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Chapter Text

When the Mage laid eyes on Jayce Talis, they knew they were meddling with an extraordinary life. On the surface, though, none of his marvel was visible. The boy was young, and he knew nothing of the wonders just beyond his grasp. If the Mage let the boy and his mother freeze and become one with the earth, it would be a tragedy, nothing more.

Yet they saw the ripples in the lake of time – saw what their inaction would herald.

The Mage watched the politicians on Piltover's Council twiddle their thumbs while the most ambitious of their number slowly drained the economy through her attempts at growth. It was not her fault, but her ventures would invariably lead to ruin. The Mage watched the future Nation of Zaun crumble, their people made complacent without Piltover. The two were mortal enemies bound in blood: when one died, so did the other.

Even Jayce Talis' inventions were nothing compared to the impact he would leave on his peers. One was the young daughter of a Councilor, Caitlyn Kiramman, desperate for someone to treat her like a person, not a glass figurine. He would become her dear friend and staunch ally.

Another was Heimerdinger, a pioneer of science. He would see intellect and cultivate it, fostering the lust for knowledge that would lead to Jayce Talis' grandest creations.

Of all the connections tied to Jayce Talis' soul, the brightest belonged to the Councilor who could ruin Piltover forever. Mel Medarda. She shone as brightly as a star, radiant and enigmatic – but damaged she was also, scarred by the cruelty of humanity. A phoenix with clipped wings. Once she touched Jayce Talis, he would never be free of her light. She would burn him, scorch him until his dreams were little more than ash.

No. It was not worth it. Piltover was destined to fall; the natural order of time decreed it. Saving Jayce Talis would only delay the inevitable. The Mage turned to leave.

An earth-shaking echo resonated through the icy tundra, and the Mage froze.

They perceived it as a multi-colored flower, curled and wilted at the edges. It could be dismissed as a dying beauty, but no, there was something more. Beneath the petals hid a precious gemstone.

Viktor. A genius. He was the missing piece, the brilliant mind who would bring scientific magic out of the realm of theory and into the mortal world. And Jayce Talis needed him. The boy crouched in the snow knew nothing of Viktor, but the Mage heard his soul's cries, spanning timelines and possibilities. And, although faint and weak, Viktor cried back.

Had they unwittingly kept each other alive? Perhaps the vibrancy of Jayce Talis' soul had sustained Viktor, protecting the undercity boy from the worst of the fissure gas. Perhaps Viktor's dogged stubbornness had allowed Jayce Talis to persist where even his mother had fallen. Perhaps-

No.

The Mage blinked, their reverie interrupted, and found Time creeping along their fingers.

Jayce Talis is not a savior, Time continued, its whispers cutting through the blizzard like a sharpened blade. He is to die at the moment of truth, be it now or then. Piltover will fall, another will take its place as the City of Progress, and humanity will continue.

Time's warnings echoed what the Mage had seen, but for the first time in an age, their curiosity had been piqued. They glanced at the boy once again. Jayce Talis had scrambled backward in the snow, startled by the Mage's “sudden appearance.” But deep within his bright eyes, a spark of fascination had bloomed.

Across an impassable chasm, Viktor's soul cried out.

The Mage closed their hand around their Runestone and turned away, heading towards the nearest flat ground. Behind them, Jayce Talis began to plead: “No. Wait. Wait!”

Are those your words, child? the Mage wondered dryly. Or are they of another, attempting to stop me?

Time hissed at the insult, coalescing around their fingers once more. Your meddling is inconsequential, it warned. The natural order will always correct itself.

After an eon of stoic blankness, the Mage allowed themself a hint of a smile. We shall see. Magic exploded from the Runestone, and they wrangled it into submission, forming it into the script of the ancient tongue. The nature of humanity is to test their limits, and you, child, will push farther than any of your predecessors. Be not afraid, Jayce Talis. Today, I have given you a chance to change your fate.

——————

“Remind me why I'm doing all the work, hm? I thought you would know that a watched Gemstone always breaks.”

The lilting taunt broke Jayce from his thoughts, and he stifled a grin, twisting to look over his shoulder. “Then allow me to refresh you,” he called. Across the room, Viktor's lips twitched in a knowing smile. “You're fixing those screws because you don't trust me with them-” Viktor inhaled, affronted, but Jayce talked right over him. “-and I'm doing a last-minute check for imperfections. If Heimerdinger doesn't like what he sees, we're sunk.”

“Mm, blowing something up in his face probably isn't the best first impression,” Viktor mused. He slid another screw into place, spinning it with slender fingers. “Still, staring at the Gemstone isn't going to do anything. You might as well, uh- try the hammer.”

Jayce rolled his eyes. “You just want me to hit my fingers again.”

Even though Viktor's back was turned, Jayce could feel his partner's smile. “I never knew you were fluent in the dialect of a sailor. It came as a surprise.”

Jayce snorted and returned his attention to his workstation.

It was nothing short of a miracle that they'd made it so far. When they'd first met, Jayce had harbored his fair share of doubts, silently questioning how long it would be before Viktor abandoned him. He'd quickly realized that such doubts were a mockery of Viktor's determination. But before he could even feel guilty, Viktor had swept him along on an unrivaled journey, poking and prodding his theories with experienced hands. During his tenure as an Academy student, Jayce had despised working with others; they'd never been on the same page as him.

Viktor was special. The anomaly. His mind was breathtaking, an intricate work of art Jayce had come to know well over their years as research partners. Hextech wouldn't exist without him. Partially because he'd saved Jayce's life, but also on a fundamental level – Hextech couldn't exist without Viktor. Without his brilliance. His ingenuity.

Jayce shook himself a little and stubbornly refocused on the Gemstone. His tangents into praising Viktor's virtues had gotten more frequent in recent times, and they were far too busy for him to sit down and consider why.

Especially since Jayce was no stranger to the world of romance, and he knew the signs well. He couldn't survive developing- feelings for his- for-

Yeah. Best not to think about it.

“How'd those tests go last night?” Jayce asked. His voice was blessedly steady.

“Eh. Inconclusive. I fell asleep before I could test minor suspension.”

Panic spiked in Jayce's chest, and he spun around, words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Are you alright? You didn't burn yourself? We just started testing the Moonbeam; it could-”

Viktor chuckled warmly. “I'm fine, Jayce,” he assured, amber eyes twinkling with mirth. “It shut off without my manual revolutions, so no harm done. My hair is a little-” Viktor patted his hair experimentally. “-fluffy, but that is nothing that can't be fixed by a shower. Besides, I'm not the one giving the address.”

Right. The address. The stupid little idea that'd taken root in Jayce's mind still hadn't faded.

“About that,” he began slowly. Viktor's good humor gave way to attentiveness, and what little courage Jayce had plucked up instantly fizzled out. Gods, it was hard to talk with Viktor staring at him like that. Giving the address suddenly wasn't so daunting. “I want you to come up on stage with me. If you're willing.”

It wasn't often that Jayce saw Viktor speechless. The shorter man had a surplus of knowledge stored in his mind, and when his impeccable memory failed him, his razor-sharp wit always delivered a one-liner Jayce couldn't really be mad at. But for a single moment, Viktor floundered.

“On stage?” his partner repeated eventually, hobbling anxiously across the room. “No, no, I can't. They- no. Not me. You're the face of Hextech, so you-”

“And you're the heart,” Jayce interrupted. He stood and met Viktor halfway, catching the shorter man by the shoulders. “Listen, the Council only built me up to be 'the face of Hextech' because I have a house and a name. You deserve the recognition. Probably more than I do.”

Viktor sagged, visibly weakened by the sentiment. He expected the worst when it came to other people; it was a protective measure that'd served him well as a student. Innovation was one thing. Friendship was quite another. Soon enough, though, Jayce had proved his good intentions. Slowly, Viktor had come to trust him.

Part of it was physical, too. Viktor never let anyone touch him, artfully dodging outstretched hands whenever they came his way – except when Jayce reached out.

Sometimes, he liked to pretend that meant something.

Jayce suddenly realized he'd been silent far too long, holding Viktor's gaze steadily, and he cleared his throat. “It's up to you,” he said, squeezing his partner's shoulders once before letting go. “I won't force you.”

The corners of Viktor's mouth quirked. “I know.”

Ooh. Those butterflies in Jayce's stomach were immensely unhelpful. Thankfully, Viktor turned away before Jayce had to formulate a response, and he allowed himself a shaky sigh before returning to his stool. His hands trembled. Stupid.

“All of this assumes that Heimerdinger likes what we've done,” Viktor warned, and Jayce grunted his agreement. “We shouldn't get ahead of ourselves.”

“We've earned a bit of confidence,” Jayce returned.

“You think he will approve?”

Jayce plucked the Gemstone from its stand and held it up to the light, scrutinizing it through his eyepiece. No visible imperfections. “Heimerdinger believes science should be used to improve lives as much as we do,” he reasoned. “You of all people know that. We just need to show him it's safe.”

The drill's quiet whirring filled the air. Then:

“And what about the Council?”

Something about the hesitance in Viktor's voice made Jayce frown. He set the Gemstone and eyepiece back on the counter and twisted, meeting Viktor's tired gaze. The distance was nothing unusual since they often worked on opposite sides of the lab, but for some reason, the handful of steps felt like a chasm. Jayce's heartbeat quickened, and he stood, suddenly desperate to be close. Each step was sluggish, like walking through water.

Then, deep in Jayce's mind, two opposing cries took up arms. “Close!” one howled, echoing his desperation; “Not him!” the other seethed. All the while, Jayce's head pounded with a vicious headache - when had that shown up? - and panic gripped his heart in a vice. What the hell was going on?

“Jayce?”

Like a blade slicing through the air, Viktor's worried voice silenced the cacophony in Jayce's head. He gasped in relief, blinking the spots from his eyes. Once he could see straight again, he found Viktor supporting him with his free hand, a deep frown creasing his brow.

“Tired,” Jayce said weakly, because that was the only possible explanation. Viktor nodded, but everything in his sharp gaze said he didn't believe it. Whatever, Jayce had more immediate issues to attend to. “Look, the Council can't stop us anymore,” he pressed. “We stabilized the crystal like they asked. Built the Hexgates like they asked. It's our turn to decide the future of Hextech.”

Impulse overrode Jayce's usual self-control (gods, maybe he was tired), and he rested a hand over Viktor's, inclining his head expectantly. After a moment of silent examination, Viktor offered the warm smile Jayce had come to cherish.

“Our dream,” the shorter man echoed softly.

Before Jayce could respond, a white puffball bounded into the lab. He reluctantly removed his hand, but Viktor swayed into his side, hovering next to him as they faced their beloved mentor. Showtime.

It went incredibly well, all things considered. The Atlas Gauntlets and the Hex Claw were marvels of modern engineering, cutting edge, even by Piltover standards. Jayce had known that Heimerdinger would see the potential, and when the professor beamed up at him, elation thrummed through Jayce's veins. He and Viktor were so close to bringing magic to the common folk.

And then, Heimerdinger's praise switched course.

“Obviously, there are a few kinks to iron out and screws to be tightened, but give it a decade of careful research, and it will be ready.”

Jayce's heart fell from his chest, rolled out of the lab, and tumbled into the abyss. A decade? They couldn't wait that long. Piltover's people had suffered enough hardship, especially those in the undercity! Years spent with Viktor had informed Jayce of the undercity's plight; they were determined to bring magic everywhere as soon as possible!

“A decade?” Viktor demanded, as if hearing Jayce's thoughts.

“Oh, don't worry, my boy,” Heimerdinger assured, flapping a dismissive hand. “It zips past you in the blink of an eye.”

Viktor shot Jayce an incredulous look, but Jayce could only stare back, stunned. “With respect, Professor,” Viktor began, and the first hint of panic crept into his voice, “we can be improving lives with Hextech now.”

Heimerdinger stiffened. When he turned back, his gaze was cold. “A breakthrough like this takes time, Viktor,” he chided. The warmth in his voice was directly at odds with the warning in his eyes. “Putting that kind of power into everyone's hands is dangerous.” Heimerdinger's gloom cleared as quickly as it had come, and he trotted towards the door without a care in the world. “Keep at it, and I'm sure you'll discover a way to safeguard Hextech against misuse.”

The panic in Viktor's eyes bubbled over into his body, and he lurched forward. Jayce moved without thinking. He caught Viktor by the shoulders and pulled the shorter man to a stop, trying to meet a darting gaze. Across the room, the door clanged shut behind their clueless mentor.

“A decade?” Viktor mumbled again, barely loud enough to be heard. He ran his free hand through his hair with shaking fingers, but he didn't dislodge Jayce's grip. “That's too long. We don't have that kind of time.”

They both knew what Viktor wasn't saying. The idea terrified Jayce down to his very bones. A few years ago, he'd thought that stories of needing someone else were lovestruck fantasies. Now, he couldn't imagine a world without Viktor. Without bright amber eyes and knowing smiles and a mind that was utterly astonishing.

“We wanted Heimerdinger's blessing, but we don't need it,” Jayce said firmly. Viktor finally stilled, and he slowly looked up, hope lining his face. Jayce's stomach churned from emotions he really didn't want to acknowledge. “I'll give my address, then we'll do our presentation. Hextech is ours.”

A heavy beat. Viktor's gaze held the weight of the world, but Jayce willingly shouldered it, prayed that the shorter man would see his determination.

Finally, Viktor rested a hand over his. “Our dream,” he murmured.

——————

You persist in this experiment? Time asked, simultaneously amused and frustrated. It often embodied opposing natures; such was the habit of a multi-dimensional force that had never known mortality. Many years have elapsed, have they not? What can be learned from observing these mortals? Jayce Talis still lives on borrowed time.

The Mage hummed an affirmative, which only seemed to irritate Time further. The incorporeal shimmer of starlight darted around the Mage's hand, making the Runestone they held flicker. The Mage closed their fist with an accusatory click of their tongue.

“Have I been labeled inexperienced in the tenets of the universe? I am aware that I have only delayed the inevitable.”

Time didn't even have the grace to act abashed. Then why do you linger on them? Accept the foolishness of this venture and proceed with your business.

But the Mage couldn't do that. Two decades had passed, and still they remembered how strongly the two humans' souls had reached for each other. Even without a shred of the Arcane in them, they'd broken through the fabric of existence and pleaded for a chance to prove their ingenuity.

Perhaps sheer power of will could not alter fate. But the Mage had to give them a chance.

——————

The Council was, to put it kindly, a chore. Jayce would've said he despised being around them, but despise was a strong word, and he was too respectful to use such language. Still, they'd all been so eager to banish him, and only his mother's intervention had saved him – something he'd later admire her for. That same evening, Viktor had kept him from ending his life.

Jayce wasn't naive enough to pretend that the Council had pushed him into such an extreme choice. He also wasn't reverent enough to say they were as goodly as Piltover's masses thought.

Regardless, Jayce needed a second opinion, so talk to the Council he must. One of the Councilors, anyway. And now, here he was, standing in Mel Medarda's personal study and trying not to fidget. He'd never liked the starkness of the room; there was no life to it, no sense of being lived in. His and Viktor's lab was full of half-finished schematics, haphazard piles of equipment, and scribbled notes they'd left for each other when one was catching up on a few hours of sleep. It was a home. This was an office.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mel asked, amusement ringing in her voice.

Jayce snapped back to attention. For a brief moment, he had the absurd impulse to turn and leave without saying a word. But he was already here, and he'd been the one to request an audience, so he forced out, “It's Heimerdinger.”

Mel scoffed lightly. “When is it not?”

“Viktor and I showed him our research, and he thinks we need more time.” Repeating the news filled Jayce with foreboding, and he sagged against the edge of Mel's table. “I don't think we have that much time,” he whispered.

Thankfully, Mel didn't seem to hear him. “It's Progress Day,” she urged. “Representatives from all over the world have come to see what new wonders the City of Progress has to offer. If there's a time to present a new creation, it is now.”

It was a logical proposal. But Jayce couldn't shake his hesitation, the doubtful voice in his mind that questioned if Heimerdinger was right. Their mentor would never purposefully sabotage them, after all.

Mel suddenly chuckled, and she approached Jayce in long, slow strides. “Heimerdinger is a great scientist,” she admitted, reaching out and straightening Jayce's tie. “But he's old. He only ever sees the past. Piltover needs a leader who looks forward.” Mel paused, then met Jayce's gaze with a knowing smile. “Someone like you.”

The praise should have been thrilling. To think that such a respected figure would consider him worthy of leadership.

But all Jayce felt was a cold sensation of wrong. He wasn't a politician, a warrior, or anything else befitting a station of power. He was a scientist, just like Heimerdinger. Besides, the problem wasn't that his mentor was old or that he looked to the past. The problem was that Hextech needed to be presented now. Jayce and Viktor didn't want to benefit “representatives from all over the world;” they wanted to help Piltover. Help their people. Help the undercity.

The chill in Jayce's bones flared into a roar of cold fire, and he stepped back, leaving Mel's hands suspended in the air. “That's not what I want,” he protested, steadfastly ignoring how childish he sounded. “That's not what Viktor and I want. The Council can lead Piltover. We're here to create.”

Mel hesitated, and confusion seeped into the cracks of her mask. Had she thought Jayce would cave to delusions of grandeur so easily? Gods, even after all these years, she didn't truly know him.

“Hextech has the potential to change everything,” Mel pressed. But the plea was unbalanced, imploring rather than divisive. “The world is ready.”

“I know that,” Jayce bit out. “You're not-”

“And I've already spoken to several potential investors,” Mel continued as if she hadn't heard him. Jayce's frustration doubled. “Everyone wants Hextech for themselves.”

Jayce had managed to shoulder the day's strain thus far, but this conversation was the straw that broke his patience. “It's not for anyone else,” he said, harsher than he'd meant to. Mel's frown deepened, warning of what was to come if he kept pushing, but Jayce was done bending over backward for the Council. Mel was unique among them, but in some ways, she was just as uniform. “Hextech's future is for me and Viktor to decide. Not investors."

“You've brought him up several times,” Mel said, exasperated. “You're Piltover's Man of Progress, not him.”

The bonfire in Jayce's chest exploded to consume his entire body, hissing and spitting cold fire. “No,” he snapped. “Weare Piltover's Men of Progress.”

Before Mel could respond, Jayce turned and strode out of the room. Leaving an audience he'd requested was nothing short of an offense, but if he didn't get the hell out of the tower, all polished gold and glitter, Jayce would punch something. Only once he'd started back towards the lab did his ire dim.

Mel was clever. Jayce had always known that. He also knew she was as preoccupied with the future as Heimerdinger was with the past; her coy smiles couldn't distract Jayce from the fire in her eyes. He recognized obsessive ambition when he saw it.

But she didn't understand. None of the Council did, and they never would. Hextech wasn't the “next big investment,” wasn't the smash hit that would elevate Piltover to a celebrity's status. Hextech was Jayce and Viktor's creation, technology developed by two commoners to give back to the people. Investors would only stunt progress, and gods knew that nothing would ever reach the undercity in the hands of politicians.

Jayce set his jaw, and in his mind's eye, he saw Viktor's panicked face.

Damn Heimerdinger and his warnings of “misuse.” Damn Mel and her hopes for investment. All of Piltover would see the future of Hextech.

Their dream.

——————

Time roiled like a snake trapped in a box, coiling around the Mage's Runestones in tight loops. How? it demanded, and bolts of magic crackled around its semi-permeable form. How? Jayce Talis is not meant to take this path! How has he diverged?

“Do not underestimate him,” the Mage said amiably, and Time snarled, baring fangs that didn't exist. The Mage had spent enough years around the entity to understand its intentions. “Or Viktor. His body is stunted by illness, but his soul possesses a hidden wealth. Jayce Talis allows him to flourish. In return, Viktor makes him strong.”

Impossible, Time spat. But the cutting edge was gone from its voice. No mortal can resist the natural order. Eventually, they will submit.

The choice of words made it sound like a battle for one's life – and maybe it was. The Mage didn't dare say anything more since they'd antagonized Time enough for one day, but secretly, silently, they allowed a faint hope to take form.

Or they will endure.

——————

When Jayce rounded the corner, he was met by the sight of Viktor's hunched form. Experience told him that the shorter man was a bundle of nerves. Then Viktor let out a rattling cough, and Jayce's guilt over abandoning his partner morphed into chilling fear. Before he could apologize or otherwise voice his concern, Viktor turned and caught his gaze. Relief swept across his face.

“Where were you?” the shorter man asked, shoving himself to his feet. “They were asking if I could do the address.”

For a single step, Jayce hesitated.

Mel thought he could be the leader of Piltover. Him. The whole city had dubbed him the “Man of Progress,” so why-

Jayce quickly beat the temptation aside, disgusted. He was a scientist. He and Viktor had brought Piltover into a new age, and damn it, Jayce refused to be consigned to a desk while there was still work to be done and discoveries to be made. He needed Viktor with him.

“Come up with me,” he urged softly. “We're partners. I want-” It was selfish. Selfish. But it rang true, and Jayce couldn't keep the words in. “I want them to see you.”

Viktor's eyes widened, and Jayce promptly dissolved into a state somewhere between hysteria and resignation. Alright, he'd fucked up. He knew how shy Viktor was when it came to public appearances; how stupid he'd been to think-

“You- really want me up there?”

The question was quiet, barely audible over the din of the crowd. But Jayce latched onto it like a buoy in a storm.

“I do.”

A beat. Then Viktor smiled, faint yet impossibly fond.

“Fine,” he murmured. “For you.”

Giddy delight swept through Jayce's chest. He looped an arm under Viktor's shoulders and tugged him forward, smiling at Sky's startled look. Jayce gently brushed her aside (75% of his speech had been written by the Council, anyway) and led Viktor up the stairs just as Mrs. Kiramman's voice rang out through the packed hall.

“An inspiration to Piltover's future and that of all humanity. Please join me in welcoming to the stage... Jayce Talis!”

Not just me, Jayce thought, and he chanced a glance at Viktor. The other man was pale, paler than usual, and his dark bags had steadily worsened over the past few months. But his eyes shone with a pride Jayce had never seen in him before.

Finally, Piltover would see both of them.

As soon as Jayce and Viktor emerged on stage, the cheers audibly dimmed. Most of them had likely never heard of Viktor, let alone met him, and Viktor cringed into Jayce's side. Resentment pressed against the base of Jayce's throat. If Piltover wanted Hextech, then they'd better damn well learn that Viktor was irreplaceable.

When Mrs. Kiramman passed them, the look she shot the shorter man could only be described as cooly polite.

“This was a mistake,” Viktor whispered, tugging helplessly at Jayce's arm. “They don't want to see me.”

“Too bad,” Jayce returned, just as quietly. “You're part of this.”

“I don't want to be here, Jayce.”

Jayce twisted to look Viktor dead in the eyes. “Don't you?”

Viktor's gaze dropped to the floor. His silence was answer enough.

When they reached the podium, Jayce kept his arm tightly around his partner's shoulders, and he was gratified by the way Viktor slumped into him. “Good evening!” Jayce called, which revived the crowd a bit. “I know many of you didn't expect to see us here today. And believe me, we're just as shocked as you are.”

A few people chuckled. Good, the audience was warming up to the unexpected.

“My family and I are simple people,” Jayce began, pressing his free hand against the podium. “In our factory, we made hammers. Our days were long and hard, and some of our workers sustained injuries they'll never recover from. It's the nature of the job, right?” Jayce tugged Viktor a bit closer. “My partner, Viktor, is from simple people, too. No one ever expected very much of us."

Ripples spread through the crowd, either from Jayce's specific use of “partner” or the message itself. It didn't matter what they assumed, though. Viktor had straightened, acclimating to the spotlight, and overwhelming affection burned bright in Jayce's heart.

Their time to shine.

“But we believed in each other!” Jayce continued. “And that has led all of us to this extraordinary moment. A few years ago, the Hexgates opened their ports to the world and made Piltover prosper beyond anything we could have imagined. But we're not done!”

Jayce glanced down the stairs and found Sky watching him; she'd clearly taken over Viktor's former role. At his look, she nodded, then vanished into the shadows.

“This year, we've created something new! Something made by common folk for common folk. This year, Hextech goes out to everyone who wasn't wealthy enough to be here tonight!”

The crowd recoiled at that, but adrenaline hummed in Jayce's veins, and beside him, Viktor all but glowed. Under the warm spotlights, the shorter man's dark hair rippled with lighter streaks, and his skin had regained some of its color. Brilliant amber eyes sparkled, more mesmerizing than any star in the sky. A small, disbelieving smile graced his face.

There was no hiding from it now. Jayce loved him.

Then the curtains behind them withdrew, and they moved as one, so used to working with each other in the laboratory.

“It started with crystals filled with magical energy,” Viktor said. Since he'd had the presence of mind to grab the podium's freestanding microphone, his voice carried easily across the room. “Jayce and I found a way to contain them, but they were too volatile to leave our workshop. Of course, Hextech was made to bring magic to everyone.”

Jayce hopped onto the dais, waving at the Gemstone sitting in the anvil's axis. “And now, it finally can. Behold, a Hextech Gemstone.”

Viktor plucked their demonstrative hammer from its perch and planted it firmly in Jayce's waiting palm. Jayce spun the hammer once, then brought it down on the Hextech Gemstone as hard as he could – sans the yell of their earlier demonstration. The crowd let out a collective gasp, and someone even screamed. Jayce just grinned fiercely. A thousand tests had gone into this moment.

The hammer hit the Gemstone with a resounding clang. A sphere of light bloomed, then exploded outward, diffusing the magical energy into flickers of light that drifted into the crowd. Awe replaced the fear in a rush.

“We've found a means to fortify the crystals,” Viktor announced. “These Gemstones are stable and absolutely safe.” He glanced at Jayce, and his eyes gleamed. Jayce desperately tried to squash the butterflies flapping in his stomach. “Let us show you.”

Thank the gods, something to do. Jayce broke away from Viktor's stare (wrong time to come to terms with this, he thought, slightly hysterical) and jogged behind the anvil, dragging their cart from the shadows. The crowd gasped once more. Good, good, good. Their inventions deserved such a reception.

Viktor stepped to Jayce's side and waved at the two devices. “We present to you the next chapter of Hextech.”

They slipped back into their rhythm, as coordinated as always. Jayce settled his right hand into the Atlas Gauntlet, and Viktor placed a Gemstone into the slot, watching it power up with a pleased smile. The shorter man then slipped into the Hex Claw's glove, and Jayce returned the favor.

“The Atlas Gauntlets,” he proclaimed. He grabbed the small chunk of rock they'd brought along, as the big one they'd used for Heimerdinger was too large for such a crowd, and crushed it with a hiss of steam. Several impressed gasps rose from their captive audience. “The mining colonies in the fissures can work faster and without fatigue!”

Jayce turned to Viktor, and his partner lifted their creation with a triumphant smile.

“The Hex Claw. A mechanical arm equipped with a powerful ray of light.” Viktor directed his hand at the remnants of the crushed rock and neatly sliced them apart. His hands had always been so steady. “Think of what our artificers could do with such a device!”

The crowd was rumbling now; Jayce could feel it. They were feeding off his and Viktor's energy, seeing the long hours they'd poured into Hextech. Maybe, just maybe, this would work.

Jayce carefully removed the Atlas Gauntlet and stepped back to the podium, holding an arm out to Viktor. Only once the shorter man settled back against his side did Jayce speak.

“We want Hextech to be a tool to build a new world. This isn't just for the scions of our high houses or the mighty Council that leads our city. These tools are meant for all the honest laborers – for all the simple folk. We vow to keep pressing forward, for we are the City of Progress, and-”

“And our future is bright!” Viktor crowed.

He instantly seemed startled by his own outburst, but Jayce had never been happier to let someone else speak for him. Fireworks exploded overhead, the crowd roared their delight, and Jayce's heart drummed a victorious beat.

