Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You carry your chin so high, you fail to see the opportunity below.”

It starts with a pipe.

The architecture of the Undercity is organic and crumbling. It hasn't had any new architecture made by the topside in the last three years. Any renovations or additives have been made by the unpaid people of the Undercity on their own time. The constructions aren’t passing any safety tests, but it’s enough for them.

It’s not enough for Jayce, who trips across a pipe whose screws have come loose from the system connected to a building on his left. He was paying so little attention to the ground obstacles that his box of equipment nearly spilled open. After regaining his footing, he glances below at the pipe that's rolled into a puddle, kicking it over to where it belongs. He’s about to continue the walk to the bridge and forget the misstep, when something catches his eye.

In the reflection of the puddle is the boy that’s too young to be a topside cashier he briefly interacted with at the parts shop, now watching— following Jayce from the unsafe roofs. If Jayce is very generous with his guess, he’d say he’s twelve. The kid also didn't want to be noticed, evident when he hurriedly scrambles back on the roof, out of view of the puddle’s reflection.

Jayce's eyes follow the height of the building. Three stories tall, a plethora of garbage cans and loose piping that can be used as footholds to reach the top. He’d be more angry at being followed if it weren't a little boy all by himself in a dangerous part of the city. Now Jayce is just concerned.

He makes a loud show of marching to the building the kid is still at (if he hasn't run back to the shop already), and sets his box full of illegal parts down with a clatter. “Did I not give you enough to eat already, kiddo?”

Jayce is mostly certain he was overcharged by the runt. He didn't really mind; the people of the Undercity are struggling the most in Piltover, and he has enough wealth from House Talis and Kiramman to make some difference. Besides, he was so worried about being robbed while in his Academy uniform that he just wanted to get in and out, regardless of how unfair the final price would be. 

There's a rattling noise from above. Jayce tilts his head up. The kid must’ve climbed down and dropped himself onto the second story balcony, for now he’s tipping his upper half over the edge to scrutinize him. Jayce suddenly feels self-conscious, and preemptively takes out his wallet. “What is the typical cost of stall food here?” 

“Eighty.”

“Very funny.” Jayce smatters a handful of coins into his palm. It would be enough for a meal at a local restaurant topside. “Here, will this do?”

The boy’s chocolate brown eyes glimmer at the sight of the money. Holding onto the railing of the balcony, he gets his legs on the other side, drops his weight so he has a grip on the balcony floor, before falling down the remaining meter of space between his feet and the ground.

He huffs under his breath as his bent legs absorb the impact. It wasn't too much of a drop, but he's scrawny, like a particularly forceful gust of wind will knock him around. Then he proudly stands back up to his pitiful height that reaches Jayce’s elbow. Jayce barely uncurls his fingers around the coins before the boy is swiping them away into the pouch at his side.

“It’ll do,” says the boy under his breath, before sprinting in the direction of Benzo’s Shop without another word.

The attempt at harnessing the crystal with the illegal parts is a bust, creating an explosion in Jayce’s apartment that ends with him adding BUY NEW COFFEE TABLE on his to-do list. The immediate aftermath has him covered in ash and impact bruises, hunched over his desk as he spends the next four hours reworking an equation that didn't account for the density of Undercity metal.

He rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The hot shower he takes doesn't do much to make him feel better, only cleaner. He needs to take a break, needs to read up on the books of runes and mages that are in the Piltover library, needs to sleep so he can see what else went wrong in his experiment with a fresh set of eyes. He has time.

Except, as he looks at the box full of brand new parts that were destroyed by the crystal, he really doesn't. He needs this to work, for his life’s ambition to be worth something, so the people of the Undercity can exist without surviving off of drugs, violence, and topside pity.

He returns to Benzo’s Shop three weeks after his failure. At the counter is the boy, who visibly straightens when Jayce rings the door open. He isn't in his uniform, deciding to trade it out for a white button up, jacket, and wrinkled trousers. He still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“What can I do for you?” says the boy politely, smiling like he didn't follow Jayce to (probably) rob his apartment and taking his money without trying.

“60 watt soldering iron, a set of allen keys, a caulk gun, a vacuum vise, and a C-clamp, please,” Jayce rattles off. The kid heads to the back, coming back with a box full of the listed equipment. Most of it is heavier tools, so he slides it over to Jayce’s side of the counter instead of trying to carry it.

“Couldn't you get all of this topside?” says the boy. “That’ll be, hm, four-hundred seventy.”

“I don’t want to go topside.” Jayce fishes out his wallet and counts out the change without arguing. He’s being charged double again, but he doesn't mind. Talking with the kid is nice, even if he’s proving himself to be a mischievous runt in the few times Jayce has spoken with him. “Are you going to tell me your name anytime soon, kiddo?”

“What would you need it for?” he says, not able to keep the defensiveness out of his tone. 

Jayce’s brows pinch, not having much reason aside from the fact he wants to. “Would me being an unofficial patron be that bad?”

The boy crosses his arms. He pointedly looks from Jayce, to the money on the counter, back to Jayce.

The man’s lips quirk up in barely hidden amusement. “Fine. I’ll give you another sixty if you give your name. And mine is Jayce.”

“Make it eighty.”

“Seventy,” Jayce haggles, “any higher and I’ll go back to shopping for parts topside.”

The kid pouts. Jayce almost folds on the spot and gives him his entire wallet. Almost. “It’s Ekko. Now gimme.”

On his sixth visit, Jayce buys a pack of screws and lays down a decent number of coins (too much for nails) before hearing whatever Ekko wants to overcharge.

“How busy does the shop get at this time, Ekko?” he grumbles. His mood has been soured after another failed experiment. It didn't blow up. It didn't do anything, which is the worst possible outcome for his work. He's no closer to a breakthrough than he was three months ago when he first came down to the Undercity.

Jayce would talk to his Academy peers about his magical science if he wouldn't be shunned for tempering in the illegal art. Or if he didn't ostracize himself from any possible friends with his “arrogance” and “jerkish attitude.” It's not Jayce’s fault the nepotism students are slow and can't understand his tutoring of quantum mechanics, too busy staring at his face instead of the work on the paper.

And they are slow. Jayce has passively explained to Ekko some of his past findings when he needed to verbalize his thoughts, and the eleven year old was at least able to follow along Jayce’s lines of reasoning. Sure, his suggestions aren't helpful to Jayce, but that’s because he’s talking about Jayce’s main field of study and passion for years. Ekko doesn't have a proper education, but he’s still able to scratch the surface of concepts Jayce didn't understand until he was in his late teens.

So, without any peers or friends his age (not even Caitlyn, who may as well be his little sister but busy with school finals), Jayce has gone to see his favorite citizen of the Undercity: an eleven year old misfit.

“Not too bad. Me or Benzo can handle it alone. Why?” Ekko slides the coins into a register before going back to tinkering with a vaguely grenade shaped device that has a plethora of doodles on it.

Jayce eyes the device warily for a moment. “Do you want to get lunch? I need to get my mind off science.”

“If you’ll pay.”

“Of course.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been wondering what kind of food you spend my money on, anyway."

Ekko grins, calling goodbye to Benzo in the workshop upstairs before leading Jayce to the busy plaza that's bustling with prostitutes, restaurants, and has a green haze over his sight. Despite Mrs. Kiramman’s ventilation system, the air in the Undercity is still so thick it's almost visible. Jayce bears it, knowing he doesn't breathe the faint poison 24/7.

He’s tugged into an outdoor bar stool by Ekko, who already knows what to order, apparently. “Jericho! Two of your most expensive meals, please.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Jayce remarks, as if he doesn't enable the behavior.

“You're a Piltie that regularly comes to the Undercity,” Ekko says in a mock whisper. “Talk about unbelievable.” 

From his pouch, he pulls out the same device from earlier, his attention quickly absorbed by it once more. He twists the top open and tilts it down. Nails scatter across the bar before Ekko gets them all into a pile. Then he squints to look at the hollow inside, trying to see the issue in the dim lighting of the food stall.

