vi to begin pushing him out of the room—if he didn't leave soon he was sure he'd pass out.

He could hear arguments erupting the moment the doors closed behind them, but the rushing in his ears drowned out the words. He groaned and tipped forward, saving himself from tumbling out of the chair by a death grip on the arm rests. His vision swam and he felt like he was about to hyperventilate.

“You good?” Vi asked, stopping them in a slightly out of the way corner.

“No,” Viktor groaned, jaw clenched.

“You gonna hurl?” Sevika asked, already taking a step back.

“ Yes ,” Viktor said. He managed to hang on just long enough for someone to shove a trash bin into his face. He wrapped his arms around it in a facsimile of a bear hug and heaved, bringing up the remains of his meagre breakfast and sour bile.

Viktor stayed there for a few minutes, brain pounding on the inside of his skull, face buried in the trash bin. After the third wave abated, it seemed like he was coming down. He took a few deep breaths and swiped at his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “If I ever have to do that again I might just die right there in front of everyone.”

Vi chuckled, taking away the bin and setting it aside. “Hey man, you did great.”

“You got what you wanted,” Sevika said. She was standing several feet away, looking ever so slightly paler than she had before. She apparently had something of a sympathetic stomach when it came to people throwing up.

“I did,” Viktor said, almost not believing it. He'd thought it would be at least a little more difficult, but it seemed like the council really was that desperate for the gates to get back up and running. If he'd know all it took for him to get his way was the threat of him walking out, he'd have hovered that over their heads long ago.

“So now what?” Vi asked. “You just go back to your old job?”

“Not quite,” Viktor said. “I have some plans, but they'll take a little time.” He stroked his bump. “For now, I'll just get the gates fixed. Shouldn't be difficult.”

“Viktor?” a voice called from down the hallway. The small form of Professor Heimerdinger peered around the corner of the hall they'd tucked themselves into. He ran forward on his short legs, coming to a stop next to Viktor, giant blue eyes wide and wet with unshed tears.

“Oh my boy,” he babbled. “If I had known, I never would have let them—”

“Take everything I had left?” Viktor cut him off, the accusatory venom stinging his vocal chords. “Of all people Professor, I would have thought that you —”

“I didn't have a choice!” Heimerdinger defended. “I was outvoted! I couldn't go against the council's decision. That's the reason we have a council—”

“You betrayed me!” Viktor snapped. “All of my research, all of my inventions, everything I've worked towards for my entire life, you took it from me and destroyed it. You let the council use us for profit and then cut me out when it was convenient for them!”

“I haven't touched it!” Heimerdinger shouted, so frustrated and upset that he stomped his tiny yordle foot. His eyes were swimming with tears, one sliding down his furry cheek. “I-I haven't destroyed anything.”

That caught Viktor off guard. “What?” he asked dumbly.

“I couldn't bring myself to do it,” Heimerdinger said miserably. “Everytime I tried, I couldn't help but think about how hard you boys worked on everything. I… I've watched the two of you for years now, practically growing up before my eyes.” He sniffled and scrubbed at his eyes. “I've lived so long, met so many people, but I've never known anyone like the two of you. You burn so bright and dream so big. I… I couldn't bring myself to destroy that.”

Viktor stared down at Heimerdinger. He remembered once he'd been so terrified of the yordle, back when he'd been caught by the academy. By law, Viktor could have been exiled or put in Stillwater, depending on how he ruled. Heimerdinger could have completely destroyed Viktor's future on a whim, and everything Viktor had worked so hard to gain would crumble in his hands like ash.

Instead, Heimerdinger had looked at him, saw him, seen more than the crippled trencher brat trying to reach above his station, and rewarded him for his gumption. He'd recognised Viktor's brilliance, and instead of snuffing it because it didn't come from the right background, he'd nurtured it, given it a place where it could settle, if not thrive.

Viktor remembered the gratitude he felt for Heimerdinger for what he'd done. Of course, he’d never planned to stay long as an assistant—he’d always set his sights higher—but he still appreciated Heimerdinger’s trust in him. It had been the first time anyone in Piltover had looked past the hobbled leg and lack of family history and seen potential in him. If it hadn't been for that, Viktor wouldn't even have anything to fight for. He'd have nothing .

A sharp kick from one of the babies made Viktor jump. He grunted when tiny little feet battered at his kidney like the smallest of tantrums. He muttered a few calming words in his native language and massaged the spot, hoping to calm down his clearly annoyed child. He noticed Heimerdinger looking at his belly with fascination he usually reserved for the most incredible of scientific breakthroughs. Viktor took a breath and decided that he'd rather have the yordle as a friend than an enemy.

“Do you want to feel?” he asked.

Heimerdinger jolted. “What?” he asked, shocked. “Oh, no. That's alright, I don't need to—”

“It's alright,” Viktor said. “I don't mind.”

Heimerdinger looked unsure, but curiosity could only be held at bay for so long. Carefully, as though Viktor might rescind the offer at any moment, or try and bite him, he approached, eyes on the roundness in Viktor's lap. He reached a hand out, hesitating just centimeters from touching Viktor's belly. Taking pity, Viktor reached out and took his tiny hand, pressing it to where the second baby was now awake and rolling gently against his stretched stomach. Heimerdinger tensed for a moment, but his eyes widened in amazement as he felt the small movements under his hands.

“Incredible,” he whispered as the baby pressed a shoulder into his palm. “Absolutely incredible .”

Viktor hummed. “It loses its lustre at three in the morning and they won't let me sleep.”

Heimerdinger looked up at him, searching his eyes. After a moment he broke out into a hopeful smile. “I'm afraid my long years of experience fail me at this moment. I haven't the faintest idea how to be helpful.”

“I hadn't thought so,” Viktor said with a chuckle. He sagged back in his chair. “I really do think I should get going though. I actually am quite tired.”

“Oh! Of course!” Heimerdinger exclaimed, leaping back. “Yes, you need all the rest you can get, my boy. I'll have someone bring you the paperwork as soon as it's drafted. I'll bring it myself if need be.”

Viktor laughed. “You're more than welcome to come down to the Last Drop. I think everyone would get a kick out of you.”

“Silco would probably just straight up kick you,” Vi said. She shrugged when Cait glared at her. “What? He would.”

Heimerdinger seemed unphased, more pleased to be invited to visit with Viktor in his new home. “I'll make arrangements,” he said. “I'll see you soon my boy.”

Viktor nodded and smiled as Heimerdinger trotted off, looking far more like himself than he had in the council room. It felt strange, to have forgiven him so easily, but perhaps Viktor was simply too tired to be angry, or perhaps his maternal instincts were acting up. Or maybe it was because of what Heimerdinger had told him—his inventions and research hadn't been destroyed as intended. If he was now reinstated as the head of Hextech, he should technically have access to everything.

He could potentially start researching what happened to Jayce.

One step at a time , he reminded himself. First the Gates, then his own projects.

“So, back home?” Vi asked, grabbing the back of the wheelchair.

Viktor paused, a guilty thought occurring to him. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to make a stop.”

Chapter Text

The Talis house was unchanged from how Viktor remembered it. There was a small but well-maintained flower garden out front leading to the front steps of an older townhouse of whitewashed brick with red accents. The whitewash could have used a new coat, and the paint was starting to flake, but otherwise the building was well maintained. Viktor could hardly remember the first time he'd stepped through the doors and inside—the woman who lived here was so warm and welcoming that it was as though she'd always known him, always taken care of him, always considered him part of her family.

Now that Viktor technically was a part of her family, she might never want to see him again.

During the months he'd been waiting for the investigation to wrap up, he hadn't reached out to Ximena once. For all she was aware, her son was dead, and the media was blaming him for it. He didn't want to risk salting whatever wounds she was carrying at that time. Afterwards, when he'd been thrown out of Hextech, he'd left Piltover so quickly he hadn’t even thought to contact her, even though he was carrying her grandchildren in his belly.

In the long months since, he couldn't help but think of her, the only other living family his children would ever have. With his position back at Hextech secured, it wouldn't be long before the media circus to get wind of his pregnancy and begin speculating on potential fathers. It would take them two seconds to put Jayce at the top of the list—an idiot could put that together.

Ximena was not an idiot.

“Viktor? Would you like us to wait out here?” Cait asked softly.

Viktor took a deep breath. “No,” he said, then regretted it. “Yes. I… I don't know.”

“We can walk the block if you need another minute,” Vi suggested.

Viktor shook his head. “I need to do this,” he said, determined.

“Well hurry up,” Vi said, glancing up the street. “We're gonna get profiled if we keep standing here.”

Viktor snorted. “Is it profiling if you've actually robbed people before?” he asked.

“Hey, my juvie record got closed when I turned eighteen,” Vi said, grinning. “I'm a law abiding citizen.”

Viktor laughed, feeling some of the tension bleed away. Vi gave his shoulder a squeeze and he took a deep breath. He carefully got out of the wheelchair and picked up his crutch. “I'll need help getting up the steps anyway,” he said.

Cait nodded and got on his other side, supporting him as they walked slowly up the short lane towards the townhouse. It was now late afternoon after everything they'd dealt with since that morning, and Ximena should be at home if he recalled correctly. She only went out in the afternoons on the weekend for her book club or bridge at the end of month. Viktor didn't know if she'd changed her habits since Jayce's disappearance, but he was hoping she was keeping to at least a similar schedule.

The bell rang when Viktor pulled the rope, jangling far too cheerily for how he felt inside. It occurred to him just then that he probably should have sent word ahead that he was coming instead of just showing up at her doorstep unannounced. Too late now , he thought as he heard the footsteps from the other side of the door.

The door swung open and Ximena appeared on the other side. She looked tired, Viktor noticed, and thought there might be a little more grey in her hair than he remembered. The moment her eyes caught his, they widened in shock.

“Viktor?” she asked, taking a step forward. “What—?” her eyes scanned him, taking him in, and she froze when she noticed his belly.

For a moment, time was stuck. Viktor's heart seized in his chest as he waited for Ximena to… to what? He didn't even know. He couldn't imagine her throwing him away, not with her grandchildren still baking inside him, but how would she look at him now? Would there be betrayal in her eyes? Would she shout at him for keeping this from her? Would she accuse him of having a hand in her son's death? Of impregnating himself and then getting rid of any competing Talis heir?

Recognizing that he was beginning to spiral, Viktor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Mrs. Talis,” he said gently, trying to be as inoffensive as possible. “May we please… talk?”

Ximena's eyes snapped up to his, her mouth snapping shut from where she'd been gaping it like a well-to-do fish. The moment their eyes met, hers filled with tears. “Oh, my boy,” she said, voice cracking. She stepped forward and pulled Viktor into a tight embrace. “My poor boy. All this time…” she sobbed into his neck.

Viktor gasped, the noise half a sob itself. Ximena's special mix of perfume hit his nose—sage and lilac, both from her own garden, tended to by her own hand—and his eyes began to sting. He wrapped his free arm around her and buried his face into her shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm sorry. I should have told you, I know, but everything happened so quickly and—”

Ximena pulled away, already shaking her head. “No, don't even try, sweetheart,” she said. “I heard about the ruling with Hextech. I don't blame you for leaving.” Her hands drifted to hover just above his belly. “Dealing with this at the same time… oh darling , I'm amazed you didn't set one of those stupid councillors on fire .”

That startled a chuckle out of Viktor. “It was a near thing,” he admitted, pleased to see her smile in response. “Is now a good time to come in and talk? I apologize for stopping by unannounced—”

“Nonsense,” Ximena said, waving his statement away like an unfriendly bee. “Come right inside dear. You too Cait. I'll make tea.”

“We'll take a walk,” Sevika said, already turning to leave.

“Oh no, please,” Ximena said. “Please come in. I have enough for everyone.”

Sevika hesitated, taking another long look at the modest-by-Piltover-standards house, but Vi was already climbing the stairs behind them. Grumbling, Sevika lumbered up the steps and closed the door behind them as they all piled inside Ximena's front hall.

Within a few minutes, they found themselves sitting in Ximena's comfortable living room, the smell of tea steeping and cookies being warmed wafting out from the kitchen. Eventually Ximena emerged, having clearly spent some of the time composing herself, and began pouring tea for everyone, scolding Viktor when he tried to stand to help pass things around.

“Let Cait handle that,” Ximena huffed, passing him the sugar because she always remembered his sweet tooth. “You ought to stay off your feet.”

“I'm not even that far along,” Viktor said, though he didn’t dare go against Ximena's ruling. “Only five months.”

“Only five?” Ximena asked, surprised. She glanced down at his belly, something sad in her eyes. “Yes… Jayce was a large baby as well.”

Viktor's throat constricted like a python was wrapped around it. He felt like crying again. He noticed Cait's hand tightening on her spoon as she took a deep breath to brace herself. “He mentioned that once,” Viktor said softly.

Vi, clearly feeling awkward, decided to pipe up. “Yeah, probably doesn't help that there's two in there, either.”

“Two?” Ximena asked, looking up at Viktor. “Twins?”

Viktor nodded, and for a moment wondered if Ximena was about to cry again. “That's wonderful Viktor,” she said, carefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “You must be so happy.”

“I am,” Viktor said, smiling despite himself. “As much as I can be,” he admitted.

Ximena hummed, looking past him to an old picture of Jayce on the wall. It was one of Jayce as a teenager, holding an overlarge trophy from some scientific competition he'd won at school. Next to it was one of Viktor's favourites, a picture of Jayce as a child, dressed up for a costume party as a magician, pointy hat and all.

Taking a long sip of tea, Ximena gathered herself before she asked, “Did Jayce know?”

Viktor shook his head. “I didn't even know until the day after the ruling,” he said.

She nodded. “How long… were you and Jayce—” she cut herself off, unsure of how to finish the question.

“Not long,” Viktor said, squashing down the guilt. It wasn’t a lie , but he didn't think he needed to tell her that he and Jayce had only just realised their feelings for each other by conceiving their children right before the accident.

Ximena hummed. “I always sort of figured, you know,” she said, looking down into her teacup. “The two of you… it was something to watch,” she said with a chuckle. “Not necessarily romantic, not in the traditional way anyway, but there was… something I never could explain.” She took a long sip of tea. “He cared about you so much.”

Viktor swallowed thickly. “I know,” he admitted. “He wore his heart on his sleeve.”

Ximena gave a watery laugh. “Oh, he did, didn't he?” she said. “No matter how much it bruised, he could never figure out how to guard it.”

Viktor forced himself to breathe through the tightness in his throat. He’d only talked about Jayce to his children, into the aether that couldn't answer him back, that couldn't understand the deep wound in his heart over his loss. Cait hadn't really brought up the subject, but he couldn't imagine trying to steer Ximena away from the topic. Jayce had been her baby, and now Viktor was carrying the babies of her baby, her grandchildren . Aside from that, as much as it felt like reopening a wound, it also felt like that wound was being lanced, all of the boiling infection being cleared out, the pressure released. It hurt, but Viktor could already feel how much better it would be once the initial ache was over.

Ximena dabbed at her eyes again. “Where have you been staying?” she asked.

“The Undercity,” Viktor answered. “A place called the Last Drop.”

Ximena nodded. “And you've made friends?” she questioned, glancing towards the two unfamiliar women in her sitting room.

Viktor smiled. “This is Violet,” he explained. “The young girl that Jayce helped.”

“Oh yes!” Ximena exclaimed, lighting up. “From after the break in.” She turned towards Vi with a bright smile. “How are you doing my dear?”

Vi, caught off guard by the sudden pivot in attention, attempted to look aloof and nonchalant. “Not in prison, so got that going for me,” she said, raising her teacup in a gesture that was more used to whisky tumblers and shot glasses.

If Ximena was phased at all, she didn't show it. “I'm so happy to hear that,” she said. “How's your family? I remember you had a little sister. Flower?”

Vi snorted. “Powder,” she corrected. “And she's great. Blowing stuff up on purpose instead of by accident now.”

Ximena blinked, clearly trying to come up with some sort of response. Viktor took pity on her. “Powder is a brilliant engineer,” he explained. “She works with a lot of explosives, often for mining operations, but also for things like fireworks. She's got a bright future.”