They'd made it. From the destroyed ruins of his tiny workshop to a platform in Piltover's grandest hall, standing before the world's brightest minds, Viktor at his side. Gods, Viktor. He was radiant beneath the multi-colored lights, staring into the cheering audience with misty eyes. When he met Jayce's gaze, a silent tear slid down his cheek.

“Our dream,” Jayce whispered. “Thank you. For everything you've done for me.”

Viktor opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Vaguely, Jayce registered that Mel's and Elora's seats were empty, as was Heimerdinger's, but he couldn't bring himself to care. This was their moment. Their triumph.

Then the world shattered.

Jayce reeled back a step, stunned. What was happening? Those horrible, opposing screams were back, but this time, the cry of “NOT HIM!” was deafening, blotting out every other thought in his head. Jayce clung to Viktor as tightly as possible, but his partner was incorporeal beneath his hand. A thousand colors whipped around him, that ringing scream extended forever, and oh, gods, his head was splitting in two-

The world righted itself. Jayce blinked. He was standing just off-stage, listening to the remnant cheers of the audience. Why was his heart pounding? He'd finished his speech - well, his modified version, anyway - and Viktor-

A searing streak tore through Jayce's mind, and he spat a curse, pressing his palms into his eyes. No, Viktor wasn't with him. He'd stayed backstage to unveil their presentation; they'd planned that days ago.

So why did phantom warmth linger on Jayce's left hand? He could've claimed it was from the podium, but Jayce was too much of a lovestruck fool (lovestruck?) not to know Viktor's warmth by heart. Everything he felt pointed to an impossible truth: he'd stood with Viktor just moments before. But that was impossible since he'd just given his address. But the speech felt even more impossible than the feeling of Viktor's hip; Jayce couldn't even remember what he'd said.

No. That wasn't true. His last words were still fresh in his mind.

“We vow to keep pressing forward, for we are the City of Progress, and-”

“And our future is bright!”

Viktor's voice echoed like a gunshot in his head, and Jayce's heart began to race once more. Anger and despair mixed in his chest, filling him to the brim with an all-consuming sense of loss. With a grief-stricken shout, Jayce crashed his fist into the wooden struts of the stage. The pillar splintered and left his knuckles bleeding.

He didn't know why he was crying, exactly. But deep down, Jayce knew he'd been robbed of something he couldn't even remember.

——————

“No!” the Mage roared, slamming their hands on the table.

The natural order is correcting itself, Time purred, as smug as a child who'd just cheated in a game. The Mage swiped viciously at the patch of shimmering starlight, but their petty attack did nothing. Time could never be destroyed or harmed, after all. It merely progressed. Your hopes were ill-founded from the beginning.

The Mage rounded on Time, furious. “That was altered!” they accused. “Let his life run its course!”

It is! Time spat. What you perceive as alteration is the natural order. Even if you were to “fix” these proceedings, how would you accomplish such a task? You cannot change what has been written in stone!

Perhaps Time was right. Perhaps the Mage had doomed Piltover to an even worse fate with their arrogance, believing themself to have found an anomaly. But as they watched Jayce Talis' soul waver, stained by anger and grief, something changed. Something hovered around the man, coloring the stark blankness of an unfulfilled heart. For just a moment, Jayce Talis had received a taste of his soul's craving, and he clung to it with desperate hands.

Viktor's soul had retreated even further into itself, pricked by betrayal. But he could still be saved.

They had to keep trying.

——————

“The Gemstone is gone,” Viktor said, and exhaustion rang heavy in his voice. “Along with some of our research papers.”

Jayce stared straight ahead, barely catching his partner's weary report. He didn't understand. The Gemstone- they'd used it, hadn't they? It couldn't have been in their lab. He and Viktor had shown off the Atlas Gauntlets and the Hex Claw to resounding applause.

But that couldn't be true, either. Viktor's stony silence was too loud.

What the hell had happened? Why did Jayce feel like he'd lived a different version of Progress Day than everyone else? Strangers had told him that his address had been wonderfully inspiring, but he remembered none of it. Jayce remembered walking onto the stage with Viktor and presenting their tech together, not some speech where he'd bullshitted his way through sounding patriotic.

“Mr. Talis.”

Jayce snapped from his thoughts and looked up. Across the table, Bolbok stared at him.

“Could the trenchers build a weapon with the stolen crystal?” the robot asked.

“Shimmer, body replacements,” Hoskel muttered, angrily fiddling with his child's puzzle. “We've seen their ingenuity over the years; of course they can!”

The word “trencher” struck Jayce like a blow to the gut. Viktor was a “trencher.” Why did no one seem to understand that? Why did the Council view the undercity as a threat instead of the poorest part of Piltover? As people who desperately needed their help?

“Mr. Talis?”

Mel's voice was soft, laced with a familiarity that made Jayce's skin crawl. She hadn't earned the right to say his name like that. Viktor was the only one, but he was ignoring Jayce like his life depended on it.

Fuck it. What else did he have to lose?

“If the right person got ahold of it, it's possible they could utilize its energy,” Jayce admitted, slowly rising to his feet. “Because of that, I recommend-”

“We need to address this immediately,” Mrs. Kiramman cut in.

Viktor suddenly moved to stand, and Jayce offered a supporting arm. For a single heartbeat, confusion creased the shorter man's brow. It vanished as soon as it had come, but when Viktor accepted the help, Jayce knew he'd been forgiven.

...for a betrayal he didn't remember committing.

“Hextech is incredibly advanced,” Viktor explained, leaning into Jayce's side. His warmth chased the ache from Jayce's bones, and he barely kept himself from pulling his partner closer. “They would need to understand the records we've kept and know how to apply our observations practically. It took years to perfect our structures, and even our notes are incomplete. The likelihood of someone in the undercity having that much scientific knowledge is minuscule.”

“But there is a chance?” Hoskel pressed.

Viktor's exasperation was clear, and this time, Jayce couldn't stop himself from wrapping an arm under his partner's shoulders. Viktor fully leaned into him, his dark hair hanging over his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Jayce caught Mel's slight frown. Sure, they were being a little unprofessional, but they'd earned it after the day they'd had. Besides...

“It was our responsibility to safeguard this technology, and we failed,” Jayce admitted. A tremor passed through Viktor's body, rattling them both. “Our mistake cost people their lives. But-”

A cold chill suddenly spread through Jayce's bones, leeching away Viktor's warmth. It froze his morale, threatened mutiny, whispered of another option. What if he suspended Hextech's operations? The city could survive a temporary barricade. Their research could wait, too; this situation was more pressing.

For one single, horrible moment, Jayce was tempted.

What? No! Now more than ever, he and Viktor had to keep working!

“But progress waits for no one,” Jayce forced out, and the pressure in his chest instantly eased. “As Viktor said, it's likely that the people in the undercity won't know how to weaponize the Gemstone. In the meantime, we have to focus on our research. Viktor and I have been working on several prototype designs, and with any luck, we can mass-produce them soon. Once that happens, we can extend aid to the undercity.”

A heavy silence descended over the room. Under most circumstances, Jayce would've been terrified by the Council's judgmental stares. But he felt Viktor's gaze flitting across his face, shocked and grateful, and that was all he needed.

“Aid?” Shoola repeated warily.

Jayce inclined his head. “If we can improve the living conditions of the undercity, there would be no need for them to weaponize the Gemstone. I understand the risk of a warlord doing just that, but peace is a better option than war.”

A rumble spread through the Council. Mrs. Kiramman nodded to Shoola, Heimerdinger beamed, and even Salo looked appeased by the notion. Jayce wilted with relief, and Viktor rested his forehead against Jayce's shoulder with a barely audible sigh. Warmth. Peace. This was right; this made-

Viktor vanished.

Jayce stumbled, bewildered. He whirled around and found Viktor behind him, still sitting, watching him with thinly-veiled horror. The Council was in an uproar, and wait, what had happened? They'd just been considering his proposal!

Except... his proposal was gone. In its place was a single, damning sentence.

“I have come before you to recommend that we suspend all Hextech operations until the situation is resolved.”

That wasn't- he'd just-

“Councilors,” Mel cut in, and her smooth voice instantly silenced her peers. “It appears we are at an impasse. If we shut down the Hexgates, the city will suffer. But if we do nothing, we leave ourselves vulnerable to malefactors.”

“I'm not 'doing nothing!'” Jayce protested. “I requested that-”

The world blurred together, then sharpened, just in time for Jayce to hear Mel speak.

“Mr. Talis has demonstrated his commitment to our safety. He's willing to sacrifice his own enterprise. And it seems to me that only Mr. Talis has the knowledge necessary to secure the Hexgates.”

Jayce nearly imploded. “What?” he demanded, waving wildly at his partner. “What about Viktor? We-”

“I propose that a new chair be brought forth,” Mel continued, acting as if she hadn't heard him at all, “and that House Talis be elevated to this august body.”

“I already told you!” Jayce snapped, pressing his fingers into his temples. “I don't want to be a leader! And we don't need to protect the Hexgate because the Gemstones aren't strong enough to control them! A Hexgate requires six unfiltered crystals arranged in a-”

The world shattered. A cacophony of lights, colors, and whispers engulfed Jayce, and suddenly, he remembered. He remembered walking across the stage with Viktor, remembered demonstrating to the whole auditorium. They'd stood together, and- and-

It had been taken from him.

“No!” Jayce cried.

His voice was whipped away by the vacuum of nothingness, and the whirlwind only slowed long enough for him to see flashes. The Council, raising their hands one by one. A unanimous vote, indicting him as a Councilor. Mel's pleased smile. The betrayal in Viktor's beautiful eyes.

The world sharpened with a jolt, sending Jayce stumbling a few steps. He stood alone in the laboratory. The graffiti had been scrubbed away, but the tang of paint still lingered in the air, making him nauseous. Jayce's breaths came in gasping heaves, his legs trembled, and his heart ached as if it'd been ripped from his chest.

He'd just lost again. Jayce had proposed shutting down the Hextech technologies (in words he'd never said), then Mel had moved for him to be initiated as a Councilor (in words he'd never heard). Heimerdinger of all people had agreed, and-

Oh, gods. Viktor. Jayce had turned and seen his utterly heartbroken expression.

The memories of their Progress Day presentation were already fading, even as he fought to retain them. So was the feeling of triumph from proclaiming to the Council that Hextech was meant to help the undercity. The people. Viktor's people.

Angry tears pricked at Jayce's eyes. He stood there for a moment, shuddering. Then something deep in his chest snapped, and an animalistic scream tore from his throat. Jayce grabbed the nearest stool and hurled it across the room. It clattered harmlessly to the floor, and somehow, it only made Jayce angrier. It felt like someone else was pulling the strings, dragging his life in directions he didn't want, had never wanted.

“Jayce?”

That voice. Soft and familiar, capable of cutting through the chaos in his head in a way no one else could.

Jayce whipped around and found his partner standing in the doorway. A second image superimposed itself over reality, and for a moment, all Jayce could do was stare at the two Viktors – one ecstatic in the aftermath of their demonstration, the other reserved and frustrated.

“I didn't think I'd find you here,” Viktor muttered. The secondary image shattered, and the real Viktor stepped into the lab, shutting the door quietly behind him. “The new Councilor should be-”

“I'm sorry,” Jayce blurted.

Viktor paused. “What?”

“I am so sorry,” Jayce repeated, desperate to make Viktor understand. How did he explain that something was terribly wrong without sounding insane? “I didn't- they-”

The words weren't coming, and Viktor's frown offered no room for excuses. A chasm yawned between them, unseeable, untouchable, and completely invulnerable. Jayce was at the mercy of whatever force was fucking with his life.

So he took the only option left.

Jayce raced across the room and wrapped Viktor in a hug. He'd learned long ago that the shorter man was not made of glass, and now, he took every advantage of it. Jayce pressed his hands against Viktor's back, burying his face in a bony shoulder. Warmth flooded his body, and he clung to the feeling like it was his lifeline.

Please hear me. Please understand.

Viktor's cane dropped to the ground with a clatter. Then he returned the hug with fierce affection, and Jayce nearly broke down on the spot.

“What's wrong?” the shorter man muttered into Jayce's shirt.

“I don't know,” Jayce admitted, and a tremor entered his voice, unbidden. “Time is- it's messed up. Today, in the Council Chambers, I don't know what I said. The last thing I remember is telling them that we have to continue our research to improve living conditions for the undercity, and then-”

Viktor pulled back suddenly, putting them an arm's length apart. “The undercity?” he echoed, his eyes narrowed. “You wanted to continue our research?”

It took every ounce of self-control Jayce possessed not to grab Viktor's shoulders and shake him. “Yes! I told them that if we gave the undercity means to change their lives, they wouldn't need to weaponize the Gemstone! Even if someone did, we could've made amends by then! The Council was nodding, you were with me, and-” Jayce deflated. “Time skipped,” he whispered. “I blinked, and Mel had made me a Councilor. I don't know what she said. I don't even know how I got here.”

Silence. Viktor's eyes bored into his like twin lasers.

“I know I sound insane,” Jayce mumbled. “Maybe I'm just tired, or-”

“I believe you.”

...what?

“You've never lied to me before,” Viktor continued with a hint of amusement, and he rested his hands on Jayce's forearms. “So I can only conclude that either we have ignored a critical variable or you are being affected by an outside factor. Regardless, we need to eliminate the problem. I can't have you jumping through time without me.”

A harsh laugh burst out before Jayce could stop it. “I have been,” he muttered bitterly. “Earlier today, you demonstrated with me.”

Another long, long beat.

“What?” Viktor breathed.

Jayce nodded miserably. “We showed them what the Atlas Gauntlets and the Hex Claw could do. We promised the future of Hextech to the common people, not the bigwigs in their fancy offices. To the undercity.”

Viktor pressed his lips together, his gaze darting back and forth across Jayce's face. Finally, he nodded sharply. “We'll fix it,” he decided. “Remove the variable and ground you in this time.”

Part of Jayce wanted to ask if it was even possible. He wanted to protest that they'd barely scraped the surface of magic, so how could they hope to “ground” him? But he didn't. Jayce just wrapped Viktor in another hug and relished the shorter man's tight hold, hiding his face in a thin shoulder.

But something malicious crept at the edges of his mind. It was cold and spiteful, poisoning his thoughts and threatening to dash his memories against the rocks once again.

Don't touch him, Jayce snarled. The thing inched closer, drifting finger-like tendrils across Viktor's hair. Protectiveness exploded in Jayce's chest, a brilliant plume of red-hot flame chasing away the chill. I said, don't touch him!

It vanished.

Jayce blinked, suddenly paranoid. Nothing had changed. He still held Viktor, he still remembered what he said, and the voices were gone.

A few silent tears slid down his cheeks.

——————

What? Time battered the Mage's body with frigid fingers, but the Mage ignored the assault, absently dusting off their shirt. What have you done? How have they resisted?

“As I already explained,” the Mage said patiently, fully aware that they were taking far too much pleasure from the situation, “Jayce Talis and Viktor are the exception. Their souls will be tested, but they will not be broken. Piltover may fall, as dictated. Or-” The Mage's pocket watch spun wildly with Time's ire, and they snapped it shut with a shrug. “-it may not.”

Time snarled and circled the Mage in tight, deadly loops. Fool! You have broken the natural order!

The Mage scowled. “And yet, mere moments ago, I was told I cannot change anything. The natural order breaks because Jayce Talis and Viktor refuse to follow it. The specifics of their stubbornness are not of my concern.”

The fact that the Mage had brought the pair together was not a topic worth discussing, in their opinion. Besides, a far worse calamity would have descended had they not saved Jayce Talis and his mother. The Mage had been blind to it in the beginning. Now, they saw the great darkness lurking in Viktor's future. Yet every day he was with Jayce Talis, it lessened. Every step promised a better fate.

One day at a time. Until irreversible change was enacted.

——————

“We should not be here,” Viktor grumbled. Jayce didn't even have to open his eyes to see his partner's baleful look. “Jayce, we need to sleep.”

Gods, he didn't have to be told twice. They stood in one of the Hexgate silos, overseeing security as the Council had decreed. Viktor had tagged along so they could brainstorm the problem of Jayce's little time jumps, but so far, exhaustion had curbed their ingenuity.

Still...

“There's something wrong with the government,” Jayce announced.

When Viktor spoke, his smile was unmistakable. “Is this a personal vendetta, or-”

Jayce thumped his clipboard against Viktor's leg. “Just look,” he ordered wearily. The clipboard was plucked from his fingers, and Jayce let his hand fall back against his stomach. “The numbers are off. Merchandise is disappearing, and no one knows where it's going. The manifests are full of discrepancies, dating back months – years, even. Last week's smuggling fiasco was nothing.”

The rustle of pages filled the air, followed by a disgruntled huff. “This is a poor use of our time,” Viktor griped. “We should be following up on your retracted promise, improving lives for those in need. Or figuring out what's wrong with you.”

“Don't worry about me,” Jayce sighed, more out of habit than anything else. “Our research is the top priority. Either we act first, or someone figures out how to use that Gemstone.”

Viktor fell silent. Then, slowly, he shuffled so that his leg pressed against Jayce's shoulder, and Jayce leaned into the contact – much more readily than he cared to admit. A moment later, Viktor carded gentle fingers through his hair. It took several seconds before Jayce managed to repress a horribly embarrassing noise of contentment. He'd spent far too many hours wondering what those nimble fingers would feel like, and now, he'd never sleep peacefully again. Wonderful.

“Our research is your top priority,” Viktor corrected softly. “Your health is mine. I don't want you to do something I forget about, especially when it's as important as demonstrating our tech. I just thought you'd gone back on your word.”

Jayce tried for a dry laugh, and the sound came out strong, much to his relief. But Viktor didn't stop playing with his hair, and exhaustion plucked at Jayce's limbs. He could nap for a few minutes, right? Viktor would cover for him, and it wasn't like anyone else would-

“You wanted to see me?”

Gods almighty.

Yes, but not right now, Jayce thought darkly. Still, he pried his eyes open and glared up at Sheriff Marcus. The older man stared at him and Viktor as if they both had an extra pair of arms, and, really, Jayce couldn't blame him. The rumor mill had run rampant ever since their first year of research. Today, Jayce didn't care enough to clarify.

“Can you give him the thing?” he muttered, tapping Viktor's leg.

The shorter man immediately stuck the clipboard in Marcus' direction. “A list of suspicious transactions,” Viktor explained as the Sheriff accepted it. “Councilor Talis expects you to search and seize any unauthorized merchandise.”

Marcus floundered for a moment, and Jayce cracked a faint smile. First time he'd ever seen that.

“With all due respect, Councilor,” the Sheriff began eventually, “today is your fourth day-”

“Sixth,” Jayce interrupted. “Actually, is it midnight? That would make it my seventh.”

Marcus hesitated again, then continued. “No, it's only 5:30. Are you sure you don't want to confer with the other Councilors before-”

“He's quite sure.” That was Viktor, wearing an aloof expression edged with danger. “As far as we can see, there is a significant disconnect between the authorities and the Council. It's best to get results before troubling them.”

Jayce chuckled, and Viktor's hand returned to his hair. Marcus looked between them a few times before blurting,

“Councilor Talis, is Mr. Viktor speaking for you on this matter?”

“Of course he is,” Jayce said archly. He'd heard this speech many times when he and Viktor had started working together. Gods, that felt like a lifetime ago. “Why wouldn't he?"

Another awkward beat. Marcus' stumbling was starting to feel less like the product of rumors and more like... nervousness. A little instinct whispered in Jayce's mind, an edginess he couldn't shake. He reluctantly got to his feet and was just about to press Marcus for information when Viktor let out a rattling cough. Jayce turned just in time to see blood splatter the railing.

Oh, gods.

“Viktor,” Jayce said, trying and failing to disguise the panic in his voice. The shorter man didn't respond; his eyes were blown wide, and he stared down at the Hexgate's terminals with rapt fixation. “Viktor. Viktor!”

His partner jolted, gasped, and refocused on him. Jayce let out a shaky breath, but his relief withered when he noticed Viktor's wild expression.

“The time jumps, what did they look like?” the shorter man demanded.

Shouldn't we be worried about you coughing up blood? Jayce thought, slightly frantic. Aloud, he answered, “Like a bunch of fragments. If you broke a pane of glass, it would look about the same. Lots of colors and sounds. Sometimes, they moved. Like, uh-”

“A whirlpool,” Viktor supplied.

Jayce nodded slowly. “Sure.”

Delight filled Viktor's eyes, and he grabbed Jayce's hands. “I saw,” he breathed. Jayce's heart nearly punched through his chest. “I saw the demonstration we gave back on Progress Day. You marched out in front of everyone and-” The giddy excitement in Viktor's eyes dimmed, replaced by something Jayce couldn't put a name to. “You wanted me with you.”

Though it felt like confessing to a deep, dark secret, Jayce inclined his head. “I did. You deserved to be a part of it.”

Viktor examined him with an intensity Jayce had never seen before, and suddenly, he had the dizzying hope that Viktor might kiss him. Then the shorter man grabbed his cane and propped himself up.

“Do you remember what I told you the other day? About the Arcane and how the Hexcore can learn?” Jayce nodded, as he religiously preserved the memories of Viktor's rants, and a pleased smile spread across his partner's face. “That might be the key to this equation. We need to get to the lab. Run some tests with the Hexcore and see if we can isolate the variable.”

Jayce nodded again, and he turned to the bewildered Marcus. “Excuse us, Sheriff,” he said, slinging an arm under Viktor's shoulders. His partner immediately coughed again, subtly smearing the blood on his fingertips across his lips, and Jayce stifled a grin. “Viktor doesn't seem to be feeling well. I have to get him back to the lab.”

“Of course, sir,” Marcus said distantly. He made no move to stop them, but Jayce felt the older man's confused gaze on the back of his head until they entered the elevator. Once this was over, he'd have to pull the Sheriff aside and question him. But for now...

Gods, it had been too long since Jayce had last thrown himself into their research. The title of Councilor had stolen a massive chunk of his time, and-

Oh.

“Shit,” Jayce hissed. Viktor cast him a worried look, but Jayce waved a dismissive hand. “Don't worry. Just- there's a councilors' event tonight, an opera or something. Completely slipped my mind.”

The corners of Viktor's mouth twitched. “Who knew you were so refined?”

Jayce scoffed. “I'll get out of there as soon as I can. Meet you at the lab.”

“Mm. I should have some preliminary results by the time you arrive.”

They reached the ground floor and took off side by side, their hands brushing. Jayce entered the mid-afternoon sun first, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air. He glanced over his shoulder with some stupid comment about opera on his tongue.

The words promptly died.

Viktor had paused on the top step, wistfully gazing out towards the undercity. The sun illuminated his sharp cheekbones and lit his hair with brilliant highlights. For once, his face was relaxed, and thin lips tipped up at the prospect of a new experiment.

His partner suddenly glanced at him, and a shiver shot up Jayce's spine. Viktor's expression wasn't particularly intimate, but maybe that was the point. Jayce had fallen in love with Viktor for his mind. Their intimacy came from an intellectual connection so profound and absolute that, together, they'd managed to combine science and magic.

But Jayce wasn't naive enough to pretend that he didn't find Viktor beautiful.

“Stay safe,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Please.”

Something flickered deep in Viktor's eyes. “I will,” he returned softly. “And... do the same, yourself.”

Jayce nodded, his throat tight and his head buzzing.

Then they parted ways.

——————

The Mage had been alive for many, many years. They'd seen the rise and fall of nations, seen mortals become warmongers, barbarians, cannibals. They had no delusions about humanity's nature.

Thus, they knew when a human who was not innately gifted was getting too close to the Arcane.

Such was the fate of Viktor. His bones were not tied to magic, but his bond to Jayce Talis, another man who was not innately gifted, was strong enough to provide both of them with a faux gift. This was how Jayce Talis had retained memories of collapsed timelines and how Viktor had glimpsed the tunnel of Time.

It was a dangerous game, allowing the two humans to live. Time no longer conversed with the Mage, but it still lurked in the corner of their hut, hissing and spitting. The Mage ignored it. Viktor's soul was close to blooming, a wilting flower finally opening its petals.

Some humans could not be tamed by the fires of mortality. Some were determined to make the universe bend to their will.

Those humans were the Mage's favorites.

——————

Viktor would've liked this, was Jayce's first thought upon entering the theater. Though his partner was scientific by nature, he had an appreciation for the fine arts that Jayce had never developed. Suffice it to say that he'd rather be in the lab instead of watching an admittedly talented violinist with people he more or less despised.

Then Mel decided to play politics, and Jayce's mood went from bad to awful.

“We're not here for the performance,” she warned, offering a golden chalice. Jayce lifted a hand of polite decline, and a ghost of a frown crossed Mel's face before vanishing beneath her usual cool mask. “Your House is in trouble.”

When is it not? Jayce thought tiredly. He said nothing.

“That merchant formerly enjoyed certain leniencies with regards to her trade in exchange for her generous Academy patronage.” Mel nodded at a balcony across the way, in which sat Bolbok and a white-haired woman Jayce didn't know. She had to be the merchant in question.

“By leniencies, you mean corruption, right?” Jayce asked pointedly.

Mel lifted one shoulder. “Amara's harmless. Oh, look at those two stooges.”

Jayce followed her gaze to Councilors Hoskel and Salo, happily chatting away. So they didn't hate each other, after all.

“They share a taste for the finest Noxian spirits,” Mel explained, resting against the balcony and raising her glass in a toast, “technically an illegal import.”

Hoskel and Salo caught her eye and returned the cheers.

Jayce suddenly felt weary to the bone, worn thin and worn down. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, struggling to keep the impatience from his voice. “I ordered Sheriff Marcus to follow up on a few discrepancies and tightened our security. Putting me on guard duty is a waste of time. We have-”

Mel lifted an elegant hand, rising from the balcony's ledge and sweeping towards Elora. “You've put a target on your back,” she chided as the other woman refilled her chalice. “There are those who covet your power over the wealth the Hexgates afford and would take any opportunity to seize it from you.”

“I can deal with a few hits,” Jayce muttered. “My priority is-”

“You've just made yourself everyone's common enemy, Jayce,” Mel cut in archly, and Jayce's pride flared at the interruption. “That should be your first priority.”

And what if it isn't? he wanted to spit. Still, as tired as he was, he hadn't lost his sense of decorum. “I'm not worried,” Jayce said, emphasizing each word. “They can target me if that makes them feel better. It's not like any of them wanted me to be a Councilor.”

Another frown briefly stained Mel's impassiveness. “There is a way to repair your rocky start. Remember Amara, the merchant?”

Jayce's mind raced ahead, connecting the threads in electric bursts. He was a scientist, after all, and scientists often had to follow a thought to its logical – or illogical – extreme. After a few moments, Jayce stared at a complete picture, comprised of all the fragments he'd picked up since becoming a Councilor.

Oh, hell, no.

“Absolutely not,” Jayce snapped, and he planted his hands on the balcony's ledge. “I won't compromise the safety of the Hexgates for collateral! I don't care if they hate me!”

Mel sighed quietly, then swept to his side. “No one hates you, and no one is asking that of you,” she soothed. “These are simply favors amongst friends.”

“Friends?” Jayce scoffed. “I don't see a single 'friend' in this room." You also had something to do with the time skip in the Council's Chambers, he added bitterly. Mel wasn't at fault for whatever was happening to him and Viktor, but it felt good to blame something other than “the unknown variable.”

“You're a symbol of the future now, Jayce.” Mel's hand landed on his shoulder, tracing patterns with her fingertips, and alarm bells clanged in his head. “Whether you like it or not. With that comes the potential to shape your own destiny.”

Jayce shrugged off her touch and took a healthy step away. “I'm trying to do that. None of you are making that easy.”

Mel shook her head, much as a parent would at a very young child pretending to be grown. “Destiny is never easy or simple,” she mused, and her patronizing tone pierced Jayce's gut like a blade. “The Council assumes you'll fail. Time to prove them all wrong. Once again.”