“Since when do you tinker with explosives?” Ekko has always struck Jayce as more of a pacifist, helping his friends run from enforcers instead of making weapons to fight back. Besides, his mechanical interests lie more in forms of transportation. That giant wheel in the front of Benzo’s Shop is beyond impressive for Ekko and one of his friend’s to have made.

“Powder can’t figure it out,” says Ekko. Right, he’s pretty sure she's the one who helped with the wheel. Ekko never bothers explaining who his friends are, simply begins telling stories or talking about people as if Jayce has always known about them and needs no further context beyond a name. “It's supposed to… y’know, explode, but there's not enough oomf. I dunno how to give it more.”

“Could I see?” It occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't play a part in kids making explosives, but these kids live in the Undercity, and he'd rather they know how to safely make one, rather than let them try on their own and risk something going wrong.

Ekko hands over the main body of the device. There’s a winding key in the back, a hollow inside, some springs and cogs connected to the winding key. With a few more seconds of tinkering, Jayce makes sense of what's missing.

He sets the grenade-in-making back down. “I think I know why it’s not working. See the springs here on the inside?”

Ekko nods. “What about them?”

“Well, after it’s done winding, the spring should release. Which it is. But look, what exactly is the spring releasing against?”

The kid takes the device to examine the inside more closely in search of an answer. “The… nails?”

“Exactly— oh, thank you,” Jericho slides two bowls of mystery-fish tentacles lathered in a thick, orange sauce. It doesn't look very aesthetically pleasing, but it actually smells rather good, even if it is overpowered by the stench of the Undercity. “As it’s made right now, the nails are being used to be part of the explosive reactor and reaction. They should only have one main job. What you need is a combustible reactor. That way, the striker connected to this spring here can hit a percussion cap, the impact lights a spark, which burns down a fuse. From there, the end of the fuse should hit the combustible chemical of choice that's inside of a detonator, and that’ll cause a real explosion.”

“Oh!” Ekko makes the sound like he’s cracked the secrets of the universe. As his own form of reward for understanding why the device wasn't working, he digs into the food before him, pinching a tentacle before biting a chunk off half. Around a mouthful of food, he ponders, “Where’m I supposed to get explosive powder?”

Jayce sets the device down to look at the meal of (holy shit why are they still moving) tentacles before him. It's not something he would ever eat topside, but Ekko seems to enjoy it, and eating here was the kid’s first pick. It's probably one of the higher quality stalls in all of the Undercity.

He grabs one of the tentacles, mimicking the boy, and pops one into his mouth. Immediately, a flood of different flavors hit his mouth. The tentacles are… fine, but it's really the sauce that he takes notice of. It's sort of cheesy, served hot and fresh and thick, and he finds himself genuinely enjoying it. Jayce swallows before turning to Ekko, who was watching Jayce’s first bite with baited breath. The man nods appraisingly. “This is good, kiddo.”

The boy grins, proud of his choice of food and continues to eat like this is his last meal, savoring every bite and giving his thanks to Jericho— the chef so big he’s nearly the size of the entire stall— his thanks.

“And about the powder,” continues Jayce, lowering his voice. Ekko slows his chewing to put more attention on what's being said. “I can give you some on my next visit, but you have to promise me you won't use any of the explosives unless you or your friends are in serious danger; not to impress people or when you get into a fight with street kids. Deal?”

Ekko bites on a tentacle, the sound loud and crunching. There's a blazing determination in his dark eyes Jayce hasn't seen before. “Deal.”

Jayce makes another five trips to the Undercity in the span of two months. He… shouldn't be as surprised as he is when people take notice. It's not like going down is illegal, but what would a soon to be Academy graduate that's top of his class need down there so often? So rumors spread, ranging from Jayce going down for the brothels to him being a patron for the chem-barons. One freshman has had the joke rumor spread that he is a chem-baron, but, because some people in the Academy really shouldn't be here, a considerable handful of students think that’s true or has any ground of believability.

Jayce tries not to let it get to him. He has no evil intentions; he's trying to help a kid in the Undercity every now and then while he makes slow progress on Hextech. If Hextech works, everyone in the Undercity will benefit from his work. So, whatever, the rumors have no truth, and no truth means no harm will come.

This is his logic, which is completely thrown out the window when someone comes to his apartment at an ungodly late hour, knocking insistently until Jayce opens the door. The only reason Jayce is up at all is to read up on the new books the library has on runes, hoping to cross-apply new information.

The person at the door is not who he was expecting. He doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't a man he's never seen before, pale and thin and leaning his weight onto a metal cane, wearing the same Academy uniform Jayce is. His expression is halfway between angry and curious.

Jayce blinks in disbelief. “Um. Hello?”

“What reasons do you have to be going to the Undercity so frequently that even Academy students are taking notice?” asks the man, using his cane to shove his way past Jayce to survey his unclean apartment. He has an accent that he can only place as northern.

Jayce tries to very casually close the door to his study that has an entire chalkboard full of equations and sketches meant for the technology harnessing magic. “Why do you care?” he questions, keeping his voice firm in hopes of not letting on how nervous he is. With the accusatory look the man sends his way, Jayce is pretty sure he fails.

“I am assistant to Dean of the Academy, and from the Undercity myself.”

Shit.

If it were anyone else, maybe Jayce could pass off his magic research as typical science. But the assistant to Professor Heimerdinger, out of all members on the city Council, will recognize what Jayce is trying to do. The illegal thing he’s trying to do. Jayce can't lie to save his life. Maybe if he tells most of the truth, the guy will leave him alone?

“I met a kid down there,” he hesitantly explains, “and I felt… bad, so I go down to give him money every once in a while; make sure he’s doing okay.”

The man’s eyebrows pinch together, tensing his jaw. His eyes flicker from Jayce to the library books on the couch. Jayce Talis still doesn't have a coffee table, the chore has been put on the backburner of his mind. “I believe you.”

“I appreciate that, so if you could–”

“But what prompted your initial visit to the Undercity? I highly doubt you gained a new life outlook and went down to sponsor the first poor kid you come across.”

Heat creeps up Jayce's face. He defensively insists, “You asked why I go to the Undercity, and I’ve already told you. My… original intent doesn't matter to you.”

The man hums under his breath, limping over to survey the covers of the left about books and notes. Jayce frantically considers the ethics of physically hauling the assistant out of his home.

“What exactly are you researching, Mr. Talis?” the man asks as he flips through a book related to rune symbols and capabilities.

“Science.”

“Who authorized it?”

“It’s just a side project.”

“A side project that you went to the Undercity for, apparently.”

“Please, leave.”

The man snaps one of Jayce's notebooks open. His hand twitches with the desire to yank it out of his sight. Maybe give up on his dream and go die in a hole while he's at it. He’ll have to get to making his will tonight. Probably burn his work so no one can know how stupid he was for trying. This is what he gets for signing his notes.

“Hextech,” the assistant hums as he flips to another page of work, thoroughly looking over every sketch and equation. “It actually has a nice ring to it.”

Overwhelmed by his own shame, Jayce acts on his impulse to snatch his notebook back. He holds it close to his chest. “If you're going to tell Heimerdinger about what I’m doing, just go ahead, no need to rub it in.”

Shockingly, the corner of the man’s lips twitch down (he’s pouting) as if what Jayce is saying is coming from entirely left field. “Well, that was my original intent, but that doesn't matter anymore.”

Something like hope twists in his stomach. It crosses Jayce’s mind that this assisstant is the one thing separating him from continuing his research and being exiled. “What do you mean?”

The man rolls his eyes. Clearly, praising the golden boy of the Academy wasn't in his cards. “Your work is impressive. Although it has some flaws, I think I want to help you complete it.”

“No one else thinks it can be done,” says Jayce. He twists the bracelet around his wrist, thinking back on the mage conflicts, why magic has been made illegal in Piltover since the city’s establishment, of the little boy he meets in the Undercity to remind himself why the magic of Hextech has to do good, has to be possible.