“Oh! Well that's just lovely,” Ximena said, clearly relieved. She turned back to Vi. “Is she considering enrolling at the academy? I've heard there's a scholarship program now.”

Sevika snorted, but thankfully didn't say anything. Vi shifted in her seat. “No, she's not interested in the academy,” she said.

Sensing a delicate subject, Ximena politely moved on. “It's wonderful that you and Viktor have reconnected. I'm so glad he hasn't been alone all this time.”

“Well he's kind of living with us at the bar,” Vi said. “Bit hard to ignore him.”

“Oh, it's a bar?” Ximena asked. “I didn't realize.”

“The Last Drop is a bar, yes,” Viktor said. “Vi's fathers run it, but they also do a lot of work for the community.”

“That's one way to put it,” Vi said. Viktor shot her a look.

“Well, you'll have to give me the address,” Ximena said, setting down her teacup and reaching for her pocket address book that she kept on the side table. “I'll have to come visit at some point.”

“Ah, that may not be a good idea,” Viktor told her. “It's in the middle of the Undercity.”

“Nonsense,” Ximena huffed, flipping the book open and readying her pen. “If I can survive travelling through the Freljord, I can survive a trip down into the Undercity.”

Viktor decided it would be in poor taste to remind her that she almost hadn't survived travelling through the Freljord. With a sigh, he rattled off the address. “But there's really no need,” he said. “I'll be coming back up to Piltover for work. I'll be able to come by as often as you like.”

“For work?” Ximena asked, tucking the address book away. “What work?”

Viktor told her of the events earlier that day. She absorbed them with open attentiveness the entire time. When Viktor finished his story, she huffed and picked up the teapot to refresh everyone's tea.

“Good for you my dear,” she said. “Give those greedy, spoiled rotten brats a taste of their own medicine.” She paused and looked sheepishly at Cait. “Not that your mother—”

“No no, please,” Cait said, shaking her head, “I've realised lately that my mother really could use a taste of her own medicine once in a while.” She dipped a biscuit into her tea and scoffed. “Or a rather large dose thrown directly into her face,” she grumbled.

Ximena chuckled. “Yes well, she's always been a bit self-important,” she said. “I always supposed that came from being a councillor.”

“Yeah, it always confused me on how the whole councillor thing works anyway,” Vi piped up. “Like, the one immortal guy has been on it forever, but the rest are supposed to be like, elected? But only from certain families.” She shoved a cookie in her mouth, dropping crumbs down the front of her shirt. “Isn't that just aristocracy with extra steps?”

Viktor held back a laugh as Cait tried to explain the nuances of the selection process for councillors, but Vi clearly wasn't buying it. Viktor had once tried to understand how it worked, but he'd given up when he realised that the ‘official’ template for selection was all just set dressing and the real way to get elected was to either be from the right family, like the Kirammen’s and Shoola, or to buy your way in, like Mel or Salo. He glanced at Ximena, who was watching the two girls argue with fond amusement.

“Look cupcake, you can call it whatever you like, it still looks like a bunch of rich people deciding shit for everyone else. That sounds like aristocracy to me,” Vi said with a shrug.

“ Cupcake ?” Cait exclaimed.

Vi grinned, pleased to have gotten Cait's goat. “You're all fancy and sweet,” she said, gesturing to Cait's dress uniform with its unnecessary frills. “Like a cupcake.”

Cait flushed bright pink. “You—!”

“Plutocracy,” Sevika said suddenly. When everyone turned to look at her, she raised an eyebrow. “When the rich rule over the poor, it's called a plutocracy , not aristocracy.”

Viktor blinked at her, surprised but also not surprised at all. “Ah, I didn't know that,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.

“Why do you know that?” Vi asked.

Sevika glared at her. “I like to read,” she said.

Vi still looked incredulous, but Ximena quickly swept them along, adept in the art of hosting. “Will you be moving back into Piltover then?” she asked Viktor. “For your work?”

“Oh, no,” Viktor said, “I hadn’t thought about it, but… no, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll have the time to find a place between work and, well ,” he rubbed a hand over his belly. “I suspect I’ll be too busy.”

“But surely you won’t be commuting all that way, not every day?” Ximena asked. “That can’t be good for your leg, even with the chair.”

Viktor winced just thinking about it. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Perhaps there’s a spare room at Hextech that can be converted—”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Ximena huffed. She set down her teacup and served out more cookies. “I’ll set up a room for you here.”

“You don’t have to—” Viktor started to protest, but Ximena cut him off with a stern look and a raised eyebrow.

“Nonsense,” she said, settling back in her chair. “I’ll arrange for a bedroom and a nursery here.”

“I don’t want you to have to put yourself through the trouble,” Viktor said. “Besides, I’m finding I enjoy living in Za— in the Undercity after being away for so long.”

That seemed to give Ximena pause. “Well, I won’t stop you from living where you like,” she said slowly. “But I’d like it if you came by every now and then. At least for your health.”

Viktor could feel himself cracking. “I suppose there will be nights I stay late,” he admitted. “Having a place in the city would be convenient during the week.”

Ximena relaxed, smiling at him. “I’ll make sure I have something set up for you before you have to start.”

Viktor returned her smile—he still felt terrible for not having come to her until now, but—as he should have guessed—Ximena held no ill will over it. She was genuinely happy to see him, happy to know that he was okay. As for his children, she seemed like she was barely holding herself back from bombarding him with questions about his health and every minute detail of his pregnancy. Viktor was grateful for her self-restraint—he enjoyed talking about his children for certain, but he was reticent to go into too much detail about his health and what he was looking forward to once they were born.

He'd be happy just knowing they'd be taken care of.

They conversed for a while longer, just catching up. To no one's great shock, Ximena took a great liking to Vi, and even seemed to get Sevika to soften somewhat over the course of tea and another round of biscuits. She even insisted that Vi take home a tin of baked goodies for her siblings and fathers, refusing to take no for an answer. They said goodbye to Cait at the bridge and finally made their way back into Zaun. By the time they arrived back at the Last Drop, Viktor was exhausted and just wanted to take a nap.

Silco practically ambushed them the moment they came through the door. “Did you get it?” he asked.

Viktor got up from the chair, leaning heavily on his crutch. “Yes, I got it.”

“Everything?” Silco prodded.

“ Everything ,” Viktor confirmed.

Silco gave a self-satisfied grin, like a cat that just figured out how to open the canary cage. “I knew those bastards only needed the right pressure,” he said. “Excellently done.”

Viktor gave a non-committal grunt of acknowledgement. “I'm going to take a nap.”

Silco looked as though he was about to attempt to pry every detail he could out of Viktor, but Vander appeared at his shoulder like a warning. “Congrats,” he said. “We'll bring up some food later.”

Viktor gave another grunt and began climbing the stairs. He could hear Silco begin to press Vi and Sevika for more details , but was certain both women would be able to fend off his probing. For all the man was a brilliant strategist and lynchpin of the Zaunite revival, he was equally a busybodying knowitall.

Viktor was asleep practically before he hit the pillow.

Jayce had barely slept a wink in what seemed like days.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since he'd come to wherever this place was—the sky was so cloudy with that ever-present greenish-grey fog that he could hardly tell where the sun was. Only the pitch darkness of the middle of the night let on that time was passing at all.

Slowly, carefully, Jayce had made his way from the outer city limits towards the city proper. By his memory, he was somewhere in the Undercity by now, an area that he remembered as being crowded and busy at all hours when he made the journey down for his rare items. Now, there was nothing, no signs of life aside from those strange petrified bodies that he kept encountering at the worst moments.

During his cautious march into the city, he'd come across them occasionally, frozen mid-run heading away from the city, or cowering where they lay, what remained of their faces frozen in terror at whatever cataclysm had befallen them.

Needless to say, what little sleep Jayce had been getting had been laced with some extremely horrific nightmares.

Still, Jayce had no other choice but to press on. It seemed that, whatever this had been, the epicenter was the Hexgate, its towering edifice the only source of light in the entire area. It alone was tall enough to peirce through the cloud cover to the sky above. It almost seemed to glow in the narrow halo of light that shone down from the gap in clouds.

Jayce carefully walked through the obliterated streets of the Undercity, hyperaware of every delicate crunch of gravel under his boots echoing through the silence. He fought to keep his breathing steady and his heart calm, not wanting to miss any sound from any direction. Occasionally, some sort of debris would break off from the structures that were once buildings and clatter down to the ground, the noise as loud as thunder in the otherwise noiseless space. Every time, Jayce froze where he stood for what felt like hours, trying to discern if what he was hearing was only an echo or if there was something out there, investigating the racket.

Once or twice, Jayce was half-certain he saw movement out in the fog. The memory of the mage was clear in his mind, but he couldn't be sure if it was the same silhouette in the dense mist. He was sometimes tempted to call out, but stopped himself each time. No matter where he was however, he always got the feeling that he was being watched .

It didn’t matter what was out there , Jayce told himself. The only thing that mattered was that he found a way back home.

Back to Viktor .

These were the driving thoughts that kept Jayce moving forward, even when he wanted to curl up into a little ball and disappear out of sheer terror. The memory of Viktor’s shocked and agonized face was burned into his brain, flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked or closed his eyes. Jayce remembered the prominence of his ribs under his skin, the shadows under his eyes that grew deeper every day, the rasp in his lungs that haunted every breath. Viktor’s time had been running short, and they hadn’t been any closer to finding a cure. With every day spent in this hellscape, the clock ran out faster and faster.

Jayce coughed to clear his throat of the cloying mist that pervaded everything, muffling it as best he could with his hand. He could hear the sound of gasses hissing from somewhere nearby, which was probably contributing to the noxious smell permeating the air. Something clattered some distance away, causing Jayce to pause to listen, every muscle tensing. When nothing else could be heard, he began walking again.

As Jayce walked, he began to notice figures emerging from the fog—more of the strange frozen bodies, an entire crowd of them. Swallowing back the sour taste of gorge rising in his throat, Jayce carefully made his way through them, trying not to brush up against them. He tried not to think about how each and every one of these statue-like beings had been a person at some point, and—based on what was left of their faces—they'd died in terror and agony. There was no point dwelling on it right now, there was nothing he could do.

Another clatter, this one much closer, made Jayce jolt and whirl around, trying to find the source. The overpass he was under made the echoes around him strange and come from all directions, masking the source of the sound. Forcing his breathing to remain steady, Jayce carefully turned from side to side, barely daring to blink.

A loud rumble shattered the silence, so loud in the densely packed silence that it nearly rattled Jayce's bones apart. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, like the roar of an ancient engine suddenly running at maximum capacity mixed with the agonized howl of an animal half out of its mind with pain. Jayce swore his eardrums nearly burst at the sudden onslaught of noise—he hardly had time to notice the hulking figure moving out of the fog towards him before a claw-like hand was reaching for him.

Jayce ducked on instinct, the claw swinging through the air above him with a metallic rattle. A statue-corpse took the brunt of the blow, its legs snapping as it toppled into the neighbouring figure. Jayce wasted no time in bolting through the maze of statues, trying in vain to keep his head lower than the figures around. Another wail echoed behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of something big giving chase.

Whatever the hulking creature was, it was a lot faster and more nimble than Jayce had anticipated, and it quickly began to gain on him. Swearing a blue streak, Jayce tried his best to duck and weave through the crowd of statues, nearly tripping over petrified limbs. He knew this wasn't sustainable—sooner or later he was going to run out of ground and the thing would get him. He needed to lose the creature.

Jayce's attention fell on the ruined buildings around him. Countless conversations with Viktor ran through his mind, the other man describing the cluttered, semi-clautrophobic rooms and alleys that permeated throughout the Undercity. The creature was fast and nimble for how big it was, but it was still big , and there was the chance that Jayce could lose it in a narrow enough space. It was a bit of a longshot, but it was the best Jayce was going to come up with on the fly.

Plan in mind, Jayce gulped down a few breaths and sprinted for the nearest building, knowing that over any extended open ground he'd be fucked. By some miracle, the creature's swipes with its claws missed him by mere centimeters. Jayce jumped through a broken window and made for a set of narrow stairs near the back of the open room—from its layout, Jayce might have guessed it was a bar of some kind at some point. He took the stairs three at a time, reaching the top just as something heavy smashed into the bottom step.

Chancing a look back, Jayce saw nothing he could wrap his mind around. It was clearly some kind of machine, its outer shell made of a blackened metal with blue crystal protruding out of its joints, but it moved so much like a living thing that calling it a ‘machine’ seemed out of place. Its shape was vaguely human, with elongated, thick limbs tipped with razor sharp claws. Its face was human-ish, but strangely featureless, sitting atop an elongated, thickened neck.

The creature scraped against the bottom of the stairs, claws digging into rotten wood and leaving deep gouges. Jayce backed further into the darkness of the hallway, brain already scrambling for its next step. Maybe he could find a weapon? It was a machine, there had to be a way to shut it off.

As Jayce tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do next, the creature stopped thrashing and took a step back. Jayce noticed for the first time that it had some kind of tail out its back end. As he was realizing this, he almost missed the way the creature began to fold , somehow making itself smaller and slighter, narrow enough to fit up the stairs.

“Fuck!” Jayce yelped as he scrambled backwards, narrowly out of reach of those claws. The creature was still huge, probably as tall as two of Jayce standing on top of his shoulders, but with its new folded frame, it was slender enough to crawl through the narrow hallway.

Jayce backed up as much as he could before he turned and ran down the hallway. No windows, nothing he could crawl out of, but a few doors. Jayce picked one at random and hoped for the best. It opened up into a small room with a completely rotten-through cot mouldering against one wall and a large chest pushed into a corner. Above the chest was a window, probably barely large enough for Jayce to squeeze his shoulders through, but hopefully too small for the creature to follow through.

Metal claws scraped against wood down the hallway. Jayce leapt on top of the chest and slammed his hands into the window, dislodging the entire frame from the wall and sending it crashing down the side of the building. Splintered wood scraped his hands as he prepared to haul himself through the opening.

Suddenly, the floor beneath him gave way. Unbeknownst to him, the wooden floor underneath the chest had all but rotten away completely, and with Jayce's full weight on top of the heavy chest, it had finally given up the ghost and collapsed.

With a crash that sounded like the world was splitting open to swallow him whole, Jayce fell backwards into darkness. He swung his arms, trying in vain to find some kind of purchase, to at least slow his fall. Another crash, more splintered wood around him, falling stone and brick—the chest had crashed right through the floor below and Jayce was following it. Jayce tried and failed again to grab something to stop his fall, his hand missing the edge of the hole in the floor by a thread.

As he plunged into the darkness of what was surely once a basement, Jayce tried to twist to at least land well enough not to break his neck. The chest hit the stone floor and burst open, spilling its contents across the floor and thankfully rolling mostly out of the way. Jayce barely had time to react before he smacked the ground almost chest first, the air whooshing out of his lungs and his heart stuttering in its cage. Jayce gasped and blinked, wide eyed and blinded by pain. A couple ribs groaned and complained as he writhed on the floor, but miraculously, Jayce was no worse for wear.

No sooner than Jayce had come to this realization than he heard a creaking, and then a crack. Managing to turn over just in time to see the stone pillar sway dangerously, Jayce couldn't react fast enough to move completely out of the way as it tipped over onto him.

Blinding pain was all Jayce was aware of. There was another howl of agony, but only the rawness of his throat later would clue Jayce into the fact that it was him who made the sound. The last thing Jayce saw before he lost consciousness was a featureless face peering down at him from somewhere above.

Then there was nothing but blackness.

Chapter Text

The lab was cold after having not been used in several months, the machinery having gone inert and all of the projects having been removed to storage. Even bundled up in a sweater, Viktor could still feel the chill trying to worm its way under his skin. Even that, however, wasn’t enough to quash the sparks of exhilaration Viktor felt being back in his element. He’d been making do with the tinkering that he’d been doing at The Last Drop, but nothing could ever compare to being here, in his element.