“Aren't you one of them?”

The words tumbled out before Jayce could think them through, bitter and cold. But once they were out, he couldn't deny their truth. Mel's sharp inhale was proof enough that the barbed insult had hit its mark. Equal parts guilt and satisfaction pressed against his sternum.

“Of course I'm one of the Council,” Mel said evenly, but the warmth her voice had possessed just a moment before was gone. “So are you.”

Jayce straightened, then turned to look Mel dead in the eyes. He'd known the senior councilor was gorgeous from the day they'd first met. In another life, maybe he would've fallen for her charms, allowed her past his walls, and played the game she so delighted in. But in this life, cat's eye green had nothing on rich, warm amber.

“So, do you expect me to fail?” Jayce pressed. “Or are you one of the 'friends' you expect me to grant a favor to?”

Mel hesitated, clearly off-balance. The door to their perch started to swing open, but Jayce held up a commanding hand. Elora immediately leaned her weight against the wood, glancing nervously at Mel. The councilor said nothing. After a beat, Elora slipped outside and shut the door firmly behind her.

Alone at last.

“Do you remember when I said I don't want to lead this city?” Jayce demanded. “The morning of Progress Day, I told you that Hextech was made for the people. Not the investors, not the Council, and not 'friends' who want favors! Viktor and I-”

“Oh, honestly, Jayce,” Mel burst out, for once exasperated. “Have you ever considered that your 'research partner' might have more nefarious aims in mind? He was nothing more than an assistant before your workshop was destroyed, and now, Hextech is a massively important company. He could have all sorts of things planned, but you are blinded by your-” Mel hesitated again, and something much more vulnerable flashed across her face. “-fondness for him.”

Jayce liked Mel. He really did. He respected her cunning and wit, and he had no doubt that she'd led Piltover to wealth over her years of leadership. But faced with an ultimatum, he knew where his loyalties lay.

And Jayce refused to associate with someone who accused Viktor of being a leech.

“How dare you,” he said, slightly stunned. “In case you forgot, Viktor was willing to risk exile for our first test. Besides, he saved my life once. If he'd wanted money or prestige, he could've let me die and taken my research for himself. But he didn't.”

Mel frowned, an uncharacteristically deep slash between delicate brows. “He... saved your life?”

Jayce smiled thinly. “Guess you never learned the full story.”

Mel inhaled, probably to rightly defend herself, but in a rush of weariness and yearning, Jayce just wanted to be back in the lab. Back with Viktor, exploring new possibilities and pushing the limits of known science. If they re-presented their motion of peace to the Council, maybe they'd listen, especially since he was a gods-damned Councilor now.

So Jayce exited the room, ignoring Mel's sharp exhale, the white-haired woman waiting outside, and everyone else who stood between him and Viktor. Across the city, his dearest friend was toiling away on a solution for his time skips.

And if they found a way to control time, there had to be a way to cure Viktor.

——————

The natural order is sustaining irreparable damage, Time announced. Upset wasn't the right word for its admission – resigned, perhaps, was more accurate. Jayce Talis should have doomed the city through his connection to Mel Medarda. Yet he has rejected her and is gravitating toward the other man. What is his name?

“Viktor,” the Mage said absently, observing the Runestone they held. It echoed the powers Viktor currently experimented with in his lab, and soon, another would join the fray. What would happen, the Mage wondered, when Jayce Talis reached Viktor after avoiding a tryst Time had been so sure would occur?

Some childish part of the Mage hoped Jayce Talis would answer his soul's call. Humans were so short-lived; if they didn't act upon their impulses, they would die regretful. The Mages had always liked that about humans. Their impulsiveness. Scientists were known for it, and these two were worst than most.

You're fond of them, Time accused, as if it'd heard the Mage's thoughts.

“Yes. They are rather likable.”

Hmph. Piltover's fate has been muddled. I hope you're content with the results.

The Mage closed their hand over their Runestone and said nothing. But their insides clenched with a horrible mixture of emotions. Anything was better than watching Piltover suffer a second destruction. No humans deserved such tragedy – especially not those who had the potential to change the world.

——————

The last thing Jayce had expected was company. But when he reached the door to the lab, a quiet conversation drifted from inside. He paused, half out of respect, half out of curiosity. Who would still be here this late at night?

“You will.”

Oh. Sky Young. She was a dedicated student with strong instincts, but she was also... an obstacle.

“Are you headed home soon? I thought we could walk together.”

Jayce's heart stuttered, froze, then dropped into a lower orbit. No. No, no, no, he'd never thought Sky would be so open. Her shyness had permitted his cowardice, allowed him to never force his hand and risk rejection. For the millionth time since the whole debacle had started, Jayce's damned feelings for Viktor flitted through his mind, infuriatingly persistent and achingly earnest.

“I'm- uh- probably going to sleep here tonight.”

“Again? You know there's always tomorrow, right?”

“Goodnight, Miss Young.”

Jayce exhaled in relief, pressing his forehead to the cool metal wall. Then waves of embarrassment and shame flooded his mind, battering him down to base emotions. He was spineless. Straightforward by nature and prized that quality in others, but utterly spineless. What made this situation any different?

Idiotic question. Everything was different when it came to Viktor. Everything from the admiration shining like a torch in Jayce's heart to how he'd sooner destroy his own reputation than let Viktor be dragged through the mud.

Jayce had felt many things in his life. Selfless devotion was a new experience.

Or maybe it wasn't selflessness, exactly. Maybe Jayce was just proud, determined to show everyone his partner's brilliance.

...partner. Stupid word. Stupid sentiment. Jayce was secure enough to admit that he and Viktor were special to each other and likely each other's closest friend, though they'd never said as much aloud. Still, there was “closeness,” and then there was the ache in Jayce's chest, how he longed to hold Viktor and never let him go.

Jayce had had many “partners” in his life, too. Never had he cared for one so deeply.

The lab's side door slammed shut, shattering the silence like a warning bell. Jayce reluctantly pried his eyes open and fixed the wall with a blank stare. He had to say something, didn't he? If not now, when? Viktor's health was only declining, and a time skip could catapult Jayce into the future without him knowing it! He wouldn't even remember the years he'd lost – nor the love he'd never shared.

That couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.

Jayce mustered up every ounce of strength he still possessed and slipped into the lab, closing the door soundlessly behind him. Viktor sat at his workspace, fiddling with the Hexcore.

“You're going to strain your eyes,” Jayce warned as he padded across the room. “At least turn on a light.”

It was a testament to their long hours spent together that Viktor didn't even flinch at Jayce's sudden arrival. He just slumped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why isn't it working?” the shorter man ground out. “I've tried everything. Assuming that Hextech can learn and evolve, I can't uncover the catalyst required for growth.”

At several points during the Hexgate's developmental stage, Jayce had entered the lab to find Viktor hunched over a calculation, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. Knowing that his partner had retained his obsessive nature somehow soothed Jayce's pent-up anxiety. He huffed a laugh and grabbed the nearest stool.

“This is complicated stuff. We're mixing science and magic.”

Viktor lifted his head with a wry smile. “Yes, I know,” he drawled once Jayce had settled next to him. “As I'm sure you can tell, I did not get any results while you were gone.”

Jayce waved a dismissive hand. “It's fine. We have time.”

“How ironic you should use that turn of phrase.”

They fell silent, watching the Hexcore float before them. It was undeniably hypnotic, but in the way that a blade tempted one to cut their finger, just to test its sharpness. A few months ago, Jayce hadn't been able to put a name to his wariness – now, he knew. Staring at the Hexcore made him feel like he was about to undergo another time jump.

“You would've liked the opera we went to,” Jayce offered instead of voicing his concerns. “It was some sort of historical epic, I think. Beautiful set design.”

Viktor raised his eyebrows. “You think I know anything about artistry?” he asked, amused. “Need I remind you what brought me to your workshop in the first place?”

“You know more than me. What's the symbolism of white, again?”

“Purity, life. Vitality, on occasion.”

“What about grey?”

“Eh, more open to interpretation. Some say it's a median between life and death, making it a stasis color. But others argue that grey is the absence of a defining color, which indicates a lack of motivation. A living death, if you will.” Viktor scrunched up his nose. “You could have left it at 'you know more than me.' You didn't have to prove it.”

“I'm a scientist,” Jayce protested, barely swallowing a shit-eating grin. “I have to prove I'm right.”

Viktor snorted, but the lines of his face were soft. His gaze flicked across Jayce's face, searching for something unnameable.

Gods, he had to be right.

“Why'd you turn Sky down?” Jayce asked. His mouth was painfully, horribly dry.

Viktor shrugged; the fact that he didn't question how Jayce had heard that conversation proved just how much trust he held. “I cannot leave yet. I have more tests to do.”

“You know what she was actually asking, right?”

A beat. They'd never talked about this before. It had never been an issue; they spent most of their time together, either working or sleeping on surfaces that weren't meant to be beds. Jayce didn't even know if Viktor liked women.

...maybe the better question was if Viktor liked men.

Finally, the shorter man sighed. “Of course I do,” he muttered, massaging his temples. “She has made no effort to hide her- ah-” Viktor's face creased with discomfort. “-intentions. I am not interested. It was the gentlest way to let her down.”

He's a genius and emotionally aware, Jayce thought airily, staring at a point over Viktor's shoulder. He's perfect.

“Why do you ask? Oh, if you're interested, please, go ahead. It would make me happy to see her happy. I cannot give her what she wants.”

The sentiment was sweet, about what Jayce had come to expect from Viktor. Beneath his partner's (ooh, that word stung right now) cutting wit and dry humor, Viktor genuinely cared for others. There was a reason Hextech was made for the people. But Jayce had gotten hung up on that last little sentence.

“What she wants?” he echoed. If his mouth had been dry before, it now felt like he was chewing sand.

To his credit, Viktor easily dismissed the question. “Yes, because I am not interested in her. If I were, I would have said something. I take it you're not either, then?”

“No,” Jayce said blankly. It was about all he could say without giving himself away. “Sorry for prying. Just wanted to ask so I wouldn't panic if I showed up here and you weren't sleeping on a table or something.”

Viktor chuckled and leaned forward again, settling his hands on the Hexcore's controls. “That will not be a problem,” he assured. “Would you really be so worried if you didn't know where I was?”

It was a lighthearted jab, nothing more. Teasing between friends. And yet...

“Yeah,” Jayce murmured. “I'd turn this city upside down to find you.”

The Hexcore thudded against the desk as its operator faltered. Jayce took a deep breath, then stood, gently rubbing his partner's shoulder before heading towards their prototype Moonbeam. Five minutes later, Viktor still hadn't resumed his work.

Part of Jayce wanted to stop being a coward and be purely straightforward, just to get the anxious weight off his chest. But his respect for Viktor kept his mouth shut. The other man was wildly intelligent (in science, magic, and emotion, as he'd proved), so there was no chance he wouldn't hear what Jayce wasn't saying. He'd always been good at reading between the lines.

Above all else, though, Viktor needed time to think things through. So, if and when he was ready, he'd bring it up again. Jayce just had to be patient.

Working in silence after such a loaded conversation probably would've been awkward for most other people. But, given how much of an anomaly their relationship was, Jayce felt no such tension. He tinkered with the Moonbeam, and eventually, Viktor got back to work.

After half an hour of peace, a frustrated shout suddenly split the air. Jayce glanced over his shoulder and found Viktor on his feet, hands clenched at his sides and papers scattered across the floor. Jayce merely pursed his lips. Frustration was a constant when it came to science.

Jayce's bemused sympathy morphed into worry when Viktor began coughing. Then the worry exploded into heart-stopping dread as Viktor collapsed against his desk with a resounding thud.

No.

No.

Oh, gods, no-!

The time jumps had become a unique brand of horror, with their broken shards of existence and garbled sounds. Those experiences couldn't match the terror racing through Jayce's veins as he tore across the room, skidding on his knees to catch Viktor's limp body. His partner was horribly pale, even more so than usual, and oh, no, no, there was blood splattered across the desk and smeared on his lips.

“Viktor?” Jayce mumbled, pressing two fingers to the shorter man's neck. A fluttery pulse greeted his frantic touch, and Jayce wilted into himself with a shuddering gasp. “Viktor? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Jayce moved before his brain even fully recognized the gravity of the situation. When he returned to his senses, he was halfway out of the lab, his heart in his throat and Viktor cradled protectively in his arms. Each swing of his partner's too-thin legs cemented his terror. Each shallow breath stole the air from his lungs.

Viktor couldn't die like this.

Chapter Text

Is this truly better? Time asked, resigned yet distinctly curious. Would not they experience less heartache if a chasm still existed between their souls, as was dictated?

The Mage said nothing. It was no surprise that, after witnessing the unbreakable natural order crack for the first time in an age, Time was fascinated by the two humans who'd invoked the change. They would have resented Time's ever-shifting moods had not they been acutely aware of its innate being. Just as the world's proceedings rested on a knife's edge, so did Time fluctuate between motivations and musings.

Then again... it was only a crack, nothing more. The natural order still fought to be corrected, so a faint, false reality superimposed itself over the true one: Jayce Talis should have woken up after his tryst with Mel Medarda and learned of Viktor's collapse. Jayce Talis should have abandoned his new lover, thus weakening their relationship and planting seeds of doubts in both parties' minds, and Jayce Talis should have “picked a side” while sitting at his research partner's bedside.

Yet all those decisions had already been negated. Jayce Talis' quick reactions had prevented damage to Viktor's mind and lungs, unwittingly buying the other man more time. More than that, Jayce Talis had completely avoided Mel Medarda. His soul strained ever harder, and the natural order fought back with chains of biting steel.

The human is in pain, Time said slowly, halfway between a question and a statement. He feels guilt. And fear.

“Yes,” the Mage murmured. “He is watching someone he loves fade, and he is powerless to stop the decay.”

Time twisted to face the Mage, and the first time in an age, it hesitated before speaking. Is this not crueler? You talk of saving lives, but these humans are... tormented. They have touched the natural order, and in return, they will endure a never-ending struggle to maintain their timeline. Is this not... inhumane?

The Mage ran their fingers over their pocket watch for the millionth time. They silently noted that Time was barely influencing the hands, then spoke with as much conviction as they could muster.

“Human lives are fleeting, regardless of physical ailments. To love is to burn. A brighter flame does not mean a shorter life.”

Time fell silent.

——————

Jayce was on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown.

In his early 20s, he'd often jokingly told Caitlyn that his studies or professors' demands would be the death of him. Then, once he and Viktor had been tasked with the impossible, he'd claimed he'd sleep when he was dead.

Everything seemed so trivial compared to this.

The doctor had recommended that Jayce get some sleep (“After all, we don't know when he'll wake up,” she'd said, her voice laced with sorrowful sympathy), but Jayce had planted himself in Viktor's bedside chair. If the doctors wanted him out, they'd have to drag him.

Five hours Viktor had been asleep. Each minute he was unconscious, Jayce's sanity slipped further and further through his fingers. His leg jittered, his breaths were barely more stunted gasps, and only his last weakened thread of self-control kept him from running a hand through Viktor's hair. Gods, his partner looked terrible. Like a living ghost.

“You can't die.”

Jayce hadn't spoken since the doctor had left the room. Yet once the words were out, more spilled over, desperate and uncontainable.

“I can't keep inventing without you.” It sounded pathetic, and Jayce pressed his fingers into his eyes, frustratedly stemming his building tears. “You've done more for me than I'll ever be able to tell you. And I can't do anything. What's the point if I can't save you?”

Viktor's chest rose and fell with the shallow breaths of the unconscious. This time, Jayce couldn't keep himself from reaching out and taking a thin hand in his own.

“Hextech can't survive without you. I don't think I could, either.”

Of course, Jayce would survive if Viktor died. But that wasn't entirely true. Deep down, Jayce knew that returning to an empty lab day after day, hearing echoes of a warm laugh and waiting for input that would never come, would break him. Break him into too many pieces to ever be reassembled.

The doctors had offered a hesitant timeframe. And it scared the shit out of him.

“I guess I can't die, then. The people still need Hextech.”

The soft, amused voice lanced Jayce's heart, pinning it to his ribcage, and he snapped upright with a gasp. The slender fingers laced through his gently squeezed, and slowly, painfully, brilliant amber eyes fluttered open.

“Please forgive the dramatics,” Viktor rasped. His voice was heavy with pain, but a faint smile quirked his mouth. “I was barely conscious when you started talking, so I couldn't respond. It took a couple of minutes for all the brain facilities to return.”

Jayce swallowed thickly. “You heard me?”

“Of course. I tend to listen when you speak.”

So jovial. But the weariness in Viktor's eyes weighed in Jayce's stomach like a lead ball, and it took all the strength he had to squeeze his partner's hand. After a couple of deep breaths, he regurgitated the prognosis that'd nearly stopped his heart.

“The doctors- um- they said you're-”

“Dying. How long do I have?”

A broken little laugh burst out before Jayce could stop it. “Months.” Bitterness seeped into the single, damning word. “Did you know?”

Viktor lifted his shoulders slightly. “No. But it doesn't take a genius to realize that coughing up blood isn't a sign of good health.”

“Damn it, Viktor, why didn't you tell me it was this bad?” It was unfair to demand answers from a man only months away from death, but suddenly, life had a countdown. Viktor's days were numbered, and oh, gods, Jayce wouldn't survive a funeral. “I should've been looking into the Hexcore myself, rereading our early notes. Something! Fucking anything!”

“Stop it,” Viktor ordered, and a hint of steel edged his voice. He squeezed Jayce's hand with startling strength. “You said that Hextech couldn't survive without me? That you wouldn't, either?” Jayce nodded reluctantly. It was pointless to lie. “Then my priority remains unchanged. Your health. If I find a way to cure myself, I'll keep you alive.”

It was so roundabout. Why couldn't Viktor just worry about himself? For gods' sakes, he was-!

Dying. Viktor... only had a few months left.

Jayce's limbs suddenly felt like ten-ton weights, and he slid out of his chair, landing on his knees and collapsing against Viktor's bed. He buried his face in rough sheets and desperately willed the hot tears away. After a moment, slender fingers began gently carding through his hair. The tender touch made Jayce's heart seize, twist, and shatter.

There was no avoiding this anymore. Either they would find a cure, or he would lose Viktor forever.

——————

This is crueler, Time decided.

The Mage was stubborn by nature and disliked admitting they were wrong, but in this matter, they knew they'd taken all the factors into account. “Life is unkind to mortals,” they conceded, “but this turmoil has benefit.”

Time split into three jagged bolts and circled the Mage, finally coming to rest above their Runic Sphere. Still you maintain your convictions? it demanded, three harsh voices speaking as one. The man – Viktor – presses on with his work when he should rest in eternal slumber.

“I admit it is not ideal,” the Mage snapped. Time was incessant, poking and prodding until its subject finally caved – death, as mortals called it. “But I do maintain my convictions. Is the darkness in Viktor's future not obvious? What he would have become had I not intervened?” Time hesitated. The Mage's pocket watch ticked away, unimpeded. “Viktor fixates on a goal that will benefit all. Including himself.”

Is it not detrimental that he cares so little for his own life?

At that, the Mage smiled thinly. “He cares more than most,” they corrected. “Even now, he struggles with his failure, passing on without a legacy to his name. But with Jayce Talis so prevalent in his mind, he is not yet obsessed with finding a way to survive. If he can resist the corrections, their lives will be saved.”

Time made a noise eerily reminiscent of a human's laugh and merged back into one body, coiling on the table like a pacified snake. They have already changed it so extensively, resistance would not be such a surprise, it noted dryly. You understand them.

The Mage inclined their head. “It is impossible not to. I am witness to their lives.”

After seeing the echoes of “what could have been” and the truth of “what was,” the Mage knew. Jayce Talis would save Viktor's life, one way or another.

——————

Several years had passed since Jayce had last visited Mel's quarters. On the first instance, she'd invited him over to talk business, as she'd been curious about Hextech's inner workings. Jayce had extended the invitation to Viktor, but the shorter man had scrunched up his nose and declined. It was just as well that he'd refused because that had been the first day Mel had openly flirted with Jayce.

Jayce had tried to rationalize Mel's behavior, but he'd always reached the same conclusion: she liked him. Or wanted him, at least. Mel had never gone beyond harmless flirting, but even that much attention from a woman of her stature meant she was interested. And, yes, for a few months, Jayce had entertained the notion of a fling.

But he'd never opened up, never prioritized her.

Because as Hextech had flourished and their research had inched closer and closer to a once-impossible dream, Jayce had found himself aching whenever he was away from Viktor. At first, he'd dubbed it as scientific stubbornness and pondered no further. Why wouldn't he want to stay in the lab? They were on the cusp of greatness.

Then Hextech had taken off, Jayce and Viktor had become famous (well, Jayce had, at least), and he'd had every chance to take a break. He hadn't. He'd stayed by Viktor's side and charged towards the future with voracious hunger.

Jayce's attachment was comprised of a thousand binding characteristics. He and Viktor fed off each other's theories and constantly pushed for more. Their personalities meshed, too; Jayce had never met anyone else he could spend so much time around and not get irritated or bored. There was always another layer to Viktor, always something new he wanted to share.

And Viktor, for his part, had grown to trust him. He trusted Jayce so much that he offered up the precious contents of his mind with nothing but curiosity and an unspoken challenge.

So, all things considered, including the feelings nestled snugly in his heart, Jayce was a little nervous. Mel hadn't spoken to him since he'd stormed out of the theater. Between the million and one issues plaguing the city, Jayce had had no time to seek her out and apologize. An out-of-the-blue invitation was as straightforward as a mountain road in a fog bank. Was she going to belittle him? Threaten him? Strip his status as a Councilor?

The elevator doors slid open on silent rollers. Minimalistic lights glittered around the balcony, and a few pillows were scattered across the raised dais. A dazzling view of the city stretched beyond the balcony's edge. Jayce would've found the scene breathtaking had his stomach not been roiling.

Mel Medarda stood with her back to him, running what looked like a knife across a gigantic canvas. It was an extraordinary work of art, but the splotches of red and orange were... not comforting.

Best to rip the bandage off, then.

“You asked to see me?” Jayce called, striding onto the balcony and clasping his hands behind his back.

Mel paused. She tapped her knife (it couldn't be a knife, right?) against her palette a few times, then swept a new line of red across an already war-torn sea of colors.

“Did you know I was an artist?” Mel asked without turning. Jayce said nothing, and she let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “No. You didn't. There's quite a lot about me you don't know. Just as it seems there's much about you I misjudged.” Mel's shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh, then she waved at the pillows. “Sit.”

Jayce did.

“Why did you leave the theater?”

Shit.

“Was I not a proper teacher?” Mel continued, and she stepped back, examining the canvas as a whole. “Your father provided the people with tools, and through their determination, they built this city. I would have thought you'd understand that.”

“I do understand,” Jayce corrected quietly. A simmer of anger bloomed in his stomach because he was acutely aware of his family's legacy, thank you very much. But he tamped the impulse down and admitted, “If I were interested in politics, I would've learned a lot from you.”

“But you aren't.”

“I'm not.”

Mel sliced her blade across the canvas. Jayce was more or less convinced that it wasn't a knife since it would've long since shredded the canvas, but the image stuck in his mind.

“Why is that?” Mel asked, quieter than before. She dragged the thin edge of her blade through a glob of orange, and it trickled down the canvas. “You have this city at your fingertips. Instead of forging connections and embracing your granted title, you hole yourself up in your lab. Surely Hextech isn't so high maintenance.”

Jayce frowned, momentarily ignoring Mel's second unspoken question. Title? What title? He'd always been Jayce of House Talis, even before his family's social promotion.

It struck him like a bolt of lightning. With all that'd happened in the past few weeks, Jayce had almost forgotten about Progress Day. Before the first time skip, before being elevated to stand amongst Piltover's Council, before any of it, Jayce had been called the “Man of Progress.”

His anger exploded in a fiery bloom, a hot coil of protectiveness and long-buried resentment on behalf of his dearest friend. It wasn't his place to defend Viktor, but the shorter man would never speak up for himself – especially now.

“I told you before,” Jayce said tightly. “I'm not Piltover's 'Man of Progress.' There's two of us. Why does no one get that?”

Mel paused halfway through a stroke. Her hand wavered in the air for a moment, the only tell of her indecision, then dropped to her side as she turned.

“What's so special about Viktor?”

Jayce tensed at such a barbed question, but Mel's posture was open, and her voice was devoid of intent. It seemed as though, for the first time, Mel was asking a genuine question.

Gods, where to start?

“He's been with me since the beginning,” Jayce murmured, and he leaned forward, absently resting his chin on his palm. “Everything we built, we did it together. Hextech is as much his project as it is mine. Viktor has this... drive. I don't know how to explain it. Once we get into a project, and I mean, really get into a project, it's like he becomes more, somehow.”

Memories flashed through Jayce's mind in rapid succession. The first time they'd stabilized a crystal after two months of constant testing. Jayce had shed exhausted tears of joy, and Viktor had roared their success. Their prototype Hexgate and the first voyage to Ionia. Overseeing the mass construction of the Hexgates and snipping the red ribbon on each. Development of the Hextech Gemstones, spanning years and years. The Atlas Gauntlets. The Hex Claw. The new Moonbeam. Each and every breakthrough.

And Viktor had never changed. His health had slowly deteriorated, but they'd taken it in stride, requesting more chairs and designing an improved cane. Viktor had remained so blindingly brilliant throughout it all, a supernova lighting up the universe. For his partner, Jayce would give up every shred of credit. It was enough to be part of the process. Enough to work side by side with someone he loved.

Jayce suddenly realized he'd been silent for far too long, staring off into the city with a stupid smile, and he shook himself roughly. When he glanced back at Mel, she hadn't moved from her canvas. Her blade hung loosely in her hand.

“I suppose I was wrong to accuse him of possessing ill intentions towards you and Hextech,” she said slowly, carefully.

Jayce inhaled, then froze. Mel's project had fractured into glowing shards. Smoke and fire mixed in the paint; crying voices and thundering feet echoed from the canvas. Red and orange swirled together to form- the Council's building? No. A pile of rubble where the Tower had once stood. Above it all, a bright red moon illuminated utter chaos in the streets.

“Jayce?”

Mel's voice swept the vision away, and Jayce jolted back to attention, trying and failing to control his heaving breaths. Another time break. He'd noticed a few in the lab when he'd “predicted” something a few seconds before it happened. But never had the breaks been so long or vivid.

Was it a vision of the future, as usual? Or was it from the past? Either way, Jayce's first priority was to alert Viktor and scan for anomalies.

Viktor. Time skips and breaks, and the countdown hanging over their heads.

Jayce began to shake. “Viktor's dying,” he rasped. This time, Mel took a few hesitant steps forward, and Jayce was too busy trying not to fall apart to stop her. “We think it's because of the gases in the fissures where he grew up. Exactly the sort of thing we wanted to fix with Hextech. Improving lives. Solving real issues, not just- trade disputes.”

Mel sat next to him, an arm's length away. “That's why you stormed out,” she said, too quietly. “And that's why you've been so adamant about Hextech's future?”

“It's not just about him,” Jayce corrected, doing his utmost to avoid the topic of Viktor's health. “It's about the people. How many kids like him are out there in the undercity right now, dying from circumstances they can't control?”

Silence.

“He saved your life?” Mel pressed.

Jayce huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I wouldn't be here without him.”

Mel seemed to realize that he wasn't going to elaborate, and all the better, because Jayce wasn't in the habit of admitting that Viktor had interrupted his suicide attempt. “I didn't realize you were so close.”

“He's-”

The floor beneath Jayce's feet melted, and the sharply defined tiles blurred into each other. In the back of Jayce's head, those persistent, insidious whispers gave their orders. He's like your brother, they prodded, wrapping thin tendrils around Jayce's neck and squeezing. It felt uncannily like a human hand. Move closer to Mel. Get to know her.