The man holds out his free hand. “This is something that can change the world. Don’t worry about permission.” There's an irony in this coming from the assistant of Professor Heimerdinger. Jayce is too overwhelmed by the whiplash of emotions to comment on it.

Jayce shakes the hand the man offers. “I– I don't even know your name.”

The man’s searching gaze doesn't leave Jayce's eyes. Jayce, for the first time this night, gives him more than just a cursory glance. His hair is brown and fluffy, just short of reaching his shoulders, there are moles dotting his face, and his cheekbones are unbelievably sharp. Despite his thin frame being just short of underweight, his grip is firm. He’s handsome.

They are still holding one another's hands when he says, “It's Viktor,” and something inexplicable tugs at Jayce’s soul.

Chapter Text

Ekko keeps a little slip of paper on him that he marks with a tally every time Jayce comes to the shop. He didn't think to do it until the second time he came over, and Ekko gave him his name. Part of him wanted to lie; Vi certainly would've made a name up if Jayce asked. But it was Jayce, the Academy student who gave Ekko money like it was water without being a total asshole about his privilege. 

So he gave his name, and he got money from it, and Jayce started coming to the shop more often. Usually he only buys little trinkets for double the price (although recently, he’s starting to also give him trinkets from topside), chats with Ekko for a few minutes, then is on his way. He never knew bickering with a topsider could be fun.

Jayce is still a topsider, though. One day he could stop coming to the shop for no reason other than he can (he has no reason to continue coming to the shop as is), so Ekko keeps track of it, so he can notice patterns or breaks in them and won’t be so surprised when Jayce inevitably stops visiting. 

He separates the visits by month. Jayce has never come to the Undercity more than four times in a month, no less than once a month, and usually shows up on the weekends. When he comes on weekdays, he's always in a bad mood. Ekko looks forward to the weekday visits the most, because Jayce always takes him to get food so the scientist can ignore whatever failure he's hit. Ekko loves splurging on his favorite stalls and making Jayce try local cuisine. And, after the first lunch together, Ekko always has one of Powder’s new inventions ready to show off, either because it's working perfectly or he needs Jayce to figure out where the engineering failure is. Either way, Jayce’s mood improves because of his and Powder’s successes or being able to help them.

The final week of March passes and Jayce doesn't visit once.

Ekko tries not to focus on the change too hard. The older kids are figuring out which upper-class topside neighborhood they can rob, while he and Powder are busy, trying to make grenades for her and a hoverboard for himself. Jayce doesn’t know about the second project— Ekko isn’t going to tell him until it's fully complete. He’ll impress Jayce with his engineering, go on a passionate speech about how he never would've had the idea if it weren't for Jayce offhandedly talking about it one time, and Jayce will be so moved that he'll, like, adopt Ekko and the others and the Undercity will be independent and it’ll solve world peace.

But that'll only happen if Jayce comes back. Whatever. If he doesn't, Ekko will still have a badass hoverboard he can use to get around and taunt enforcers with.

He still hasn't figured out the entire blueprints for his latest invention. Powder is laughing her ass off at the drawings he’s made of what he’s envisioning. He doesn't think he’s a bad artist, but what does look bad is the nonsensical labels made to it.

cool glowy thing (green?)

metal bits

engine??

badass interior

It’s… still in the planning stages. He's sure that if Jayce comes down to rant about his new experiments, Ekko will be inspired by something he’ll mention and then he can really get started on practical designing.

He crumples up his drawing and throws it in Powder’s face. She starts laughing harder. “I’m not- not laughing at you!” she insists through bursts of giggles. She screeches when that gets a pencil thrown at her too. “It- the labels- it’s the labels!”

“The labels I made!” Ekko indignantly cries, his voice going up a pitch as he tackles Powder down and starts to tickle under her armpit. Powder is laughing so hard she’s crying, writhing and instinctively smacking him hard enough to make Ekko reel back.

She heaves for air through sporadic giggles, sitting up. “You're so s-s- stupid!”

“Nuh-uh!”

Powder grins from ear to ear, staring directly into his wavering gaze. A truce. Good, which means he basically w–

Powder presses her elbow into the spot just above Ekko’s knee. For a moment, his mouth clamps shut, before he's shrieking in laughter and trying to bat her stupid arm away. His legs kick out, putting his foot in her face to try and get away, but she's unperturbed and instead starts tickling his bare feet too. Ekko is so out of breath he thinks he’s gonna die.

“Ekko!” comes Benzo’s voice from downstairs. The two reluctantly stop fighting to hear what else the man has to say. “There’s a customer at the front!”

Ekko rolls his eyes, shoving Powder’s side with his foot as he stands up. “You are evil.”

He’s glad his skin is dark enough that when Powder laughs again, the heat on his face isn't visible. “Hate me ‘cause you ain’t me!”

Urgh, clearly they've been spending too much time around the wannabe, Undercity musicians.

He slips on his shoes before taking the ladder down to the main shop. Powder follows after him. Even though Benzo doesn't like them both being in the shop because it's usually the precursor to chaos, Powder seems to be in a pleasant mood about her (cheated) victory that she'll just spin around on a stool behind the counter while Ekko talks to customers.

His eyes run over the customers. Powder knocks his shoulder and mouths Piltie? before he really processes what he’s seeing.

A mental note forms in his mind that, after a total of four months, on visit number nine, Jayce doesn't come alone. He and the guy he’s with are too busy conversing at a front corner of the shop in quiet voices to even notice the kids.

Well, shit, Ekko hasn't told the others about Jayce. Why hasn't he told them, again? Hoverboard, grenades, older kids are going topside more often, planning–

Oh, yep, he remembers; Ekko is pretty sure that Vi, Mylo, and Claggor will try to rob Jayce if he mentions the topsider customer. That was Ekko’s original plan. But now he doesn't want Jayce to get his experiment stuff stolen, and Powder tells Vi just about everything, so Vi is so gonna find out and rob Jayce and he’ll feel betrayed Ekko played a part and Vi will be pissed he didn't tell her when Jayce came to the shop the first time. Shit shit shit.

Secret, Ekko makes a show to mouth back. Then he loudly clears his throat, making Jayce nearly jump out of his skin and the skinny guy he’s with tilting his head in Ekko’s direction.

“Where were you the past month?” Ekko mockingly scolds. Jayce smiles but he looks kind of sad too. Good, he should feel bad for being gone an entire month. Ekko puffs his chest up. “And who’s he?”

“Ekko, meet my partner, Viktor,” Jayce begins to explain. “Viktor, this is the kid I’ve told you–”

“You talk about me?”

“I’m getting there,” he placates.

The skinny guy, Viktor, apparently, offers his free hand out. “Don't worry, he tells me only good things about you.”

“That's because I’ve only done good,” Ekko says charmingly, shaking his hand. Sheesh, the guy runs cold.

“As you’ve…” Jayce’s attention is caught by the girl standing defensively behind Ekko, trailing off as he looks over her blue hair and eyes. “Hi, are you Powder, by any chance?”

Oh no, Ekko internally laments. Powder madly shakes his shoulders with shock and disbelief, exclaiming, “You talk about me?!”

“N-no!” he insists, at the same time Jayce mimics from before, “Only good things.”

Everything is quickly spiraling out of his control, and Ekko becomes eternally grateful to Viktor, who quiets the entire room with a loud THUD of his cane hitting the ground. His firm gaze looks over the other three in the shop, practically daring them to start bickering again.

“Jayce,” he drawls. Ekko has never seen the man look embarrassed, but there's a first time for everything. “I believe the first question asked was what you were busy with during March?”

“Right– right!” Jayce clears his throat. “Is there somewhere we can sit down to talk, Ekko?”

Ekko sniffs haughtily. He marches to the counter, takes the single stool behind it, and carries it over to Viktor. The man chuckles under his breath before taking his seat and nodding in thanks.

Powder has already taken to pushing herself up to sit on the counter, scrutinizing Jayce from his hair to his boots. She’s biting back whatever comment is on the tip of her tongue by way of Viktor’s judgmental resting face.