There was still work to be done before he actually got any work done however—all of the stored projects needed to be returned to their rightful places and inspected for damages, inventory needed to be taken, and the reports from the Hexgates had to be handed over. It was a small blessing that the lab had even been repaired from the damages caused by the explosion that had ruined it in the first place. Viktor was chomping at the bit, practically foaming at the mouth, to dive back into his research, but he knew that these were necessary steps.

At the very least, he had the best assistant at his side to ensure things went smoothly.

“No, that doesn’t go there,” Sky told the movers as they set down a large piece of machinery in a corner. “You need to move it over here.”

“Lady, this thing weighs a million pounds,” one of the workers complained. “What’s wrong with this spot?”

“It’s too close to the window, it’ll be in the sunlight,” Sky explained. At their annoyed looks she continued. “It’s a temperature sensitive piece of equipment, it’ll heat up and cool down as the sun lands on it. We’d have to recalibrate it every time we need to use it.”

“That sounds like a you problem, missy,” one of the workers said gruffly, clearly not putting much stock in Sky's annoyance.

Sky bristled, but just as Viktor prepared himself to step in, she took a step forward and got uncomfortably into the worker’s space. “Fine, but I’ll be sure to mention your refusal when the council complains that our worktime is significantly slower than it should be. I wonder if your company's contract will be renewed if they knew that the reason they keep losing money to delays is because you couldn't be bothered to do your job properly.”

The worker growled, but his furtive glance towards the door belied his priorities. With one last grumble, he turned back towards the machine and began directing his coworkers to move the heavy machinery to the place Sky had directed them to.

“It takes two seconds to recalibrate that machine,” Viktor said once the men were out of earshot. “You just need to turn the dial.”

“Yes but it’s annoying and you hate doing it,” Sky said. She smiled down at him in his chair. “It interrupts your workflow.”

Viktor smiled back at her. “Thank you,” he said. “I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to get everything up and running again in any sort of short order,” he said with a sign, looking around the mess that was his lab. “Especially without…”

The empty space where Jayce should have been clung to every shadow in the lab like tar, refusing to remain unacknowledged. The little sink in the corner where Jayce had so often freshened up before heading out into the public eye was now lacking his shaving kit and the scattered notes Jayce had pinned up. The chair that Jayce preferred had been kicked into a space that Jayce rarely ever used, letting Viktor take over that space. The couch, that damnable couch, was still in the exact same spot they'd left it, whoever it was cleaning out the lab clearly not thinking to bother with it.

A sharp kick in his belly reminded Viktor of the one space Jayce hadn't left empty, ironically enough.

Sky laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We'll manage,” she said, voice hardly above a whisper.

Viktor breathed deeply and laid his hand over hers. “It’s not as though we have much choice,” he said solemnly.

Sky squeezed his shoulder. When Viktor had sent her a message about reopening the lab and hiring her back on as an assistant, he hadn’t received a reply, she’d simply shown up and started working—after fawning over his belly for a while. It soothed a part of Viktor that he hadn’t ever realised had been raw, knowing that she was unequivocally in his corner no matter the circumstances. Again, Viktor had to quash down the guilt he felt for having cut so many people out of his life when he’d run away to Zaun. He’d always pictured himself as someone on the edges of society, outside and alone against the world, but more and more he was realizing that perhaps his perception of himself was at least partially misguided.

“Where’s this one supposed to go?” someone asked, bringing Viktor out of his musings. He was pushing a dolly with a large, familiar housing unit settled on top of it.

Viktor lost a moment staring at the box, knowing what was in it. “This way,” he said, moving his chair to guide the man towards the familiar section.

The man followed and parked the dolly, flipping the brake lever down before donning a set of thick leather gloves. Viktor thought he vaguely recognized the man—perhaps he was one of the workers from the Hexgates, and therefore knew his way around the dangerous materials that Hextech utilized. His suspicions were confirmed when the man went about with practised efficiency, flipping open the safety locks and carefully opening the housing unit. Cautiously, the worker grabbed a pair of tongs and began gently pulling the contents of the box out.

The Hexcore cast the entire room in blue light as it came into view, flashes of energy pulsing and arcing as it was moved. Viktor had to swallow down a mouthful of saliva at the sight, not sure if he was nauseous or excited by the sight of the device after all these months. Something in him churned and roiled, his instincts telling him to pull away, to shut the damnable thing back in its box and throw it into the sea. Still another part of him wanted to reach out, pull it towards him and cradle it under his ribcage, as close to his heart as he could possibly get it.

A sharp kick aimed at his kidney reminded that said space under his ribs was currently occupied. Another little somersault made Viktor realise that the churning in his gut was all too real, and his babies were now awake and more active than he’d ever felt them be. He grunted and put a hand over his stomach, trying to soothe them as best he could.

“What's gotten into you two?” he asked quietly. He glanced back at the Hexcore just as another foot landed against his rib, eyes narrowing at the glowing aperture and whirring runes. Interesting, he thought privately.

“Viktor?” Sky asked from over his shoulder. “You okay?”

Viktor ripped his eyes away from the core to offer Sky a smile. “Just dealing with some internal gymnastics,” he said, giving his round belly an affectionate pat. He received another little kick in answer.

Sky's face softened with a bright smile. “Can I—?” she started to ask, then flushed. “Only if you're okay with it, of course,” she said hurriedly. “I remember my cousin, when she was pregnant, she hated it when people would just touch her without permission. You totally can say no, I won't be mad.”

Viktor suppressed a chuckle. “It's fine,” he said, sitting back as far as his chair would allow. “Go ahead.”

Sky flushed a little deeper. Hesitating for a moment, she reached down and laid her hand on the swell of Viktor's belly. Her eyes widened as a tiny elbow pushed into her hand. “Wow, they're so strong already,” she said.

“I'm aware,” Viktor said with a grunt. “Something has them really excited all of a sudden.”

Sky giggled. “Maybe they really just want to help out in the lab,” she suggested.

Viktor couldn't stop a laugh from bubbling up. “They must take after their father,” he said fondly.

Sky’s smile grew affectionate and sad. “Of course,” she said quietly. Her hand rested against his belly for another moment before she straightened. “I should go keep yelling at the movers, make sure they’re doing their job properly.”

Viktor nodded and watched as she hustled off, beginning to bark orders at the movers once again, voice a whipcrack in the bustle. Viktor smiled and continued to rub his belly for a moment, trying in vain to calm his children. When they refused to be soothed, he resolved himself to an afternoon of bruised internal organs.

By the time the lab had started to come together into some semblance of order, Viktor was exhausted. He'd greatly overestimated his abilities to jump back into his work, and with the added strain of the babies refusing to settle, he was pretty drained. He'd have to reevaluate his plans for his work going forward.

“That's the last of it,” Sky said, placing a large box of odds and ends on the lab desk. “Now we just have to organize everything.”

“Tomorrow,” Viktor groaned, sitting back in his chair with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other wrapped around his belly, as though he could physically restrain his children from slamming their little fists and feet into his guts.

“That kind of inefficiency can't be tolerated,” a voice cut across the lab. Marcus stalked towards Viktor, spine ramrod straight and a stack of paperwork in hand. “The Hexgates need to be up and running as soon as possible.”

Viktor removed his arm from his face but didn't deign to sit up in his chair. “The gates will be fixed as soon as they can be,” he said. “It will take as long as it needs to.”

Marcus glared down at Viktor, moustache twitching as he suppressed a snarl. He held out the stack of paperwork. “The reports that you requested,” he said. “You'll need to sign for them, they're protected information.”

“Technically I own this information,” Viktor said, taking the stack of papers and tossing them onto his desk where he could get to them later. “Do you have a pen handy?”

Marcus’s grip on the pen he handed over was enough to make it creak. Viktor quickly put down his signature on the form Marcus handed over, barely acknowledging the enforcer. Before, when he’d been actively trying to ensconce himself in Piltover's society, he would have played the game a little better, been more polite, more helpful. Now, he no longer cared what anyone thought of him, least of all the enforcer sheriff who'd delivered him to the meeting that could have ruined his life. 

That and he was also a little cranky from his innards being used as a punching bag all afternoon.

Marcus snatched back his pen and clipboard. “We'll be in touch,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked away at a clipped pace. Viktor watched him go for a moment, an uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. He shook it off and turned back to start getting into the paperwork.

“Madam Medarda, I wasn't expecting you here,” Marcus said suddenly from somewhere near the door.

Viktor turned, expecting to see the familiar figure of Mel walking towards him. It wouldn’t be out of the question, her being one of the largest contributors to Hextech’s funding and a personal—acquaintance? Friend?—of Viktor’s. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of a towering woman dressed in red and black, scars decorating her face and exposed arms like trophies. Though she was entirely incongruent with the surroundings, she seemed to command the space anyway.

“I was curious,” the woman said, glancing around the lab quickly before her gaze landed on Viktor. She grinned. “I had to know what sort of mind was behind this Hextech that's become so important to Piltover.”

Viktor fought down a sudden urge to tuck tail and bolt. He was no stranger to facing down people who were larger, stronger, and scarier than him, but there was something about this woman that set his nerves on edge. It took him a moment to place her, but as she turned to start walking further into the lab, realised who she was—Ambessa Medarda, Mel's Noxian general mother. He'd only ever heard snagged bits and pieces about her from the eternally closed off Mel, but the familial resemblance was there once you got past all of the ways they were completely different.

He didn't know if her being Mel's mother made him more or less guarded.

Ambessa strolled through the lab in a wide arc, but it was obvious she was heading in his direction. She peered curiously at the various different experiments and pieces of equipment, a genuine interest on her face, though something else lingered there under the surface that Viktor couldn't place, but thought might be eagerness.

Eventually she stopped a few feet from Viktor, finally meeting his gaze. She smiled, white teeth gleaming in the dim light. “So, this is the man who managed to outfox my daughter in her own council chambers,” she said, looking him up and down. Her eyes lingered only momentarily on his belly. “I must say, I'm rather impressed.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Are you?” he asked dryly, hoping his face gave nothing away.

“Of course,” Ambessa said, casually leaning a hip against the lab desk. “What my daughter lacks in ruthlessness, she makes up for in cleverness and political savvy. When I heard she'd been outmanoeuvred, I almost didn't believe it.”

Viktor couldn't handle being under her direct scrutiny. He turned and began organizing the papers he'd carelessly tossed earlier. “Councellor Medarda has never done anything she does not already wish to do. If I outmanoeuvred her, it was only because she allowed me to.”

“Indeed,” Ambessa conceded. She glanced around the lab again. “It's quite something, what you've built here. “

“Not alone,” Viktor said, mind turning as he tried to figure out what Ambessa was trying to angle for. He knew Mel well enough to have a guess at what she wanted when she came to bother them down in the lab, but this was a new player he didn't have the prior knowledge to predict her next steps.

“So I’ve been told,” Ambessa said. “Quite a tragedy, to lose such a brilliant inventor at the cusp of his career.”

Viktor clenched his fists, a paper file in his hands crumpling before he managed to assuage his temper. “Yes, it was,” he said. One of the babies kicked softly, as though they were trying to comfort him. He pulled his hand away and reached down to give the spot a gentle rub.

Ambessa was quiet for a moment, her eyes flicking down to his belly. She shifted her hip just slightly. “I'm not a woman prone to gossip,” she said, “but I would have to be deaf not to have heard the rumours about the fatherhood of your budding family. May I ask if there's any truth to them?”

Viktor looked up at her, unable to stop himself from raising an eyebrow in confusion. For her to ask for permission of any kind seemed distinctly out of place for a woman like her. What exactly was she playing at? “I'm not in the habit of giving rumours any credence, true or not.”

Ambessa seemed to realize he'd caught on to her misstep. “Of course, my apologies,” she said with a smile that narrowed her eyes. “I suppose I got carried away. A mother's weakness for all the children of the world, I suppose.”

Horseshit, Viktor thought, though perhaps there was an element there that had the whisper of an element of truth. He noticed Ambessa glance at his belly once again, her hand flexing ever so slightly on her muscled bicep. Viktor had been showing for many months now, and he was more than familiar with the signs she was trying to suppress.

“You want to feel, don’t you?” he asked, secretly delighting in having found her out. He imagined a woman like her didn’t often get found out.

Ambessa’s hand twitched ever so slightly, but she kept her composure. Viktor leaned back in his chair a little. “It’s alright, I understand. People are always curious—you get pretty good at recognizing the signs someone wants to feel but doesn’t want to ask.”

Surprisingly, Ambessa chuckled. “Ah yes, I do remember how it was. When I was with Kino, I could hardly keep the hands away. I remember once I was so fed up with it I broke someone's hand.”

Viktor couldn't help but snort. “It would be nice to be able to do that to the more pushy person,” he said. “Alas I'm more likely to break my own hand trying.”

Ambessa barked a laugh. “Strength is only part of the equation," she said, standing up to her full height, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I can show you, if you like.”

Viktor stared at her for a protracted moment. He had the distinct feeling that he was about to dip his feet into a pit of murky water, knowing there were sharp-toothed creatures swimming in it. On the other hand, they were in the lab, Sky nearby busying herself with inventory and one or two workers still shuffling around, helping unpack some delicate instruments. If Ambessa wanted to hurt him, she most certainly could, but it would be a stupid place to do it.

“Alright,” Viktor said cautiously, keeping his eyes trained on the towering woman in front of him.

Ambessa's grin turned slightly wolfish as she approached, coming to his side and bending slightly to be at his level in the chair. “Strength is good, it puts power behind your strikes,” she explained. She held out her hand and—after a moment's hesitation—Viktor put his wrist in her calloused grip. “But knowing where to apply the strike is even more important.”

“Certainly you could simply bash as hard as you can and break your target, but it's terribly inefficient.” She manipulated his hand in hers, fingertips brushing along his boney wrist and knuckles, gentle as a lover's touch. “When applied at the right fulcrum, even the lightest touch can destroy even the greatest of opponents.” She smiled down at him, eyes glinting. “To watch an enemy crumble with nothing but efficient leverage behind the blow? It's truly a beautiful sight.”

All of a sudden, Viktor's arm jerked, the familiar pull of the mysterious force that was keeping him from harm yanking his hand out of Ambessa's grip before Viktor could even register the threat. In one smooth movement, Viktor had Ambessa's hand twisted around, trapped in a tight grip that Viktor knew could dislocate her wrist if he pressed just so. In the span of less than a second, he'd gone from being trapped in the warlord's grip to having her in a counter attack that he didn't even know he knew how to do.

Ambessa remained frozen where she was, a look of startled surprise on her face, while Viktor scrambled to come up with a plausible explanation. Slowly, Ambessa pulled her hand back—Viktor let her go, not taking his eyes off hers. He couldn't tell if he was nauseous in the usual way he was after the mysterious force yanked him around like a ragdoll or if he was just going to sick up from the stress of it all.

A hissing sound from the corner of the lab bench broke through the tension. The hexcore was spinning and sparking in its containment area. It spat once, the energy arcing off of it like a solar flare, before it seemed to calm down. In his belly, one of the babies rolled over at the same time.

“Well, it seems you know more than you think you do,” Ambessa said, rubbing her wrist absently. “That was a perfectly executed counter, well done.”

Viktor stared at the hexcore for a moment longer before he turned back to Ambessa. “Yes, well, when you grow up in the streets of Zaun, you tend to develop good survival instincts,” he said. It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't about to tell her of all people the truth.

“Of course,” Ambessa said absently, her gaze boring into his. Or rather, into him, like she was trying to peel back his skin with her eyes alone, to see what was ticking away under the chassis of his ribcage. Viktor felt like a rabbit caught in a snare, immobilized and vulnerable, staring up at a wolf that was deciding what to do with him.

“Mother? What are you doing here?”

Viktor jolted so hard his chair creaked. The familiar high-heeled steps echoing off the metal floor announced Mel, walking at a quickstep towards them. She kept her eyes trained on her mother, her face twisted into an expression of annoyance, though there was a shred of concern pulling at the corners of her eyes.

“Mel!” Ambessa greeted cheerfully, throwing her arms out as though expecting a hug. “I was just speaking with Viktor here.”