During the first time skip, Jayce had panicked. Who wouldn't? It wasn't every day that reality shattered before one's eyes, then reassembled, bringing a myriad of false memories with it. But after a few weeks' worth of preliminary research, all Jayce felt was a deep thrum of resentment.

“He's my partner,” he said darkly, and the fingers wrapped around his neck slowly receded. Good.

Mel rested her hands on her lap. “You keep saying that,” she noted, “and I'm starting to wonder if my assumption aligns with reality.”

“Depends on what your assumption is,” Jayce muttered. Mel said nothing, and exhaustion finally claimed his body. He flopped back onto the pile of pillows, pressing his arm firmly over his eyes and willing the frustrated tears away. He couldn't leave until Mel dismissed him, but gods, he needed to get back to the lab.

“I'm an exile from my family.”

Jayce removed his arm from his face. He and Mel had always been friendly, but confessing personal issues had never been part of the status quo. Well, maybe he'd accidentally started the trend.

“I fell short of Medarda standards in... many ways. Do you know Elora? My assistant. When I first moved here, she helped me adjust and settle in, so I called her my 'partner.' It's a sign of respect in Noxus. Only those you deeply trust become your 'partners.' Then I realized what others assumed. How they looked at us after I introduced her.”

Even as tired as he was, Jayce cracked a smile. How familiar. He'd learned to keep his expression politely neutral in the face of curious or judgmental stares. For all its leading technology, the City of Progress was not as devoted to equality as many believed.

“Elora never seemed to mind, but it bothered me greatly, so I began introducing her as my assistant instead. It took months before I understood why their stares unsettled me. I wanted the freedom to introduce whomever I chose as my partner and not be stared at in such a... disrespectful way. My affairs were not and are not the public's business. Why could Elora not be my partner? She is... certainly beautiful.”

…was Mel saying what Jayce thought she was?

A hand rested on his arm, commanding but weary, and Jayce suddenly realized that he was listening to Mel Medarda without walls. Her touch was one of solidarity, not seduction.

“Am I correct in assuming that your connection to Viktor surpasses business?”

Jayce couldn't help a watery laugh. “It's never been about business.”

Mel chuckled. The sound was quiet and pained, yet as elegant as ever. “You should be with him, Jayce,” she urged, squeezing his arm once. “We can't change what fate has in store for us, but we don't have to face it alone. Enjoy his presence while he's still here.”

Fate. Time. With all the skips and breaks Jayce had undergone, he couldn't help but wonder if those two supposedly mythical factors were nothing more than factors to be solved for. After all... they'd unlocked the secrets of magic. Who was to say the same couldn't be done for time?

“How long does he have?”

Jayce's mind went blank. His throat tightened until he could barely breathe, and it took two pained swallows before he could force a single word out.

“Months.”

Unless we can find a cure.

——————

Time pressed its fingers into its eyes with an exasperated sigh. “How does he do that?” it asked, much as a tired parent would question a babysitter about their toddler's acrobatics. “I can accept Jayce Talis' ability to resist the natural order's corrections, but they are breaking every known universal constant.”

The Mage savored their sip of tea, then shot their visitor a faint smile. “Forgive me. I'm still acclimating to your humanoid form.”

Time narrowed kaleidoscopic eyes and strode to the table at which the Mage sat. “This pair of humans deserves my full attention,” Time muttered, sinking into the opposite chair. “I do not understand. Jayce Talis has become friends with Mel Medarda. No mortal can resist such a visceral connection.”

“Do not discount Jayce Talis' self-control,” the Mage chided. “Or Viktor's influence. Their souls have been reaching out to each other since childhood, whether they recognize it or not. That bond takes precedent over all others.”

Time eyed the Mage. “Is that not as constricting as my supposed bounds?”

“No. In another life, Jayce Talis followed the natural order. In this one, he did not.”

“He did not,” Time echoed in a tittering falsetto, and it dropped its chin onto a slender hand with a grumble.

Having the Herald of Time in their home rather than one of Time's many incorporeal offshoots assuaged the Mage's worries, more so than they would ever admit. If Time had devoted its physical form to observing Jayce Talis and Viktor, then the two humans were even more influential than the Mage had thought.

So, with a deep sense of relief in their bones, the Mage offered their old friend an empty cup. “Tea?”

——————

Of the many things Jayce had planned to try to cure Viktor, utilizing the Hexcore hadn't been one of them. Yes, the prism had potential, but Jayce couldn't escape his fear of accidentally triggering a time skip. So far, Viktor hadn't experienced one, and Jayce was desperate to keep it that way. He'd tear his hair out if he was cheated of a better timeline.

Still, when Viktor whistled for his attention, Jayce obediently crossed the lab and settled at his partner's shoulder. “What is it?”

Viktor responded by resting his hands on the Hexcore's controls and spinning it around. Suddenly, the plant balanced on top of the cage exploded in a burst of growth, its leaves sparking with purple electricity.

“So it does react to organic matter,” Jayce muttered. “You were right.”

The corners of Viktor's mouth quirked in a smug smile, and he grabbed the handle on the side of the desk, shoving it forward. A burst of light emanated from the Hexcore, momentarily blinding Jayce. By the time he'd blinked the spots from his eyes, the plant towered over them, vibrant and alive.

Jayce wanted to say it was incredible. He wanted to acknowledge the Hexcore's usefulness and offer his assistance if Viktor needed it. But as Jayce stared at the plant, all he felt was a deep sense of dread.

Not even a second later, the fern withered and died with an inhuman screech.

Oh, Jayce thought, dazed.

“This is revolutionary, Jayce!” Viktor crowed, spinning his stool around. His face was still painfully pale, and his dark circles had gotten worse, but the thrill of discovery made his skin glow. “Combining organic matter with the Hexcore – or any other piece of Hextech – could be the key to augmenting physiology, extending life-”

“Curing you,” Jayce breathed.

Viktor's eyes shone, and he stood, limping over to their chalkboard. But as soon as his partner's back was turned, Jayce cast a hesitant look at the Hexcore. He could only describe its whirs and clicks as... destructive. Vicious. A force beyond their control, something they shouldn't have tampered with. Jayce had staved off the time breaks, but the skips had stolen entire chunks of his life.

They should have presented their tech together. Jayce shouldn't have been a councilor. Yet here they were, and he wasn't willing to risk any more losses.

What if he skipped right past Viktor's death?

“It's happened to everything.”

Jayce flinched, startled from his thoughts, and turned towards his partner. Viktor rested his forehead against the chalkboard, eyes closed and shoulders slumped.

“I can't determine why,” the shorter man added, barely louder than a whisper. He glanced at the Hexcore, visibly weary. “They're... rejecting the transmutation.”

It was an unfortunate outcome, no matter how Jayce looked at it. Human experimentation was forbidden, so they had to work under the assumption that if the Hexcore didn't work with plants, neither would it work with a human subject. It was the key to a new field, but they stood in a room filled with infinite doors. The solution to an unsolvable equation.

A horrible mixture of fear and desperation swept through Jayce's body, and he lurched forward, reaching out with trembling hands. Once he got close enough, he pulled Viktor against him.

“We'll solve this,” Jayce murmured into Viktor's hair. He could feel his partner shaking, shuddering, so close to falling apart. “We'll figure it out.”

“There may not be time,” Viktor protested. “We're in uncharted waters here, and I can feel my body-” He inhaled deeply, then slumped with a sigh. “-eroding.”

Jayce tightened his hold, pressing a hand to the small of Viktor's back. “I'll have Sky bring Heimerdinger,” he offered. “He might know something that can help. Hell, he's probably forgotten more than we'll ever know.” That earned a quiet huff of laughter from Viktor, and it was good enough. Jayce snagged a piece of chalk from the tray, then gently prodded Viktor's arm. “Come on. Let's do what we do best.”

If Viktor didn't move for a few more seconds, Jayce wouldn't say anything. If Viktor hovered closer to him than usual, never working more than an arm's length away, Jayce would never speak a word. And if Jayce caught the tail end of a longing glance before Viktor hurriedly turned, well... that moment was for them and them alone.

——————

The Mage lifted a hand, interrupting Time's sharp inhale. “You cannot interfere,” they warned. “Unless you wish to violate your own principles?”

Time's dark glower would've reduced any mortal to a gibbering mess, driven to mental collapse upon being presented with so many alternate and opposing timelines. The Mage, however, took another bite of bread and continued to observe their Runestone.

“You mock me,” Time accused. “You tempt me here with the results of your meddling, only to-”

“I've done nothing,” the Mage cut in lightly. “You are merely seeing the potential that I have since the beginning.”

Time stood with a hiss. “It is not potential. It is foolishness! That Hexcore is a man-made attempt to harness the Arcane, and it will bring nothing but tragedy! You have doomed them both by bringing them together!”

Irritation flared in the Mage's chest. “And you are blind, are you?” they snapped. Time's form blurred at the edges, but the Mage stood without fear, facing their visitor with narrowed eyes. “You herald the natural order. You know what would've become of them had they not attempted to escape! Perhaps Viktor's motivations are unchangeable. A man of his intellect must always suffer the bait of obsession. But the darkness in his heart is not yet formed! He has a chance!”

“No, he doesn't!” Time slammed its hands on the table, and the whole house rattled. “I can feel the Hexcore, and its layline has already corroded!” it continued, irate. “Neither of them is gifted; thus, none of their inventions will produce pure magic! What must they do to warrant death? What monstrosities must these humans create to prove to you that their fates are sealed?”

Perhaps the Mage had been a fool to assume that Time would ever change. It saw only the ripples – that was its nature, as stubborn as the natural order. But after watching mortals do the impossible, the Mage had hoped for a change of heart. Anything.

Truly a fool's notion. The determinations of gods were even more unyielding than those of mortals.

“I assume nothing,” the Mage murmured. They sank back into their chair and tore their gaze from Time's furious stare. “You said they inflicted an irreversible change, did you not? This timeline is the new order. Any interference now would violate all constants.”

For a few heavy seconds, Time seethed. Then it snarled and stormed out of the house, throwing the door shut as it went. With the slam, the world distorted, splintering into an incoherent mess of colors, sounds, and lights. The Mage wearily waved a hand and calmed time back into its proper flow – a trick they'd learned from the entity who'd just left.

Time was as obstinate as the Mage. Probably even more so. It could not understand mortal revolution, and the Mage would not hold that against it.

But as they glanced back at their Runestone, unease pricked their gut. They'd assumed that the Hexcore would be discarded. Had anything truly changed if Viktor still reached out for such dark technology?

Were some things immutable?

——————

“What is that?” Heimerdinger whispered, horror written plainly on his face.

Jayce breathed a silent, guilty sigh of relief.

“I'm calling it the Hexcore,” Viktor announced. He glanced at his creation, and something horrifyingly close to fondness flickered in his eyes. “It's an adaptive rune matrix. Hextech that... evolves.”

Of course it does, Jayce thought bitterly. It's a gateway to the Arcane.

Heimerdinger glanced nervously at him, and Jayce stumbled for a moment before plastering on a smile he knew didn't reach his eyes. “It's groundbreaking. What's-” Jayce hesitated for a moment, swallowing the acid burning his throat. “-most exciting is that it reacts to biological matter. We found stories of healing magic in the archives. Our samples have perished so far, but there has to be a way to stabilize them, just like the crystals. The-”

“You must destroy it.”

Heimerdinger's eyes mirrored the same terror Jayce felt when he stared at the Hexcore for too long, and oh, thank the gods, he wasn't crazy. As a student, he'd heard older scientists talk about their “breaking point” – the discovery they'd refused to pursue any further. At the time, Jayce had laughed it off. He'd stop at nothing for science! But now... he couldn't help but wonder if he'd found his breaking point.

“What?” Viktor asked, his voice trembling.

Their mentor winced but pressed on. “Please, if ever you've put faith in his guidance, hear me now. I've seen nations destroyed by a single seed, and it looked-” Heimerdinger lifted a shaking finger. “-exactly like this.” Suddenly, his gaze snapped to Viktor. “Viktor, something's different,” he said, half an accusation, half a question. “You've changed. What did you do?”

Viktor flinched and tore his gaze from the Hexcore. “What do you mean, Professor?”

Now that Heimerdinger had mentioned it, Jayce saw it, too. Viktor's skin had regained its color, and his eyes were brighter. But the brilliant amber wasn't warm. It was an unnatural sheen, a manufactured replacement for the genuine joy once present in the shorter man's eyes. For a split second, Jayce was tempted to grab the Hexcore and smash it on the floor.

A headache bloomed in his temples.

Not now, Jayce thought desperately. He sank onto the nearest stool, even as Heimerdinger advanced, and Viktor shifted to protect his creation. Everything about the scene was so wrong, but Jayce couldn't pick himself up, could barely think with the pounding in his head. All he caught were fragments of the unfolding argument.

“It's that thing,” Heimerdinger decided. “It must be destroyed!”

Viktor held out his arm a little wider. “Professor, I can't let you do that! We have barely scraped the surface of its potential, and-”

“Viktor, this is a violation of the Ethos! I will have it destroyed, one way or another!”

“It is not a violation!”

A searing spike pierced Jayce's head, and he hunched in on himself, pressing his palms into his temples. The pounding didn't stop. Unfamiliar voices drifted at the edges of his hearing, and colors shifted as if someone had shuffled around the color palette. The desk glowed red, sunlight shone blue, and the Hexcore-

-was the same. Just as malignantly hypnotic as ever. The whole world seemed to tunnel around the Hexcore, swirling end over end.

Lucidity suddenly smacked Jayce across the face, forcibly breaking him from his trance. With a horrible sensation of biting cold, he recalled Viktor's description of a time break. A whirlpool. Jayce had lacked a better word, so he'd agreed. But this? This was undeniably a whirlpool. Viktor hadn't experienced a break – he'd been drawn in by the Hexcore. By the Arcane.

Heimerdinger let out a frustrated noise, and the world corrected itself with a sickly snap. “I know what I'm talking about, Viktor!” the professor cried, his fists clenched tight. “I have no choice but to take this matter to the Council!” Heimerdinger's eyes were hard, and he strode out of the lab without looking back. The slam of the door echoed like a gunshot.

Jayce silently steeled himself before glancing at Viktor. The shorter man's shoulders heaved, and betrayal radiated from him like a beacon. In all the years Jayce had known Viktor and Heimerdinger, he'd never seen them fight or heard tales of epic disagreements. Was this their first argument?

...all because of the Hexcore.

Viktor stirred, and he shot Jayce a hesitant look. “I might have someone else who could help.”

“You do what you have to,” Jayce said, trying and failing to conceal the weariness in his voice. Viktor frowned, but Jayce didn't have the willpower to put on a better mask. Every second he spent near the Hexcore sapped a little more of his strength. “I need to get ready.”

Viktor blinked. “For what?”

Jayce allowed himself a tired smile, and he pressed his elbows into his quads. “Heimerdinger just took this matter to the Council, didn't he? I'm a Councilor. That means I have to prepare my case.”

Guilt flickered across Viktor's face. He limped forward a few steps, then stopped, just out of reach. The voices picked up in a gust, and within moments, Jayce stared at Viktor from across a chasm, colors and lights swirling around him and whispers spitting poison in his ears. Leave him, some urged. He cares only for his inventions, others confided.

Jayce didn't react – he couldn't anymore. How was Viktor still on his feet? Jayce could barely keep it all straight, juggling their constant work, the responsibility of being a Councilor, the emotional strain of his feelings for Viktor and the knowledge that their time was limited, and-

Viktor turned away. He propped his cane against the desk, then sat, settling his hands on the Hexcore's controls. It seemed to purr at the man's touch, mocking Jayce in a voice that didn't speak.

All Jayce could do was leave the lab.

——————

The Mage pressed their fingers into the wooden tabletop. Their hands trembled, but emotional distress was unbecoming of a holder of the Arcane, so the rest of their body was perfectly still. The Mage had eons of practice with serenity. Balance was demanded of all holders of the Arcane, as magic required a delicate and controlled touch. To think that they-

The Mage slammed their fists into the table, and it cracked in two.

“Fuck!”

——————

Jayce entered the Council's chambers with his head still pounding. He wrote his defense with spikes driving into his eyes, and when Marcus posed a question about Caitlyn, Jayce brushed it aside without really comprehending what he'd been asked. He trusted Caitlyn; he could ask her about it later.

But he wasn't ready. Divisiveness was the only thing that swayed the Council, and this time, Jayce couldn't find a “right answer.” The Hexcore was unprecedented. So was the havoc it wreaked on everyone around it.

When Heimerdinger began his speech, Jayce knew he was walking into a minefield while blindfolded.

“Councilors, we have lost our way. This city was founded to be a bastion of enlightenment in a world that cannibalized itself over power and pride. But we've forgotten. Loosened our morals in favor of comfort and convenience.”

A few of the other Councilors shifted uncomfortably. Jayce just pressed his thumbs into his temples.

“Traded honor for prestige,” Heimerdinger continued, imploring and achingly genuine. “We were once one tribe. Now we are Houses divided. I believe, if we can set aside our greed and arrogance, we can be one again. It will take vigilance. We must hold each other accountable.”

“I guess that means I have to hold you accountable?” Jayce drawled. He expected a faint smile from Heimerdinger, a look that said he knew Jayce was on his side.

Instead, the professor reeled back with a startled, “What?”

Jayce frowned. It was a joke. A harmless jab between mentor and protégée.

Then his own voice echoed around the room.

“And who holds you accountable?”

No, Jayce thought dully. The stained glass windows began to melt together, slurring into a brilliant sludge, then shattered into glittering shards. Each reflected too much light and made Jayce shield his eyes. No!

Voices and dialects blended into a wild cacophony, emphasizing his pounding headache with each new shout. Suddenly, Jayce was nothing but a passenger watching the Council descend into anarchy. His voice reverberated around the chambers in an indecipherable jumble, then sharpened.

“I'm sorry, Professor, but healing this city will take more than just speeches. Time and again, you've warned us what not to do. But let me ask you this: what's your plan to fix this?”

Stop! Jayce pleaded. Not again!

The time skip ravaged his surroundings, cracking them apart and fitting back together just in time for Jayce to hear fragments.

“Your Hextech projects need more time. More safeguards.”

“Humans don't live for centuries! We can't wait for progress!”

Jayce couldn't do anything. He agreed with “himself,” but “he” spat the words with such venom that he wanted to get on his knees and apologize. This was wrong. All wrong!

But what was the point of fighting back? He'd never won before. Reality at the Progress Day demonstration had changed, he'd been elected to the Council and inadvertently condoned war, and now... he'd attacked his mentor.

He was useless. Useless.

“I believe it's time we gave the beloved founder of our city… a well-deserved retirement.”

Heimerdinger's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Jayce just managed to catch his whispered, “Jayce, don't do this,” before the world sped up.

Mel, the first to raise her hand.

Everyone else following suit.

Heimerdinger's look of utter betrayal – just like Viktor's.

The whispers, taunting Jayce, spitting at him, the ever-present pound in his head and fractured blurs of light and color. He couldn't even summon up the strength for panic or remorse. He was tired. So tired.

Piltover's forge materialized for a single second, highlighting Jayce's tools and the explosive Marcus had given him. The world strained to focus, but the scene collapsed as if repulsed. Briefly, Jayce wondered what had happened in the forge. Or, rather, what could have happened.

In a flash of white, the world finally solidified. Jayce stumbled a few steps, slitting his eyes against painfully bright sunlight and choking on the red smoke wafting around him. It took a few seconds to orient himself, but eventually, he recognized the wires flying overhead and the bridge's iconic struts.

Then Jayce noticed guardrails and Enforcers in riot gear, and his stomach bottomed out. He didn't have time to question how or when a blockade had been authorized because suddenly, Viktor limped out of the smoke, his brow creased by a thunderous scowl.

“Jayce, what is this?” the shorter man demanded. “Sheriff Marcus said that you ordered this?”

Jayce gaped. Of course not! Why on earth would he-

The corresponding memory formed in his mind a second later. His voice sounded tinny, and the colors were off, but it was the undeniable truth. Another correction. Another stolen timeline.

“Oh,” Jayce said, barely stifling a hysterical giggle. “I guess I did.”

The world tilted and went black.

Time stretched like putty, thick and elastic. Jayce drifted in a void of inky nothingness, and for a few precious seconds (minutes? hours?), he rested. Just as quickly, he was slingshotted back into awareness, and Jayce's eyes flew open. He choked on nothing, coughing until his eyes watered and his ears rang. But, to his relief, the headache was gone. He finally felt grounded.

Wait. Where was he? When was he?

A frantic search revealed that Jayce was in the side room he and Viktor had converted into a makeshift bedroom. He lay on the cot they'd dragged in, and the door was propped open, allowing a bit of natural sunlight into the otherwise darkened room. The chair sitting next to the dresser-

-had been moved to the bedside, and Viktor sat in it, watching Jayce with wide, anxious eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A ball had lodged in Jayce's throat, stifling anything he could've said. The last thing he remembered was being on the bridge. The world hadn't shattered, though, so he probably hadn't undergone any more skips.

Gods, he prayed he hadn't skipped again.

“Jayce?” Viktor croaked. His voice cracked like he hadn't spoken in a few days.

Jayce coughed again, ridding the last of the smoke from his lungs, then rasped, “Viktor.” The shorter man wilted in relief, and something deep in Jayce's chest stirred. Yeah, this was his Viktor. “How- how long have I been out?”

“A day,” Viktor murmured, leaning forward as far as his chair allowed. He'd settled next to the bed, but he didn't reach out. He was nervous; Jayce saw it in the lines of his face. “What- happened?”

He couldn't relive the Council meeting. He couldn't. “Is Heimerdinger still here?” Jayce asked instead of answering. Viktor opened his mouth slightly, then closed it with a tight shake of his head. The ball in Jayce's throat dropped down to his stomach and hung there, a weight of self-hatred and despair. “He's gone. I drove him out.”

“So I heard. Jayce-”

“It was a time skip.”

Part of Jayce hated that he was relying on a mystical affliction to excuse his actions, especially since he hadn't disagreed completely. Maybe removing Heimerdinger from the Council had been the best option. But the fact remained that they hadn't been his words; instead, something had used his voice, and Jayce was tired, so tired.

Was life trying to break him? Beat the shit out of him until he thought back to his destroyed workshop and wondered if everything would've been better if he'd died that night? Would Viktor have been happier without the strain of Hextech? What about Mel? Heimerdinger? All of Piltover?

“Jayce.”

Viktor's gentle voice shoved Jayce's intrusive thoughts away, burying them in the back of his mind. It wasn't a healthy solution by any means, but it was enough to get Jayce functional. He took a deep breath, then glanced at Viktor.

“The Council thinks the undercity is hell-bent on destroying us,” he reported. “That's why they ordered the blockade. I guess I- supported it.” A memory flickered through Jayce's mind, as if time were still catching up, and he scowled. “Mel called me the 'head of the Council' afterward.”

Viktor's expression softened. “What would you have said?”

So quick to the punch. Those beautiful amber eyes were finally shining again.

“I wouldn't have voted Heimerdinger out of office, for one,” Jayce muttered, tucking his hands behind his head. Viktor snorted. “I would've told them that the undercity is just trying to survive. We should be focused on helping them, not bringing the city closer to war. Everything is going to explode if we continue on like this.”

“You should have seen the bridge,” Viktor said wryly. “Do you remember any of that?”

“Flashes. Colors, uh, sounds. There was an explosion, I think. What were you doing there, anyway?”

“I consulted a friend about our quandary. I told you, I knew someone.”

Ah, Jayce remembered that now. His mind was still fuzzy, but it was easier to think without the headache. “Was your friend able to help?” he asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be.

Viktor hesitated for just a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he murmured. “No, he said, 'Nature is resistant to this sort of tampering.'”

“Great,” Jayce sighed. “Back to square one.”

Silence settled over them, heavy and poignant. The chasm wasn't as vast as before, but Jayce still felt its presence. He was too scared to reach out, and Viktor dodged his gaze, his legs not quite brushing the sheets of Jayce's bed and his knuckles white on his cane.

Fuck it. What else did he have to lose?

Jayce rested a hand on Viktor's knee, gently running his thumb across the hidden scars. He'd witnessed most of them. An accident with a prototype Hextech gemstone was memorialized by a thick line on the outside of Viktor's leg. A few minor scratches from when he'd first designed his brace. The night the power had gone out, and Viktor had tripped over a stool, knocking Jayce down. Years of friendship and shared life.

When Jayce glanced up, he found Viktor already looking at him. Amber eyes drifted back and forth across his face, looking for something Jayce couldn't even put a name to.

Viktor exhaled sharply and finally collapsed, resting his forehead against Jayce's arm. After a moment, he settled a hand on top of Jayce's, fingertips skimming over scarred knuckles. Jayce laced their fingers together and let his eyes flutter shut.

The chasm was gone.

So were the whispers.

——————

“I do not understand.”

The Mage paused halfway through engraving a Runestone. They briefly considered turning, then abandoned the thought, settling their hands back into the fabric of magic itself. “You've said that often,” they said archly, unable to keep the acidity from their voice. “Yet you see everything. What confounds you?”

“They fluctuate. I would better compare their lives to that of rippling water. How do they find peace within such instability?”

The Mage almost shrugged before suppressing the motion. They had not shrugged in a thousand years. “It is the only thing they know, my friend. They have not the benefits of constancy, nor the apathy that comes with immortality. Their ephemeral natures are enviable.”

“You were once mortal.”

This time, the Mage did shrug. “Once. I did not appreciate its beauty as I should have.”

Footsteps tapped across the floor, slow and methodical. After a brief eternity, Time sank onto the stool next to the Mage's, interlacing its hands and tracking their progress on the Runestone. Time inhaled, hesitated, then offered,

“Perhaps we were not meant to observe mortals. It is... painful. Fascinating but agonizing. The natural order is impartial, and so I must be.”

The Mage huffed a wry laugh. “Do what you will,” they muttered. “I will see this through to the end.”

Time leaned forward – almost imploring, had it not been a deity. “Why?”

“I must see if I was right. I must know if the natural order should be broken for the extraordinary.”

“And if you were wrong?”

The Mage ran their thumb over the finished Runestone, then set it on their desk, stood, and strode towards their collection of rough stones. They stayed silent, but Time's knowing gaze said it had understood, regardless.

Then perhaps my time in this universe has come to an end.

——————

Viktor slid the bomb's casings apart, nimbly separating the two halves. He made a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between appreciation and amusement. “The form is crude,” he reported, “but the engineering is... inspired.”

“Not exactly what I wanted to hear,” Jayce muttered. The corners of Viktor's lips twitched. “You think they could crack Hextech?”

Viktor hummed quietly and turned the bomb over, examining the wiring with a critical eye. Jayce could almost see the shorter man's mind working, and he was nearly mesmerizing by the brilliant glow of Viktor's eyes. It had been a long time since his partner looked so relaxed.

Finally, Viktor decided, “It's a leap.”

“It's been suggested that they may have found a way to utilize the gemstone,” Mel added. “If we are to assume the worst, they would mean they've turned it into a weapon.”

Jayce shot the other Councilor a hard look. “Do we know this for certain?”

Mel opened her mouth, then paused, glancing between him and Viktor. Slowly, she drew herself up, but the lines of her face were no longer as hard. “No,” she conceded. “We don't have any intel beyond the blockade. But many believe that not making the first move is foolhardy.”

You mean, you do, Jayce thought dryly. But his partner was already looking up with suspicion written across his face, so Jayce kept his mouth shut.

“What are you suggesting?” Viktor asked, quiet and sharp.

Mel's lips thinned, but she held Viktor's gaze. “You and Jayce can create countermeasures, can you not?”

Realization struck Jayce like a bolt of electricity, and he straightened, though he didn't dare move from the shorter man's side. “You want us to build weapons?” he demanded.

Viktor's gaze snapped from him to Mel. “Absolutely not! That is not why we invented Hextech!”