The only one still standing is Jayce, and he sighs in an exasperated way. With all eyes on him, he crosses his arm and takes his spot at the other man’s side. “After I became partners with Viktor, we made a breakthrough in our experiments and research. We gained a Councilor sponsoring our work, keeping us out of trouble with the others. Right now, we're in the stages of making actual products from what we’ve harnessed, which means a lot of deadlines and nights in the lab recently. I’m sorry I didn't tell you or come to see you, kiddo, but I want you to know it was for a good reason if nothing else.”

Ekko frowns to himself, considering the new information. This is the most Jayce has ever directly talked about what he does, and Ekko still feels left in the dark about everything. He's never particularly thought about the man’s vagueness in the past, never finding it intentional. But now that it's being thrown in his face like this, Ekko is reminded that it's been four months and, really, he doesn’t know anything about Jayce.

Next to him, Powder hesitantly raises her hand like she's a kid in Mr. Jayce’s classroom. He nods in her direction. “So, what are you… producing? With what?”

It’s such a simple line of reasoning, and Ekko has no idea what the answer is. Why hasn't he ever asked what Jayce is working on all the time? Why has Jayce never brought it up himself?

“It’s called Hextech,” says Viktor. There's a low, quiet lilt to his voice that makes Ekko’s racing thoughts slow down a moment. “Jayce wants to use unconventional, illegal methods of magic to help those of us that live in the Undercity. If other members of the Council became aware, or it were made public, investors would have us focus Hextech efforts on what would make a profit instead of doing the most good.”

“Can we see it– Hextech?” Ekko asks before he can even think about it, his eyes alight with a burning curiosity that outweighs his hesistance.

His curiosity is twisted into embarrassment when Jayce doesn't immediately agree. Rather, he engages in a conversation with Viktor spoken only through eye contact and little expressions too quick for Ekko to decipher. He feels like he's watching something he shouldn't be. Powder leans into his side and her weight is a comfort.

The silence is broken by Jayce saying, “Would your guardians be okay with it?”

“Yes!” Ekko answers for them both, leaping off the counter and tugging Powder with him by the hand.

Powder doesn't start a conversation with him while they trail behind Viktor and Jayce, walking along a sidewalk with every crack being intentionally placed. She's staring up at the sky: dark and full of countless, glimmering stars, analyzing each one instead of acknowledging Ekko’s existence.

He cracks almost immediately, frantically whispering, “I’m sorry I didn't tell you about Jayce but I swear he's really not that bad and he gives me money all the time and helps me figure out why your stuff doesn't work sometimes!”

Powder gasps, offended, finally looking at him to whisper back, “You say you figure out how to fix my precious babies on your own! What else is a lie?”

“I was leaving out bits of the truth!” Ekko quietly insists, but it doesn't sound very good now that he's said it aloud. “I promise I usually figure out what’s wrong without help!”

“That's not the point,” she mumbles, voice breaking. He realizes with sudden horror that she's on the verge of tears. “Why didn't– why don't you trust me enough to tell me anything?”

Oh. He’s never felt stupider in his life. And now Powder’s bottom lip is trembling from the effort of holding back her tears, and Ekko feels so bad for hurting her feelings that he might cry too.

“We're here,” says Viktor from up ahead, followed by jingling keys. The building they stall in front of isn't too far from the main plaza. It’s tall and looming, painted dark blue and complemented with golden accents. Ekko is too distracted scrubbing his eyes to notice much else. “Are you two alright?”

“Ye- yeah,” he grumbles, blinking away the blurry heat. “Sorry.”

On his way in, Jayce messes up Ekko’s hair a little and he feels terrible for the comfort it gives him.

The lab of the building turns out to be on the first floor. Ekko is glad, because not waiting for Viktor to limp up the stairs means he and Powder can go back home sooner and he can ignore Jayce for the rest of his life in hopes of Powder’s forgiveness.

The ceilings are so tall he cranes his neck to notice the intricate celestial bodies and stars and constellations painted in different shades of gold and white. The wall-length windows have a view of the sea and sky so beautiful it takes his breath away, and if it weren't for Powder being right next to him, he’d run up to look at all the science equipment up close. It’s something out of his dreams; the one where the Undercity is its own nation and he’s a successful engineer that revolutionizes the industry as they know it, making a difference, with the impressive lab to match. 

Not quite in the center of the room is a table that's been bolted to the floor. On top of it is a weird device that sort of resembles a bird cage if Ekko squints.

Jayce comes into his field of vision with something shining blue and roughly edged in his fingers. “This,” he puts the crystal in the center of the cage-reminiscent machine, “is Hextech.” Jayce grips a handle connected to the machine, twists it just so, and Ekko goes weightless.

Ekko is floating. Him and Powder are in the air with nothing holding them up, and an elated giggle falls past his lips. It's like he's in water, swimming around, but there's no force of the waves pushing against his body. He’s going up, up, up, until his fingers brush over one of the painted constellations engraved into the ceiling he craned to see– now perfectly within reach. 

This is what Jayce has been working on privately. This, Ekko realizes, is the reason Jayce came to the shop months ago and met him at all.

Powder’s head bumps into his leg. He flicks his gaze over to her, and his heart skips a beat. She's gazing down below, at Viktor and Jayce, who are still on the ground and look like ants from this height; at her hands, that have a blue light bouncing on her skin from the crystal’s brightness; then to Ekko, who can't stop staring at her.

“One day,” she breathes, a smile beginning to form, her childish anger momentarily forgotten, "we're gonna be even better than them.”

Jayce goes with them back to the Undercity, citing that it's the least safe part of Piltover and neither of them can fight. Viktor stays in the lab, murmuring something about waiting for Jayce to return.

It’s on the shaft ride down that events of the day hit Ekko like a metal heap of junk. He’s emotionally drained and physically tired, struggling just to keep his eyes open. He's pretty sure it's after ten, when Benzo has a strict curfew of eight because it gets dark in the Undercity at early hours from smog so thick it's dulling the sun's rays.

“You okay, kiddo?” asks Jayce, nudging his side. 

Ekko is okay, he's doing amazing, actually. Powder came around after the whole magical floating experience, and even though she still hasn't said much to Ekko since, she happily listens to Jayce explain grenade making and other long-range inventions, or talk about the findings he’s made on the runes and how he and Viktor were able to harness magic.

“I’m okay,” he says around a loud yawn. 

Jayce sends him a look.

The boy rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall of the shaft.

The shaft hits the ground level of the Undercity with a clattering sound. The man warily glances over it on his way out, trailing behind the kids as Powder leads the way to The Last Drop.

“Can I have a piggy back ride?” she suddenly asks, whirling around to gauge Jayce's reaction. “I mean– sorry– if that's okay, please. I’m tired.”

He smiles, dropping down to one knee as Powder gets onto his back. “One, two, up!”

He stands like her weight on him is nothing. When Ekko thinks about the muscles on Jayce's arms and how skinny Powder is, it probably wouldn't be an exaggeration to say she does weigh nothing to him.

Ekko sends her a stink eye. Traitor. “I wanna be carried too.”

“But you said that you feel fine,” the scientist reminds him teasingly.

Ekko bravely pushes beyond the flush of heat crawling up his skin. “So?”

With an amused roll of his eyes, Jayce readjusts his grip on Powder’s legs so he can carry Ekko on his front. The end result is him and Powder resting their heads on Jayce's shoulders and their legs tangled around him and one another. It's childish, being carried as they are, but Ekko really doesn't care at the moment. He wants to go home, apologize until Powder talks to him again, and see how Jayce's Hextech develops. He won't be left behind.

When they reach the plaza and The Last drop is in sight, Jayce raises the shoulder Powder is resting her head on. “That's where you live, right?”

She hums a sound of agreement, half asleep. Ekko understands on a spiritual level: Jayce is very comfortable to rest on.