Mel glanced at Viktor for a half second, brows furrowing. “What are you doing here?” she asked again, sounding more exasperated.

Ambessa threw one massive tree-trunk arm around her daughter's shoulders, squeezing her smaller frame to her side. “I wanted to see what it was that you've been investing in for all these years. It's quite impressive! I can see why it's captivated you so much.”

“Hextech is at the bleeding edge of technological advancement in Piltover,” Mel said. “It would be foolish not to see that.”

“And you're no fool,” Ambessa said affectionately, giving her daughter another squeeze.

It was only Viktor's familiarity with Mel that allowed him to notice her soften, though it was only a fraction, and only for a moment before she steeled herself once more. “I'm afraid your curiosity will have to go unsatisfied mother, Hextech is proprietary technology. We can't let unapproved outsiders wander in unannounced,” she said.

Ambessa's arm fell from Mel's shoulder, lingering just slightly. “Of course, I understand,” she said, still all smiles in front of her daughter. “Perhaps we can discuss getting a proper tour over dinner tonight?”

Mel sighed. “So long as we do away with the local cuisine, I'll see what I can do,” she said. “For the moment, I need to speak with our head scientist. Privately.”

“Of course, of course,” Ambessa said, finally backing off. “I'll see you for dinner Mel. Don't be late,” she said in a light, almost teasing tone, before turning and striding out of the lab, head held high and booted feet echoing on the metal floor.

“Local cuisine?” Viktor asked once Ambessa was out of earshot.

“Do not ask,” Mel grumbled, rubbing her temple. She looked down at Viktor, brows furrowing. “Are you alright? She can be… intense.”

Viktor flexed his hand. “I'm fine,” he lied.

“What did she want?” Mel pressed. “She’s always playing a game of some kind. Did she mention anything?”

“She seemed interested in me, more than anything,” Viktor said. “She was curious about hextech for certain, but it almost seemed like she was more trying to get an impression of me.”

Mel hummed, bringing a knuckle to her chin in thought—Viktor could practically hear the golden gears of her politically-minded brain spinning. “Concerning,” she said eventually, the word most certainly muttered to herself.

A tiny foot pressed against his belly from the inside. “We also talked about… motherhood I guess,” he said, placing his hand over where the foot was.

Mel’s eyes snapped up, first to his face, then to his belly. She pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked away again. “I see,” she said.

An awkward silence fell over them and Viktor cursed himself internally. He wasn't oblivious, he’d known about Jayce and Mel, he'd seen the glances exchanged, the lingering touches, the charged conversations. Jayce and Mel had been dancing around each other for a while, slowly drawing closer and closer. Mel suggesting Jayce for a councillor's position had been the final setup before the strike.

Viktor hadn't even been able to muster up the gall to be jealous, despite his feelings. It had only made sense then, that the two of them should be drawn together, twin suns combining their beauty to dazzle all in their wake. Viktor hadn't minded the shadows, it was where he did his best work.

And now Jayce was gone, and Viktor was the one pregnant with his children, standing in front of the woman Jayce probably would have married.

As Viktor contemplated simply throwing himself out of the lab window to escape the awkward silce that permeated the room, Mel took a deep breath and drew herself up. “I'm not going to insult you by dancing around the subject,” she said. “You and Jayce… I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.”

“That would make one of us,” Viktor answered earnestly. “He cared deeply about you.”

Mel's face cracked into a broken smile. “He cared about both of us,” she said, her body finally relaxing. She perched her hip against the lab table. “I suppose I was in denial about just how deeply his feelings for you ran.”

Viktor sighed. “I suppose I was too, in the end,” he said. “I never expected…” he trailed a hand over his round belly. “There's a lot of things I suppose I'll never know now.”

Mel's eyes fell. “I suppose so,” she said.

Silence returned, a heavy cloak of melancholy instead of a gnawing awkwardness. Eventually Mel sighed and offered Viktor another smile. “How have you been? Truly I mean?”

“Big,” Viktor answered. “I’ve got a little less than four months left and it already feels like there's no room left.”

Mel laughed. “I must say, you are quite round,” she said. “But otherwise?”

“Fine,” Viktor said. “They're both growing normally, just large and active.” He cradled his belly with both hands, lifting it ever so slightly off of his lap. “I dread thinking of what I'm going to look like by the time they're ready to come out.”

“Both,” Mel repeated. “Twins, that's quite the stroke of luck.”

“Is it?” Viktor asked.

“In Noxus it is,” she explained. “If there's one thing Noxus prizes more than military valour, it’s family. To have twins, especially as a first pregnancy, is considered to be a sign of good fortune.” She gave a wry smile. “And a fertile womb and all that, but it's mostly about having two people bound by a bond deeper than blood. It's said that even a mother cannot come between twins.”

Viktor hummed—perhaps this explained in part Ambessa's fascination, though it felt incomplete. “I don't know how fortunate I feel,” he admitted. “Considering the… situation I find myself caught in.”

Mel gave no answer to that, the silence as tense as a crouching predatory cat, ready to strike given a moment of opportunity. Eventually she shifted her weight, shoulders tensing and eyes dropping to the floor in contrition. “I'm afraid I must apologize to you, Viktor.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at her, waiting patiently. She sighed and continued. “When I voted for your removal from Hextech, I told myself I was being objective. That I was doing what was best for Piltover, for Jayce’s legacy,” she said. “I told myself these things because the truth of the matter made me the kind of person I've always despised—lashing out in hurt because it made me feel better to take it out on someone else.”

If Viktor didn't know any better, he'd say there was wetness gathering at the corner of Mel's eyes. “You didn't deserve my vindictiveness Viktor, I should have protected you from the rest of the council,” she said. Mel’s eyes finally lifted to meet his directly. “I am sorry, Viktor.”

If this was a performance, it was a damn convincing one. Mel was a carefully constructed pillar, impenetrable and without flaw, and here she was, exposing her vulnerability to Viktor of all people. Despite his natural instinct to distrust, pull back and away, he couldn't help but feel she was being genuine. Perhaps it was the hormones, but damn it all if he wasn't in a bit of a forgiving mood.

Jayce had loved her, Viktor reminded himself. Sure, Jayce could be overly trusting, but he’d had decent instincts, and they rarely steered him wrong. If Jayce had cared for her, then maybe Viktor could let himself accept her contrition as genuine.

“Complete trust will take some time to build again,” Viktor told her, “but thank you, I appreciate it.”

Mel blinked, perhaps surprised not to be told to fuck off, but she smiled after a moment. “Of course, I understand,” she said. “I want you to know that, from here on out, I'm behind you completely.”

The corner of Viktor's mouth quirked up. “You might have to get in line,” he said, glancing back to where Sky was definitely not listening in on their conversation, breaking down some cardboard boxes so they could be taken away in the morning. “I've been gathering quite a, ehh, fanclub? As of late.”

“So I've gathered,” Mel said. “Your entourage made quite the impression in the council room. Not only Councillor Kirammen’s daughter, but the right hand of the most notorious undercity leader, as well as his daughter. You've ruffled some feathers.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow at Mel. “If I was a paranoid man, that would sound like a warning.”

Mel met his gaze. “You could stand to be somewhat paranoid,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, as though she was trying not to be heard. “I've been gleaning whispers here and there of some worrying sentiments brewing in the shadows. There are some who are very unhappy about your return to Piltover.”

Viktor sucked in a breath, one hand sliding over his belly as though to shield it. “Am I in danger?” he asked, voice low enough that Mel could only barely hear him. “Are my children in danger?”

Mel pressed her mouth into a thin line. “I don't know,” she admitted, the words pulling like stubborn teeth from her mouth. “As of now, I don't have anything concrete, only the hints of whispers.”

Viktor took several deep, steadying breaths. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted, for his children to get caught in the crossfire of the ridiculous politics Piltover and Zaun always found themselves embroiled in. In trying to protect himself, he'd put a target on his back, and now his precious children might pay the price.

“Viktor?” Mel called, one hand reaching out as though to touch his shoulder, but stopping just short. “Are you alright?”

“What can I do?” Viktor asked, the words directed out into the aether rather than at her. “How can I keep them safe?”

Mel said nothing for a moment, her hand still caught in the air. After a prolonged pause, she unfroze herself and placed her hand on his shoulder, fingers gently digging into the flesh and bone, steady, grounding. “I promise Viktor, I'll do everything in my power to make sure you and your children are safe. You have my word as a Medarda.”

Viktor looked up at her, somewhat stunned. Mel made no secret of her heritage of course, but she rarely made a show of it either. For her to invoke it now in his defense… he wasn't sure what exactly the nuances were, but clearly it meant a lot to her, and he couldn't help but feel honoured by that. He reached up and covered her hand with his.

“Thank you Mel,” he said.

Mel smiled and gave him a nod. She straightened and seemed to gather herself. “I did actually come here to speak about Hextech with you,” she admitted, smiling. “The council would like an estimate on how long it will take for the Hexgates to be fixed.”

Viktor snorted. “I won't know until I get a look at these numbers,” he said, gesturing to the thick stack of papers he'd been brought. “That's not counting how many hours it will take to get the lab back up and running in proper order.”

Mel glanced around at the semi-organized state of chaos that the lab was in. “If there's anything I can do…” she said, though it was clear she was at a loss on how to help.

Viktor sighed. “If I could be in two places at once, that would be best,” he said. Or rather, he could have his partner back, he thought bitterly. There was no use dwelling on that right now.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and he perked up. “Actually, I might have a solution,” he said.

“Oh?” Mel prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“I know some promising inventors,” he said, excitement growing with each word. “Their help would greatly speed up the process.”

“You want to bring in outside assistance?” Mel asked, incredulous. “What have you done with the notoriously ‘difficult to work with’ Viktor, who had to be threatened into hiring a lab assistant?”

Viktor waved a hand. “I've become soft in my hormonal overtures,” he said. “Besides, I have already worked with these individuals, and they are intelligent enough not to make a mess of things.”

“High praise coming from you,” Mel said, a subtle smile teasing at the corner of her lips. “The council might need some convincing to sign off on this, especially if these ‘inventors’ come from where I think they do.”

“If it helps, Heimerdinger has already met them,” Viktor said. “He was quite impressed.”

True to his word, Heimerdinger had delivered the papers for Viktor to sign himself, trekking through Zaun for what was probably the first time in several centuries. He'd arrived at the Last Drop quiet and contemplative, but quickly bounced back into cheerfulness after being introduced to Ekko and Powder, eager to learn about Zaunite invention. He'd left that day with a spark in his eyes that even Viktor had never seen before.

It had also helped that Heimerdinger had met Silco of all people, and that had been quite the spectacle.

Mel gave a contemplative hum. “I'll speak to him, in that case,” she said, before her face went serious. “This won't make you more liked by those that already have reason to dislike you. You must be careful.”

Viktor sucked in a breath, suddenly filled with anxiety. He pushed through it. “I do not need to be liked, I only need to be warned ahead of time,” he said, keeping Mel's gaze with his own. “Can I count on you?”

Mel stared into his eyes, clearly searching for something. She smiled, knowing and fox-like. “You can count on me, Viktor.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?” Sky asked hours later, when they were finally shutting up for the day.

“I'm sure Sky,” Viktor said, flashing her a tired smile. “Vi has been waiting for me downstairs, she'll be taking me home.”

Sky's eyebrows rose. “How long has she been waiting?”

Viktor shrugged. “Probably since this afternoon,” he said. He flashed a mischievous grin. “Enough time to have a lengthy conversation with Cait, who is also probably ‘waiting’ for me.”

Sky's cheeks flushed pink and she giggled. “Oh, you're devious,” she said.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Ms. Young,” Viktor said, though he was failing to hide his own grin. “Really, I'll be fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure? I don't mind locking up,” Sky said.

“I'm certain,” Viktor promised. He glanced back into the darkness of the lab. “Besides, there's… something I'd like to do in privacy.”

Sky tilted her head curiously, her pouf of hair bouncing with the movement. Her eye's filling with concern. “Something?” she inquired.

Viktor closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “I have… some of Jayce's things,” he said, forcing his voice steady. “I want to put them in their proper place.”

Sky's eyes filled with sympathy—Viktor had to turn away. “Okay,” she said softly. “I understand. I'll see you in the morning?”

Viktor nodded. “I promise I'll come down in a few minutes,” he said, trying to assuage her anxiety. “I just need… I just need to do this.”

Sky nodded, wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Of course,” she choked out, clearly holding back sobs. “I'll… I'll leave you to it.”

With that, Sky turned and trotted off, shoulders shaking with barely contained sobs. Viktor's stomach felt tight, like it might twist itself into a knot. She'd been putting on a brave face since they'd reunited, but clearly Jayce's absence had deeply affected her as well. There was a noticeable absence in the lab, even in its current state of disarray. Viktor doubted that any amount of trinkets would truly fill the void left by the man that had once occupied the space—Jayce was practically a force of nature in himself. Loud and sometimes disruptive and undeniably present, Jayce's absence was a stain on the face of reality.

It was something that Viktor was determined to correct.

He felt bad for lying to Sky, though he comforted himself by reasoning that it at least was partially true, gingerly placing Jayce's favourite coffee mug near the place he'd usually forgotten it and left it to go cold. It was one of those Man of Progress mugs, but a prototype, the image on the ceramic surface looking inexplicably goggle-eyed. The sight of it had sent them both into fits of laughter. Viktor had made it worse by drawing a magnificent handlebar mustache on it in permanent marker. Jayce had followed up by adding coke-bottle glasses, and things had devolved from there. Viktor would sometimes catch Jayce looking at the mug and giggling to himself, seemingly lost in the memory of that day.

Viktor smiled down at the mug, tracing his fingers over the chip in the rim where it had suffered a fall to the floor. He ran his other hand over the curve of his belly, determination settling in the bottom of his stomach. He knew his time was limited, but he'd be damned if he was going to leave his children orphans.

Leaving the mug where it was, Viktor crossed the lab to where the Hexcore pulsed softly in its space. As he drew near, the fluttering kicks inside his belly intensified to a nearly painful degree, but Viktor pushed through it. As he stopped in front of it, he felt the urge to smash the damn thing war with the urge to plunge both hands inside of it.

Viktor shook himself out of it and stared down at the device, banishing all base desires and trying to focus. He thought back to that day, the last moments he'd seen Jayce before the man had disappeared. There had been an explosion of course, but Viktor was certain that he'd seen Jayce vanish before the explosion, his outline in the bright flash of light condensing into a fine point before disappearing altogether. If the explosion had killed Jayce, Viktor wasn't convinced.

“An explosion that size wouldn't have vaporized him,” Viktor said aloud, rubbing his belly. “To leave no traces of a body, not even carbonized particulates… an explosion of that magnitude would have leveled the city block. An implosion would have at least swallowed the building.”

A series of kicks banged against his kidney. Viktor grunted and shifted his weight on his crutch. “Whichever one of you is doing that, it's very unhelpful,” he commented. He stared down at the Hexcore, that strange feeling tickling the back of his mind again.

Another kick smacked against something internal, and the Hexcore twitched. Viktor raised an eyebrow, curious. The Hexcore had been reacting strangely all day, and his children had also been much more active than usual since it had been brought in. Correlation or causation? Viktor timed the kicks in his head, taking into account where they happened and how strong, all while watching the Hexcore for any sign of activity.

It took several minutes of trial and error and false starts, but eventually Viktor was absolutely certain—the Hexcore was reacting to his children. The sudden memory of the accident flooded back to him. He'd been entranced by the Hexcore then too, his body moving without his permission, unable to tear his hand away, even with Jayce's strength pulling with him. And that arc of energy—it had struck him right in the belly, just below his belly button.

Right where his children now wriggled and squirmed inside of him.

The Hexcore popped with energy and Viktor jolted back so hard his crutch scraped against the floor. “Absurd, it's absurd,” he muttered to himself.

And yet it explained so much—the mysterious force that seemed to be protecting him, his strangely robust health since conceiving, how he'd even managed to conceive in the first place. What else could it be? Viktor was a scientist, he had no choice but to accept the evidence that was staring him right in the face.

His children and the Hexcore were connected.