“I know,” Mel cut in, lifting a placating hand. “However-”

“There is no 'however!'” Jayce protested. “We would shatter any attempt at peace! Heimerdinger was right, and we-”

Oh, shit. Jayce hurriedly cut himself off, but the damage had been done. Mel's frustration had morphed into interest, and everyone knew that Mel Medarda stopped at nothing once her curiosity was piqued. Gods, they couldn't handle questions right now.

“Heimerdinger's inaction is what brought us here,” Mel said slowly, eyes narrowed. “You said so yourself.”

Even though it felt like swallowing acid, Jayce kept his mouth shut. Viktor swayed towards him ever so slightly – his silent support. Mel glanced between them again. For a split second, something that almost looked like envy flashed through her eyes (Jayce suddenly thought of Elora), and her face softened.

“From where I stand,” Mel said, “the peace is already broken. I'm only asking you to prepare to defend your people.”

Jayce stiffened. “So those in the undercity aren't my people? What happened to controlling them?”

Mel hesitated, and she glanced between them again. “Times change. So must we.”

“There's change, and then there's going to war against people who are rightfully angry. If we could broker a treaty, then-”

“Do you really believe such a treaty would be upheld? The undercity cannot be trusted, Jayce.”

There it was. The sentiment thrown around by people who'd lived in Piltover for too long. It wasn't that Jayce didn't understand; he'd been just as uniformly prejudiced as a kid living in fear of undercity raids. But Hextech was made for the people – all people. Besides...

“Viktor's from the undercity,” Jayce said quietly, and he rested a hand on his partner's shoulder. Mel's eyes widened, but, to her credit, she accepted the correction with a graceful nod. “And he's right. This isn't why Hextech was made.”

A heavy beat.

“Very well,” Mel murmured. “I still think countermeasures should be implemented, and if we're lucky, we'll never need to use them. However... the decision is yours.” Mel glanced at Viktor, and she inclined her head. “You two have the final word.”

With that, Mel Medarda swept out of the lab. The click-click-click of her heels echoed around the room, silenced only once she slipped through the doors. They had a million and one things to do, but Jayce couldn't bring himself to move. He leaned against the desk, his hand still on Viktor's shoulder, while the shorter man resumed work on the bomb.

“You cannot be considering this.”

Viktor's voice was soft, but Jayce heard the fear buried in it. “I'm not,” he assured, and Viktor visibly relaxed, leaning more heavily into Jayce's hand. “We're scientists, not soldiers. Just because we have the knowledge to build something doesn't mean we should.”

“Well-put,” Viktor drawled. “Being a Councilor has had some benefit, no?”

Jayce pinched Viktor's shoulder in retaliation, and his partner chuckled, carefully digging his pliers beneath the secondary plate. Jayce watched for a moment, trying and failing to keep his gaze from Viktor's slender fingers, then murmured,

“What if the undercity strikes first? Should we defend ourselves?”

Viktor gripped the panel and pulled it away, gingerly supporting a thick wire with his free hand. The bomb disarmed with a quiet whine. “Of course we should,” he said, setting the pliers aside. “But Hextech is to improve lives, not to take them. If we build weapons, we are pulling the trigger ourselves.” Viktor glanced up at Jayce, and worry clouded his gaze. “Would you be able to live with so many deaths on your conscience?”

Jayce looked away. He'd known the answer to that since the war had started.

“There is always a choice, Jayce. Even Councilor Medarda thinks so.”

“Didn't see that one coming, huh?” Jayce muttered wryly.

Viktor shot him a curious look. “I thought you were friends. You've always been- mm- familiar.”

“'Friends' is generous. Call it acquaintances with similar goals.” Viktor scrunched up his nose, and Jayce squeezed the shorter man's shoulder again, gentler. “We're friends now.”

“So she won't make you build weapons?” Viktor prompted.

Jayce shrugged. “She can't. I'm part of the Council, too.”

Viktor tilted his head, noncommittal, and Jayce decided not to press. They agreed, so the semantics didn't matter. For the first time since the disastrous Progress Day, Jayce didn't feel like a dead man walking. If they brokered with the undercity's leader, whoever that was, they could-

A searing headache stabbed through Jayce's temples, dashing his thoughts against the rocks and whiting out his brain. After a few torturous seconds, he blinked himself back to awareness and found himself on his knees, slumped against Viktor's legs. The shorter man cradled his head protectively.

“-ayce?”

Viktor's mouth wasn't synced up with his voice. Jayce squinted, then shook his head until the blinding pain woke him up. When Viktor murmured, “Jayce?” a second time, he heard it clearly.

“Sorry,” Jayce grunted. He hauled himself back to his feet, and Viktor's hands followed him helplessly. A stupid, sentimental part of him wanted to kneel once more and allow Viktor to protect him. He shoved the thought away and explained, “Just another headache. I'm going to lay down.”

“Another one?” Viktor asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

Jayce didn't bother answering. Since Heimerdinger's dismissal, a pounding headache had assaulted him every other day. When Jayce was with Viktor, the pain eased, but an unshakable sense of impending doom loomed over him. It felt as if the whole city was marching towards its death.

Given the tension between Piltover and the undercity, it wasn't such an unrealistic fear.

Still, there was no use complaining. Jayce squeezed Viktor's shoulder one last time, lingering just long enough for his partner to rest a hand over his, then headed towards their makeshift bedroom. When Jayce reached the doorway, he risked a glance back. Viktor stared at the floor, flexing the fingers of his right hand with an expression bordering on longing.

Jayce swallowed the urge to walk back into the lab and ducked into the bedroom, kicking off his shoes. If and when Viktor was ready, he'd bring it up.

For both their sakes, Jayce prayed that the conversation happened before Viktor was on his deathbed.

——————

After thousands of years, the Mage was finally facing their demise.

No one was threatening them, not even Time, who had become the Mage's silent companion as they observed the proceedings of the mortal world. Indeed, even if the Mage revealed themself to Jayce Talis or Viktor, the two scientists would likely just ask questions.

No, the Mage had simply decided that if their meddling proved disastrous, they no longer deserved a place in the world. Immortality only benefited beings capable of maintaining objectivity and passiveness, even when their instincts demanded action. The Mage had caved to instinct. And, despite all their protests, they knew they had meddled. Piltover careened towards destruction, the undercity seethed with pent-up resentment, and in the midst of it all, the Arcane twisted like a coil of magical rope, binding the city together.

No matter how hard Jayce Talis and Viktor strained against their bonds, they always gave out too soon. So the fate of Piltover was unchanged. So darkness still haunted the distant future of Viktor's life.

A fool's errand since the beginning.

“Thank you, my friend,” the Mage murmured. Time shot them a curious glance, and they smiled faintly in return. “For being with me in my last days. I offer my most genuine apologies for disrupting your work. I suppose you can use me as an example for my successor.”

Time frowned but offered no comfort. They both saw Piltover's fate, as clear as glass and as untouched as it had been the day the Mage had met Jayce Talis.

In the end, nothing had changed at all.

——————

When Jayce had woken up, he'd had a splitting headache. He'd nearly fallen off the cot trying to get up, and when he'd stumbled into the lab, Viktor had been nowhere to be found. That had started Jayce's day off on a sour note, but then, he'd been called out to the bridge.

A massacre. The consequences of a decree he'd never made and hadn't been able to rescind in time.

And then – fucking then! – Jayce had received word that Mrs. Medarda wanted to speak to him! Because, apparently, Mel's mother had decided that this was a grand time to pay a visit to her exiled daughter!

Suffice it to say, by the time Jayce made it to the bathhouse and found a naked Mrs. Medarda swirling a chalice of wine, his patience was hanging on by a thread.

“Do they teach military history at your Academy, Mr. Talis?” the matriarch asked, raising her cup.

“Councilor Talis,” Jayce corrected coldly. “And yes, we do. I never took any courses in the field.”

“The Alornian General, Sonnem Parlec, used to find ways to meet his enemies blindfolded. He said a man's mind hides behind his body. Somehow, I doubt he ever tried this.” Jayce kept his gaze fixed on the far wall and said nothing. The elder Medarda lifted her free hand, cupping the cheek of the young man massaging her. “Squeeze, child. You won't break it.”

Jayce scowled and turned to leave. “I do have other matters to attend to, so, if you'll excuse me-”

“The threat of the undercity is real. Your leadership is impotent.”

No shit, Jayce thought darkly. Still, it wouldn't do to antagonize a woman as powerful as Medarda, so he pressed his nails into his palm and turned once more. “We may not be Noxus, but Piltover isn't as helpless as you think,” he bit out. Ah, well, so much for not antagonizing her.

Luckily, Medarda just shrugged. “Who said anything about Piltover? The Council is the problem. The mind hiding behind the body. Navigating your current crisis requires expertise you lack.”

Alright, there was politeness, and then there was defending one's integrity. Sure, Medarda was right; Jayce wasn't experienced enough to guide Piltover to a clean victory. But he was far too tired to play politics. Even if he wasn't fucking exhausted, making a deal with Noxus in a crisis seemed like the worst option.

“Do you know what the success rate for senior Academy inventors is?” Jayce demanded. Medarda's lip curled. “Three percent. We're no strangers to failure. What makes this the City of Progress is that we keep trying until we get it right.”

Silence.

Jayce scoffed, then spun on his heel. “Thank you for your advice, Mrs. Medarda,” he called over his shoulder, “but I have a city to protect. Enjoy your stay.”

A few steps down the dais, Medarda called, “Wait.”

Jayce kept walking.

——————

The Mage looked between Jayce Talis in the Council's Chambers and Viktor, huddled in their lab, on the brink of disaster. They took a deep breath, then pressed their face into their hands, trying not to feel utterly defeated. It didn't work, of course. They'd been wrong. So wrong.

After a moment, Time rested a hand on the Mage's shoulder.

It hadn't touched them in a thousand years.

——————

As expected, the Council was in a frenzy. Jayce probably should've crafted some grand speech, given that he was the de facto head of the Council, but his mind was blank.

Well, that wasn't true. Jayce's head was too full, and his thoughts crowded against each other, crashed together, melted and meshed until it felt like his brain was little more than soup. He'd snagged a mechanical wing from the bridge, and now, Jayce flipped it over and over, syncing its turns with the Councilors' arguing.

So many people had died on that bridge – but if they went to war, the causalities on the other side would be even worse. Shimmer was powerful, but Hextech was sustainable. A long war would deplete the undercity until there was no one left. A short, brutal assault would end in a cease-fire and a peace treaty.

Gods. Was war the only option left?

Jayce had desperately searched for Viktor before the meeting, but his partner had still been absent. (Where is he?Jayce's brain had shouted, panic-stricken and nearly in tears. Jayce had tamped those feelings down as best he could.) So he'd been left to make the decision by himself – would Hextech fund the oncoming war? Would Hextech become the driving force to eradicate the undercity?

“Perhaps Marcus was operating independently,” Salo suggested suddenly, and Jayce snapped back to attention because, oh, right, the Sheriff had turned out to be a mole. And now... he was gone. “What could anyone in the undercity offer him that he didn't have up here?”

“It's not what they offered him. It's what he had to lose.”

Jayce's heart nearly punched through his chest, and he glanced at the Chambers' doors with barely-contained hope thrumming in his veins. Caitlyn Kiramman strode into the room with another young woman by her side, flanked by guards.

You're back, was Jayce's first knee-jerk, relieved thought, quickly followed by, Who's this? The new woman glanced around the room, casing every possible escape route with a scowl. A survivor. Was this what Caitlyn had used Jayce's status for?

“Councilors, my daughter has a unique insight into the situation,” Mrs. Kiramman added, nodding slightly to Caitlyn.

Caitlyn nodded back. “Thank you. Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there.”

The two glanced at each other, and Vi's scowl dimmed, replaced by shining eyes and thinly-veiled hope. Caitlyn's gaze was no less adoring, and even with all the pressure closing in, Jayce couldn't help but smile. They were two peas in a pod, falling for people from the undercity. Once this was over, Jayce resolved to pull her aside and ask about her adventures with Vi.

“People are starving,” Caitlyn continued, all but spitting the words, “sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords. One man leads these efforts: Silco.”

The name took hold in Jayce's mind, echoing and repeating until it was all he heard. Silco. Silco! If they could find him and negotiate with him directly, war could be averted!

“We've done investigations of Silco,” Bolbok cut in with a dismissive wave. “They've yielded no such level of organization.”

Caitlyn's stare was flat. “And who led these investigations?”

Silence.

“What does this Silco want?” Jayce asked before anyone else could interrupt.

“He believes the undercity should be independent,” Caitlyn reported. “He calls it the Nation of Zaun.”

An indignant ripple spread the Council, but Jayce didn't even react; his brain was working at double speed, formulating a plan. Independence was, in the long term, easier to work with. If Piltover gave Zaun autonomy, the two nations could establish legitimate trade routes. Hell, maybe they could trade Hextech for Shimmer, then destroy it!

“What about these?” Jayce pressed, grabbing an inactive bomb and setting it on the table. “Do you know who made them?”

Caitlyn stumbled, and Vi took up the explanation.

“Her name is Jinx.”

“This Jinx has the Gemstone?” Jayce asked wearily. Vi inclined her head ever so slightly, and frustration exploded in Jayce's chest, overriding his momentary glee. Viktor had called the bombs “inspired,” so if their engineer, Jinx, had received such high praise from Viktor, she had to be smart enough to utilize the Gemstone. Gods, why was there never an easy way out?

Then we have to go in by force.

Jayce blinked, bewildered. That was his own voice. He looked up and found the Chambers frozen still, surrounded by swirling lights and melted colors. Oh, hell, no. He would not allow a time skip to happen now, especially not for something as important as a declaration of war!

But the words strained to be free, and Jayce snarled. Alright, he couldn't stop the time skip from happening? Fine. He'd force it to adapt.

“We could go in by force,” he offered. Mel shot him an incredulous look with an equally incredulous, “That could trigger war,” and it was all Jayce could do to keep his mouth shut. Both the lights and colors had slowed their frantic spinning, and his headache had lessened. If he played his cards right, he could get out of this situation having said what he wanted to.

“There are good people down there!” Caitlyn implored, and gods, that struck Jayce in the heart.

Hoskel snorted. “Bad ones, too.”

“Even if we wanted to invade,” Shoola cut in brusquely, “they have Shimmer.”

We have Hextech.

Jayce frantically grasped for something else to say, and he barely managed to spit his words out before the unwanted ones forced their way through. “We don't need to invade. We have Hextech to protect us during negotiations. As Caitlyn said, there are good people down there.”

His oldest friend straightened, relief and fondness shining in her eyes. Jayce inclined his head slightly. I'm on your side,he whispered silently, praying Caitlyn would somehow hear him. I'm going to protect the undercity.

“They're still cleaning the blood off the bridge!”

The sentiment was so vehement, so vicious, that Jayce couldn't stop it from tumbling out. He closed his eyes for just a moment because, gods, it had been a terrible scene, then pressed on. “Which is why we need to act as soon as possible. War is at our doorstep. We can't let it into the city.” Jayce glanced at Mel, and she nodded ever so slightly. “Going in by force is our last resort.”

“What? You wanna negotiate with him?”

Vi's voice rang around the hall like a gunshot. She hovered on the edge of the Council's table, posture rigid, eyes blazing with cold fire.

“It may be the only way to avoid further bloodshed,” Mrs. Kiramman said hesitantly. Vi let out a disgusted scoff.

“This is insane. Did you learn nothing?” Vi advanced into the circle with her arms thrown wide, and the colors of the lingering time skip pooled around her like moths drawn a light. Yes, they whispered, malicious and eager. Yes! “You can't talk to him!” Vi continued, furious. “He hates you. Everything you stand for!” Vi paused, and she stared Jayce dead in the eyes. “He will never back down.”

Jayce stared right back. The time skip finally slipped away with a hiss, but he barely paid it any mind. A man who would never back down and a city desperate to survive. Oil and water. If Silco would never surrender, that could work in Piltover's favor, right? All Jayce had to do was find Silco and give the man independence.

He could do that. He had to be able to do that.

Salo suddenly rose from his chair, hands pressed to the table. “Enforcers, please escort them out.”

Vi rolled her eyes and turned. “Forget it,” she spat, storming towards the Chambers' entrance. “I remember where your fancy damn door is.”

She strode out without a second look back, and Caitlyn followed a moment later. The Council descended into whispers, a beach leveled in the aftermath of a ferocious tsunami, but Jayce was too embroiled in his thoughts to join the discussion. He'd survived a time skip, shaped it, even! Gods, where was Viktor?

No. Sharing the news could wait. First on Jayce's list of priorities was averting war; everything else came second.

Piltover would survive.

——————

“He is going to craft the hammer.”

The Mage knew it, too. But hearing Time speak the words made their heart clench, crushed the last piece of hope they'd been silently harboring. Something remarkable had happened; no mortal should have been able to mold the natural order's corrections. It should've been beyond Jayce Talis' control. How strong was his bond with Viktor?

It was a fruitless victory, though.

Nothing had changed.

——————

Jayce stared at the fire and tried not to throw up. He'd carved the runes into the mold, double-checking each as he went, and placed a Hextech Gemstone in the center before his conviction had fizzled out, leaving him with naught but a pit in his stomach. The carved handle sitting on his workbench only made the pit heavier.

As soon as he poured the molten metal into the mold, that was it – Jayce would've broken his promise to Viktor without having ever consulted the man himself. And for what? Protection against Silco, when Enforcers would do the job just fine?

But that was the thing, wasn't it? The massacre on the bridge had proved that Enforcers weren't enough, so it was down to Jayce to protect himself if he was to go through with his plan.

His headache was back in full force.

The tool rack behind him suddenly clattered, and Jayce whipped around, hand halfway to his nearest tool. A hammer. How ironic. Then he registered the shock of pink hair and the hunched shoulders and paused. Not what he'd expected.

“You wanna make Silco pay for what he's done?” Vi asked, fixing him with a cold stare.

Under any circumstances, Jayce probably would've threatened Vi with arrest or demanded how she'd gotten into the forge. He decided against either course of action because if Caitlyn trusted this undercity brawler, he could, too. Enough to figure out what she wanted, at least.

“I do,” Jayce murmured.

Vi straightened, and the frost drained from her eyes. “I want in.”

“It's not that simple,” Jayce said tiredly. Vi scowled, but Jayce held up a hand. “And no, this isn't about the Council.”

“What is it, then?” The ice was back, even colder than before, and Vi stalked along the far desk with her hands shoved deep in her pockets. “You're angry about what happened on the bridge,” she continued, low and dangerous. “I saw it. You don't want to sit around doing nothing, so why are you?”

How the hell did Jayce explain, “I can't break a promise,” without sounding stupid? “I'm not a vigilante,” he settled on, and he immediately winced.

Vi huffed a humorless laugh and bent to examine the Atlas Gauntlets. “No, you're a victim.”

Jayce could've stopped her. He could've attacked or otherwise chased her out. Instead, he watched as Vi slipped her hand into the Atlas Gauntlet and hoisted it into the air, eyes shining with glee. She flexed her fingers a few times, and the glow of the Hextech Gemstone filled the forge. In Vi's hands, the Atlas Gauntlet wasn't a tool – it was a weapon.

“This so people notice when you raise your hand in the boardroom?” she drawled.

Jayce couldn't help a quiet laugh, and he set his hammer aside. “We built them for mining the fissures,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “My partner designed them.”

“Hm.” Vi pressed the Gauntlet into her other palm experimentally, and, judging by her slight nod, whatever she felt impressed her. “Someone close to me had a pair of these. Your partner from the undercity? Never met a topsider who knows this design.”

Jayce eyed the Atlas Gauntlets for a moment before murmuring, “He is.”

Vi froze. Her hands dropped her sides, and suddenly, she looked at Jayce with fresh eyes. It's just like what Viktor does, Jayce realized. They operate in give and take, not underhanded favors.

“That's why you're the first person Caitlyn looked for when she made it topside, huh?” Vi muttered. “You've got a personal attachment to us. The undercity. Maybe you know something the rest of the Council doesn't.” Jayce kept his mouth shut. Vi narrowed piercing eyes and slowly advanced on him. “You know, Caitlyn told me some stuff about you. Of everyone up here, you're the one she trusted to do something.”

Jayce barely contained a heavy sigh. “It's not that simple,” he echoed, and Vi let out an incredulous scoff. It would be better to tell the truth, but gods, Jayce couldn't force it out. “What do you want me to do? Arrest him?”

Vi rested her boot on a crate and leaned towards him in a single, fluid movement, eyes gleaming in the dim light. She looked like a predatory cat ready to pounce.

“Silco controls the undercity with Shimmer. Shut down his supply, and it's only a matter of time before his own people turn on him.” Jayce gestured vaguely for her to continue, and Vi's face split in the first grin he'd seen from her. “Take out his mining facilities,” she pressed. “Hit them hard and fast before he can react.”

Leverage. That's what it was. Jayce could walk into negotiations with a threat behind his words, the guarantee of more destruction if Silco wasn't willing to bend a little.

But he couldn't betray Viktor like this.

“It's not even about Silco, is it? It's someone else.”

Part of Jayce wanted to question how Vi had picked that out of his awkward silence and hesitation. The rest of him just accepted it, and he smiled thinly, glancing up at the intruder in his forge. “I made a promise,” Jayce admitted, and Vi stiffened. “Told my partner we wouldn't make weapons. Those-” Jayce jerked his chin at the Atlas Gauntlets. “-are for mining. That's how my partner designed them, and I will honor that.”

Vi swallowed once, twice, before muttering, “You could use Enforcers.”

Jayce scoffed. “And I'm sure they'd protect me.”

A brief pause.

“You said he's from the undercity?” Vi asked. Her voice had dropped to little more than a whisper, and a haunted look had overtaken her face, drained the color from her cheeks. “Your partner? He knows what it's like down there, then. If these are for mining, then-” Vi let out a dry, humorless laugh. “-he's seen the worst of it, and he never wants to go back. Are you seriously okay with letting Silco bring the undercity topside? He'll destroy this city. Take apart it piece by piece.”

When Jayce met Vi's gaze, he saw the remnants of a promise she couldn't keep. He saw raw fury, bone-deep regret, and the crippling self-hatred of someone who couldn't save a loved one.

Jayce would sooner break his promise than let Viktor get stuck in the crossfire.

As if hearing his thoughts, Vi stuck the Atlas Gauntlet out and flexed her fingers. “We got a deal, pretty boy?” she asked, eyes glinting. Gone was the vulnerability of a moment before, but now that Jayce knew it was there, he still saw the scars of whatever tragedy Vi had suffered.

“Deal,” he echoed, shaking the offered hand. Vi smiled her first genuine smile, and Jayce offered one in return. “Don't let Caitlyn hear you call me that.”

A pink flush instantly touched Vi's cheeks. “What?”

“I'm not stupid. And I've known her for long enough. She's worried about you.”

“I know that,” Vi snapped, but her blush persisted, and Jayce coughed to hide a laugh. He was fixed with a venomous glare. “What, you thought people from the undercity were too tough to feel anything? Talk to your partner and actually get to know him.”

Oh, if only she knew.

“I told you, I made a promise,” Jayce said, quiet. Vi went still. “And believe me, I've been standing here for a very long time trying to break it and make that.” Jayce flapped a disgusted hand at the hammer's mold. “Just so we're clear, I'm not doing this just to hurt Silco. I'm trying to save the city.”

“And him.”

Jayce swallowed thickly. “Yeah. And him.”

Manic energy suddenly lit up his body, and Jayce turned away, snatching his gloves and stalking towards the bellows. He felt Vi's gaze on him the whole way, but he couldn't turn around – if he stopped moving, he'd never start again, and that couldn't happen. Jayce needed the hammer if he was going to storm Silco's facilities.

Whatever it took to keep Viktor alive.

Chapter Text

“Would you like something to eat?”

The question was so unexpected that it startled the Mage out of their melancholy stupor. They blinked – another painfully human motion, they noted wryly – then turned to peer over their shoulder at the entity hovering awkwardly across the room. “Excuse me?” they said, bemused.

Time's face twisted into an expression somewhere between a grimace and a scowl. Perhaps it was both. “I asked if you required a meal,” it repeated stiffly, approaching the table in slow, shuffling steps. It held nothing in its hands, but the Mage saw sparks of power drifting around its palms. “You have not eaten in several days. Do you not need to consume physical foods?”

The Mage blinked again, slightly bewildered, then allowed a faint smile to break through. Centuries they'd known Time, yet still it surprised them. Had Time always tracked their health, the Mage wondered, or had it been influenced after observing these two humans?

What a wonderfully ridiculous thought. An immortal, incorporeal entity and a demi-mortal magician being affected by human scientists.

“I am hungry,” the Mage admitted, “but I am capable of making my own meal. Thank you, my friend.”

Time might've flinched at the “my friend,” or it might've just shifted on its feet. Regardless of the cause, the Mage slowly rose, easing the pains from their sore back. They'd sat for too long, contemplating the best way to remove themself from the universe once Piltover fell. Even now, Jayce Talis' hammer gleamed like a malicious beacon, and Viktor drew ever closer to disaster. There were no more corrections to be made.

As they picked up a bag of dried meat and drew a knife from its sheath, the Mage couldn't help but glance at Time, who still hovered by the table. “Will you miss me once I've left?” the Mage asked, unable to suppress a tired smile.

Time hesitated. It'd been doing that a considerable amount since it had joined the Mage in their vigil. Finally, it inhaled and said, haltingly,

“You admonished me against discounting Jayce Talis and Viktor. I urge you to heed your own advice.”

The Mage decided that meant that Time would miss them.

——————

A few years ago, months before the opening of the Hexgates, Jayce and Viktor had been determined to purify the crystals. They'd been stable, but only pure magical energy could produce the reactions needed to power their prototype Hexgate designs. The Council had been demanding results, and one late, late night, Jayce had slumped in his chair with an exhausted groan.

“I can't do this,” he'd muttered, rubbing his eyes until they'd burned. At the time, he'd been running on about three hours of sleep, one meal, and at least twelve cups of coffee. Though he would deny it until the day he died, Jayce was just as obsessive as Viktor when they became embroiled in a project. “Get this away from me before I smash it.”

Viktor, no less exhausted, had moved the delicate little crystal away with a faint smile. “It's a work in process,” he'd soothed, resting a hand on Jayce's arm. “Sleep. I'll wake you if I find something.”

“Absolutely not,” Jayce had protested. “I'm going to wake up and find you passed out on your desk, drooling. Take the cot. I'll grab a blanket and sleep on the floor.”

His partner's eyes had twinkled with mirth. “You felt the need to mention the drool?”

Jayce had scoffed a laugh and swatted at Viktor's hand, and the shorter man had laughed in return. They'd had lots of moments like that during the course of their research – memories that bonded them together and told a story of discovery and innovation, minor setbacks and tremendous successes. Together, the memories formed a window of stained glass, each dazzling piece connecting to reveal a breathtaking whole.

And then, Viktor had swiveled to face Jayce, and Jayce had snapped to attention at the seriousness in his partner's gaze.

“We will find a way,” Viktor had said with a firm nod. “Perhaps not tonight, but it will happen.”

Jayce had shifted to keep himself awake, then fixed Viktor with a bleary-eyed look. “How do you know?” he'd mumbled.

Viktor's smile had been hypnotic. “Because I know you.”

Through all the years, Jayce had almost never found the shorter man to be wrong. But now, he couldn't help but think that his partner had made one crucial miscalculation – he couldn't be trusted. The hammer felt ten times heavier in Jayce's hands, made all the more so by the guilt clogging his lungs, stifling his heartbeat.

One promise. That was all Viktor had ever asked of him.

Jayce heaved a weary sigh and pressed his forehead against the window. Vi was in the train's cockpit, guiding the conductor to Silco's Shimmer mine. He still wasn't entirely sure if Vi was on his side, but if he died in an ambush, he deserved it. At least the hammer would be lost.