“It's closed,” Jayce mumbles to himself. Ekko is too tired to notice the glaring danger, danger, danger! signs that statement should be sending to his brain.

The man opens the front door with a creak, and a bullet whizzes past his head before slamming into the wall.

“Ekko?” says Claggor.

“Powder!” says Vi.

“Who are you?” growls Vander.

Ekko feels the topsider’s heartbeat quicken, his grip on him and Powder tightening protectively. He wants to say something, say that Jayce isn't like the enforcers or everything else that's wrong topside, but it's like he’s lost his voice and he feels queasy.

“I’m Jayce Talis,” he slowly begins. He sets Ekko down first, then Powder shimmies off his back to come to her friend’s side, in front of Jayce. She pinches Ekko’s shirt and it's probably the only thing stopping his knees from buckling. “I’m a frequent customer at Benzo’s Shop. May I speak with you, sir?” Ekko is still facing the man, so he can see Jayce’s eyes worryingly flicker from Ekko, Powder, the older kids, Vander, back to Ekko. “In private, please.”

With her hand still on Ekko’s shirt, Powder leads him downstairs to where she and the rest of her siblings all share a room. As soon as the door closes, Vi explodes on them both. “What the hell were you two thinking?! I thought you were kidnapped and I don't know if that's worse than you, what the fuck– going topside with a Piltie?!”

“He didn't kidnap us!” Ekko defends, his voice cracking. “He's a scientist and I wanted to see his work!”

“And you didn't think to tell any of us?” Vi accusingly points out. Mylo is pretending to be distracted with lint on his always dirty shirt, Claggor is sitting next to him and looking empathetically at Powder and Ekko, Ekko is humiliated.

“I– I thought… I dunno.” It seemed like a good idea, going up with Jayce. He doesn't regret seeing what he’s doing topside, but he wouldn't have gone if he thought this would happen. “He’s good– right, Powder?”

She snaps her head up when every gaze turns to focus on her. “I think he's nice,” Powder quietly says. She physically shrinks up when Vi glares at her. “He’s been helping me and Ekko make my stuff actually work…”

Vi’s pink hair is a mess and her face is aflame with anger. She groans into her hands before dropping onto the love seat near the coffee table. Unable to verbalize her thoughts, Claggor gently says for her, “If he’s good, why didn't you tell any of us about him?”

Ekko shrugs. He could've sworn he had a reason to keep his… friendship? visits? with Jayce secret. But now that he's been confronted by Vi about it, he draws a blank. “Because you– we all hate topsiders, and he's a topsider,” he trails off, settling on saying, “I’m sorry.”

Vi is so overwhelmed by indescribable emotion she doesn't even look at him directly. “Oh, Ekko…” Mylo pats her arm, and finally she sighs, “Never, ever go anywhere without telling someone, both of you; no more going with us for topside jobs the next month–”

“But, Vi!” Powder argues. “I–”

“And,” she firmly continues, looking intensely at him and Powder, “if Vander decides he's okay… I won't see much issue in him coming back here.”

Ekko could hug her. If he wasn't being silently scrutinized by the older boys and Powder, he would. As it is, he hurriedly nods to each one of her rules, barely able to keep a grin off his face. “Fine by me.”

Powder says, much more reluctantly, “Me too.”

She pulls him over to his bottom bunk bed, and the tenseness around the room finally begins to lessen as Mylo begins bickering with Vi and Claggor, and Powder asks Ekko to add a character doodle to her newest bomb.

He’s making the finishing touches on his drawing of a neon spider when the door creaks open. It's Jayce, and even though Ekko knew Vander (probably) wouldn't have killed him, he’s still happy to see him. 

The man's gaze looks over each of the kids, taking in their features. “Ekko, Powder, Vi, Claggor, and Mylo,” he says, pointing to each of them and getting the names right on his first try. Ekko realizes he's never actually described what his friends look like to Jayce. “It's a pleasure to meet you all, even if we got off on the wrong foot.”

Proving his point, Vi flips him off and turns her head away.

“And if any of you need something or other in the future, just let me know; I'll see what I can do to help,” he concludes. None of them jump at the offer. But. At least no one pulled a weapon again. Progress is progress.

Ekko’s birthday is usually a simple day. He gets some trinkets from Benzo and the residents of The Last Drop, makes cupcakes with Powder, and that's that. He knows his birthday is important– Benzo reminds him every year the significance of the passage of time– but he's a kid from the Undercity who has never had a big celebration all for himself, and what he usually gets is fine by him.

Like with the rest of his routine, things change with Jayce in his life.

He wakes up on May 29th to Powder incessantly knocking at his window. Grumbling under his breath, the twelve year old pushes it open so she can slink inside. It's early yet she's full of energy, throwing a fresh set of clothes from his drawer at him. “Come on, come on, it's your birthday, let's do something!”

Ekko barely has his shoes on before she's leading him outside (through his window because Powder is odd like that), taking him by the hand to the main plaza of the Undercity. It's not too busy at this hour, and without the usually crowded streets, he can tell which building she's taking him to almost immediately.

“Remember when you said you wanted to change up your hair?” Powder says, with the grin on her face obvious even though he can't see it. The salon is just down the street from The Last Drop.

Ekko’s heart flutters. “Yeah, I– are you sure? I heard getting my kind of hair done can take awhile.”

“It’s your birthday,” she reminds him like that's enough of an answer. “Besides, you’ll have me to talk with to pass the time.”

So they go into the salon shop, the nicest one in the Undercity, and Powder says she wants a ‘two strand twist’ that she must've heard about in a magazine. The lady at the front looks at them oddly before she clarifies it's for Ekko, to which the lady’s sighs and she leads them to take a seat and wait for the hairstylist.

The next three and a half hours are terrible but also stupidly fun. His scalp is tender to any kind of pulling or sectioning done to his hair by the lady hairdresser, and Powder laughs every time he yelps in pain from a knot in his hair being pulled. He almost cries a good three times, and it turns into laughter when the hairdresser scolds him for moving so much. She's got nimble fingers that also hurt when she's shampooing his hair and it feels like she's trying to scrub his brain while she's at it. Powder either calls him a big baby or starts talking about whatever new gadget she's working on to distract him. 

The end result is almost unbelievably worth it. His curly blonde hair has been styled into having a twisty appearance that makes him look pretty badass, in his opinion. He gives his thanks to the lady who suffered through having Ekko and Powder as clients, Powder pays the bill, and then they're back on the streets.

“What now?” Ekko whines as she leads him to and fro. “I still have work to do!”

“Benzo always gives you the day off on your birthday!”

“Yeah, well–” Ekko doesn't have much to say against that, actually. “What else is there for us to do without someone supervising?”

Powder’s lips split into a grin. “I wanna show you something cool.”

‘Something cool’ is at the very edge of the Undercity, and requires going through the sewers (couldn't they have done this before he got his hair done?) and a complicated route that Powder has written down on a scrap piece of paper. They walk for almost an hour, taking so many twists and turns Ekko has lost track of where they could be.

“Powder,” he begins, trying very hard to stay calm. “Are we, maybe, by any chance, lost?”

“No!” she hurriedly exclaims. “It's just… dark down here, hard to see my map.”

“We're so lost.” Now he's losing his calm. They are so gonna die down here and never be found again and be forgotten.

“No– okay, so we are a little bit! But it'll be fine! We can find a manhole and figure out where we…”

An ear piercing, inhuman shriek comes from somewhere else in the sewer, echoing around them. He can't figure out where it came from, but he's filled with insurmountable fear that makes his hands clammy. “We need to–”

His best friend is already running further into the sewer system, chasing after the source of what could've made the noise.

Fuck.

Because of course he does, Ekko chases after Powder, shallow water being splashed underneath his feet. He doesn't dare call her name, knowing whatever else is down here might hear him, might come after them, so Ekko keeps running in hopes of catching up to her and– and then he’s not sure from there. Knock sense back into her so they can go home already and forget about what she wanted to show him.