And potentially, his children were connected to the arcane itself.

The moment the idea occurred to Viktor, a sense of rightness followed. Of course his children were connected to the arcane, it made perfect sense, for all it made no sense at all. He'd been working with the arcane for years, he knew how it behaved, or how it could behave. Certainly Hextech could pull a series of reactions from it, sequence them and produce the desired result, but Viktor wasn't naive enough to think he truly understood magic. Even the greatest mages in history never claimed such a feat. To say that the idea that his children couldn't be mages was an exercise in denial of the highest degree.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor steadied himself. This was a concerning development, but nothing he hadn't already suspected, if he was being honest with himself. Mysterious forces keeping him from harm could only be explained by so much, after all. Now he had confirmation.

And a conduit, he thought, staring down at the Hexcore. It was clearly the epicenter of everything that had happened so far. He needed to resume his studies of the device, albeit with a new focus. It would be hard to explain away to Sky, and even more difficult if he did eventually bring in Ekko and Powder, but he couldn't let this slip away from him. Whatever connection there was between the Hexcore and his children, he was almost certain it was only connected with them, and he was simply the vessel. Nothing more than an incubator that had to be maintained until its purpose was fulfilled.

The thought of that turned Viktor's stomach. He'd fought for so long to be recognized—as an inventor, as a person, as a man, and now it was all being undone. Was he really ready to simply give up and let his body be used in such a way? Was this all he was meant to be after all?

Viktor shook the thought away. He'd been living on borrowed time since his birth, his twisted leg marking his life for disaster no matter what he did. There was no point in getting fussy about it all now, not when he could leave something of himself behind in the world. He pressed his hands tightly to his belly. No, he wasn't giving up, he wasn't an incubator, he was a father, and he would do whatever it took for his children to grow up safely.

Even if he had to die doing it.

Chapter Text

Attempting to work with the Hexcore without arousing suspicion was easier said than done. Sky was familiar with the ins and outs of the work he and Jayce had been doing over the years, and would instantly realize something was strange if he suddenly diverted his attention from the Hexgates to focus on the core instead. Both were Hextech, but they were entirely separate projects, and working on one while they were supposed to be focussing on the other would have been incredibly suspicious, to say the least. For that same reason, the council would have also had a bit of a fit as well. Viktor’s main focus had to be on the Hexgates.

That being said, he still managed to find a balance, especially after bringing Ekko and Powder in as ‘interns’ on the Hexgate case. Under the guise of not wanting Ekko and Powder to be tempted to mess with it, Viktor ordered the Hexcore moved to a separate room of the lab, a place they had usually conducted their more volatile experiments in. Every chance he got, he’d slip away to get a bit of work done with the Hexcore. One of the advantages of being as pregnant as he was, it was relatively easy to feign needing a break every so often without anyone questioning him too closely.

Still, Viktor dedicated most of his time to solving the Hexgate issue, hoping that once it was over, he could return to working on his other projects—or at least appear to return to previous projects. This would have been a lot simpler if the energy fluctuations the Hexcore was having made any sense at all.

At first it seemed like there was simply not enough power being generated, a simple fix that usually meant a part in the gate's engine needed repair or replacement, but everything was humming along fine and dandy. He'd investigated a possible failure in the connection between the engine and the gate, but that hadn't panned out either. A malfunction of the gate itself would simply shut the whole structure down—a failsafe that had purposefully been built in during the initial plans—and even if the malfunction was small enough not to trip the failsafe, it wouldn't be producing such erratic results.

If Viktor was being honest, it almost seemed like there was something siphoning the arcane energy out of the Hexgate. It was a ludicrous idea of course—the amount of power being drained away could have lit up the entirety of Piltover and Zaun for an entire year and still had enough left over to run a whole block of factories at full capacity. That is, if one even had the capacity to convert arcane energy into regular electricity in the first place—a finicky process that required a lot of specialized machines and lost about a third of the raw power anyway. The idea that someone had tapped into the Hexgate's power supply and was leeching off of it was ridiculous in a way that bordered on hilarious.

Still, there was something to the theory—it was the only thing that seemed to make sense with all of the evidence they had. Viktor didn't want to believe it, but it was starting to look like the best option available. That left the question of why—anyone who could figure out how to drain such huge amounts of power from the Hexgates certainly had the intelligence to realize what a colossally foolish plan it was. They also would certainly have the resources to generate their own power. Was there something in particular about the Hexgates or the arcane they needed? Viktor was at a loss.

In any case, it was something he had to figure out, hopefully as soon as possible. It was one of the reasons he’d approached Powder and Ekko about joining him at Hextech. They were both brilliant, and he’d come to realize that, if there was going to be anyone other than himself and Jayce to figure out the inner workings of Hextech, it would be these two.

It also meant that he was leaving Hextech in good hands when he inevitably died.

Viktor was still under no delusions that his time was limited. Though whatever force it was that was keeping him from harm had seemingly locked his rapidly advancing disease behind a wall, he was becoming more and more certain it was only for the benefit of his children. Even if he survived the birth, he would be running down the clock once his children were safely outside of him. If he was lucky, he might get to be there for the first month or two, but that was a level of optimism he didn't like indulging in.

Therefore Viktor's plan now was to prepare for the inevitable. Ekko and Powder running Hextech was the best for everyone involved—they were interested in improving lives over profits, and they were less likely to be swayed by the council, plus they already had Heimerdinger and Mel's approval. He might have to include a clause in their inheritors documents that Hextech was never to be used for weapons, if only to keep Powder from being tempted, but that could be done. He was in regular contact with Ximena now, and she was eager to be a part of his children's lives—there was no one better Viktor could think of to be a primary guardian for them once he passed.

Choosing Godparents had been somewhat difficult. Viktor's first thought had been Caitlyn—she was Jayce's sister in all but name really, it would only be right to include her in the children's lives. But then again, Silco and Vander had been such a huge help, as had Sky, and also Mel. In the end he'd chosen four, splitting them between the two children—Silco and Sky for the elder, and Vander and Cait for the younger. That would hopefully catch as many options as possible should something happen to Ximena.

Viktor was also in the process of setting up a trust for his children for their futures. His own pension was mostly sitting pretty, though some of it was being invested back into Hextech. There was also the pensions that would be applied to both of his children after his death, but they'd likely only come into possession of it when they came of age. So he had to make sure there was money set aside for their care until then. Not that he thought Ximena would need a financial incentive to take care of her own grandchild that she clearly already loved dearly, but he didn't want to put more burdens on her than he needed to.

None of this was necessarily difficult to realize—it mostly entailed a lot of paperwork—the most difficult part was actually keeping anyone from asking too many questions. Viktor hadn't revealed his findings about how his children were potentially connected to the Hexcore or how he was likely to die shortly after their birth to anyone. Not only was the council sure to start scheming the moment they even suspected Viktor wouldn't be around to protect his precious Talis heirs, but the others around him would insist that he take it easy, try to rest and figure out how to force the remaining grains of sand in his hourglass to stop. They meant well, Viktor knew that, but he’d always known the glass was cracked, and there was no way to stop his time from spilling out all over the floor. The best he could do was use the time that he did have left to do something useful for those who were going to be left behind.

That and figuring out how to bring Jayce back from wherever he’d been sent to.

Now that Viktor was aware of his children’s connection to the arcane, he was even more convinced than ever that Jayce was out there somewhere. It was completely illogical, but it felt right. If his children’s connection to the arcane was keeping him alive, then surely it could do the same for Jayce. He just had to figure out how, and he could reverse it, bring Jayce back to him, back to his children. All this meddling around with trusts and paperwork would end up being pointless, but it would be more than worth it.

Until then, Viktor had to continue as normal.

Or, as normal as the situation allowed anyway.

“No, we cannot rebuild the gates from scratch,” Viktor said, rubbing his temple.

“Technically, we could,” Powder said, rolling around the lab on the chair she'd claimed, “you just don't wanna.”

“Rebuilding in a new location would solve a lot of issues,” Ekko said, pouring over the blueprints for the Hexgates. “The biggest being the location.” He tapped the diagram of the engine. “This thing is right next to the pipes that carry our air and water. Who knows what kind of shit is leaching into it?”

Viktor sighed. “The location was already a compromise with the council and the zoning board,” he explained. “The original plan was to evict an entire block near the outskirts of the sump.”

“For fucking serious?” Ekko asked, looking up, face scrunched up in disgust. “That area is all people with nothing.”

“Hence the compromise of sinking it below the city as deep as possible,” Viktor said. “The council would never agree to relocate. Too expensive, too much lost time.”

Ekko grumbled and turned back to the blueprints laid out on the table. “We could tell them there's something in the pipes,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “That the chem gangs are the ones sucking out their energy. Using it to keep the fucking heat on.”

Viktor let out a deep sigh. “I understand your frustration,” he said, “but we cannot start fighting battles with the council over every small thing. We have to choose the most important issues and tackle them first.”

“Yeah but all the little shit still sucks major ballsacks,” Powder huffed. She spun her chair around and rolled it over towards Ekko, nearly crashing into him. “Would be so much easier to blow it up and do it over again.”

“Let's agree to disagree on that point,” Viktor said, “and focus instead on figuring out the issue at present.”

Powder grumbled. “We've gone over it from every angle, we can't find it,” she said. “We don't even know where it's going.”

“It has to be going somewhere,” Ekko mumbled. “That kind of energy doesn't just evaporate into thin air.”

Viktor let out another sigh—leaning back in his wheelchair, he rubbed over his growing belly. He was huge now, with only a short amount of time left before his children would be ready to greet the world outside. Despite it all, Viktor found himself looking forward to the day. It would be painful—possibly the most painful thing he'd ever do, if the horror stories other parents told him had any truth to them—but he'd get the chance to meet his children, however briefly. He didn't know how long he'd get with them, but he hoped to make the most of it.

It was easy to be optimistic, ironically. Viktor's health was better than ever it seemed—his lungs felt clear and his leg and spine hardly ached, contrary to the extra weight placed on them. It felt like a fever dream sometimes, to wake up and feel rested, ready to take on the day. If it weren't for the constant wiggling of his two little passengers, he'd almost forget he was pregnant.

The fact that the Hexcore seemed more active than ever before was not lost on Viktor either.

“Why don't we take a break?” Viktor suggested. “Get some food?”

“Got a craving again? I'm not running all the way down to Jericho's for squid again,” Ekko said, knowing full well that he would in fact go get squid if Viktor asked him.

“I could go for squid,” Powder hummed. “Or eel.”

Ekko sighed and hung his head, preparing to stand before Viktor cut in. “Why don’t you both head out?” he suggested. “Get some fresh air?”

“What about you?” Ekko asked. “You could probably use some air too.”

Viktor waved him off. “I’ll crack a window. Besides,” he patted his belly, “getting around with this thing is too much of a hassle. You two take a lunch break, I’ll lie down for a while.”

“You sure?” Ekko asked, even as Powder was gathering up her things.

“I’m sure,” Viktor assured him. “Just remember to bring back some squid for me.”

“Sure thing,” Powder chirped, grabbing Ekko’s arm and all but dragging him away. “Extra dipping sauce?”

“Of course,” Viktor said, waving them off as they left the lab.

Waiting long enough for the two younger scientists to have left the building entirely, Viktor wheeled himself into the closed off room with the Hexcore. As he approached, the twins began to wiggle, as they always did when he got near the core. Breathing carefully through the discomfort, Viktor parked his wheelchair in front of the Hexcore, staring at it for a moment. It pulsed and flickered, arcane power casting an eerie glow throughout the room.

Viktor stared down at the device, absently rubbing his belly. The little kicks seemed to follow his hands, the Hexcore pulsing in sync. So far Viktor hadn't been able to determine if it was the Hexcore influencing his children or the other way around. In the back of his mind he hoped for the latter, that his children were the ones with the control over their tie to the arcane. It would make their lives—well, not easier, but it rankled Viktor to think of his children being under the thumb of anything, even if that thing gave them power beyond imagining.

“I should really get around to thinking of names for you two,” Viktor said, wheeling over to his scattered notes. “I want to at least do that for you.”

A kick up near his ribs. “Yes yes, I'm aware carrying you and birthing you is a lot, you don't need to remind me,” he said fondly, “but I'm going to miss so much, I want to give you two as much as I can.”

Several jabs into his pelvic region made Viktor wince. “Don't give me that attitude, we all know it's coming,” he said, shifting to try and get his belly in a more comfortable position. “I dislike it as much as you do, less probably, but we must be realistic.”

A series of gentle wiggles tickled against his insides, as if in apology. Viktor sighed. “I know, I wish it weren't so,” he said softly, “but I promise I'm doing my best to get your father back to you.”

An excited kick made Viktor chuckle, though he could feel his eyes stinging. “You like that idea? Of course, I like it too,” he said. “He'll be wonderful for you both. He's such a kind man, he'll love you both. He'll be a little busy, running Hextech without me and working on the council, but you'll have a lot of other family to pick up the slack.”

Viktor began jotting down more notes, going over his calculations and trying to find the entry point he was missing. “You've met your abuela Ximena of course. She already loves you dearly. Your aunt Cait isn't the best with small children, but just give her some time to learn. Violet has lots of practice, she'll be able to give her some pointers. Mylo can be a little much, but I trust Claggor to keep him in line. Powder cannot be contained, make sure you always check in with a responsible adult. Mylo does not count as responsible. Ekko usually counts, but not when it comes to Powder, he's weak to her charms.”

“Vander and Silco are both very responsible, but they have a tendency to spoil youngsters and compete with each other—you can use that to your advantage, but try not to overdo it. I don't know if Mel has ever even seen a baby, let alone interacted with one—give her a little grace.” Viktor paused in his tirade, concentrating on a series of rune sequences, trying to figure out if he'd missed something. “Heimerdinger is a font of wisdom and advice, but he also does not count as a responsible adult.”

Viktor continued to talk as he worked, rambling about nothing in particular. His voice seemed to soothe his children somewhat, or at least direct their attention away from his internal organs. Despite the discomfort, he genuinely enjoyed feeling them move inside of him. It was proof that they were alive, that they were growing and getting stronger every day.

One of the babies somersaulted inside of Viktor, the other following along with a roll of their own, flipping over one another in a move that nearly knocked the wind out of Viktor. “You two have too much energy,” he huffed, leaning back in his chair and trying to stretch out a bit and give his lungs a bit more room to expand.

The Hexcore sent up an arc of energy, a few stray sparks of arcane light dissipating through the air. For just a second, Viktor thought the lights might have dimmed. “Maybe I really do need a nap,” he muttered.

Wheeling his chair away from the workbench, Viktor exited the containment room and reentered the main laboratory. He barely had the door closed when he noticed that he was not alone in the room.

“Oh, that's where you were,” Salo drawled, flicking through a stack of notes he'd obviously gathered from the desk he was now leaning on. Viktor would bet every pair of socks he owned that they were now out of order.

“What are you doing here?” Viktor asked, hackles already rising. He'd never liked Salo, even during his days as an assistant, and his opinion hadn't gotten any better in recent years.

Salo tossed the stack of notes back onto the table with a scoff, careless as they scattered and nearly spilled right off the desk. He pushed himself up with his hip and stalked towards Viktor, glare intensifying with every step. “What are you taking?” he asked, ignoring Viktor's question like it hadn't even been uttered.

Viktor's brow furrowed further. “I’m afraid I don't follow,” he said.

Salo made an annoyed noise. “I saw your medical file,” he sneered. “Months ago, when we got rid of you. You were dying.” There was something viscous in his eyes. “Weeks to live at best. You could barely stand in that room. And now,” he gestured to Viktor's person, a slick, unkind grin curling his lip, “you're practically glowing, aren't you?”

Viktor bristled. “You have no right to interrogate me about my medical history,” he snapped.

“Oh please,” Salo scoffed. “You may be a sumprat, but you're smarter than that.”

He had a point, and Viktor knew it. Salo was a counsellor, he was rich, he could get whatever he wanted, and there were very few people who had the power to stop him.

“What does it matter to you?” Viktor snarled, hating that he'd been backed into a corner. He tried to walk around Salo towards the desk. He could at least get the notes back in order.