Except it wouldn't be, because one of Silco's men would take the hammer and use it for their crusade. One day, it might make its way back to Piltover – maybe even to the Tower. What if Viktor went out to see the commotion, only to spot a hammer with distinct magical carvings being swung by some undercity brute?

What if Viktor died to that hammer?

“Hey, pretty boy. You still with us?”

Jayce didn't even have the strength to be shocked by the sudden voice. “I'm here,” he said bitterly, pressing his forehead even harder against the window. “I thought you were talking to the conductor.”

“He's one of us. We know our way around.” Jayce said nothing, and after a long beat, Vi shoved at his shoulder. “Don't chicken out on me now,” she warned. “That hammer's gonna make or break this whole thing.”

The hammer. The fucking hammer.

“Like I said,” Jayce muttered, and he twisted to face Vi, “I'm here.”

Vi's face creased in a deep scowl. “Who shoved a stick up your ass? You were raring to go a few hours ago.”

No. Jayce had never been 'raring to go.' He'd put on a good show for the Enforcers to keep morale high as they trundled into the maw of the beast, but a chasm had yawned in his chest. It was still there, devouring and leaving him with only self-loathing and fear. Regardless of if they succeeded or failed, Jayce had broken the most important promise in his life.

He let his head thump against the window once again. “Wake me up when we're there.”

Vi's footsteps stomped away, but Jayce kept his eyes tightly shut. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to be back in the lab, experimenting and discovering. He was a scientist. Not a warrior.

Yet today, he had to be.

The journey passed far too quickly. Within half an hour, an Enforcer shook Jayce's arm and brusquely informed him that they were going to switch trains and crash into the mineshaft. Jayce nodded and clambered to his feet, simultaneously clutching the hammer in a death grip and trying to keep it as far away from him as possible. He steadfastly avoided Vi's piercing gaze as he hopped off the train.

They'd set up shop in a low tunnel connected to Silco's mine. Their train was hidden safely in the shadows, and a parallel track ran directly to a set of closed double doors. Only a few minutes passed before the doors swung out, allowing a train to leave. The Enforcers moved as one.

When the train smashed back through the doors, the impact jostled Jayce's bones. When it crashed into the impact barrier, he felt his teeth rattle in his head. Gods, he didn't want to be here. But the Enforcers were flooding out, so he followed them with a pounding headache.

The mine was even dingier than Vi had reported. Grease and oil puddled in the floor's grooves and was smeared across the walls, and the workers were covered in scratches and bruises. Their eyes widened in terror at the sight of the Enforcers. A few tried to backpedal, and those workers received the blunt end of an Enforcer's gun for their trouble. Each pained grunt or strangled gasp made Jayce's stomach twist.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here.

The Enforcers were nothing if not efficient, and within moments, they'd spread through the mine's top levels. Jayce trailed a few steps behind the advance party, Vi at his side and the hammer weighing heavy in his hands. The takeover was going smoothly, though. Could they avoid a fight?

As if prompted by Jayce's desperate hope, a siren suddenly let out a long, haunting wail. He moved in a trance, peering over the railing, searching for the source. He couldn't find it; Enforcers on all levels were struggling with their undercity prisoners.

Then the first Enforcer went tumbling past him. Their arm was bent the wrong way, and they screamed in animalistic pain. Then the next fell, then the next, and finally, the threat appeared. Tanks. Suits of armor with pink smog where a face should have been, running with inhuman speed and screeching all the while.

Jayce couldn't move. His heart hammered in his ears, and each beat made his head ache.

The Enforcers were going down like flies, mere dolls in the tanks' hands. Blades pierced, helmets smashed, and gunshots bounced off metal like wadded-up paper.

When had Jayce moved? He was backing up along a bridge, scanning the hellish landscape for the eerie green blades and pink haze. Within moments, a tank leaped off a higher balcony and landed on the bridge with a terrible clang! Two more quickly joined it. Another chittered behind Jayce, and each shuffling step sounded like the drag of nails on metal.

Was this it? Was war the only option? After everything he'd said to the Council, everything he'd promised Viktor, was Jayce doomed to become this?

He sensed more than heard Vi's presence, and a second later, the shorter woman crashed into a tank with a brawler's scream. It catapulted down to a lower level and landed with a resounding boom. When Vi turned to him with a breathless chuckle and a wink, all Jayce could do was nod. They turned, back to back, and readied their weapons. They were surrounded now. No way out except through.

Vi moved first.

Jayce followed suit.

He knew adrenaline should be flying through his veins, lighting up his nervous system and keeping him alive. Maybe he was running on adrenaline, given how hard his hammer slammed into each oncoming tank. But Jayce didn't feel anything. He was numb, a passenger watching someone else operate his body. When had he learned to fight? He wielded the hammer with such fluidity that Jayce almost believed he'd become someone else.

Were these people? Or were they just machines? Had Silco given his men a choice, or had he merely thrown them into the suits and told them to fight? Were the people of the undercity that desperate?

I'm sorry.

The thought materialized in Jayce's head, and for the first time in almost three hours, he felt again. Grief, anguish, and regret churned in his chest, even as he slammed his hammer into the pipe and sent the tanks tumbling into the abyss.

I'm sorry.

He activated the plasma cannon he'd built into the hammer and started firing. Sonic booms and blasts of blue light exploded around the mining facility, and each showered the battlefield in energy. Hextech energy.

I'm sorry.

More tanks went down. One was racing towards him with unnatural speed, dodging each blast.

I'm s-

Jayce's stupor shattered. In the blink of an eye, his head was clear again, and he gasped as the smell of smoke and grease assaulted his nose. His hands were shaking, blood dripped down his cheek, and, like a blow to the skull, he realized that it wasn't a tank charging him – it was a kid, and they weren't even running at him. They were trying to escape.

Logically, Jayce knew it was far too late. But a desperate, “No-!” still tore from his throat, and he bodily threw himself to the side, almost flinging the hammer as he went. He smashed into the ground, and pain exploded in his left shoulder – likely a mixture of road rash and muscle strain. But it was fine, because the kid was okay, right?

Wrong.

The kid stared blankly down at their chest, shoulders heaving. They coughed once, blood dripping from a thin nose, and then, they tipped forward. Right over the railing. The only proof of Jayce's mistake was the lingering shockwave from where he'd hit an innocent kid and sent them tumbling to their death.

Their death.

Oh, gods.

Bile flooded Jayce's throat, and he crumpled to his knees, throwing the hammer aside and wrapping his arms around his stomach. Everything hurt, his head, his heart, his hands – but most of all, Jayce's lungs squeezed as if someone clutched them in an iron grip. Each breath came in a rattling gasp, and his vision swam.

He'd done the unforgivable. The kid was dead, and-

No. No, he had to check, right? It was several stories up, but maybe the residual power of the Hextech Gemstone had been enough to save them. It was possible!

Deep down, as Jayce grabbed the hammer and pushed his way through the Enforcers like a man possessed, he knew the truth. As he swept past Vi and stepped out amongst a scattering of bloody bodies, he knew the truth. But Jayce didn't accept it until he spotted a small figure crumpled nearby, their limbs sticking in all the wrong directions and blank eyes staring up at the ceiling far above.

Jayce looked up, too.

Enforcers and workers alike gazed down at him. The Enforcers' faces were hidden by their trademark masks, but Jayce could see each and every worker's face. Most were kids, young people pulled from their homes and forced to fight in a war they'd been born into. A few were teenagers, and they watched Jayce with raw fear. Still more were adults, each emaciated and marred by scars.

A few weeks ago, Jayce had argued to the Council that the undercity were their people, too. A few weeks ago, Jayce had taken on the mantle of “Piltover's leader” because he'd decided to make the most of a bad situation. A few weeks ago, he'd been so fucking naive.

This was being a leader.

Jayce shuffled into the center of the room and knelt at the kid's side, propping the hammer beside him. Distantly, he heard Vi's retreating footsteps and the Enforcers's shouted commands, but he couldn't pick his head up. For the next – gods, he didn't know how long it was – Jayce just stared down at the kid's blank, slate-gray eyes and sallow cheeks.

He didn't know what prompted him to move. But, eventually, Jayce reached out and gently closed the kid's eyes. Their clammy skin made his stomach churn.

Footsteps tapped up behind him, heavy with a different type of grief. “You didn't have a choice. They knew what they were signing up for.”

Vi was wrong again.

With the weight of the world on his shoulders, Jayce rose to his feet. When he turned, he found Vi standing a few paces back, still wearing the Atlas Gauntlets. “There is always a choice,” Jayce rasped. “And I'm done.”

Disbelief and betrayal flashed across Vi's face before vanishing beneath a frown. “We haven't even scratched the surface,” she said, incredulous. “Silco's still out there.”

“I know.” Jayce glanced down at the kid again, and this time, grief clogged his throat instead of bile. “But I can't do it,” he admitted, too quietly. “I can't play this part. The next parents who get a message their kid isn't coming home... I don't even know where to take it. Do we just leave him here?”

Vi's eyes blazed. “You can't play this part?” she demanded, and fury pitched her voice up an octave. “What the hell do you think we've been doing, huh? You've never even had to 'play a part' before! One dead kid? There's hundreds more where he came from, thanks to Silco-”

“I know!”

Vi trailed off with wide eyes. Jayce's hands were shaking.

“Do you think I'm blind?” he demanded, but his voice broke on every word. He was pleading, not to Vi, but to whoever had let things get this bad in the undercity. “My partner is dying because of the fissure gases where he grew up! I've been here before! I don't know everything about your life, but I know for damn sure how many people have died! What do you think I've been trying to do up there?”

Vi stared at him, silent. Jayce needed an answer, but it still wasn't Vi he was questioning. It was the world itself. It was time, tearing him apart piece by piece, ripping out chunks of his life and tossing them into the ether. It was whatever force that'd decided that his best wasn't good enough.

And now, he'd killed someone.

“I'm not a warrior,” Jayce whispered. “I'm a scientist. I made those-” He waved a shaking hand at the Atlas Gauntlets Vi still wore. “-so someone else could do their job. So keep them. Make Silco pay for everything he's done.”

“And what the fuck are you going to do?”

It was a hate-filled accusation, spat with the disdain of someone who prized loyalty above all else. But suddenly, Jayce felt like he was back in the Council's Chambers, facing down a whole panel of people who wanted him to bend to their will. Vi might be special to Caitlyn, but Jayce wasn't going to bend to her, either.

So he stood, grabbed the hammer, and advanced. “I'm going home,” he murmured, ignoring the way Vi raised her fists. Prepared for him to fight dirty. He sucked in a long breath, then stuck out the hammer. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take it,” Jayce echoed. “You're going to need more than the Gauntlets to beat Silco's men.” Vi still didn't move, eying the hammer as if it were going to explode, and Jayce let out a rattling breath. “I know this isn't what you wanted. But if you doubt my determination, just ask Caitlyn what my partner and I have been working on for the last seven years. I'm doing what I can. Just not on the frontline.”

Vi's piercing eyes flicked up to meet his. Slowly, carefully, she accepted the hammer, swaying a little under its weight. “Your partner's dying?” she asked quietly.

Jayce offered a broken smile. “Yeah. He's only got a few months left.”

“And you've really been down here? You've seen what it's like?”

“Not as much as you.”

Vi shifted on her feet, and Jayce waited. His body wouldn't allow for much more than just standing, anyway.

“Alright,” she muttered. “Then I guess I'll give these back to you someday.”

“Don't be a stranger,” Jayce prompted, and Vi's snort was amused, not derisive. “It's slow-going, but there's always prototypes that need testing. It'd help to have the perspective of someone who actually lives in the undercity.”

Vi eyed him for a moment. “You mean that?”

More than anything, Jayce thought. “Yeah,” was all he said aloud. Then he limped towards the stairs. His body was quickly heading towards shutdown; he had to get home before he collapsed. An Enforcer waved Jayce towards one of their return trolleys, and he sat without complaint. As the trolley began the journey back to Piltover, Jayce let his eyes slip shut.

I'm sorry.

——————

When the Hexcore exploded, disintegrating the young assistant, the universe wailed in anguish. Bursts of color and light rippled across the natural order, briefly staining the purity of life. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but the Mage heard the residual cries. “Why?” the universe seemed to sob. “Why would you forsake us?”

Why the universe cared so much about Viktor, the Mage had no idea. They chalked it up to one of the many facets they'd somehow missed and moved on with a dull throb in their temples.

“When did you last sleep?”

The Mage didn't know why Time still lingered in their home, either. They distinctly remembered the entity berating them early on in their “experiment,” spitting and hissing for them to give up the pursuit. The Mage should have listened. They no longer had any definitive way of knowing if their meddling had made things worse, but, given that Hextech wouldn't exist without Jayce Talis, they assumed that Viktor could not have killed Sky Young if he'd never met his partner. If he'd been left to die, an abandoned undercity boy.

Of course, both men would be dead if not for each other. There was no way to win.

“φίλος. Are you listening to me?”

The Mage said nothing. They expected Time to walk away with a huff, as it had so often done in the past. Instead, it sank onto the bench next to them and rested a hand on their shoulder, heavy yet comforting. The Mage would have been surprised had they been capable of a stronger emotion than dull resignation.

——————

Jayce thundered through the pipes, his breaths coming in ragged gasps and his head a maelstrom of fractured ideas. Though his body was already weary to the bone, he pushed, straining each already strained muscle. All the while, his heart pounded in his chest, keeping time with his racing thoughts.

He'd only just stepped foot in the Tower when an Enforcer had sprinted up to him, her helmet tucked under her arm and her eyes blown too wide. Her news had made Jayce's heart stop.

One: a strange flash of purple light had engulfed his and Viktor's lab earlier in the day.

Two: no one had seen Viktor since.

Jayce had blinked and found himself halfway across the city, ignoring the ache in every joint as he ran faster than the wind. Even exhausted and half-delirious, Jayce knew something had gone wrong with the Hexcore. He'd almost jumped after being banned from the Academy, so what would Viktor do if one of his experiments went sideways?

No! Viktor couldn't kill himself! Jayce was too selfish to have their last months stolen! Piltover and the future Nation of Zaun be damned; Jayce's first priority would always be Viktor!

Except he'd compromised that value, hadn't he?

Was this his punishment? Karmic balance, one life for another?

Jayce slid into a t-intersection and slammed against the wall, and his left shoulder screamed at the impact. He grit his teeth. If it hadn't been dislocated before, it was certainly on its way. Yet he kept running, glancing down each drainage pipe. Viktor had told him about his haven a few times – a pipe overlooking a waterfall.

He had to be right. He had to be.

A blur of color suddenly blotted out the setting sun, and Jayce skidded to a stop. There! A hunched figure stood at the end of the pipe-

-slowly inching towards the edge.

The urge to protect Viktor was so deeply ingrained in Jayce's mind that, by the time he'd registered what was happening, he was already halfway down the tunnel. But he was moving too slowly, and oh, gods, it was like watching the undercity kid fall.

No. Please.

“Viktor!”

For a split second, it looked like the other man was going to throw himself off anyway. Ignore any protests. End it all, and leave Jayce to collect the pieces.

Then Viktor turned and met his gaze with watery eyes, and Jayce's legs promptly gave out. He collapsed to all fours in front of his partner, gulping in huge breaths. Tears dripped freely from Jayce's cheeks, but he couldn't find the strength to wipe them away because oh, thank the gods, Viktor hadn't jumped. His partner was notedly not looking at him, but anything was better than the alternative.

In truth, he might've just followed Viktor down.

“I'm sorry.”

When Jayce pushed himself onto his knees, still panting past the tears, he found Viktor staring at the lake far below, eyes dull. Then the shorter man glanced at him, and Jayce's heart seized. His partner looked like a walking ghost. His skin was deathly pale, his usually radiant eyes were sunken and exhausted, and agony scored his face. Jayce suddenly decided that he didn't trust Viktor's judgment and lurched to his feet, dragging his partner a few steps back.

“Why are you here, Jayce?” Viktor mumbled.

Because I knew you were going to kill yourself, sounded too blunt, and Jayce wasn't ready to admit everything he'd hidden from Viktor. He settled on the cowardly middle ground. “Because I know you. Listen, I don't know what's going on, but can we not talk right next to a-” Jayce nervously eyed the pipe's edge. “-50-foot-drop?”

“Why?”

The same word. A different question.

“I won't let you die any sooner,” Jayce rasped. His tongue burned with everything he wanted to say, but looking at Viktor's haunted face, he choked them all down – just like he always did.

Silence was even worse than stumbling for words, and Jayce barely repressed the sudden, desperate desire to take Viktor back to Piltover. He wanted nothing more than to hole up in their lab and wait out the war – wait out the suffering and heartache and challenges he'd never thought he'd face. Jayce was reaching his limit, and it looked as if Viktor had already found his.

Maybe that was where he had to start. Honesty.

“I made a mistake,” Jayce whispered. “One I can't take back.” Viktor's gaze instantly snapped to his, and Jayce's stomach twisted into a knot at the scrutiny. “I, uh- Caitlyn came back. From the undercity. She was working with this woman named Vi and- it doesn't matter. Long story short, I forged a hammer and stormed one of Silco's- he's a mob boss- stormed his mining facility.”

Viktor's confusion drained away, replaced by bitter understanding. “A weapon.”

Even though Jayce had expected the scorn, it didn't lessen the sting or ease the guilt that threatened to strangle him.

“Did you have to do it?”

Such a brilliant mind. Why did he always know the right questions to ask?

“No.”

A long, heavy pause. Water rippled beneath their feet, sloshing around their boots. They were standing close, closer than Jayce had intended. From afar, their silhouettes would blend into one, his hands still clutching his partner's elbows.

“You have to destroy it,” Viktor muttered. Jayce inhaled to explain that wasn't exactly possible, but Viktor talked over him with sudden vitality. “The Hexcore.” He lifted grief-stricken eyes and pressed into Jayce's touch. “I... I can't do it. You have to. Please.”

A simple request. But it hit Jayce like a blow to the head, and he reeled, stunned into silence. No! he wanted to blurt. That's your only hope; we can't give up on it! It's a gods-awful piece of technology, but without it... I'm going to lose you.

Desperation flickered deep in Viktor's eyes. “Jayce. Please.”

“Why?” Jayce croaked. He couldn't let go. Not now, not after they'd already survived so much.

“You know about the explosion in the lab?” Jayce nodded. Viktor hesitated a moment, then pulled a book out from under his arm. Jayce instantly recognized the cover, and horror seeped into his chest, freezing the air in his lungs. “It destroyed her,” Viktor whispered. His hands trembled like paper in the wind. “I destroyed her.”

“What the hell have you been doing with it?”

Jayce hadn't meant for the question to come out as an accusation. But it did, and Viktor wilted into himself, dragging his arms from Jayce's grip. He was a bit too shellshocked to reach out a second time, though his hands felt painfully cold without Viktor's warmth.

“There was more to what my friend said,” Viktor admitted, his gaze darting across the cover of Sky's notebook. “So I followed his advice. The transmutation works with some-” Viktor's lips thinned in disgust. “-modifications.”

“Did it work?”

Jayce hadn't meant to blurt that, either. Judging from Viktor's wide-eyed look, he'd expected a very different reaction, too, but Jayce couldn't help it. Finally, a promising lead! They'd beaten impossible odds before; so long as they had a starting point, there was a chance! They could cure Viktor, help the Shimmer addicts, and-

“It's not worth it.”

Jayce's fantasies shattered and fell away, and all at once, he was back in the mining facility, staring down at the broken body of an innocent kid. The chasm in his chest yawned wider.

“That's why you have to destroy it, Jayce,” Viktor pressed. “Promise me.”

Some dark, selfish part of Jayce spoke for him. “But what if it-”

Whatever strength Viktor had been relying on suddenly vanished, and he collapsed onto the pipe's lip with a pained noise. “It's not worth it!” he repeated, fear shining in wild eyes. “It killed Sky! I have this-”

Viktor yanked up his right pant leg to reveal a twisted replica of human muscle and sinew, deep purple with pulsing veins.

“-and this-”

He tore off his right-hand glove with his teeth, exposing more of the same. A mockery of humanity.

“-but I'm not any better!” Viktor finished. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes, but he shook them away angrily. “What if you'd been in the lab? Either you would've died instead of Sky, or you'd both be dead! Nothing in this world is worth that!”

Jayce heard the words. Logically, he acknowledged Viktor's terror and made a mental promise to carry out his orders: destroy the Hexcore at any cost. But emotionally, he was numb. Empty.

Sky was dead. Jayce would never again bid her goodnight or walk her out of the lab on a late night. And Viktor... what was he now?

It was selfish and childish to ask why Viktor had hidden his experiments, so Jayce didn't. He didn't, even though his partner's violet hand made his throat burn with bile, and his heart pounded to the rhythm of a silent, terrified scream. The betrayal and hurt aside, Viktor could have died. And Jayce wouldn't have known until he walked into the lab and found a cold corpse.

A corpse. Blank eyes, a young life snuffed out by a topsider who thought he was good enough to lead.

“Okay,” Jayce rasped. Viktor stared at him, wild with hope, but for the first time in his life, Jayce looked away. “I promise. I'll destroy it as soon as this gods-damned war is over.”

He heard rather than saw Viktor's nod. They stood in silence for a moment because, while Jayce was self-aware enough to recognize that he'd done the same thing, he wasn't strong enough to admit it. He also wasn't strong enough to press on. For all his trust, Viktor had always hovered just beyond Jayce's grasp, always out of reach. Before, he'd accepted that divide. Now, Jayce wished he hadn't been such a coward. For gods' sakes, what had driven Viktor to do this?

...maybe he'd had no other options. Maybe he, like Jayce, had seen a chance to end suffering and taken it.

“I lost myself.”

The quiet admission broke Jayce from his thoughts, and he glanced up to find Viktor watching the sunset with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Lost our dream,” the shorter man continued dully. “In the pursuit of great, I failed to do good.”

In the fading light, Viktor's hair glittered with highlights, crowning him in gold and orange. His skin had lost its color once again, but his tears had dappled his cheeks pink. Faint shadows cut along sharp cheekbones and thin lips. Most mesmerizing of all was still Viktor's eyes: radiant amber with flecks of light and dark, brimming with tears and full of anguish.

And Jayce was the only one who'd ever see his partner like this.

“I killed someone.” The words tumbled out of him, unplanned and unbidden. Viktor didn't look at him, but Jayce felt his attention regardless. “In the mines. I was trying to take down these Shimmer-enhanced tanks, and... one of my blasts hit a kid instead. They fell- it had to be six stories- and when I got down there, they were already dead.”

It didn't matter what Jayce tried to do – the image of the undercity kid's twisted body followed him like a waking nightmare. He'd never be rid of it, no matter how hard he tried to blot it out. It was part of him, now. An unforgivable tragedy.

But damn it all if he wouldn't forgive Viktor for the same mistake.

Jayce took the shorter man by the shoulders, gently tugging him around so they faced each other. Viktor's new hand made Jayce's stomach twist, and his pant leg still rode up, revealing a sliver of deep purple. But Viktor's eyes were the same as they'd always been, and Jayce finally collapsed.

Hunched as Viktor was, their height difference was greater than usual, and the shorter man stiffened as Jayce hugged him. But gods, Jayce just didn't care. And then, Viktor wilted. Thin arms snaked around Jayce's waist, and something that might've been tears stained his shirt. It was all he could do to press his nose into Viktor's hair and breathe. His partner's heart pounded against his, frenzied and in pain, but Jayce just kept breathing.

Time stretched around them, seconds melting into minutes. Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon. The change in light was enough to break Jayce from his daze, and he relinquished his hold a little. Viktor chased his touch, pressing back into him, and Jayce's heart seized. On sheer impulse, he pressed a barely-there kiss to his partner's temple.

The potential repercussions of such an innocent gesture only caught up after the fact, and a hysterical giggle bubbled up in Jayce's chest. He had the worst fucking timing.

But Viktor didn't flinch, didn't withdraw. In fact, he seemed to huddle a little closer. Jayce kissed Viktor's hair, emboldened, then hurriedly shut himself down because exhaustion was almost as potent as intoxication, and he was running on no sleep.

Still... the shorter man hadn't pulled away. That meant something, didn't it?

Whatever. They'd talk about it later. Or never. It didn't matter – they were both alive, and that was all that counted.

“Come on,” Jayce murmured, wrapping an arm under Viktor's shoulders. “Let's get back to the city. I told the Enforcers to take a message to Silco, and I need to be there when they deliver his reply.”

“A message?”

My last stand, Jayce thought. To save Piltover and the undercity. But he didn't admit that aloud. He'd tell Viktor everything after they'd both had a shower, eaten something, and slept; right now, they were too exhausted to hold a coherent conversation. So Jayce just tugged Viktor down the pipe.

“Call it a peace treaty.”

As they began the journey back to the lab, Jayce realized that the headache that'd followed him since the Shimmer mine was gone. Whispers drifted in the back of his mind, but they were... tame. Curious.

This one? they seemed to ask.

Viktor's head lolled against Jayce's shoulder – he was almost carrying Viktor along. Yeah, he thought, doing his best to ignore the lump in his throat, the tears still brimming in his eyes. This one.

And for the first time, the whispers were kind. Okay.

——————

A sliver of emotion broke through the Mage's hardened shell, and despite everything, they smiled. “Do you see that, my friend?” they murmured, closing their hand around the Runestone. “You may never comprehend a mortal's motivations, but is not their loyalty admirable? Death is a terrible crime among mortals. The worst, many believe. Yet they forgive each other of it.”

Time glanced at them, and something that might've been a smile touched its face. “I do not comprehend you,” it corrected. Its voice was warmer than the Mage had ever heard it. “If you admire them so, why did you sacrifice your mortality?”

“Pride,” the Mage mused. “Greed. I prized power over all else. I did not have a-” The Mage coughed to hide a chuckle. “Jayce Talis, if you will.” Time scoffed, but deep in kaleidoscopic eyes, the Mage saw the beginnings of understanding. “Does that illuminate my actions?”

“You did not want Viktor to follow your path,” Time said carefully, “and be confined to a solitary existence.”

The Mage raised their eyebrows. “I am not solitary if you are with me.”

The fact that Time stayed seated rather than storming out was a testament to how much it had changed. Three decades had seen the breaking of the unbreakable natural order and the evolution of an unchanging deity. And yet... the Mage had hoped that innocent lives would be saved. But it seemed that Jayce Talis and Viktor were not as exceptional as they'd once believed. Sky Young and the undercity child were dead, and doom was imminent.

“You were... correct.”

The Mage glanced over and found Time staring at the far wall, its eyes tracing runic patterns into the wood. “I was?” they asked, bemused.

“I was impetuous to dismiss the humans,” Time said slowly, not shifting its gaze. “And it is foolish not to respect those who have earned it. My respect is inconsequential to them now, but-” Time took a deep breath, though it did not require oxygen, then turned to look at the Mage with melancholy eyes. “Thank you for your stubbornness, my friend. I will never disregard the things you have shown me.”

The Mage offered a watery smile. “Will you miss me?”

“Indeed. Do not expect me to accompany your successor as I did you.”

“Oh, was I that insufferable?”

When Time smiled, it almost looked human. “You are,” it agreed softly. “But it is not for that reason. You are... irreplaceable. So I will not attempt to do so.”

Perhaps immortal beings were all too similar to humans. Both had fleeting lives, and if they repressed their impulses, they would die with regrets. How many hours had the Mage sat with Time at this very table, conversing on topics of magic and nature? How ironic that it would take two humans for the Mage to remember what mortality was like – how it felt to be alive.

“I do appreciate it,” the Mage murmured. They held out a hand, and Time's frigid fingers gently rested against their palm. “That you have stayed with me until the end.”

And the end it was. The Arcane churned, unsettled by what was to come, and the natural order crowed its victory.

The universe had delivered its verdict: some things were immutable.