There's another shriek, louder but also angrier. He can hear Powder panting up ahead, taking this turn and that until she skids to a stop. Ekko finally slows down, coming up not far behind her. Despite sprinting, she's hardly panting, she's hardly breathing, her blue gaze trained on the minimal light coming from the sewer grate above.

“Powder,” he hisses, “let's go back. Please.”

She shakes her head, tugging at his arm until he looks up too. He can't see much. Barely, he can make out that the grate is in a cavernous hallway, and that there are people talking in the room above him.

“The boy became addicted to the Shimmer, and his body couldn't handle it. That terrible screaming you heard? It was him.”

“Was that it ? He was only on Shimmer for a few months.”

“Well, drugs are addictive, and he did have sizable doses.”

“How much longer until it can be sold, do you think?”

“Eh, another month at most. Having the boy as a test subject sped things up considerably.”

“Good.”

A pit forms in Ekko’s stomach. Powder is a stone where she stands.

“And about Vander…”

“What of him?”

Her breath hitches, tightening her grip on his arm to bruise.

“I understand why you feel as you do towards him, but he is the one keeping the Lanes even somewhat peaceful.”

“His peaceful unity only reaches so far. He’s become a lapdog for the enforcers. Zaun will never come to be if he's the one leading the Undercity.”

A pause. Then, “It wouldn't hurt our efforts to keep our enemies closer.”

“Singed.”

“Yes?”

“Get out.”

Ekko and Powder take the unknown man’s final words to heart, and run.

They run until they're out of breath, until their legs give out, until they are lost in the sewer because at least it means they won't be found by the men they heard.

“What– what the fuck?” Ekko wheezes, hunching over to put his hands on his knees and gasp for air. “What the fuck was that?”

“I think– I think Vander’s in danger,” is all Powder manages to say, chest heaving for air and falling into the shallow water because her legs are shaking too badly to hold herself up. She clutches her shirt to make sure her heart is still beating. “Fuck.”

Ekko repeats the sentiment and feels it with his entire being.

When they return to Benzo’s after crawling up a manhole, quiet and holding hands like they’re the other’s lifeline, Ekko distantly realizes why Powder didn't want him going back to the shop.

The shop is full of colorful decorations, Mylo and Claggor are putting up a large, homemade banner that spells HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! (Ekko will later be told this is the one decoration they managed to put up without getting distracted by being reminded of an inside joke that spirals into a long conversation, and that Viktor did most of the decorating on his own), Viktor is wearing a party hat while looking absolutely miserable supervising the boys, and Ekko can smell something burning from the upstairs kitchen.

Benzo, pretending to be busy with a shop trinket so he doesn't have to do work, is the first to notice them. “Ah, Ekko, you're back earlier than we expected! This was all thanks to Tal…” Benzo takes a good, long look at them both, and his entire demeanor shifts from jovial to something like concerned anger. “What happened?”

Powder squeezes Ekko’s hand. “Is Vander here?”

Vander wasn't at the shop, not when he's the Hound of the Underground and the one man able to unify the Lanes. He did, however, make a very nice platter of fruit, meats, and cheeses that were from the topside. It's the only good thing that came out of the kitchen. Jayce and Vi put themselves in charge of making a cake, which is why the kitchen is hardly recognizable.

Mylo tells him the story while Vi leaves early to take Powder to The Last Drop. Jayce brought the ingredients and recipe from his apartment, but Vi insisted she could make a better cake without the help of ‘Piltie bullshit,’ as she said. One thing led to another, and then they decided to make two separate cakes and decide at the end which was worthy of being the main dessert.

It's at this point in the story that Mylo gives him the theory that Jayce and Vi become curses to everyone around them when put in the same room together, no matter the circumstance. First Vi put the oven temperature too high, then Jayce forgot to melt his butter before mixing it in with the sugar, then Vi dropped the entire carton of eggs, then Jayce started throwing flour at her, then Vi began throwing every other grocery he brought at him, then then they both realized that Vi put the stove on too high of a temperature, not the oven at all, and the flames from the stove began to lick at a nearby hand towel, lighting it on fire.

The story gets a chuckle from Ekko, but he's still in a weird state of shock about what he heard in the sewers that he doesn't do much else. Mylo and Claggor leave to go see their sisters and father not long after.

Ekko sits on the kitchen counter that's been wracked in flour, ash, and frosting. He pops a sliced strawberry in his mouth and it's one of the best things he’s ever tasted. He tries to figure out what he can do to help Vander and comes up blank. He doesn't even understand what Vander needs help from.

Jayce, not long after Mylo and Claggor leave, comes to check on Ekko. He leans against the same counter as him, their arms touching. He doesn't say anything immediately, waiting for Ekko to initiate a conversation first or maybe finding comfort in the companionable silence. But eventually, Jayce says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He sniffs. He's not sure how he would explain what he heard. He should've gone with Powder to explain at The Last Drop, she must not be doing any better than he is. Why did he think leaving her alone to explain everything would be a good idea? Stupid. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Jayce wraps his arm around Ekko’s shoulder. He doesn't have any idea what has Ekko and Powder so shaken; he’s probably coming up with the worst possible situations of what could’ve happened in the last few hours. “Will you be alright?”

He shrugs. The simple motion makes his eyes water; a wave of emotion crashing over him, threatening to drown him. He is so tired of crying. “I– I’m sorry,” he says, but he's not sure why. It’s the only response that feels adequate.

“Okay,” Jayce squeezes his shoulder, “can I hug you?”

Ekko nods because he really will start crying if he tries to talk. It's all the confirmation Jayce needs before he's standing in front of where the boy is sitting on the counter, pulling him into his chest and cupping the back of his head. Ekko can hear the fast, deep thuds of his heartbeat.

I’m sorry I let Powder run to the noise, I’m sorry I left her to tell Vander everything alone, I’m sorry I can't do anything to help him, I’m sorry I can't explain, I’m sorry I'm making you worry.

Instead of saying any of the different apologies running through his mind, Ekko hides his face in Jayce's shirt that's been ruined by baking ingredients and, now, Ekko’s silently dripping tears. Jayce only holds him closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“I forgive you, Ekko,” he murmurs. “Whatever happened, I forgive you.”

Chapter Text

Something is wrong with Jayce. He’s busy lately, which is one thing, but now he has a partner in the lab— Jayce Talis, the Academy’s golden boy for his intelligence and inventions, but may as well have committed social suicide with his total unwillingness to work with other students, has a partner. One that he’s spending most of his time with, who he keeps stray doodles of in his notebook, whose work Jayce praises when Caitlyn asks for updates on his research.

Part of her is half sold on the theory that her brother parents’ protégé has been replaced by someone doing a poor imitation of Jayce; he’s nice to children and older folk, not his peers. Not Viktor, a man with no last name, from the Undercity, who Jayce talks about like he hung the moon and stars.

Now, maybe Jayce having a crush isn't impossible, but it’s weird that almost as soon as they become partners, he becomes secretive on Caitlyn. When he was once eager to talk about his main research on Hextech, now he tells her about boring side projects or changes the subject. When she used to be able to come visit him in his lab or apartment, now he’s hardly at either, and she has no idea where else he could be spending so much of his time.

Caitlyn Kiramman swears she’s going to figure out what’s wrong with Jayce Talis and fix it.

On June 7th, she makes her way to the lab where Jayce and Viktor concoct their research. There's different gadgets littered around the room she doesn't even want to try to make sense of. Gauntlets here, an oversized pick-axe there, and off to the side is Viktor, at a desk that has a machine that almost looks like a hand, welding together another machine that looks identical to the hand-one, for whatever reason.

Under prior circumstances, Caitlyn would peek inside, take note of the lack of Jayce, and leave. But now, knowing this is the third time in a row she's come to the lab and he isn't there, it only reinforces her idea that there's something going on. 

Squaring her shoulders, she pushes the main door further open, the heels of her boots quietly clicking against the floor as she nears the man. “Excuse me.”