Salo grabbed his arm and yanked him back to stand in front of him, nearly toppling Viktor to the floor. “It matters because you were supposed to die,” Salo hissed. “There were plans in place, expensive plans, and you were supposed to be out of the way.”

A cold chill crawled up Viktor’s spine, spider-like with venom-tipped fangs, poised to strike the back of his neck. He wrenched his arm out of Salo’s grip, taking a step back and trying to rally his nerves. “Luckily I am still around,” he hissed. “If I wasn’t, your Hexgates wouldn’t be operational.”

Salo’s eye twitched. “You’re not the only scientist in this city,” he snapped. He glanced down at Viktor’s round belly. “But I suppose there will be something valuable to come out of this whole fiasco, in the end.”

Viktor’s stomach went cold and his chest went hot. “Whatever machinations you have, you’ll leave my children out of it.”

“Children?” Salo’s eyebrow quirked in interest. Viktor cursed himself. Salo’s gaze dropped back down to Viktor’s belly. “Fortuitous, I suppose.”

The heat spread down throughout Viktor’s body. “I mean it, Salo. If you even think—”

“You’ll what?” Salo cut him off, taking a step forward, forcing himself into Viktor's space. “Do you think you’re in any position to threaten me? Do you have any idea what I could do to you? To those little trencher brats you dredged up from that piss-hole of a bar? I could bury you, and everyone around you. Do you have even the faintest clue what kind of connections I have?”

Viktor could feel the power gathering around him, coming up from deep in his belly where his children sat. The papers on the desk fluttered slightly in a non-existent wind. Viktor didn't know what he was going to do to get away from Salo, but he was sure he needed to, right now.

Just before the dam broke and Viktor could unleash whatever it was that was building inside of him, the main door of the lab cracked open. “Hey, we got you extra squid!” Ekko called out, slightly out of breath. The reason became obvious once he came into view, as Powder was literally hanging off of him, forcing him to drag her along.

The moment they both saw Salo, their demeanour changed in an instant. Powder hopped up, eyes wide and bright, her posture loose but ready to move the moment she needed to. Ekko drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin, eyes fixed on Salo.

Salo leaned back out of Viktor's space. “Ah, I see you’re putting your assistants to their best use,” he said, sneer returning. “Menial labour.”

The power that had been gathering in Viktor's belly dissipated. “If there's anything else Salo, I suggest you speak to either Ms. Medarda or Professor Heimerdinger before you barge in here without proper authority,” he said calmly, having regained some composure. “Or else run the risk of falling foul of a volatile experiment.”

Salo’s glare sharpened into icepicks, but he was forced to hesitate when Powder took a step, her heavy boot thudding against the metal floor like a distant thunderclap. For a moment, there was a tense standoff, every waiting for someone else to move.

Finally, Salo retreated, drawing himself up to his full height and turning towards the door. “The counsel is getting impatient. Do hurry up with the gates, won't you? I can only stand Hoskel's bitching for so long,” he said, before at last leaving the laboratory.

Powder kicked the door shut behind him with a loud crash. “Dickhead,” she growled before turning to Viktor. “You okay, Cookie?”

Viktor all but fell into his wheelchair, his heart slamming in his chest with all the force of a hammer blow, his blood rushing in his ears like a broken dam. “Too much,” he muttered to himself.

“Vik?” Ekko asked, slowly sidling up to his chair and resting a hand on Viktor's shoulder. “You with us?”

Viktor shut his eyes, trying to calm his breathing enough to answer. One hand covered his face while the other wrapped protectively around his belly. He could barely get his arms around it now, he'd grown so big. It would only be about two months before he was due.

Too much, Viktor thought. Too much to do and not enough time.

Two hands gripped his shoulders tightly, too tightly, almost painfully. The smell of ozone, burnt metal, and shampoo filled his nose. “Breathe,” Powder commanded sternly. Viktor found his lungs sucking in automatically. “Good, again,” Powder said again.

Viktor repeated the instructions, breathing deeply, oxygenating his blood, nourishing his brain, calming his thoughts. He realised how tense he was and started to unclench, starting with his extremities and working inward and then down. Neck, shoulders, chest, core, spine, legs. Eventually Viktor sat back in his wheelchair, lightheaded after his little breakdown.

“Good now?” Powder asked, her hands still gripping his shoulders, grounding.

Viktor nodded and her hands eased. A third hand, Ekko's, was rubbing the back of his neck.

“You want to talk about what that was?” Ekko asked, practical as ever.

“Not here,” Viktor answered, glancing towards the door of the lab. “Finish out the day and we'll head back to the Last Drop.”

Ekko nodded, understanding completely. He lifted the paper bag in his other hand. “You still want your squid?”

Viktor shook his head, but the smell of fried cephalopod hit his nose and his stomach audibly growled. Ekko raised a pale brow and handed the bag over, leaving Viktor the dignity of not having to change his answer. Flushing slightly, Viktor wheeled himself up to a clear desk and unpacked his lunch.

“Who the fuck put these notes out of order?” Powder griped loudly. “Fucking monkey-brain ass.”

“You're sure that's everything he said?” Silco asked.

“To the very word,” Viktor answered.

Silco grumbled something under his breath that Viktor couldn't catch from his place several feet away. The older man blew a cloud of smoke out the open window and tapped his cigar against the sill. Normally he refrained around Viktor, but over the course of the conversation they'd just had, Silco grew so agitated that he'd opened his office window and started blowing the smoke out of it. By the way Vander was clenching his fingers around his pipe, he was tempted to join his partner next to the window.

“Maybe it was a bluff?” Mylo suggested, but the words hardly made an impact on the tension of the room. “Trying to scare you?”

“Salo isn't clever enough for that,” Viktor said. “He seemed… genuine.”

Silco growled and puffed on his cigar a few more times. “Have you heard anything?” he asked, turning to the enforcer in the room.

Cait startled slightly, having clearly been in deep thought, her investigative mind already trying to tie threads together. “No, nothing,” she said, brow furrowing. “Maybe something innocuous that's not coming to mind right now, but I'd have to think about it.”

“Do so,” Silco ordered. He tapped away the ashes that had accumulated on the end of his cigar. “I don't suppose anyone else has ideas?”

“Can't we ask your other counsellor friends about it?” Claggor asked Viktor gently.

“I tried, Mel was not in her offices today,” Viktor explained, “and as much as I respect Heimderdinger, he's not the most discreet man. I couldn't be sure if he’d let anything slip accidentally.”

“We could just corner him,” Vi said, a tinge of impatience and frustration in her tone. “Beat the answers out of the little twig.”

“Satisfying as a direct approach might be, I doubt it would help our case,” Vander objected, though there was a fond curl to the corner of his mouth that indicated that he knew Vi hadn't been serious.

“There has to be some other angle here,” Cait said aloud, eyes unseeing and knuckle to her chin. “Salo's a councillor, but he's just one councillor. He wouldn't act alone on something like this.”

“Care to share with the class, cupcake?” Vi asked, reaching out to nudge Cait's shoulder.

“He has to have someone backing him,” Cait announced. “Especially if he's acting this confident about it. He thinks he's untouchable, even though he must know that Viktor has Mel and Heimerdinger in his corner.”

“Maybe he's got the other councillors on his side?” Sevika suggested. “Like a bloc?”

“It's possible,” Cait said with a hum. “But I can't see Shoola participating in something like this. Bolbok is too risk averse to even consider something like this without some kind of guarantee. Hoskel… he could be pulled into a plot like this, but there's no way he's any kind of ring leader. If he is involved, he was most likely brought into it.”

“And your mother?” Silco asked, voice steady but without any bite.

Cait drew a breath. “For all my mother's faults, if she were to plot something like this, she would be more direct about it,” she said, meeting Silco's gaze. “She'd make Viktor an offer first.”

“Honey before vinegar, as it were,” Silco said with a satisfied harumpf. His heel bounced against the carpeted floor. “So we still have no idea who might be plotting against us.”

“What about that Noxian general?” Sevika suggested. “Medarda's mother. She's been hanging around for a while.”

Viktor felt a spark of realization jolt up his spine. “She cornered me once,” he blurted out. “In my lab. She seemed strangely interested in me.”

“Ambessa?” Cait said, eyes glinting with interest. “Yes, she's been strangely… present recently.”

“Explain,” Silco demanded.

“Officially, she's just here to visit her daughter,” Cait said, “but she's brought a retinue of Noxian soldiers with her. I've noticed them around the city. Not as though they were out for a walk during their downtime, but more like they're on patrol. I swear I've nearly caught one shadowing me during my rounds.”

“Isn't that fairly typical of Noxus though?” Sevika asked with a raised eyebrow. “Generals like Medarda always travel with at least one regiment. It's like a flex or something.”

“That's true,” Cait muttered, still in her investigative thought spiral. “Still doesn't explain their strange behaviour. Or hers.” She began to pace up and down the room, oblivious to everyone watching her. “She's supposedly visiting her daughter, but I've noticed her getting cosy with all of the council members, or at least trying to. I didn't think much of it, it happens all the time when foreign diplomats come to the city. My mother has a standing reservation for afternoon tea for just that reason. It shouldn't be insidious.”

“But you've got a hunch,” Vi asked, watching Cait carefully as she paced.

“There's something there,” Cait announced, stopping in the middle of the room, eyes bright. Viktor was reminded of a hunting dog, nose twitching as it caught the faintest scent on the wind, ready to spring into motion. He knew that if he gave her the go ahead, she'd hunt down her quarry with a calculated single-mindedness that bordered on ruthless.

“Do you think you could find it?” Viktor asked.

Cait turned her eyes to him, holding his gaze. Her sharpshooter's stare flicked down to his belly for a moment, her shoulders drawing up as though she were bracing for a fight.

“I won't let anything happen to them Viktor,” she promised, her voice softer than her demeanor.

“Our channels are open to you,” Vander said, ignoring Silco's sharp stare at the back of his head. “Just let us know where we can help.”

“I will, thank you,” Cait said, dipping her head respectfully. She turned to Ekko. “Can I count on you and the Firelights?”

Ekko tapped his foot against the ground a few times, not saying anything. “I'll have to talk to them first,” he told her finally. “You've been good so far, but a bluebelly’s a bluebelly.”

Cait's mouth twisted. “I understand,” she said, clearly upset but not pushing it. She turned back to Silco. “Speaking of, I’m certain that this conspiracy runs deep. Into the Enforcers.”

“Ya think?” Powder huffed.

Cait ignored her. “I'm going to do my best, but I think I'm going to be on my own,” she explained. “Furthermore, I'll need to work without my superiors knowing what I'm up to.”

“Going behind the top brass to investigate the most powerful people in the city,” Silco said with a hum. “Not exactly typical for one of your… station,” he said pointedly.

Cait drew herself up. “When I joined the enforcers, I took an oath to serve justice, truth, and peace. I intend to stay true to that oath, no matter what or who I might come up against.”

Silco stared into her face, golden eye gleaming in the smokey light of the office. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a semblance of a smile. “Well, I tremble for the poor bastards caught in your crosshairs, officer,” he told her in a lightly jocular tone.

Cait matched his grin. She turned back to Viktor and gripped his shoulder. “I'll find out what's going on. I swear,” she told him gravely.

Viktor lifted his hand from where it cradled his belly and gripped her hand in his. “I trust you,” he said. He looked around the room at the people gathered there, all rallied around him. “There are few I’d trust more.”

Salo yelped as crystal glass exploded into thousands of shards next to where his head had been only a moment ago. What was once a beautifully crafted ornament rained down over the floor with a strangely delightful tinkling noise.

“Do you have any idea how foolish your actions are?” Ambessa shouted, lips curling up in a wolf-ish snarl. “Do you realize what you could have done!?”

Salo straightened, trying to gain back some of the dignity he’d lost. “You told me we needed to put pressure on him!” he snapped, trying not to feel like a scolded child.

“Pressure doesn’t mean that we announce our intentions to him,” Ambressa growled, turning to stalk around the room like an agitated animal.

“I didn’t tell him anything!” Salo protested. “I never mentioned anything to do with the plan.”

“You may as well have,” Ambessa grumbled. “May as well have drawn diagrams in wax crayon.”

Salo huffed. “There’s nothing he can prove,” he said. “And besides, I was doing reconnaissance.”

“Reconnaissance,” Ambessa repeated flatly, unimpressed or disappointed or both. “For what exactly?”

“He’s not dying,” Salo said insistently. “You saw his medical file, the doctors predicted he’d be dead practically before he made it across the bridge. And yet,” he waved a hand, “he’s still flaunting about, pretending that the little bastard parasite in his belly is a Talis heir.”

“Whether it is or is not matters little,” Ambessa said, voice dropping low, as though she was speaking to herself. “And I’ll remind you that I’ve instructed you not to pry into the matter of the pregnancy.”

Salo scoffed. “I still don’t understand your fascination with it,” he said. “Even if it is a Talis heir, it’s still half sumprat. Just another nameless brat among thousands. If you’re looking for one, I could find you one for cheap.”

Ambessa’s hand twitched toward another ornament and Salo flinched. “My fascination is none of your concern," she growled. “And I fail to see how this is relevant to your blundering attempt at reconnaissance.” She spat the word like the admonishment that it was.

Salo gave a frustrated huff. “As I said, he's not dead, even though he should be,” he said, pacing around the room. “There must be something he's doing, something he's taking that's keeping him alive.”

“Or curing him,” Ambessa said, watching Salo pace.

“Gods I hope not,” Salo groaned, though it sounded a bit more like a whine. “In any case, he should be dead.”

“He's not,” Ambessa reminded him, “and it's been an unexpected boon to us,” she said, ignoring Salo's indignant snort. “You promised unrestricted access to Hextech, and you can't even get it to work.”

Salo flushed. “How was I supposed to know the damn gate would start malfunctioning? I'm not a scientist.”

“So you should have kept the scientist, the only person that seems to know how to use the technology, under your thumb, not tossed him aside,” Ambessa snapped. She paused to rub her face with her hands. “This is why I detest working with damn capitalists. Bloody short-sighted idiots, the lot of them.”

Salo grumbled, but made no comment, not wanting to ire the Noxian general further. The atmosphere was silent and tense for an extended moment, both of them stewing in their own irritation at the other. Eventually Ambessa gathered herself up—she was a general, nothing if not a strategist. If she couldn't figure out a way through this little mire, she'd fall on her own sword.

“From now on, leave Viktor alone,” she said. “Make no moves without my approval. Continue funding the gang activity in the Undercity and reporting back to me about the council's activities. I'll handle the rest.”

Salo bristled. “I'm not one of your soldiers, you can't just order—”

“Correct, you are not a soldier,” Ambessa snapped, cutting him off as she turned to stalk towards him. She stopped just inches from him, looming over his slight frame. “If you were, you might have a modicum of a mind for espionage. As it stands, you are woefully unequipped to handle anything more than carrying out the most basic of tasks. Do as I say, and soon we'll have everything well in hand. You'll have all the money and power you like, and I'll have my weapons. Just. Be. Quiet.”

Faced with Ambessa's barely contained rage, Salo cowed and ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. After a moment, Ambessa pulled back, relieving Salo of the imposition of her towering over him.

“You must be curious at least,” Salo said, petulant to the very end. “About how he’s doing it.”

Ambessa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m having it looked into,” she said. “Which I might have told you, had you thought to speak to me before deciding to make a mess of things.”

“Looking into it?” Salo asked. “How so?”

“We've made connection with a new agent in the Undercity,” Ambessa said. “Negotiations have gone well, but he's a bit skittish. You'll have to wait for an introduction.”

Salo narrowed his eyes at the back of her head. “If you're trying to shut me out, you better think twice,” he said. “You'll never get what you want without my help.”

“Which is precisely why I'm working so diligently at this,” Ambessa said, conciliatory now that her point had gotten across. “I want this to work as much as you do.”

Salo grumbled, still annoyed, but mollified for now. “Fine,” he hissed. “The council is still having trouble being moved, I'll have you know.”