——————

Jayce saw it first. He'd been looking at Viktor, who was sitting on his left, and suddenly, he'd seen it. A red monster, hurtling towards the Council's Chambers with a plume of blue smoke trailing behind it. The nosecone gleamed, vibrant and malicious against the huge blood moon, and eerie green light enveloped its hull.

As soon as Jayce saw it, he knew. They'd lost.

There was no time to run. The missile was too fast, and the doors were too far away. Jayce only had time to tackle Viktor from his chair and press his face into the shorter man's shoulder before the glass shattered, and all he knew was blinding light and a cacophonous ringing.

It was impossible to survive a direct hit. So, in the few seconds before he was blasted apart, Jayce mourned. They'd finally swayed the Council. His deal with Silco hadn't been perfect, but it had worked. Everything he'd wanted to say to the Council had finally come out, and- and-

They'd gotten close. So close.

“With respect, I don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore.” He'd looked at Viktor then, and his partner had straightened a little, eyes wide. “Except you. Only you.”

Viktor's smile had been small – timid, almost – but impossibly fond, silently promising that he would follow Jayce to the ends of the earth. So Jayce had taken a deep breath and offered up his last speech. His final plea.

“My days here are numbered, but I've come with Viktor, my partner and a Zaunite, with one final proposal.”

“Jayce has brokered a peace with Silco,” Viktor had announced. Despite it all, pride had filled Jayce's heart; finally, Viktor got to speak before the Council. Finally, they stood together. “In exchange for the undercity's independence.”

The Council had erupted, yet it had worked. Slowly, the Councilors had calmed, and Mel had been the first to raise her hand. She'd nodded at Jayce – solidarity and confirmation. Friendship.

And then... the missile had appeared.

It was over.

In a burst of hellfire, Jayce lost what little consciousness he'd retained. Flames ravaged his body, searing his skin away until all that was left was charred bone. Faintly, as if from another world, Jayce heard Viktor's agonized screams. I'm so sorry, he thought, nonexistent tears welling up in scorched eyes. I'm so, so sorry.

A gentle warmth flickered to life in Jayce's chest. It spread through his body like lapping waves, dimming the hellfire until he floated on a lake of nothingness, shielded from the pain of death. He didn't mind. It felt like holding Viktor.

I'm sorry.

Then something changed. The warmth receded and left him bitterly cold, and Jayce's eyes flew open. He gasped for air, hunching over and coughing until his lungs ached. Gods, it was freezing! What the hell had happened now?

In a rush, Jayce's vision cleared, and he whipped around, expecting to see the destroyed remnants of the Council's Chambers. But there was nothing. Instead, Jayce knelt in a field of snow, engulfed by a raging blizzard. The scene was familiar. Why was it familiar? Never mind that; how did he get here? And-

Jayce's gaze landed on a crumpled body lying a few meters away, and he instantly recognized the wavy mess of hair and purple limb sticking out of ripped pants.

No.

No.

“Viktor!” He scrambled forward, crawling on all fours to his partner's side. “Oh, gods, Viktor,” Jayce mumbled, clutching an ash-smeared tunic. Part of Viktor's shirt had burned away, revealing his brace, but other than that, he looked okay. Except his eyes were closed, and his chest no longer rose and fell.

Hot tears welled up in Jayce's eyes. A heartbroken sob burst out, and he buried his face in Viktor's chest. He cried for Piltover, for the undercity, for everything he'd never gotten to do. He cried for his future with Viktor, and for Caitlyn and Mel – even Vi. He cried until the tears were gone, and even then, Jayce couldn't pick himself up again.

He was done. Completely and utterly spent. His best hadn't been enough, and he was too tired to try again. How could he, even? Viktor was dead, and they were stranded amidst howling snow and ice. Maybe it was finally time to rest. Time to give up. With nothing left to keep him alive, it was so, so tempting.

But something brought his head up. Something made him drag Viktor's body into his lap and look around one more time. In a flash, Jayce realized why the landscape was familiar. He'd been here as a child, huddled over his mother's body. Back then, Jayce had watched a mysterious figure create magic from nothing, teleporting them across the world and saving their lives. That had been the exact moment when Jayce had devoted himself to the pursuit of the Arcane.

As if stepping out of his memories, the figure emerged from the storm.

They stopped a few feet away, a thin hand gripping their staff as they took in the scene. Jayce didn't dare speak; if he tried, all that would come out was more tears. Finally, the figure pulled their hood back, and the storm froze as if cowed. Brilliant blue eyes widened with surprise, and jet-black hair fluttered in a now-nonexistent breeze. They looked strangely... human.

“Incredible,” the figure murmured.

Their voice was harsh and wispy, as if they'd spent years breathing through sand and gravel. There were so many questions Jayce longed to ask, but the one that pushed its way through his lips was one he'd held since childhood.

“Who are you?”

The figure straightened, and a surprisingly warm smile touched their face. “You may call me the Mage,” they said. Jayce flinched, and the Mage's smile turned wry. “Yes, as in the Mages of Piltover's history. The ones who destroyed the city. I feel obligated to mention that I lived across the world when that calamity occurred.”

“Why did you bring us here?” Jayce rasped. He coughed until blood and bile burned his throat. “Have you been manipulating everything? Why can't you just let me die?”

“I did not interfere. I am prohibited from doing so. I only tampered with your life once, when I saved you and your mother years ago. Every deviation since then has been of your own creation, Jayce Talis. You and he-” The Mage inclined their head towards Viktor's body. “-are not as powerless as you believe.”

Jayce's stomach bottomed out, and he clutched his partner closer to his chest. “What?”

“You know this already. Don't be coy now.”

Jayce wanted to refute it. Concepts like time and fate were so far beyond humanity's purview that part of Jayce had longed to believe that the time skips and breaks he'd undergone were uncontrollable. But he wasn't that naive. He'd molded them to some extent, and around Viktor, Jayce's headaches had always lessened. With Viktor, he'd resisted the insidious whispers.

But- that meant-

“Could I have prevented this?” Jayce asked, barely managing to get the words past the ball in his throat. “Saved his life? Stopped the war from escalating?”

The Mage's hesitation was answer enough. Jayce crumpled once again. He rested his forehead against Viktor's and desperately tried not to break down and let the pieces of himself shatter beyond repair.

“I know you are in pain, and I cannot ease your suffering. But hear me when I say this, Jayce Talis: you have irreversibly altered the natural order. The fact that you stand here now is testament to the change you invoked.”

Anger bloomed in Jayce's chest, momentarily searing away his anguish. “What the fuck is the natural order?” he spat. “And clearly, I haven't changed anything! Viktor is dead! I'm dead!”

“Are you?”

Jayce paused. Fury was easier than curiosity, but he couldn't maintain it, not faced with something that'd captivated him since childhood. He glanced at Viktor once, choked back his tears, and set his jaw. Fine. If he had a few more minutes of life left, he'd learn everything he can. If not for himself, then to honor Viktor's insatiable thirst for knowledge.

His expression must have changed, because the Mage advanced a few steps and sank into a crouch before him. Up close, the figure was plainly human. Their face was weathered from years of life, but the spark in their piercing eyes was eerily reminiscent of the one in Viktor's.

“The natural order of time dictates the events of mortal life,” the Mage explained, trailing thin fingers across the snow. Blue symbols burned to life, and Jayce couldn't stifle a quiet gasp. “It is supposed to be predetermined, written by a power even I do not understand. But you and Viktor interrupted that flow. You have been the aggressor to the ripples of change.”

“Aggressor?” Jayce echoed.

The Mage's smile was dry yet smug. “Surely you know that 'what was predetermined' is not 'what came to pass.'”

Jayce did. The Progress Day presentation, his indicting as a Councilor, Heimerdinger's dismissal, averting a declaration of war. Each time he'd skipped or jumped ahead, every time those whispers had crept in the back of his skull. But, in the end, nothing had changed. The only thing Jayce had managed to cling onto was memories.

The chill seeped into Jayce's body once again, and he curled closer to Viktor, numbly wishing for one more moment together. A chance to say goodbye, confess his love. One more hug. Anything.

“Hm. May I touch you?”

The question came so far out of left field that Jayce looked up, bewildered. The Mage seemed to take it as agreement, and they reached out, pressing a calloused finger to his forehead. For a moment, nothing happened. But something stirred in Jayce's chest the longer he stared into the Mage's eyes, and he saw the flicker of something he couldn't put a name to. He knew it, though. He'd seen it every time he looked into Viktor's eyes, every time they'd successfully balanced a magical equation. It was like- like-

The crystals.

Jayce was suddenly thrown backward, and his gasp dissolved into infinite nothingness. He was floating in empty space, looking at millions and millions of brilliant blue lights. Strands connected all of them, and somewhere in the distance, Jayce could've sworn he heard a colossal heartbeat. He twisted, equal parts panicked and fascinated, and his gaze landed on a nearby figure.

He recognized the silhouette instantly; he'd always been able to pick Viktor out of a crowd. It made no sense, but Viktor drifted nearby, his heart glowing a vibrant blue through his chest. Jayce reached out, and in a flash, he floated in front of the shorter man, gently cradling his face.

“Viktor?” he breathed.

His partner's eyes fluttered open. Jayce was met by beautiful, swirling amber eyes, reflecting all the light that surrounded them and amplifying it by a thousand. He stared into the heart of a supernova, and the supernova looked back with nothing but love and admiration.

Viktor's gaze suddenly flicked over Jayce's shoulder, and he instinctively twisted to look. A figure made of pure blue light hovered only a few paces away, hands clasped behind their back and flowing robes billowing around them. It almost hurt to look at them, but Jayce couldn't tear his gaze away. He was seven years old again, watching the Mage cast a spell in the air, and-

-piercing blue eyes opened-

-Jayce crashed back into his body. He was back in the tundra, cradling Viktor's limp body, and the Mage still crouched before him. He'd broken out in a cold sweat, but his heart was pounding, hammering, thundering out of control.

“Of course,” the Mage whispered, barely louder than a breath.

“What?” Jayce gasped. “What- was that?”

The Mage drew their hand back, and an incredulous smile turned the corners of their mouth. “You have a spark of the Arcane in you, Jayce Talis.” Jayce's brain promptly shorted out, but the Mage laughed, as delighted as a child. “I see it now! It is such a rare gift, and most do not even realize they possess it. But you and Viktor, you drew out the Arcane within each other.”

Jayce stumbled for a few seconds, dumbfounded. Even once he finally cobbled a sentence together, it came out halting. “I- I don't understand.”

“Mere mortals could not have achieved what you have,” the Mage continued, jubilant. “Combining magic and science requires the blessing of the Arcane.”

“But our research!” Jayce protested.

The Mage laughed again, and it sounded like tinkling bells. “I am sorry to say, Jayce Talis, but research alone could not have unlocked the secrets of the Arcane. It rejects all who cannot allow their minds to broach the bounds of natural science. But for you and Viktor, your innate gifts and connection have allowed you to do what others cannot.” A new emotion entered the Mage's eyes, unstable yet warm. “Apart, your research would have failed. I believe you know this.”

In some deep part of his soul, Jayce did. After all, he'd always said that Hextech wouldn't exist without Viktor, and it was true. But one little word had caught his attention, and it echoed around his head again and again.

“Connection?” he rasped.

“Call it soulmates, if you prefer. Two entities that achieve greatness in a way the singular cannot. A rare bond, undoubtedly, but surprisingly common where the Arcane is concerned. For a people so astray from magic, you and Viktor had to have been... uniquely devoted.”

As a kid, Jayce's mother had told him all sorts of stories about magic – being saved from a frigid death had convinced her that the Arcane was not as nefarious as most of Piltover believed. Once and only once, she'd told a story about the idea of soulmates. Romance and the unthinkable. A younger Jayce had scoffed and dismissed it out of hand. Now, decades later, he believed it with his whole heart.

And Viktor was dead.

...no.

Jayce's pulse sped up, chasing away the arctic chill of grief, and he pressed his hands to his partner's chest. Though no heartbeat was forthcoming, Jayce remembered Viktor's beautiful eyes meeting his just moments before. Something was still there. That something promised a future, even without the Hexcore. They'd already done the impossible, and Jayce refused to stop searching for a cure until the day Viktor ran out of time.

It wasn't that day yet. He wouldn't let it be.

Jayce gathered Viktor's body in his arms and stood, meeting the Mage's curious gaze. “You implied that I wasn't dead,” he said, half an accusation, half a plea. “Am I?”

The Mage lifted one shoulder. “In a sense. You are not dead here, but back in your time, you are.”

“So, since I'm still alive here, I can affect my time?”

A beat. Then the Mage's eyes widened.

“You intend to break the universal tenets,” they said slowly. “A complete and permanent divergence.” Jayce had no idea what the 'universal tenets' were, but a gut instinct told him not to pry, so he merely nodded. The Mage huffed a silent laugh. “Would you believe it if you were not seeing it, old friend?”

A whisper of a response ghosted across the back of Jayce's neck, and he shuddered. The reaction seemed to break the Mage from their reverie, and they dragged their staff through the snow, drawing perfect symbols.

“If you and Viktor succeed, you will never again have access to this plane,” they warned. Jayce inhaled to protest, but the Mage held up a silencing hand. “You will retain your spark of the Arcane, do not fear. That cannot be taken from you. Conceptualize it as the natural order banning you from its home because you've been a disturbance. This is your second chance. Do not squander it.”

Ha. Like being kicked out of a party. Jayce happily accepted those terms, but he couldn't help but ask, “Viktor and I? Isn't he already...”

Thankfully, the Mage didn't make him finish the sentence. “He is stubborn. You should know this better than anyone else, and that allowed him to cling to life, maintain a physical form. That aside, you were so determined to save him that you brought him to this place outside of time, preserving him as you remembered and cherished. And you are unharmed, are you not?”

He hadn't even thought of that. Jayce glanced down at himself, and sure enough, his skin was clean and unblemished. Even his clothes were neatly pressed – but it wasn't his Councilor's uniform. He wore his lab clothes, the loose shirt and cuffed pants that'd seen endless hours of research stains. A few more tears slid down Jayce's cheeks, and it was all he could do to press his forehead to Viktor's and close his eyes.

“I will save you,” he whispered. “I don't know how yet. But I will.”

A sonic boom split the air, not unlike the sound of a ship traveling through a Hexgate, and Jayce straightened. The snowy tundra had vanished, taking the Mage with it. Instead, they floated in an infinite plane of possibilities, surrounded by the same blue lights as before. But now, they funneled into a swirling void of nothing and everything.

The time tunnel, Jayce thought, stunned. It was more of an instinctive guess than an intellectual one; his brain was overloaded by the sheer amount of color and light and sound. Shards of existence drifted past them, and each housed a living, breathing portrait. Forests, oceans, mountains. A castle in the middle of the desert, a buried city in a swamp. Everything and nothing, all at once.

Privately, Jayce was glad he'd never be able to return. Let the next generation deal with space and time – this was his breaking point.

A larger shard suddenly whipped towards them, and Jayce jerked out of harm's way. As the spinning shard whistled past, he caught a glimpse of another Piltover. He saw him and Mel alone on a balcony, saw Viktor break a piece of Jinx's bomb away with anger in his eyes, saw himself stand before the Council and declare war without any remorse.

Not him, the shard spat. Too close. Wrong.

Jayce held Viktor a little closer. “Not this time,” he rasped.

For a moment, the world stood still, as if considering his answer. Then the tunnel dissolved into a nauseating, undulating wave of color and light, and the nonexistent air was squashed form Jayce's lungs as they hurtled towards something. Fingers of energy threatened to pluck Viktor from his arms, but Jayce rebuffed them; he couldn't fail now.

His left hand was consumed by fire. A scream clawed up Jayce's throat, and he twisted, frantically trying to see what'd attacked him. But doing so meant letting go. Though it felt like his very soul was being pierced, Jayce bullied the pain aside and buried his face in Viktor's shoulder.

For the first time in his life, he prayed.

Another sonic boom rattled his eardrums, and Jayce snapped up with a gasp. The first thing he registered was all-consuming pain in his left hand. The second was setting sunlight streaming through stained glass windows, and third was a panicked cry.

“Jayce!”

Viktor's voice. Desperate hope built in Jayce's chest, and when he forced himself upright, he lifted another prayer to any deities listening. Everyone was there. All the Councilors. The Chambers were still intact, and-

A thin hand grabbed Jayce's shoulder, gently yet firmly uncurling him. Jayce went without complaint, though he couldn't stifle a pained moan as his left arm was jostled. Once the black spots faded...

“Viktor,” Jayce croaked. He blinked a few times, but the tears fell regardless. “You're alive.”

Viktor's relief was washed away by concern. Then his eyes darted to Jayce's left hand, and horrified understanding swept away his confusion. “Everyone out!” he shouted. He frantically looped an arm around Jayce's waist and hurried towards the Chambers' doors. The Councilors called their protests, but between the pain sizzling along his nervous system and the fog in his head, Jayce couldn't muster up the strength to echo Viktor's order. Either they would follow, or they wouldn't.

“I just explained your plan for peace,” Viktor mumbled as they hobbled through the archway. “It's been a few seconds, no more.”

Jayce had counted at least three minutes between their proposal and Mel's vote. They had a chance.

“What happens?”

Panic undercut Viktor's soft voice, and Jayce shook his head until the pain woke him up. “A bomb hits the Chambers,” he gasped out. Viktor stumbled a step, and Jayce forced himself to carry more of his weight. “I don't know where it came from. Everyone dies.”

“Then how did you come back?” Viktor murmured. Even in the midst of a crisis, the shorter man was clearly fascinated by such a scientific anomaly – his eyes shone a brilliant amber, as dazzling as ever.

If they survived, Jayce was going to kiss him every single fucking day of their lives.

“I'll tell you once we're out of here,” he promised aloud.

Viktor nodded his understanding, and with their combined efforts – and Viktor's new leg, likely – they picked up speed. Voices echoed behind them, but Jayce silently resolved that he wouldn't wait for the Councilors. If the great, enlightened leaders of Piltover couldn't identify a crisis when it was falling on their heads, they'd have to catch the next elevator.

Finally, Jayce and Viktor rounded the corner and found the elevator waiting at the end of the hallway. Mel came running up just as Viktor slammed the “down” button. Mrs. Kiramman, Shoola, and Salo quickly joined them. Hoskel was a few steps behind, and Bolbok was nowhere to be seen, but Jayce still let out a sigh of relief. Good. Most of the Council had followed.

The elevator doors slid open with a pleasant ding. Salo and Hoskel immediately shoved their way inside with overlapping shouts, and even Mrs. Kiramman and Shoola hurried in. Mel went next, so Jayce and Viktor stood near the doors. That was fine; they'd be the first out.

As the elevator flew down the shaft, Jayce's vision began to fade in and out. The exhaustion and nausea from the proceedings of the last half an hour were catching up, and oh, yeah, what did his left hand look like? He glanced down-

Oh, gods. His whole hand was twisted and warped, oozing at the edges and tinged violet throughout. It looked like Viktor's manufactured limbs, but as if his body had rejected the transmutation. His hand was slowly atrophying, veins of noxious purple inching up his wrist.

A small price to pay for saving Viktor. Jayce would've sacrificed his whole arm without hesitation.

The car suddenly rumbled, and a fearful cry went up amongst the Councilors. Someone grabbed his left wrist, and blinding pain lanced through Jayce's mind, momentarily destroying his ability to do anything except suffer. Once his brain rebooted, Jayce vaguely registered Hoskel's frantic apologies and Viktor's razor-sharp voice.

“Don't touch him!” his partner barked, harsher than Jayce had ever heard him.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Just a few more minutes. Please.

The doors opened, and Jayce and Viktor took off in unison. Dead ahead, the lobby doors opened onto the street, illuminated by streetlights and the full moon.

Please.

Something tugged in Jayce's chest. It was a pull on his soul, a desperate warning. The whispers were on his side now, and they all cried, Run.

There was no time for that anymore. Once the bomb hit, rubble would flood the lobby. If he and Viktor were exposed when that happened, they were dead. So Jayce took the only option left and threw himself towards the nearest reinforced metal arch, dragging Viktor with him. The shorter man spluttered a protest, but Jayce doggedly pressed on.

He felt the exact moment when the bomb hit. The whispers fell silent, and all Jayce was left with were his shuddering breaths, Viktor's shallower gasps, and the pounding of his heart.

Moment of truth.

The shockwave rattled the building, and cracks spread across the ceiling in a deadly lattice. Jayce urged his body forward one last time, shoving both him and Viktor to the ground. He had the presence of mind to protect his partner with his bulk before darkness seeped into the edges of his vision. His body was finally giving out.

Maybe it was better if he wasn't awake for all this. At least now, he wouldn't know if he'd failed.

Just before Jayce dropped into unconsciousness, a bleary memory formed in his mind. When Mel had summoned him to her room, her canvas had briefly morphed into a terrifying scene: smoke and fire, crying voices and thundering feet. The ruined Tower beneath a blood red moon.

The world went black.

——————

Long after Jayce Talis and Viktor left the stasis plane and returned to their own time, the Mage still stood there, gazing at the spot where the two men had been. It was so obvious now, a blindingly brilliant twinkle in the souls of two equally brilliant minds. They possessed but a spark each, but it was just enough to build Hextech.

The Mage finally glanced at the figure who stood across from them, staring at the lasting imprint of Viktor's body. “What do you think, old friend?” the Mage murmured, allowing themself a giddy smile. “Have the mortals finally managed to surprise you?”

Time looked up. Its awe was plain as day. “It is remarkable,” it breathed, carefully stepping around the human-shaped imprint. “Jayce Talis heard my voice. I do not know how I was unaware of such a development, even after following their lives for so many months. Was it disguised from me?”

The question was one the Mage knew they'd never be able to answer, so they merely huffed a laugh. Time's gaze instantly snapped back to them, and a fond smile spread across its face. The expression was so foreign on the entity that the Mage faltered.

“You understand the implications of this, do you not?” Time murmured. It took a few steps closer.

“Well, I was correct, in the end,” the Mage drawled.

Time's smile widened. “You are. So you have affirmed your position among the immortals.”

With the appearance of the two mortals, the Mage had completely forgotten their self-inflicted promise – but Time spoke the truth. The Mage's meddling, all those years ago, had born fruit. Jayce Talis and Viktor had, against all odds, proved themselves to be the exception the Mage had believed. And that meant...

The Mage met Time's warm gaze. “You will have not to miss me, it seems,” they said, slightly breathless. “Will you continue to accompany me, then?”

Time merely ducked its head.

——————

Returning to consciousness felt like being suspended in a pool, absently watching the sunlight shimmering on the surface and the spiraling bubbles from his shallow breaths. Jayce felt no anxiety nor pain, just the gentle cradling of water.

But each inch towards the surface brought back a sense. First came taste; his mouth was bitterly dry. Hearing and smell returned simultaneously, and had Jayce been more coherent, he might have panicked at the sound of air tubes and the tang of disinfectant. He'd gotten too much of both during Viktor's brief stint in a hospital room. Touch came fourth. Smooth sheets rustled beneath his hand, and a heavy blanket rested on his chest.

Finally, Jayce pried sandpaper eyes open.

Sunlight streamed through a window, bathing his room in a faint golden glow. Just a few minutes after sunrise, maybe. A machine sat to his left, and Jayce suddenly became aware of tubes shoved up his nose. The air tickled in a decidedly uncomfortable way. The rest of the room was uniformly beige and overall plain, interrupted only by the dark oak door and the chair pulled up next to the bed.

In the chair sat Viktor, slumped in on himself, asleep. A ball of tension Jayce hadn't even realized he was carrying unknotted itself, and he took a slow, shaky breath. His memories returned in fragments, stitching together a full picture of the night before. He assumed he'd only been asleep for the night, anyway.

It had worked. Somehow, someway, Jayce's reckless efforts had saved them both.

He and Viktor were still alive.

The revelation triggered a sudden coughing fit, and he pressed a hand to his mouth, desperately trying to suppress the sound. Too late. Viktor's eyes flew open at Jayce's first rattling cough. Instantly, his countenance shed decades of stress.

“I should stop passing out like this,” Jayce croaked once he'd finally stopped coughing. “It's not good for your health.”

Viktor stumbled through expressions for a few seconds before settling on a fierce scowl. “Ridiculous,” he muttered darkly, his voice still rough with sleep. “It's not good for you, either.”

“How long was it this time?”

“Three days!” Viktor snapped. “Three! The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with you, so all they could do was hook you up to that thing-” Viktor waved an irate hand at the breathing machine. “-and wait! What happened, Jayce? You must have jumped backward since you knew the future, but that's never happened! It's always been a skip, never- never-”

Just as quickly as it had set in, Viktor's fury drained away. He tipped forward with a trembling sigh, burying his face in his hands.

It's okay, Jayce wanted to murmur. We made it. But he couldn't say that, not so soon after such a horrific event. Not after leaving Viktor to worry if he'd ever wake up again. So Jayce just rested his hand on his partner's shoulder, absently running his thumb over the many scars he knew were hidden by the silky shirt. Between Viktor's braces and their more volatile experiments, they'd both received their fair share of scars.

Jayce loved each one. He wouldn't give up the story of their time together for anything; the cosmetic beauty of unblemished skin was nothing compared to the character of scars. That's what Viktor's new limbs were, too: just scars. Just another story.

Finally, the shorter man looked up. His beautiful eyes were red-rimmed and clearly exhausted, but relief had smoothed the lines from his face.

“Tell me,” Viktor urged softly. “Tell me everything.”

Jayce did. He relayed what it was like to die, then be revived in a place outside of time. He recounted his conversations with the Mage as accurately as he could, desperately trying to pull every scrap of information from his still-foggy brain. (“They are the one who saved you as a child?” Viktor cut in, incredulous. Jayce could only shrug.) He explained the natural order, and...

“We possess the Arcane?” Viktor breathed, eyes wide with awe.

Jayce offered a soft smile. “I mean, it makes sense. Think about how revolutionary Hextech is. Even Heimerdinger thought regular people could never use magic, and, well, maybe he was right. Besides-” Jayce closed his eyes briefly before pressing on. “-I shaped time. I saw it and remembered things I shouldn't have. And the Hexcore didn't destroy you.”

The wonder in Viktor's eyes dimmed, and he shook his head. “No, that's not the same,” he muttered. “It's nowhere near the same.”

“It is,” Jayce pressed. “How else can we explain it?” His partner said nothing, and Jayce suddenly realized that Sky's death was still too raw. Guilt swept through his chest, and he ran his thumb across Viktor's hidden scars once more. “How's the Tower doing? No one got hurt, right?”

Viktor slumped. Cold horror seeped into Jayce's chest.

“Cassandra Kiramman is dead,” Viktor reported quietly, and nausea pressed against the base of Jayce's throat. “Her husband and daughter are currently mourning her. I do not know when the funeral will be. Councilor Salo is also dead, and Councilor Bolbok hasn't been seen since the incident. The Enforcers are still picking through the rubble.”

Mrs. Kiramman. Gods.

“She wasn't supposed to die,” Jayce whispered. He wanted to cry, to mourn the woman who'd been such a staunch supporter throughout his life, but no tears were forthcoming. He'd used them up already. All he had left was a deep chasm in his chest. “I have to talk to Caitlyn. I have to apologize.”

Jayce moved to sit up, but Viktor stopped him with a hand on his chest. “For what?” he murmured, not quite meeting Jayce's gaze. “In her eyes, you tried to help her mother escape, but the rubble killed her. You could not have saved her from that.”

“I should have!” Jayce bit back, shoving his palm into his eyes. “I knew what was going to happen! Everything's changeable, right? So-”

A warm hand caught Jayce's, gently tugging it away from his face. His self-loathing dimmed just enough for him to register the touch, and he looked up, torn between confusion and gratitude. Viktor watched him with sorrowful eyes, but a faint smile quirked thin lips.