She's quite proud of herself when a flinch tenses through Viktor’s body before he settles back into his seat, pretending he wasn't surprised by Caitlyn’s sudden appearance. Too bad for him, not much can escape her sight, but she decides not to comment on it.

“Hello, Miss Kiramman,” he drawls, his attention already back on his engineering task before him. “What brings you to the lab?”

“I’ve been curious,” she half-lies, “about what you and Jayce have been up to. And you can call me Caitlyn, please.”

Viktor hums under his breath. His head is tilted down to his scribbled notes Caitlyn can't make sense of, and he peels off his dark goggles. She has only ever seen him in passing, but she could've sworn he didn't have bags so dark they look like bruises under his eyes two weeks ago. “Much of our progress has been spent ironing out kinks and making blueprints for future projects.”

Purposefully vague.

“Future projects for… what, exactly?” she gently probes.

“Jayce has a, eh, newfound awareness for the suffering in the Undercity,” his voice gains a softer lilt when he continues, “he wants to help them. Hextech can do that.”

Caitlyn blinks, blinks again, trying to make sense of this new information presented and how it fits into the grander scheme of things. Why is Jayce being secretive if he's still making projects to do good? What's changed? What really is Hextech, and why has it not been put on the market already? Jayce only has so many funds to work with from the Kiramman family. If he really wants to pursue the gargantuan task of helping the people of the Undercity, why not present Hextech to investors?

She’s spoken with Viktor enough to know he won't give any concrete answers. So instead, she simply asks, “Where is Jayce, by the way? I’ve hardly seen him in the last few months.” She keeps her tone perfectly neutral. She's not upset at all.

This, oddly, seems to be the most difficult question for her to have asked. Her blue eyes follow the way Viktor’s fingers pick up his pen, beginning to write into his open notebook in a language that isn't English. “I think where he’s been spending his time is something you should bring to his attention when you next see him, Miss Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn sighs to herself, gives Viktor her thanks, and leaves.

As a member of high society, and with her mother being on the Council, it's mandatory that the Kiramman family as a whole come to parties, charities, and galas hosted by other members of the Council. 

Caitlyn Kiramman doesn't like the parties; surrounded by people older than her, listening to talk of bleak politics, and eating delicious food that never fills her stomach. The only upside to this one is that it's being hosted by Professor Heimerdinger, which means Jayce will be there.

As always, the charity event is astounding. The Academy has been turned on its head for a night, the exquisite ballroom lavishly decorated with the machines made by scholarship students put on proud displays, with said students in attendance, and everyone present is wearing their finest dresses and suits.

It takes her a few moments to notice Jayce, since he also prefers working on his machines than parties and therefore spends the gathering by himself (if he isn't at Caitlyn’s side). Now, though, he stands near one of the balconies, a full glass of champagne in his hand. He's not by himself, and for once he seems to be enjoying the smalltalk with the other person.

The other person, she realizes in disbelief, is none other than Mel Medarda. Born in Noxus, sent to Piltover a few years ago, now the youngest member on the Council. And, fifteen year old Caitlyn turns red at the mere sight of her, unbelievably beautiful.

So this raises the question: since when is Jayce Talis on friendly terms with a member of the council that isn't Caitlyn’s own mother or the Dean of the Academy? And, of all of them, it’s Mel Medarda?

Maybe they're not friends, Caitlyn rationalizes. Medarda is a politician, Jayce is the Academy’s golden boy at a charity event celebrating intellect, of course she'd find time to speak with him before moving onto another guest.

Except that doesn't explain Jayce's dopey smile or the glint of amusement in Medarda’s eyes, how she nudges him to look in the direction of a blabbering Councilor Hoskel, whispering something to him that makes Jayce properly laugh. Then something catches his eye— did Viktor come with him?— that has him turning to Medarda fully, commenting something, kissing her hand, then going to whatever caught his attention.

No one else but Caitlyn seemed to notice the unbelievable interaction. Similarly, no one else sees the way Medarda’s soft expression perfectly resettles into something pleasant but crafted. Caitlyn didn't even think the Councilor seemed all that fake, until she witnessed her in the presence of someone whose company she genuinely enjoys.

A moment ago, talking to Medarda about Jayce didn't seem like such a bad idea, even if their knowing each other threw Caitlyn off guard. But, after watching her demeanor shift in real time in the absence of Jayce’s presence, she realizes that Medarda would probably eat her, spit her out, and then inform Jayce about Caitlyn's snooping into his work and private life. Terrible idea, says the alarm bells ringing in her head. Talk to someone else.

Except there isn't really anyone Jayce is close with that Caitlyn hasn't already considered. The only two people that could– do know something want to keep it secret.

She pokes at her food, accepting an hors d’oeuvre offered to her by a waitress. Caitlyn needs to figure out what's happening behind the scenes; needs to know what Jayce is making with Viktor, where he’s spending so much of his time if it's not with her at his lab or home, and how he's suddenly on such fond terms with Councilor Medarda. If she stays out of the loop like this any longer, she's going to drive herself mad.

Caitlyn, she decides after thinking about when these changes began, needs to go to the Undercity.

The trip down to the Undercity, made on July 2nd, is easy enough. Her father usually has her attend the Academy for private tutoring over the summer, tutoring on so many advanced subjects and extracurricular that takes the majority of her day to complete, so she uses it as her cover when she leaves just after the crack of dawn. She has until 8pm when her parents will expect her home. Caitlyn begins her internal clock, beginning at 7:30am, and heads off to the first shuttle that goes to the Underground.

She’s overly cautious about an enforcer recognizing her and asking why she's in the city by herself, so Caitlyn takes the long way to the shuttle, keeping her hood up as she passes the conductor her coins.

Caitlyn sits down heavily at the first available seat. The ride down is sparsely populated by other people, so she allows herself a moment to breathe out in relief that she's made it this far. Okay. Caitlyn is really doing this; too late to turn back. Her foot taps anxiously, glancing over the ten other strangers with her. It's fine, it's good, she may or may not have brought the SIG P365 pistol that was specially made by Jayce for her birthday. The weight of the gun lays heavy in her backpack, the reminder of it calming her down just a bit. She's a good shot.

The gun in her backpack is probably the only thing keeping her from turning back topside when the shuttle stops at the main platform of the Undercity. After getting off, she can hardly believe that she’s still in Piltover. It's an entirely different world; everyone has either tattoos on their face or a prosthetic limb, every outfit looks like it's been worn the last three days without washing, and everywhere she looks, there is at least one person sitting on the sidewalk with a vile of something glowing purple. It looks so out of place and terrible she wouldn't use it in exchange for the best rifle on the market— these people are injecting it into their veins, burning in their skin for a moment that is so bright that the unnatural purple of the drug is visible inside them, before they all rolls their eyes back in ecstasy and slump down against the muddy sidewalk.

Maybe it's her own nerves, or the air that is so thick and pungent, but Caitlyn can hardly breathe. Even knowing she has a weapon, there is so much casual danger it's off putting. She needs to sit down, needs to find whatever gods-forbidden shop Jayce just had to get illegal parts from, and figure out what to do from there.

Hugging her sides, her blue eyes look for a place that looks remotely safe enough to settle down in while she collects herself from the initial… culture shock.

The Last Drop, is the sign she reads from a few buildings away. It's a bar, and she's fifteen, but it's the only shop she’s noticed that doesn't look like it's actively falling apart. Besides, it’s not like anyone on this side of the city will ID her. She pulls her hood up higher.

Just as she thought she would, Caitlyn enters through the front door of the plaza’s bar without issue, weaving past heavy bodies that could crush her if she upset them. Careful not to so much as hit shoulders with another person, she makes her way to the main bar and sits atop one of the stools. The bartender, a man almost the same size of a bear but with the kindest eyes she’s seen down here, looks her over before making a drink for another client.

She sets her backpack into her lap, tearing open a granola bar’s wrapper before biting down on the snack. It’s already 9am. It's progress. She’s here, now she just needs to work up the nerve to ask around about a parts shop, then she can be one step closer to figuring out what exactly moved Jayce so deeply down here that now he's never around. 