Ambessa hummed. “We may have to increase the frequency of attacks in the Undercity,” she said.

“You need to hit them where it hurts,” Salo said. “Target a factory or something. Go after the bottom line. That'll light a fire under our asses.” He paused and then clarified. “Not one of mine or anything. Ferros has a block of steelworks that would work.”

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, considering the suggestion, but not saying anything. It seemed for the moment that things were winding down and they could get back to planning in a civil manner, but a knock came at the door, shattering the calm. Ambessa looked to Salo, who had a moments panic on his face before he cooled himself and strode to the door.

Before he could open it and dismiss whatever servant had dared disturb him in a private meeting, the door swung open and a Noxian soldier rushed in, followed by Rictus. Whatever incomprehensible expression was on his bearded face made Ambessa go rigid, a rare flash of panic in her eyes.

Before Salo could demand an explanation as to why they had barged into his chambers, the Noxian soldier spoke. “Mel is missing.”

Chapter Text

Viktor coughed more out of habit than irritation as the thick, acrid smoke swirled around, blinding out everything more than a few feet away. Screams and shouts rang out around him, further disorienting his surroundings. Viktor kept a tight grip on his crutch, trying to peer through the gloom. The scent of the fog was vaguely familiar, like a half remembered nightmare, but strangely Viktor felt entirely unaffected by the gas. Another boon from his protectors.

Keeping his other hand on his belly, Viktor shuffled towards where he thought he remembered Cait standing before all hell broke loose. He’d launched himself away from the storefront a millisecond before the glass had shattered in the shockwave. The explosion had sounded a few meters behind them, but the magnitude of it had nearly rattled apart the entire shopping district.

It had started out as such an entirely mundane day. Viktor had been planning to head into the lab—despite it being a weekend—to put in a few hours puzzling over the hexcore, but Ximena had caught him before he’d managed to head out. He’d worked late the night before, and Ekko had given him the side eye until he’d agreed to spend the night at Ximena’s instead of making the trek back into Zaun.

“Oh wonderful, you’re already up,” Ximena said that morning, smiling brightly despite the shadows haunting her eyes. “I’ve got breakfast almost ready.”

“Ah, of course, thank you Mrs. Ta—ah, Ximena,” Viktor said, catching himself. Ximena had taken to insisting he call her by her given name, since they were now family.

“I was hoping,” Ximena continued as she offered him her arm to help him down the stairs, “that we could go out and do a little shopping this afternoon, if you aren’t too tired.”

“Oh, did you need something?” Viktor asked. “I can’t think I’d be much help. You have better taste in decor than I do.”

“It’s for you, dear,” Ximena said, a tinge of exasperation in her smile. “A crib, for the nursery.”

Viktor’s breath stuttered in his chest, a once-familiar sensation that had abandoned him for months. “Oh, of course,” he said, suddenly struck dumb.

Ximena smiled and squeezed his arm. “I would have offered my own, from when Jayce was a baby,” she said, sombre wistfulness in her eyes, “but I’m afraid it didn’t survive the move from the Freljord. Water damage from the snow and ice, then rot from the ship. Anyway it wouldn’t have been big enough—not with twins on the way. Especially if they end up anywhere close to Jayce’s size.”

“Janna I hope not,” Viktor groaned, finally dropping into his seat at the table.

Ximena laughed and bustled off to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast. “So!” she called over her shoulder. “I was thinking we could head to the shopping district. There’s a specialty store for children’s furniture that I think might have what you need. If you’re feeling alright after that, we could get some clothes for the little ones—you can never have too much—and get some lunch downtown. What do you think?”

Viktor’s first urge was to turn her down, to tell her to go ahead without him and get what she felt was the best thing, even hand over his wallet to do it on his considerable dime, and head to the lab after she’d left. Yet he hesitated—he'd been working nearly non-stop since he'd come back into possession of his lab, frantically trying to tie up loose ends before he was gone. As such, he knew he'd been neglecting his other responsibilities, his relationships with those around him. Ximena was a patient, understanding woman, but she'd lost her son, and Viktor was carrying her grandchildren. She deserved more than what Viktor had been giving her.

"That sounds lovely," Viktor answered instead, pushing a smile to his lips. He'd make up the lost hours at the lab some other time. The way Ximena's smile lit up the room was worth it.

After a generous breakfast—Ximena's insistence—they struck out into the city, Viktor in his motorized wheelchair and Ximena walking beside him. Ostensibly they were only going to look for a crib, but Viktor had the suspicion they'd end up with quite a few items by the end of the day.

"Oh look at this lovely little matched set," Ximena cooed, running her hands over a dark wood frame of a crib that came with a nightstand and changing table. "Isn't it just darling?"

"Isn't it too small for twins?" Viktor pointed out, eyeing the gold trim along the edges of the crib. He was willing to concede to many Piltover conventions of aesthetics, but he drew the line at ostentation for ostentation's sake.

"True," Ximena said, leaving behind the set. "We should find a vendor to help us around."

"I'm sure we'll find something eventually," Viktor protested, but Ximena had already moved off, scanning for someone who looked like they worked there. With a sigh, Viktor wheeled after her.

Eventually Ximena found what she was looking for—a man in a sharp vest with a name tag. He smiled brightly at Ximena, his black pencil mustache contrasting sharply with his slightly greying hair. His eyes flicked over Viktor momentarily, taking stock of the massive belly that forced his legs slightly apart in the wheelchair. Something in Viktor's dress or countenance must have signalled his otherness, his less-than-ness, and he turned instead to Ximena.

"How can I help you, madame?" he asked smoothly.

"We're searching for a crib," Ximena said, oblivious or deliberately ignoring the salesman's discourteousness. "Something large enough for twins."

"How wonderful!" the salesman chirped. He still didn't acknowledge Viktor in the slightest. Gesturing Ximena forward, he directed her towards a different display. "We have just what you'll need in this direction. Are you looking for an entire set or only the crib?"

"I think just the crib would be fine with me," Viktor said, carefully manoeuvering his chair through the store after them.

"Oh of course," Ximena said, turning abruptly to squeeze behind Viktor and help him move through the store. "But there's no harm in looking at the full sets, is there?"

"Unless you count the damage to our wallets, I suppose not," Viktor said, smiling at her.

"Could anyone put a price on anything when it comes to their precious little bundles of joy?" the salesman piped him, his smile still plastered on his face.

"Well the stores certainly do," Viktor remarked, trying not to laugh when the salesman's smile went tight at the edges.

"Viktor!" Ximena admonished with a laugh, swatting playfully at his shoulder. "You're just terrible."

They found their way to the sets specifically designed for twins. The salesman continued to attempt to dazzle Ximena with all kinds of modular sets with their little gimmicks and millions of unnecessary features. Viktor hardly minded, it left him to look over the cribs at his own pace without anyone chattering in his ear. Most children in Zaun didn't get designated cribs—why get a fancy little bed when a laundry basket would do just as well? If Viktor recalled correctly, he'd been kept in a stuck dresser drawer until he'd gotten large enough to be moved to the bed his parent's slept in. If cribs did exist, they were heirlooms, handed down through family and even friends, repaired and re-repaired until they literally fell to pieces.

Looking at the various cribs and bassinets with their matched changing tables and rocking chairs and gold trim and slick varnish over exotic wood, Viktor had the sudden urge to flip them all over and howl at every privileged Piltie meandering around the store, their round bellies carrying the next generation of silver-spoon brats that would never understand how good they had it. They'd never choke on aerated chemicals, never know the harsh gnawing of hunger, never fear becoming ill or injured because the price of treatment was more than the risk of dying, never understand what it was to be less-than.

Viktor took a breath and tried to calm himself down. It wouldn't do anyone any good to throw a hormone-induced tantrum in the middle of a public place. He wheeled himself into a quieter spot to see if he couldn't temper his suddenly fierce mood.

As Viktor tried to take deep, steady breaths, he noticed a crib that was tucked into a half-hidden corner, as though it had been shoved there to be forgotten about. As Viktor wheeled himself closer, his previous hormonal rage fizzled away, replaced instead by a sense of wonder.

The crib was beautifully carved out of a light coloured wood, all organic curves that must have taken ages to get just right. Winding vines were both carved and painted, following the natural grain of of the wood itself. Ginkgo leaves sprouted here and there, mostly around the head of the crib, forming a kind of halo where a baby's head might rest. The leaves were carefully gilded in the perfect shade of gold, mimicking the natural colour of the leaves in the shining autumnal sun. A quick peak at the tag told Viktor that it was carved out of ginkgo wood itself.

Viktor had always liked ginkgo trees. They were an ancient tree, their history spreading backwards into time immemorial. They used to be native to the area—there wasn't a miner in Zaun that hadn't come across a fossil leaf at some point. As a child Viktor had a perfect little fossil leave set on his bedside table. He'd cried for days when a tremor in the underground had knocked it over and shattered it into a million pieces.

Tears pricked at Viktor's eyes at the memory and he quickly swiped them away in frustration. Damn his violently swinging moods. Even still, he continued to admire the crib. It was huge, large enough for perhaps triplets, but the more he stared at it, the more he pictured two little Talises swaddled up in the soft linens that were laid down in the crib.

The whole thing had obviously been carved by an expert hand, one that enjoyed every step of the process. Viktor pictured them in his mind—scared and weathered from a long life of hard work, but delicate, every movement deliberate and steady. Why had they carved this? Simply for the love of the action, the desire to make something beautiful in the hopes that someone might enjoy their work? Perhaps a request from a friend or client, one readily taken up, or a gift made in secret and revealed later to the delight of the receiver.

Whatever the reason for it's being, it had found it's way here, in front of Viktor. He ran his hands over the smooth wood, the surface sanded and oiled into a beautiful lustre. The more Viktor took in the details, the more he fell in love with it. It wouldn't match a single other piece of furniture Ximena owned, but he couldn't find it in himself to care much.

"Viktor, where did you get off to?" Ximena's voice floated over from somewhere behind him. She popped out from behind a pretty bookcase painted a bright pink, her eyes finally alighting on him. "Oh, there you are. Did you find something you like."

Viktor made to speak, but embarrassingly found his throat tight with emotion. He coughed and cleared his throat before turning to her with a smile. "I think I might have," he said.

Ximena smiled brightly and shuffled closer so she could get a better look. "Let's see it then," she said. She gave a soft gasp when she saw the crib, evidently just as enamoured by it's simple beauty as he was. "Oh Viktor, it's perfect," she cooed.

The salesman appeared next to them. "Ah, I see you've found this piece," he said. "It's quite something, isn't it?" He reached out to stroke the smooth wood. "It's not exactly a fashionable piece, but I must admit, there's an artistry here that you don't often see these days. There's a …charm to it, I think," he said. Clearly even he wasn't immune to the draw of master craftsmanship.

"It's perfect," Viktor declared. "I'll take it."

The salesman raised a brow at him. "Are you certain?" he asked, though not in a way that suggested any assumptions. "It's an expensive piece—hand crafted wood always is. Plus it cannot be taken apart in any way, shape, or form, it's almost entirely in a single piece. The delivery costs alone often price it out of many families budget. Not to mention if the place it must be delivered to doesn't have adequate space—not only the room, but the pathway to said room."

Viktor thought of the stairs leading up to the second floor of the Talis townhouse, stomach falling as he calculated the width. "Maybe—"

Ximena grabbed his hand before he could finish the sentence. "If we have to take out a wall to get this where it needs to go, so be it," she said determinedly. "My grandbabies deserve the best, after all."

You deserve the best, was left unsaid, but Viktor could see the word written in her gaze. He smiled at her, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks once again. "Thank you, Ximena," he choked.

"Oh darling," Ximena cooed, bending to wrap her arms around him. "It's alright."

Viktor let out a watery laugh. "Janna, I don't know what's wrong with me today," he said, trying to blink away the tears so they wouldn't stain Ximena's shirt. "I'm in such a mood this morning."

"It's perfectly normal," Ximena said, patting his back. "You should have seen me near the end of having Jayce. Goodness I was always in such a squall."

A finely pressed handkerchief appeared before Viktor's face. The salesman held it out with a polite smile. "I assure you sir, tears are quite a common occurrence in this store."

Viktor carefully dried his face and composed himself enough to go through the process of purchasing the crib. He was also talked into getting an extremely plush rocking chair, despite his attempts to resist. He only relented when he realized that Ximena would be the one to use it when he passed. After paying an exorbitant amount of money for everything, they finally left the store and returned to the street.

"Alright then, now we need clothes for the little ones," Ximena said, already wandering off with purpose. "We should get some extra swadlings and nappies and such as well. You'll need all that you can get."

"I'm sure we can wash things as needed," Viktor insisted.

Ximena turned to look at him, her expression unreadable to Viktor. "Oh dear," she said, a note of pity in her voice. "I'm afraid you're very mistaken."

Viktor wanted to ask her what she meant, but a flash of pink hair distracted him. He glanced around her to take in the odd scene, unsure if he was hallucinating in the afternoon heat. "Is that Vi and Cait?" he asked aloud.

Ximena turned to try and see what he was seeing. It was indeed Vi and Cait, strolling along the shopping district, chatting animatedly with one another. Cait was out of her uniform, dressed in a way that suggested casualty but belied a great effort to impress. Vi stood out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of well-to-do Piltovans with her distinctly Zaunite style, but Viktor could tell she'd also put in an effort to clean up at least a little. The two women stopped in front of a more high end fashion store, ostensibly to window shop, but Viktor noticed Vi strike the same pose as the manikin in the window and realized they'd stopped to make fun of the display. Cait laughed at her, but even from this distance Viktor could see the amused and affectionate glimmer in her eyes.

It looked like the two women were on a date.

Viktor was still trying to comprehend the situation when Vi glanced in their direction and caught his eye. She tensed for a half second, the deeply rooted Zaunite instinct to bolt whenever you caught someone eyeing you triggered by his intense staring. She relaxed immediately when she noticed it was only him and Ximena and raised a hand to wave, alerting Cait to their presence as well. Cait seemed much more dumbstruck and even embarrassed at being caught, but let herself be dragged along by Vi.

"Hey you two, fancy meeting you out and about," Vi said as she approached.

"Likewise," Ximena said cheerily, pulling Vi into a quick hug. Viktor winced internally when Vi reciprocated with one of her signature bear hugs, squeezing Ximena hard enough to nearly lift her off her feet. "We were just doing some shopping," Ximena wheezed when Vi finally set her down.

"We only needed a few things for the babies," Viktor clarified when Vi raised an eyebrow at him.

"Neat," Vi said. "Though I'm not sure what you're going to find up here. All these shops are fucking ridiculous."

"They aren't that bad," Cait said, having finally composed herself.

Vi turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "We passed a shop that literally only sold silk socks. Nothing else."

Cait shifted on her feet, pinkness rising to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "There's nothing wrong with specialty shops," she insisted.

"Exclusively silk socks," Vi said again. "Not socks in general, silk socks. One of the pairs in the window had gold thread and diamonds."

"Yes, those were quite ridiculous, actually," Cait admitted.

Vi snorted and shook her head. She turned to Viktor. "How the hell did you live up here for so long without going crazy?"

"I hardly went out shopping," Viktor said. "When I needed clothes, I just went to the one tailor I knew and stuck with that."

"The fact that you've got tailors up here is still wild to me," Vi said. She slung her arm around Cait's shoulders. "You know she has no idea how to sew her own clothes? She was going to send her shirt to a tailor for a button."

Cait flushed and tried to wiggle out from under Vi's arm. "It's not as though I ever needed to know how!" she insisted.

"It's a basic skill!" Vi said, shifting her hold on Cait to around the taller woman's waist in a more secure grip. "I was fixing my own clothes by the time I could read."

The women continued to squabble for a minute, half wrestling in the middle of the street. It was actually quite endearing to watch them. Viktor wondered how the respective families would react when the two women went public with their relationship.

"Well if you two were finished up here, Viktor and I were about to find a place to get lunch," Ximena finally cut in. "You're welcome to join us if you like."

"Oh, that's alright," Cait said, the polite response immediate.

"I could go for some lunch," Vi said, oblivious.