“The natural order of time is not something humans should deal with,” his partner muttered. He absently ran his fingers over the back of Jayce's hand, and the touch left Jayce's brain stuttering. “Spark of the Arcane or not, we are still mortal. Your headaches are gone?”

Now that Viktor had mentioned it...

“Yeah,” Jayce croaked.

Viktor shrugged. “Then I assume we've changed everything we can. If we invoked 'a complete and permanent divergence' by coming back to life, then we dictated the new flow. Our job is done.”

For a moment, all Jayce could do was stare. Every time he thought he'd wrestled the more fluttery of his feelings into submission, something like this happened. Viktor would spout off some brilliant concept, then let his words hang, leaving Jayce to admire the sharp cut of his cheeks and the assuredness in those swirling eyes.

“And you just accept that, do you?” Jayce asked, slightly breathless.

At that, Viktor cracked a faint smile. “It's not the strangest thing I've heard today.”

Jayce huffed a laugh at that, but a ball of nerves knotted in his stomach. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it all to be true. In that infinite plane, with millions of souls flickering around them, Jayce had been so enamored with Viktor and Viktor alone. The things they'd achieved were unprecedented, and yeah, Jayce would never be the same.

So he might as well say it. Finally admit it.

Jayce propped himself upright and tried not to focus on the fact that Viktor still gently clutched his hand. “I'll do whatever it takes to cure you,” he promised. Shit, that wasn't what he'd wanted to say. But Viktor was inhaling, affronted, so Jayce hurried on. “I know that's a promise I can't keep, but I'm making it anyway. Okay? I'll keep searching, even if you give up. We'll find a way.”

“You don't mean the Hexcore?” Viktor asked, distinctly nervous.

“No, not the Hexcore,” Jayce assured, and Viktor relaxed. Then he tensed again, clenching his right hand. Jayce eyed the glove for just a moment before beating away his hesitation and prompting, “Give me your other hand.”

Viktor glanced at his glove, then back at Jayce. “You don't have another hand.”

Oh. Right.

For the first time since waking up, Jayce tugged his left arm from beneath the covers. Time to see the damage. Yeah, his hand was gone; nothing remained but a stump wrapped in bandages. They'd probably had to amputate due to the atrophy. Once it healed, he'd be fitted for a prosthetic. Damn, that would be a pain to get accustomed to, and he'd never have the same level of dexterity. But...

“It was worth it,” Jayce decided. He glanced back up at Viktor and finally let himself smile with all the fondness in his heart.

A hint of pink touched Viktor's cheeks. Slowly, he lifted his right hand and pulled the glove off, revealing the purple prosthetic beneath. Jayce forced himself to stare at it, to accept it as a casualty of their research – as part of Viktor, now. A reminder of the forces they'd meddled with, and the cost of doing so.

Jayce gently tugged Viktor's real hand. It was an instinctive motion; he didn't even know what he was asking. But Viktor heard him anyway, just as he always did, and stood, sitting next to Jayce's legs. Jayce just had time to realize, oh, right, Viktor didn't need his cane anymore, before his partner pressed their foreheads together. Shuddering breaths curled across Jayce's face.

By all accounts, he should have been petrified. And yet... when Jayce tilted his head up, all he felt was a deep sense of warmth and the slow beating of his heart.

Their first kiss was barely a touch, little more than the brush of their lips. The second was a bit more certain, and slender fingers slid through Jayce's, squeezing his hand tightly. With the third, Jayce finally fell apart. Viktor burned so warm against him, and as he leaned in, more and more, it felt as if they were melting together. Soft lips slipped perfectly against his, and- and-

Yeah. This was what he'd wanted.

Viktor pulled back first, letting out a quiet, trembling breath. His eyes were still closed, and Jayce couldn't help but nose his partner's cheek. Beautiful amber eyes fluttered open. They were filled with so much affection that Jayce thought he'd burst, and in their depths, he saw that spark.

“I love you,” Jayce murmured. The daze cleared from Viktor's face, and he pulled back with an incredulous look. Still, Jayce couldn't muster up any kind of fear. He just offered a sheepish smile. “You don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

Gods, he hadn't been this sentimental and sappy for years. But as Viktor's disbelief cleared, replaced by a truly radiant smile, Jayce decided that it wasn't so bad.

“And I you,” his partner returned softly.

It wasn't the exact words, but that didn't matter. Viktor lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to Jayce's palm, and Jayce knew to his very core that he was loved. As he drifted back towards an exhausted slumber, a weight settled on his chest. Viktor, laying against him. Had Jayce been more awake, he might've conjured an innocent fantasy of waking up next to his partner, watching sunlight sweep across Viktor's sharp features. As it was, he merely smiled.

They were alive.

——————

“There you are,” Caitlyn said, exasperated. Jayce flashed his trademark charming smile, but she merely fixed him with a stern look. “You can't even make excuses this time. What obligations do you have that could possibly keep you for a full half an hour?”

Jayce couldn't quite stifle a wince, but he kept his smile plastered on as he held up his left hand. The gold of his prosthetic shone in the sunlight, and Caitlyn's ire dimmed.

“Oh. Another adjustment?”

“I almost dropped a hammer on my foot,” Jayce sighed, and he slid into the chair across from Caitlyn. A gentle breeze drifted through the street, easing the burn of the mid-afternoon sunlight, and the air was filled with chatter. Even though the pains of adjustment and the subsequent aftershocks had ruined his mood, Jayce smiled. “Good choice.”

Caitlyn lifted her teacup in a mock cheers. “I needed lots of sunlight today. Zaun is just so... dark all the time. Can't Viktor adjust your prosthetic? I imagine you'd trust him a lot more than the physicians.”

“Oh, believe me, I wish he could. But he's right-handed and still getting used to his own new hand, so...”

“Ah.”

They lapsed into silence, but it was comfortable, peaceful. It was nice to be able to steal lunches with Caitlyn again; Jayce had let the tradition die in recent years, but their friendship was slowly mending now that he'd revived the practice. Besides, Caitlyn always had interesting stories, and Jayce was a bit too nosy not to be curious about the proceedings of the new Nation of Zaun. Speaking of which...

“Where's Vi?” he asked. “I thought she was coming back with you this time.”

A flush touched Caitlyn's cheeks. “She did. But we did some heavy lifting before we hopped a train, so she's back at the house, sleeping.”

“'Heavy lifting?'” Jayce echoed archly.

“Not like that!” Caitlyn protested, and her flush turned a darker red. “Sevika only agreed to let us shut down that new string of mines if she was there, so we had to wait for her to get business in order on her end. I have to report back to the Council, and Vi likes to know where each ruin is, just in case someone tries to restart production.” Jayce inhaled, but Caitlyn talked over him. “And yes, Vi used the hammer on the generator this time. No recoil damage. Why did you even give her that, anyway? She's a menace.”

Jayce lifted his hands. “She's your girlfriend,” he chuckled. “Besides, you can't blame me. Viktor came up with that rune pattern years ago. We're incorporating it into the new Hammerhead design.”

“He's your boyfriend,” Caitlyn tittered. Jayce just grinned wider, and Caitlyn let out an exasperated scoff. “It's impossible to embarrass you, I swear.”

Hell yeah, it was. Jayce was almost tempted to continue the line of teasing, but heavier topics weighed in the back of his mind, stifling his good humor. Caitlyn must have sensed the change, and she sat up straighter, resting her forearms against the little metal table.

Best to rip the bandage off.

“Is the funeral still going to be next week?” Jayce asked carefully.

Caitlyn's eyes went dull. It was a heart-wrenching change, and when Jayce offered his hand, Caitlyn immediately took it, squeezing his fingers tightly. “It is,” she mumbled. “That's why Vi and I came back so early. Father wants me to pick out a few floral arrangements, and there's still some logistics to work out. Who's sitting where, that sort of thing.”

Jayce squeezed her hand again. “Viktor's almost done with the locket,” he offered with a faint smile. “We can bring it over in a few days. And I'm okay with standing, as long as Viktor gets a chair.”

Caitlyn heaved a watery laugh, and to Jayce's relief, some of her grief receded, leaving behind teary eyes and an unstable smile. “You're too good to me. I don't-” Caitlyn's voice broke a little, but her smile persisted, even as she hurriedly changed course. “Thank you. Really. You'll pass it on to Viktor, right?”

“Tell him yourself,” Jayce chuckled. “He's coming along to drop off the locket. You know he's proud of his work.”

It was a testament to Caitlyn's strength that, within a matter of seconds, she managed to tuck all her melancholy away. Jayce knew that as soon as she got back to her house, she'd collapse. But if Vi were there, she'd be okay. He squeezed her hand once more, then sat back in his chair, and she nodded to herself.

“You wanted an update while I was here, right?”

Jayce decided against questioning how Caitlyn had figured him out and simply nodded. “Yeah. Anything new on Sevika or Silco, or Heimerdinger's colony. Spare me the gritty details.” Caitlyn shot him a knowing look, and Jayce again lifted his hands defensively. “Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Mel asked for an update, so I'll deliver. But I don't want to know everything.”

“You love being caught up,” Caitlyn accused.

He couldn't really argue with that. Still, he kept his mouth shut until Caitlyn scoffed and began her report.

“Alright, well, Sevika has been fine. The Council's probation period is almost over, I think, and they won't find any problems with her. She's fully capable of guiding Zaun once they take the training wheels off. Uh, she's also currently tracking down some of Silco's old cronies who turned tail once he died. Got a new lead, and her grudge is back in full force. It's kind of terrifying to watch her work.”

“Isn't that a conflict of interest?” Jayce asked quietly. “For you or Vi?”

To her credit, Caitlyn just shrugged. “Not really. Supposedly, Jinx always worked alone, Silco excluded, and now that she's gone... it isn't so hard to rally people under Vander's banner. Not as the Nation of Zaun. So Vi says. I leave that to her.”

Jayce thought of the many late-night conversations he and Viktor had had with Vi when the woman snuck into their lab, her innocuous report about a new invention directly at odds with the darkness in her eyes, and said nothing. Sometimes he walked out of the room when Vi seemed like she needed to talk, too. She and Viktor were Zaunites. Nothing changed that.

“Other than that, it's been pretty quiet,” Caitlyn concluded absently. “Heimerdinger's happy. I haven't been invited to the colony, but Vi tells me that he and Ekko work well together. And I guess that's the best we could ask for.” Jayce hummed his agreement, and a spark of mischief entered Caitlyn's eyes. “I thought you washed your hands of politics,” she teased. “What are you doing running errands for Councilor Medarda?”

“It's just a favor between friends,” Jayce corrected, allowing himself a grin. “This is personal curiosity.”

“Mm. That it?”

“Cait, c'mon. You're lucky I leave the lab at all. Viktor and I are revising after Vi left us some notes- yeah, that's why she was late; don't blame us. Seriously, I'm not going back to the Council. Ever. How long am I going to have to keep telling you that?”

“Until you do go back,” Caitlyn muttered into her teacup. Jayce shot her a flat look, and she coughed. “Alright, alright. I guess you wouldn't leave your boyfriend again, would you?”

“No more than you'd let Vi go to Zaun alone,” Jayce shot back, baring his teeth in a slightly more dangerous grin. Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but the pink tinge had returned to her cheeks, and her silence was damning. “Listen, you should stop by, too. I know it's not much to look at, but I want to show you everything we've been working on.”

Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. “The same stuffy laboratory you two have rented since your Academy days?”

“It's ours now, thank you, so we keep it in better order. I just-”

Jayce allowed the words to die on his tongue. Caitlyn was busy enough as it was; she didn't need to indulge his guilty urge to prove that they were using their lab for something better. Given the horrific Shimmer crisis in Zaun, they'd prioritized a cure for the addiction, if not something to restore the broken bodies outright. Cures took time. Cures made Jayce feel like he was battering his head against yet another wall, and he was desperate to show off a mechanical project – something that had a more immediate release date.

But an edge of stone undercut Caitlyn's expression. It wasn't directed at him, at least, which was better than those first few weeks had been, with Jinx still on the loose. But it was there all the same, and Jayce decided not to press. The fact that Piltover was still standing was enough of a miracle. He knew better than to ask for two.

“As long as you remember to sleep,” Jayce said carefully.

Caitlyn's expression shifted again, easing toward softness. “Vi reminds me,” she murmured, gaze sliding into the bustling street. “As well as to eat, and take a shower, and visit Mother's g- visit. Sometimes. I remember. Don't worry.”

Jayce huffed. “I'm always going to.”

“That's because you've always been a worrier for everyone about yourself. What would happen if I asked Viktor whether you were sleeping?”

His partner would probably love to take up a long, winding spiel about how Jayce really could be sleeping more; honestly, they weren't Academy students anymore, were they?, and how was Viktor supposed to get anything done when he was constantly checking if Jayce had passed out somewhere? Jayce merely shook his head and lifted his cup in a mock cheers of his own.

“I'm sure you two would have a lot to talk about.” Caitlyn hummed, unimpressed, and Jayce downed his tea before he met her gaze again. “Listen, I'm going to be leaving in a few days.”

She frowned. “I thought it's still a couple weeks yet.”

“Not to Zaun. Heimerdinger's monitoring the cure trials for us. Targon.”

“What on earth do you want with them?”

Everything. Something that could change the course of Jayce's life yet again – albeit secondhand, since he was going for Viktor.

“I'll tell you when I'm back,” he ventured, and Caitlyn jutted out her bottom lip. “It'll just be a few days. I think.”

“That's what you always said before I didn't see you for weeks! I swear, if Vi finds you both passed out somewhere-”

Jayce held up his hands placatingly. “It won't be like that this time. Cross my heart.”

He did so with his mechanical hand – an active effort, since he'd taken to using his left hand as little as possible, and he needed to get comfortable with the prosthetic sooner rather than later. Caitlyn scrutinized him a few moments longer, her sharp gaze drifting across his clothes as if searching for clues in an errant string or undone button. Finally, she sighed and sat back in her chair, crossing her legs.

“Well, don't let me stop you.”

A barely-there smile crinkled the corner of Caitlyn's eyes, a request for a damn good story once he was back. Jayce smiled back – just as faintly, because there were still too many hurts festering beneath their shiny masks – and stood, brushing the invisible dust from his slacks.

“Tell Vi to talk to Heimerdinger,” he requested.

Caitlyn lifted an eyebrow. “You're taking Viktor with you?”

“Gods, I hope so.”

“Whatever you say, then. Come back in one piece.”

“See you.”

Jayce pushed his chair in and started back through the city. It was a familiar path to tread, one he'd walked around and around after years of Academy research and late nights and even recent days when he'd just needed some fresh air before the laboratory strangled him. The only difference now was that he was used to having company. Often, it was Mel, seeking respite from the Council's endless tasks. Sometimes it was Elora, an unexpected but not unwelcome friend. Vi stopped by in the dead of night, and Caitlyn was inclined to join him whenever she was topside and in need of a friendly ear.

Most of the time, though, it was Viktor. In silence, with a theory, or pointing out little details of Piltover that Jayce never would've noticed before. Barely scraping past death changed a man like that. It was easier to draw himself out of the obsessive allure of work when he was so acutely aware of how quickly the future could be snatched away.

But today... he'd agonized over this plan, revised and corrected it until he was certain it was foolproof. Today, he had a chance of seizing the future and ordering it to give him and Viktor more time. Without calling upon the Arcane, of course.

The Academy was busy as always when he returned, and Jayce was silently bemused by all the students who rushed past him without a glance. Some things never changed – Academy students were always more interested in their projects than anything around them. Still, that saved him the trouble of being recognized, and Jayce flitted through the hallways on silent steps, ascending to the lab he'd called home ever since he'd moved out of that little workshop down in the city.

He pushed open the door to a cacophonous clatter, followed by a string of vehement curses. Jayce bit back a shit-eating grin and inhaled to make a joke, but his partner's voice halted him.

“Yes, yes, I am handling this with the utmost care. Please, take your time.”

“I guess this is why he designed Hextech to be unbreakable,” Jayce returned, pulling the door shut behind him. Viktor stood in front of the Moonbeam, scowling at a Gemstone encased in metal runes, and Jayce allowed his grin to shine through. “You're gonna break that if you keep glaring at it. Don't you know that Hextech gets performance shy?”

“No worse than some of your mishaps,” Viktor muttered with no real heat. Under his nimble fingers, the machine whirred back to life. The tips of his hair began to flutter in a nonexistent breeze.

A surge of fondness washed through Jayce's chest, drowning out the nerves that plucked and danced around his heart. His proposal could wait a few more minutes; certainly, the airship wasn't going anywhere without him, its most valuable passenger, and he wouldn't get Viktor's full attention until the experiment was settled. So, Jayce decided, the most reasonable course of action was to carefully settle his hands on lean hips and press a gentle kiss to his partner's neck. Viktor grumbled, but he still swayed back.

“How's it going?” Jayce murmured.

“Mm... slow.” Viktor spun the disk, and the Moonbeam's halves whirred to life. A faint blue field flickered to life for but a second before vanishing. “If I push the longitude too far, the latitude overcorrects,” Viktor sighed, knuckling his eyes with a hand. “It's a much more delicate balance than anything we've tried. I don't know how we managed to create such a field completely blind.”

Jayce scanned the set-up, mentally noting the adjustments that'd been made in his absence. “You calculated the increased energy output?” he asked. Viktor hummed an affirmative. “And combined the outer fields? That gave me some trouble last week, so I was thinking that a double positive would work better than a neutral charge. Maybe that's how we got opposing runic barriers the first time. Connected but separate.”

A beat. Slowly, Viktor's shoulders rose and fell.

“Looks like they're still giving me trouble,” he muttered, and reached for the controls. Jayce chuckled.

Viktor twisted a few knobs, then spun the disk once again. This time, the field solidified, little sparks of power arcing between the runes carved into the two plates constraining the field's output. It was beautiful. A modern miracle of technology, even. Viktor gingerly slid a gear into the field, and it hung there, suspended. The field dissipated moments later, and the gear dropped to the floor with yet another ear-splitting clatter, but it had worked. Soon enough, they could have a piece of tech that negated gravity.

Jayce squeezed Viktor's hips. “Remember the Distinguished Innovators competition?”

When Viktor spoke, his smile was clear in his voice. “I remember you notching gears in the carriage.”

“They cranked the engine, and the whole thing rattled. I thought a loose cog was gonna take someone's eye out.”

“At least you didn't throw up,” Viktor drawled.

Jayce huffed a laugh and fully wrapped his arms around his partner's waist, settling his chin on a bony shoulder. “And now, look at us,” he mused. “A private lab in the Academy. Pioneers of the future, inventors of Hextech. I think we stepped up in the world.”

“I'd like to think we brought the world to our level instead.” Viktor rested his real hand on Jayce's arm, then twisted to face him and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you're interrupting me?”

“Do I need one?”

“I am trying to work.”

Fair point. The Council was slated to arrive later in the day to ask about the Shimmer cure and test the Moonbeam's progress. They both had their parts to play in getting the proposals ready, not to mention the endless pages of notes they had to parse down into terms that would be understood by people other than them.

But Jayce just couldn't let go yet. He leaned in and was met halfway; Viktor's lips were soft, familiar after the past few months. A content hum traveled between them, and when Jayce pulled back, Viktor followed him, a little more insistently. Jayce wasn't complaining. He loved the feeling of slender fingers skimming across his chest, mapping him like a prized invention, the taste of tea and cold skin beneath his hands.

“Do you know when the Council will be here?” Viktor asked, a breath between them.

Jayce couldn't help a snort. The Council could be hours late for all he cared. But, at Viktor's pointed look, he conceded. “Mel said they'd be here around 5.”

“5,” Viktor muttered, and pulled back enough to card his hands through his hair. Jayce let him, though he didn't let go. “It's 3... I don't know how much we can do before they get there.”

“Don't worry about them,” Jayce soothed. “I think they know better than to rush us.”

He reached around Viktor, aiming for the knobs of the Moonbeam – might as well let the machine cool off while he proposed his modified travel plan. But the fingers spasmed, knocking the knobs wildly off-kilter, and Jayce swore as blue flashes spiraled around the room and pain jittered up his forearm. He let Viktor deal with the Moonbeam; he only concerned himself with snatching the specialized pick from its stand and jabbing it into his prosthetic hand's port, yanking the wires until it finally stopped spasming. The black spots didn't fade for a few more seconds, though, and Jayce blinked through teary eyes. When he could finally see clearly, he found Viktor already hovering at his shoulder, worry etched into his face.

“It's been doing that a lot,” the shorter man noted. “Are you sure you should go to Targon with it acting like this?”

Jayce flexed his fingers experimentally. No secondary spasms. “If not now, when?” he asked quietly. Viktor conceded the point with a reluctant nod, and Jayce offered a lopsided smile. “Besides, no time like the present. Maybe they'll know something.”

“And maybe they won't.”

The bite of Viktor's voice was familiar and no longer a knife to Jayce's heart. He only lifted a hand, and after a moment, Viktor swayed into him, sighing with the weight of the world, nestling against Jayce's shoulder. Jayce held him and said nothing.

Of all the shortcomings Jayce carried with him, not destroying the Hexcore was one of the worst. It wasn't that he hadn't tried – Gods knew he'd spent far too many hours glowering at the insidious little thing, willing to shatter under his rage. No, it was simply indestructible. Between Viktor's Shimmer-infused blood and the spark of the Arcane he possessed, the Hexcore battered away any attempts at destruction.

So Jayce had buried it. Sealed it within the Academy's deepest vault and told the head professors to throw away every conceivable key that might open it. Either humanity would one day understand the Arcane enough to use the Hexcore, or it would gather dust until Piltover crumbled. Privately, Jayce prayed it was the latter.

That still left them without a cure. But after some poking around, Jayce had learned that Targon, the nation across the desert, lived with natural gas fissures, and many of their people had breathing problems. They'd long since invented gas masks or otherwise developed a tolerance, but some people still struggled. And so, Jayce had postulated in a 4 A.M. fit of manic hope, maybe the solution to Viktor's disease wasn't magic but medicine. Maybe it was as simple as how his hand had been amputated to halt the time tunnel-induced atrophy.

Truth be told, it didn't matter how realistic the likelihood of a cure was. Jayce was going, because the visiting Targonian surgeon had been adamant that their lung treatments were the most advanced in the world. Because there were days he felt as if he might explode, a constantly running timer in his head. Because it was a chance. No more borrowed time.

“About my trip,” Jayce posed slowly, and Viktor's gaze snapped up to him, as attentive as ever. “Would you come with me?”

Viktor blinked. “You're asking me to visit a country with plentiful natural gas fissures? A bit counterproductive, hardly a scenic destination.”

“That's not the point,” Jayce said, exasperated, which earned him a faint smile. “They have filters set up in every building. If they do have a cure or a procedure- anything- you'll already be there, and we can just-” Jayce flapped a hand. “-do it.”

“What about money? Whatever their cure is, it would be expensive for two foreigners.”

“What, like you've spent anything on yourself since we started Hextech? Whatever the cost, we can afford it. And bring it back.”

Something akin to exhaustion flickered across Viktor's face, sallowing his cheeks. Jayce gently took his partner's right hand and ran his thumb over the gnarled skin. The unnatural coolness of the synthetic skin had become calming, somehow. Just like the waxiness of any other scar.

“You don't have to,” Jayce murmured, and pressed a kiss to Viktor's palm. “I'll just be a few days.”

The hand in his trembled. Brilliant amber eyes flitted back and forth across Jayce's face, brimming with muted affection. All these years, and Viktor was just as handsome as when Jayce had first met him. Sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and all the gravity of a black hole, slowly and steadily pulling Jayce in.

Finally, Viktor's lips twitched. “If you want me there,” he conceded. Jayce beamed, and Viktor's smile became a little wider, too. “Eh, who knows. Maybe the Targonians would be willing to help with the Shimmer cure while we're at it.”

“I'll pay double to meet with them,” Jayce laughed, slinging his arms around Viktor's waist yet again. “That'll convince them.”

Viktor muttered something about the fraudulent use of Academy funds, but Jayce wasn't really listening, and Viktor very quickly quieted down, his eyes fluttering shut. Jayce couldn't help it; he pressed their foreheads together and delighted in Viktor's chiding huff. For just a moment, the world slowed to a crawl. Yes, the Council was on their way, and yes, there was every possibility that the trip to Targon would be a bust. But for this single heartbeat, Jayce could release those fears and breathe.

The love of his life. For as long as he had him.

“Your hair's all poofy,” Jayce chuckled, nosing Viktor's cheek.

His partner huffed, then kissed him.

——————

Footsteps crunched up behind the Mage, and their pocket watch began to spin, leaping forward and backward in time. They snapped it shut.

“Good evening, old friend. Jayce Talis and Viktor just reached Targon.”

The footsteps paused. A dazzlingly blue sky wheeled overhead, and grass rustled at their feet. It had been too beautiful of a day for the Mage to stay inside. A quiet sigh drifted to their ears, and a moment later, Time sank onto the stone beside theirs.

“Why do you assume I am here on account of those two humans?” it asked wearily. “Do you think I waste my existence away considering them?”

The Mage cracked a faint smile. After a thousand years of maintaining stoicism, it felt like a weight off their shoulders to smile again. “You never visit for any other purpose,” they noted, and had Time not been an ancient deity, the Mage would have thought that it rolled its eyes.

“As you say. What have you seen?”

“It's simpler than you may expect. Corruption of the lungs is no different than corruption of the hand, as they will soon learn. Viktor is not ill enough to have had the undercity gas completely destroy his lungs. He will survive the procedure, albeit with a lingering wheeze, and any further exposure will trigger terrible coughing fits. I am sure he will find those conditions preferable to an early death.”

Time eyed the Mage. “It seems as if you know better the natural order than I,” it said, somewhere between an accusation and a playful jab.

The Mage shrugged. “I am allowed such knowledge. You are not.”

Time grunted an affirmative, which amused the Mage far more than it should have. Really, they'd spent a handful of years observing two humans, and suddenly, all the mannerisms of modern humanity had come rushing back. It would've been pathetic if they'd had an audience to witness it.

“Well? Did your meddling come to fruition?”

Time's question was pointed, barbed with cynical amusement. Still, the Mage smiled yet again.

“As I have said since the beginning, I only meddled once. I saved Jayce Talis' life. Everything since then has been of their own design.”

And in that regard, the two humans had absolutely proven their intervention as a worthwhile endeavor. Piltover still stood. Zaun was stronger than it was in any other possibility, and Sevika's leadership would endure to a new generation of peace in both cities. With some time, at any rate.

Most astonishingly, Jayce Talis and Viktor survived when one had been destined to die. The Mage still wasn't sure which had been marked for death. Perhaps Jayce Talis would have perished, and Viktor would have hurtled down the path of darkness, heartbroken and grief-stricken. Or perhaps, without Viktor, Jayce Talis would have abandoned his dream and returned to his workshop precipice to end his suffering.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Viktor's life was no longer marred by darkness. His future was long and bright, a closed flower that had finally bloomed, unveiling the gemstone hidden within. Jayce Talis shone, too, just as radiant, glowing in tandem. They would endure their fair share of strife, as all mortals did, and Zaun and Piltover would clash many more times. But they had both survived a cataclysmic event. And for that, the world was better off.

Another streak of light punctured the mortal world. The Mage watched with great pride as Jayce Talis and Viktor learned from the Targonian surgeon that the surgery was affordable, relatively risk-free, given how common it was, and, for the founders of Hextech, it could be scheduled within the week. As luck would have it, one of their best surgeons had recently had another patient cancel on them. Would they like to prepare now?

Jayce Talis and Viktor looked at each other, tears shining in their eyes, and laughed. Yes.

The Mage pulled a Runestone from their pouch, absently running their thumb over it. It was an old stone, long since drained of its power. It was also the stone the Mage had been carving just before they'd heard a cry for help echo from deep within the tundra, the pitiful voice of a child nearly whisked away on the wind.

“Congratulations, Jayce Talis,” the Mage murmured, and closed their hand around the stone. “You have changed your fate.”