Chapter Text
The blast ripped through the air, a violent punctuation mark on the otherwise quiet of peace from Piltover.
All their playful chatter and carefree laughter came to an halt, replaced by an eerie silence, as Jayce felt a sharp pain on his side.
A bullet graced his waist, spreading a burning sensation through his body. His hand felt the wound on the surface, his slightly tattered suit, his eyes looked up in an instant, as Viktor staggered beside him.
The day should have been a mark of progress, a hail to their success, a feast everyone could join to celebrate how far they have come. People had gathered at their podium, listened to his little speech, ate and drank in his name, the Golden Boy.
The bullet, meant for him, had gone through Viktor first.
Viktor, his brilliant partner in inventing the Hexgates together, his trusted friend he shared every thought with, his most important person, his... everything.
Jayce had dragged him out here, despite Viktor's protest, and his apprehension against the spotlight and attention.
Viktor was the calm scientist (although he had heard him swear like a sailor on several occasions before), working in his shadow, and being completely fine with that.
Viktor wasn't chasing the fame, or glory, or wasn't bathing in people's cheers, and Jayce just wanted him to stay by his side, so the world could acknowledge his hard work too.
He was the face of their inventions, but Viktor — Viktor was the heart.
The truth, stark and brutal, hit him with the force of another blast. He had put Viktor in the line of fire. He had, by his very presence, by his very identity, endangered the man he loved.
And now that man let out a pained gasp, and before his partner's knees gave out, Jayce closed their short distance, supporting him with his arm around the small shoulders.
The cane clattered to the ground.
Slowly he lowered them down, and got Viktor into a more comfortable, laying position.
The white tailored coat blossomed with a red stain just below his ribs, testifying the fatal blow.
Jayce fumbled with his own jacket, and tore stripes out of the fabric to staunch the injury.
Viktor winced and Jayce's usually steady hands, practised with handling delicate machinery, trembled as he applied more pressure over the others chest.
"I'm sorry, V, I'm sorry..."
Viktor's face always had been pale, but now it was ashen, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the sound of it unfortunately not unfamiliar. His eyes, usually sharp and analytical, were clouded with hurt. "Jayce…", he rasped, his voice raw and wet in his throat.
"Don't talk, Viktor. Save your strength."
Jayce's mind raced, his gaze darted around. Panic had spread among the masses, Enforcers had built a circle around them, shielding them from another potential strike, and blocking the view to the public.
They had a man at gunpoint on the floor, his clothes frayed and dirty.
A Zaunite.
His eyes met Caitlyn's, a mirror of shock and disbelief of his own expression he felt etched into his face. Then he focused on Viktor again, who had clasped his own fragile hand over Jayce's.
"The people of Zaun are desperate. Don't...don't let their hate cloud our vision."
"I don't understand—"
"Promise me… promise me you won't… let them… destroy Zaun."
Jayce's heart clenched. He knew Viktor's deep-seated concern for the people of the Undercity, his former home, their plight a constant weight on his conscience.
He had always believed that progress could bridge the gap between Piltover and Zaun, that innovation could lift them both.
But now, as the blood pooled underneath them, he wondered if he had been naive for believing it too.
"I promise, Viktor.", he said, his voice choked with emotion.
"I promise I'll do everything I can to help Zaun."
Viktor closed his eyes, a flicker of relaxation crossing his face. His grip loosened, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.
Jayce continued to apply pressure to the wound, his hands trembling, his mind reeling. He couldn't lose Viktor. He couldn't.
"Stay with me, V, c'mon. We can build it together, just like the Hexgates. We are not done yet."
He remembered their first meeting, years ago, in his dusty, destroyed room.
The mockery tone in the others voice, the almost malicious implications, that had fueled Jayce's angry defence as he was at his lowest point in life.
It had happened again, after the trial, but Jayce had learned to look behind the seemingly coldness of the older's words — hidden admiration, a shared passion of innovation and progress that soon had forged a strong bond that transcended their differences.
Jayce, the charismatic prodigy, bursting with ideas and ambition. Viktor, the quiet, unassuming assistant, whose brilliance lay hidden beneath a veil of introversion.
They had been an unlikely pair, but together, they had overcome countless obstacles, pushing the boundaries of science and magic, creating inventions that had changed the world.
Viktor had always been the anchor, the voice of reason, grounding Jayce's boundless enthusiasm with his meticulous logic and unwavering dedication.
And now, that anchor was slipping away.
The pulse underneath his fingers was frantic, the warm blood seeped through them like sand, too quickly, too relentless.
Jayce wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice, at the sheer brutality of it all. But all his energy was focused on Viktor, on keeping him alive, on desperately trying to believe that this wasn’t the end.
He pressed his forehead against Viktor’s.
“Just… stay with me. Breathe with me.”
He tried to project a calm he didn’t feel, a strength that was rapidly eroding.
Jayce had stayed with Viktor countless times, often in the middle of the night, when he found Viktor wheezing and fighting for air. He had steadied the others breathing, urging him to inhale and exhale slowly.
After he had learned about Viktor's condition and the state of his lungs, he worked even harder on their goal. To exceed the possibilities of medicine, health — hell — of life itself if he had to, just to save his partner.
And now...Viktor's body was failing again, but not because of his illness, but because of him.
"What about your newest blueprint? The one for the atmospheric purifier? You're close, right? You just have to stabilize the matrix, I know you'll crack the equation."
Jayce was babbling, he knew, desperately trying to keep Viktor tethered to life with words.
Viktor's eyelids fluttered.
Jayce felt a surge of primal fear. He gently touched Viktor’s face with his free hand, his palm pressing against his cheek.
“Stay awake. Talk to me. Tell me about… about the last time you saw a star.”
A faint smile touched Viktor’s lips again. “Stars… were always overshadowed… by the glow of your own bright radiance.”
He tried to meet Viktor’s clouded gaze, to offer some semblance of reassurance, but his eyes were blurring with unshed tears.
The words pulled at his heartstrings. He adjusted the makeshift bandage, his hand slick. He could feel Viktor’s body growing colder.
He buried his face in the others hair, the scent of ozone and machine oil, usually so comforting, now laced with the metallic tang that made him feel nauseous.
Viktor stirred, and then... he went limp.
“Viktor?”, Jayce’s voice was barely a whisper. He lifted his head, his eyes wide with disbelief, with a horror that was slowly, terrifyingly, dawning. Viktor’s eyelids stayed closed. His chest remained still.
Jayce didn’t cry out, although the scream wanted to erupt, and burned in his throat. He didn’t rage. He simply knelt there, the silence of the podium amplifying the deafening roar of the void that had just opened in his life.
The weight of Viktor’s body in his arms was a crushing burden, heavier than any hammer, more profound than any failure.
He had not only just lost the heart of their shared dream, but also his own frantic beating organ painfully squeezed, slowly dying in his chest, and a part of his soul had been chipped away, forever gone in the cruel darkness of loss.