Ximena smiled brightly. "We're probably just going to get something light, if you're alright with that."

Cait looked like she wanted to evaporate. "We couldn't possibly impose," she insisted, trying to tug at Vi's arm.

Unluckily for Cait, Ximena never met a mouth she didn't feel the need to feed. "Nonsense, you must be famished from all this walking around," she said. She took Vi's other arm and began leading them away. "There's a lovely little cafe two blocks up. Their lemon loaf is quite good, I must say."

After one last half-heart tug on Vi's arm, Cait gave up and let herself be dragged along. Viktor motored his chair along her other side. "You ought to know by now how stubborn Vi can be."

Cait sighed. "I wish I could say it annoyed me," she said. "And it does, but far less than I find it endearing."

Viktor chuckled. "I know the feeling," he said. The amount of times he'd been driven to distraction by one of Jayce's idiosyncratic quirks throughout the years was too many to truly name, but Viktor never would have changed it for the world. His affection only seemed to grow in proportion to his annoyance. There had been days where he'd been torn between hitting Jayce upside the head in order to try and knock some sense into that thick skull of his or kissing him full on the mouth.

Cait sighed once again, but didn't extract herself from Vi's arm, letting herself be led by the other two women. After a moment of silence, she turned to Viktor. "How have you been?" she asked.

"As well as I can be," Viktor admitted. "Any news on Mel?"

Cait shook her head. "Nothing. We're practically throwing ourselves at this investigation, but all we're hitting is a wall," she said, looking suddenly exhausted. "The only thing I know for sure is that Ambessa knows more than she's letting on, but she's remaining incredibly tight lipped."

"Strange," Viktor said. "You would think she'd be eager to get as much help finding her daughter as she could."

"I have a theory," Cait said. "This has something to do with why she came to Piltover in the first place."

Viktor raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't think she orchestrated her own daughter's disappearance?"

Cait shook her head. "Given how she's been acting since Mel vanished, I don't think this was her goal. I think she was trying to get in front of it and protect Mel from whatever was coming." She grimaced. "Clearly whatever it is outsmarted her."

"Ambessa doesn't seem like the type to take it well when she gets outsmarted," Viktor said. He rubbed a hand over the swell of his belly. "Especially when it comes to her children."

Cait sighed again and rubbed her temple. "The council is a complete mess. They're all panicking thinking they might be next. Ambessa is inserting herself more and more, despite resistance from Heimerdinger." She frowned pensively. "They're all scared."

"I can imagine," Viktor said. "First Jayce and now Mel, that's two counselors gone in a very short amount of time. With the unrest in Zaun, things must feel bleak."

Cait growled in frustration. "Did you know my mother wanted to send me away, out of Piltover? She wants to send to some cousins in Bel'zhun until things calm down here. I told her I wasn't leaving. I had to threaten her with a kidnapping charge to get her to drop the matter."

Viktor whistled. "That must have been quite the argument," he said.

Cait huffed. "I'm an enforcer, I have a duty to protect this city and all those in it. I'm not leaving."

Viktor smiled up at her. "I imagined you'd say something like that," he said.

Cait looked down at him and smiled slightly, some of the exhaustion bleeding away from her eyes. They walked in pleasant silence for a while, listening to Ximena and Vi chatter with one another. If Viktor noticed Cait leaning into Vi's side, squeezing her thick bicep just a touch, he decided it wasn't really his business anyway.

They were nearly at the cafe when Vi stopped suddenly. "Man, what is that even supposed to be?" she said, extricating herself from the others and walking towards a bakery window display.

"I think it's a swan," Viktor said, motoring closer to it. "A cake in the shape of a swan at least."

"Why?" Vi asked incredulously. "What the hell's wrong with a cake shaped cake?"

"It's to show off the bakers' skill," Cait explained. "It takes a lot of expertise to even attempt something so complex."

"But who would buy it?" Vi asked. She leaned in closer to the display and whistled. "And for that price no less."

"Someone who really wants a swan shaped cake?" Viktor suggested. He laid a hand on Vi's arm and gave her a sympathetic pat. "It's really best not to question why they do what they do. You'll only give yourself a headache."

Vi blew a raspberry. "Guess so," she said. She started to turn from the window. "Let's—"

Suddenly, Vi jerked where she stood, head snapping up in an instant. "Does anyone else smell that?" she asked, eyes flicking up and down the street, searching for the danger she sensed.

Viktor had less than a moment to comprehend what she said before he felt himself leaping from his chair and launching himself backwards. The explosion went off an instant later, a pressurized whud releasing and glass shattering in all directions. Sickly greenish fog erupted from every vent and sewer opening, flooding the streets and obscuring vision in all directions. People began to scream, then cough and choke as the fog burned their throats and noses and eyes.

For several moments, Viktor stumbled around, thankfully unharmed by any flying debris and magically immune to the irritants in the fog. He called out for Cait, Ximena, and Vi, his mind racing to figure out what the fuck just happened.

A terrorist attack? he thought, finally reaching the front of the bakery where he'd been standing with the others. The remains of his wheelchair laid tipped over on it's side, the metal twisted and mangled. Viktor winced at the thought that he might have been inside it when the explosion went off, his babies wrapped in the twisted metal like a macabre cradle.

Over the din of screams and coughs, Viktor heard muffled sounds of laughter and what he could only guess was some kind of engine roaring to life. The fog cleared just enough for Viktor to peer through it towards the sound. He barely had time to step out of the way of a terrified Piltovan barrelling past him, a figure dressed in black and green hot on their heels, gas mask covering their face. The Piltovan man made it another few feet before the figure lifted some kind of makeshift weapon—a heavy pipe with one end flayed open, the edges sharpened to deadly blades—and brought it down on the back of the man's head. The Piltovan man crumpled to the ground and the figure darted off in search of another target.

A chem-gang? Viktor thought, chest going tight. He'd known there had been attacks, skirmishes here and there between rowdy gangs and enforcers, but this was something else entirely. This was an open attack on one of the most densely packed parts of the city during broad daylight. It didn't make any sense—even the boldest chem-baron wouldn't make a move like this unless they had some kind of ace up their sleeve or were absolutely batshit crazy.

The laughter got louder and closer—Viktor couldn't stay here, but he needed to find Ximena. Cait and Vi were capable women, he had to trust they would look out for each other. He called again and again, trying to see through the steadily dissipating fog. A scream sounded directly to Viktor's left and a body fell in front of him, it's face mangled by tiny metal shrapnel. An old trick imported from Bilgewater—if you didn't have musket balls or shotgun shells, you could use metal scrap instead. Zaun was nothing if not inundated with metal bits and bobs.

Don't look, Viktor told himself, swallowing thickly as he stepped over the body. Don't think about it. Find Ximena, get the hell out of here.

Minutes like hours dragged on, Viktor's chest winding tighter and tighter. The fog was clearing at an exponential rate, and he was going to become a target. He knew he was protected somewhat by whatever magic was connected to his babies, but he didn't know how far that would carry, and he didn't feel like testing it. Ximena was nowhere to be found, and Viktor had to hope that Cait or Vi had gotten her to safety—the alternative was too much to bear thinking of. Chest tight, Viktor turned and started trying to make his way away from the chaos as fast as he could waddle.

The roar of an engine howled, practically in Viktor's ear. He spun so fast he nearly toppled over, his centre of gravity so different than he was used to. A massive figure stood just behind him—an older woman with auburn hair, a metallic nasal structure with lines of glowing green gas feeding into it affixed to her face. In her hands was a roaring chainsaw, dripping with blood and viscera.

The woman grinned at Viktor, a sick feeling building in his stomach as her eyes met his. "There you are," she snarled. "Thought you could hide from me?"

I don't know who the fuck you are! Viktor wanted to shout, but he decided to use his energy to try and bolt. Between his bad leg and massive belly, he didn't get very far very quickly.

"Don't run!" the woman called, revving her chainsaw and quick stepping after him. "If you hold still, they'll come out cleaner!"

She wants to cut out my babies, Viktor realized in horror, trying with all his might to move faster. He was weighed down by his belly and crippled by his twisted leg, but his lungs were thankfully clear for the first time in his life.

The woman was weighed down by the heavy machinery she carried, but clearly she was used to lugging the device around and gained on him quickly. She raised the chainsaw and went to take a swing. Viktor managed to duck around a lamppost just as it came down, the chain grinding against the metal with a shower of sparks. Unfortunately, neither the machine or the woman wielding it were deterred, and continued to advance on him.

Cursing in his native tongue, Viktor tried to make it towards an open door leading into a shop. Hopefully there was something inside he could use to defend himself or somewhere he could hide. He wrapped his arms tightly around his belly, as though his skinny arms could provide any kind of protection.

In his panic, Viktor didn't notice a slick puddle of blood on the sidewalk directly in his path. He stepped into it with his leg leg and felt it slide out from under him. A spark of blue light managed to twist him around so he fell on his ass instead of his front, the landing cushioned enough not to jar him badly, but he was still now on the ground, a crazed, chainsaw-wielding chem-baron bearing down on him. She loomed above him, that sick grin still splitting her face.

"Sorry kid," she said, lifting the chainsaw over him and revving it. "It's just business."

The chainsaw swung and Viktor yelped, throwing up his hand as though it could stop the oncoming blow. He hunched over his belly, his mind screaming in terror. Not them! Take me if you need to but spare my babies! Please!

A flash of white-blue blinded him. For a second Viktor thought he was dead, but then he realized he was still alive, he could still hear screams and chaos. He remained blind until he managed to crack open his eyes. The sound of the chainsaw still roared in his ears and he looked up.

A glimmering blue light flickered around Viktor in a sphere of energy, like a bubble made of light. The chainsaw was suspended mid air, pressing down on the edge of the sphere but not even making a dent. The chem-baron's face was twisted with rage and confusion—she shifted her weight and pressed down harder, but the sphere didn't budge. Viktor met her eyes through the glimmering shield and fought down a flinch as she snarled.

"Fucking bitch didn't mention this magic shit," she growled.

One more she tried to press the chainsaw through the protective barrier, but it only slid away harmlessly, deflected entirely. The overworked machine slammed into the concrete ground and bounced back with the force. There was a loud clank as the chain finally gave up under all of the abuse and flung itself off it's track, jamming into the rotary engine and seizing the whole thing. The chem-baron swore loudly before throwing the now useless machine to the ground.

"Fucking fine then!" she howled, giving the chainsaw a vicious kick. She rounded on Viktor, rage on her face. "Come here you little shit!"

Viktor scrambled away as she advanced on him, the sphere having dissipated the moment the machine went dead. He didn't have time to hope that whatever magic that was could protect him again, even though he really, really could use it right now. There was no way for him to stand on his own, and there was too much debris and too many bodies littering the ground for him to crawl away fast enough.

A gloved hand seized Viktor by the collar and pulled him up roughly. Viktor could only gasp and choke as the chem-baron dragged him to his feet, her other hand seizing his arm.

"Don't hurt them, please," Viktor heard himself begging, his heart slamming in his chest so hard he thought it might break his ribs.

"Shut up," the chem-baron hissed, dragging him down the street. "Been here too long. Gotta split," she mumbled to herself.

Viktor tried to struggle, but the woman only gripped his arm tight enough to bruise and twisted it hard enough to make him cry out. "If you don't stop wiggling, I'll cut your eyes out," she growled.

Viktor's mind was racing as he tried to think of a way out of this, but his thoughts were running too fast to hold onto anything concrete. He had to get away from her, but aside from the protruding belly he was a skinny twig—there was no way he could break free from her grip, no matter how hard he struggled. for now he just had to let himself be dragged and hope that an opportunity for salvation came soon.

"Freeze!" a familiar voice shouted.

Viktor's head snapped up, hope swelling in his chest. Cait stood a few feet away, a pistol in her expert grip. Her entire leg was drenched in blood and there were further smears across her face and arms, but she didn't seem to be injured that Viktor could tell. She held the weapon steady, levelled squarely at the chem-baron's head.

Hissing curses, the chem-baron swung Viktor around to act as a sheild between her and Cait. Viktor could only contemplate how effective it was—her being so much larger than him, despite the roundness of his belly, and Cait's famously sharp aim.

Cait didn't move aside from a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Release him at once or I will have no choice but to use lethal force," she announced calmly. Viktor noticed her eyes were red and teary, probably from the gas. His heart sank at the thought of her aim being off because of it.

The chem-baron gripped his arm tighter. "Drop your gun or I'll split him open and introduce him to his brat early."

"No!" Viktor whimpered involuntarily, starting to struggle once again. The woman snarled and jerked his arm so hard his shoulder started to twinge in warning.

"You're surrounded," Cait informed her calmly. "My colleagues will be closing in on all sides momentarily. Cooperate and I'll see you delivered to Stillwater unmolested."

The chem-baron scoffed. "You're a real stupid one, aren't you?" she said. She started to push Viktor forward, kicking her sharp, heavy boots against his calves hard enough to nearly make him stumble. "I've got no intention of sticking around. He's coming with me."

Cait narrowed her eyes further, cautiously taking a step forwards as well. When the chempbaron snarled and wrapped her hand around Viktor's throat and gave it a squeeze, she stopped, clearly getting the message. The chem-baron continued to inch herself and Viktor forward. He wondered why until he noticed a sewer vent they were almost on top of. He cursed—if she got him down there, there was no telling where he'd end up.

"This is your last chance!" Cait said sternly, voice louder now. Clearly she'd put it together as well. "Release him and surrender!"

"Fuck you!" the chem-baron shouted back, shoving Viktor hard.

They were right on top of the vent—a single heel kick from her booted foot bent the grate enough to where she was able to kick it away, leaving the vent completely open. A yawning blackness opened up beneath them—Viktor could hear the sound of rushing water below. He struggled again, knowing if he was tossed down in that hole, it would all be over.

Cait swore loudly and fired, the sound of the gun slamming him in the chest, though thankfully that was the only thing that hit him. Unluckily, Cait's aim was hesitant, and in the chaos of the moment, her shot only grazed her target—the chem-baron swore as the bullet grazed her temple as she ducked behind Viktor's skinny frame. She yanked on him again, and his bad leg slipped against the edge of the hole, threatening to buckle under him. He could feel the faintest push of magic attempting to steer him away, but it easily overpowered by the chem-baron's grip.

Just as Viktor was certain he was about to go plummeting to his doom, the whistle of a spear cut through the air. The chem-baron jerked hard and let out a choked scream of pain and rage, finally loosening her grip on Viktor. Panic and relief shot Viktor forward, landing hard on his hands and knees and desperately crawling to where Cait had been standing. Strong hands gripped his arms and hoisted him up into the arms of a Noxian soldier, who immediately pulled him into a protective circle of three other soldiers, their spears drawn up and ready. Around him, he noticed chem-gang fleeing as a battalion of Noxian soldiers advanced through the street. Viktor spotted Cait on the other side of the street, attempting to cut through the chaos to make her way towards him.

A scream of fury drew Viktor's attention. He turned to see the chem-baron kneeling in the street, a spear in her back and a pool of blood growing around her. Looming above her was Ambessa Medarda in all her warriors glory, armor gleaming in the sunlight that was now starting to break through the dust and fog. A wicked looking knife had found it's way to her hand as the other reached forward and gripped the chem-baron's auburn hair.

"You traitorous bit—!" she began to snarl before Ambessa dragged the blade of the knife across her throat, turning the end of the sentence into a wet gurgle. Her gloved hands came up to grip at the spewing gash, as though to staunch the flow, but the effort was clearly futile. Within seconds she slumped, dead or dying quickly of exsanguination.

Ambessa dropped her grip on the now-mussed auburn hair. The chem-baron slumped further, but didn't fall over, kept upright by her own weight, like a macabre sculpture. Viktor's stomach churned and he tried to turn and step away, but found that the Noxian soldiers closed in further around him. Anxiety gripping his chest, Viktor had nowhere to go as Ambessa turned and began stalking towards him, bloody weapon still in her hand. The soldiers only parted when she came close enough to speak in a low voice to him.

"Viktor," she said, voice stern and eyes hard. "We must talk."