Sure, the Undercity has never been a good place to be, but every topsider knows how the lesser class suffers. It's always in the back of her mind, and now it's all she can see, but it's not like Caitlyn can do much to address it.

Oh no, she laments. It's entirely possible that now that Jayce has seen the everyday horrors of these people, he's gone about making projects in hopes of fixing… everything about the Undercity. If that is the case, she may need to talk to him about his unwavering kindness but also terrible naivety. There would be no end to him trying to improve conditions, and he won't give up on this sort of thing, so Caitlyn may as well never see him again with how engrossed he’d get chasing after an impossible goal. 

Caitlyn honestly hopes it would rather he's just invested time against the weird drug on the street. That, at least, she can tangibly try to affect while she’s down here.

“Excuse me?” she asks the bartender, deepening her voice in an attempt to lessen her accent. She highly doubts these brutes are posh too. Caitlyn internally cringes at her attempt to act like she could ever be from down here regardless, but pushes forward, “Is there a parts shop nearby? I think it’s called, um, Benny’s?”

“Ah, Benzo’s,” says the man, cleaning a dirty glass with a rag that also looks dirty. 

Caitlyn tries not to blush from embarrassment at the correction. “Yes.”

“His isn't too far from here, but…” the man trails off, setting the glass down. He goes to a door that’s along a side wall of the main bar, stepping into whatever room it is and disappearing for a time.

Caitlyn isn't sure how long she's expected to wait. Did the bartender leave so she could take a hint and get out? The clock hands on her watch say 9:04am. She’ll give it another minute before assuming the man doesn't intend to actually help.

Almost exactly at 9:05, though, the man returns from the side room with a pink-haired teenager that’s Caitlyn’s age. She looks irritated as the man— her father, maybe?— pleasantly leads her to the side of the bar Caitlyn is sitting at.

“Vi, this is the young lady,” he says.

“Hello,” Caitlyn greets with the same awkwardly deep voice she tried earlier. She crumples her granola bar wrapper into her backpack. “I’m– Matilda.”

Vi looks her up and down before scoffing with a roll of her eyes. Caitlyn tries to not feel offended, until she remembers she actually has every right to. Who does this girl think she is?! Caitlyn hasn't even done anything!

“Fine. Let's go, Matilda.” She sharply turns around, marching out of the bar and not even making sure Caitlyn is following. Caitlyn reluctantly follows after her.

The walk to Benzo's is uncomfortably quiet. Vi makes no attempt to talk to her. Caitlyn doesn't want to make her even more irrationally angry by trying.

Abruptly, she stops in front of one of the many stores jam-packed along a quiet street. Caitlyn belatedly realizes it's the only one with a sign at all, this one simply reading BENZOS. “Oh, um, thank y–” 

Vi is already going off on her own without another word. Like she has a real purpose. When Caitlyn considers it a moment longer, she realizes that Vi just might. 

Caitlyn follows after her, forgetting all prior hesitance in favor of getting answers. “Has that purple drug been around long?”

“Nope.” She’s walking so fast Caitlyn has to half-jog to keep pace. Vi is taller than her. “What’s it matter to you?”

“How long then? A few months?” Around the same time Jayce first came to the Underground?

Vi doesn't deign her with a response, taking sharp twists and turns that almost make Caitlyn lose track of her entirely. “You said you needed to go to Benzo's shop. Go back there, Piltie.”

Caitlyn barely contains her flinch. ‘Piltie’ isn't a slur, but it sure sounds like one with the amount of disdain coming from her. Vi continues to walk away from her. She refuses to let her go. “I just want to help!” she insists, dropping the fake accent completely to be more sincere. “That drug– it’s not– why haven't the enforcers done anything about it?”

That, at least, makes Vi stop walking. She turns to glare at Caitlyn. “Was I giving you too much credit in assuming you know anything that goes on down here?”

“N–no.” Caitlyn swings her backpack to the front. She's serious about this. Breathing out, she pulls her pistol from her bag, letting Vi get a fair glimpse of it before tucking it into the waistband of her pants. “I’m a good shot.” She doesn't look anywhere else but at Vi’s pink eyes. “Please. I’m a topsider, but I can at least help you stay out of trouble for a day, can’t I?” 

Vi scrutinizes her a moment longer, before relenting. “If you hit that trash can lid over there, dead center, you can come wi–”

There's a sudden BANG as a bullet fires in Vi’s direction. She whirls around, looking at the imprint that’s been made right on the handle metal lid. Then she groans under her breath, and shrugs her shoulder for Caitlyn to follow her.

At 10:04am, a Piltie and a Trencher walk into an old factory. There are open holes along the high roofing, it reeks of something dying, and in a far corner is a small gang of older boys, playing a card game with crates being used as seats and boxes for a table. There's no lighting provided except for what little of the sun peers through the smog down here.

The Trencher marches up to the first boy she sees, a skinny brown guy that has a split lip, and grabs him by the collar of his tattered shirt. His friends stand up in alarm, and so the Piltie aims her gun at them. She's never fired on another person, but she knows where the non-vitals are. It would be easy to scare them if she acts under control. She keeps a steady finger on the trigger. No one has to get shot.

“Where's Deckard?” the Trencher growls, shaking the boy in emphasis.

“The– fuck?” he hisses. Caitlyn can't see him, her gaze trained on his four other friends, but he sounds angry. Except it’s not anger about being ambushed, but like it’s on the behalf of someone else. 

She realizes why when he exclaims, “Deckard is fucking dead, Vi! He has been for weeks!”

There's no way Vi would've asked if she didn't think this Deckard fellow was alive, but Caitlyn can't make out any sign this new information throws her off. Rather, she lowers her voice to a level that feels purely dangerous, “How?”

“Oh, fuck off!” he loudly groans, a wavering edge creeping into his tone like he’s fighting back tears. From the corner of her eye, Caitlyn sees him tug his collar free with considerable effort. He falls onto his ass, scowling at the two girls. “How the fuck else has everyone down here been losing their shit? He ODed on Shimmer.”

Vi doesn't have an immediate response. Caitlyn isn't sure how long she should wait before trying to step in. She cocks her gun at one of the boy’s friends, and speaks in his direction, “Before or after it was put on the market?”

“Leave them–!”

“Answer me!” Her hand wavers on the trigger. She's never shot someone. It’ll be just like target practice. This close, she can make any shot she aims for. It’s fine, it’s fine. She has control, and one of the boys is shielding the smallest one with his body. Just like target practice. It's fine.

Vi is unnervingly silent and Caitlyn can barely hear anything over the sudden and loud ringing in her ears. Breathe, breathe, breathe, just like the time she had a competition against Sheriff Grayson and the woman gave her the win. Always given the win. “No one has to get hurt,” she quietly insists. There's a tightness in her chest and she hears her voice like it’s underwater. “Just tell us what you know about Shimmer.”

Caitlyn is led out of the warehouse by Vi an indiscernible amount of time later. She checks her watch, blinks, blinks again, before the numbers and hands make sense. 10:38am. Where’d all the time go?

Vi yanks her by the wrist before shoving her back against the brick wall. “What the fuck was that?!” she exclaims. “I couldn't tell if you were going to pass out or kill everyone in there!”

“I wasn't–!” Her throat is dry. When was the last time she went through the motion of swallowing? “I had it under control!”

“Give me your gun. I can't have you freezing up if you want to stay with me!”

“No! Do you even know how to use one?!” Caitlyn clenches her teeth. She's still holding her pistol. She could shoot Vi for even trying to mess with her. The thought twists her stomach into knots.

“Cupcake.” Vi leans in closer. Her eyes burn violet with infuriated determination. She may as well look into Caitlyn’s soul and pick her every selfish desire apart. “Give. Me. The gun.”

Caitlyn is filled with a deep shame of incompetence that makes her shooting hand tremble. She frowns, willing herself to stop, then fails. It's July and she shivers from a sensation of cold dread that nearly turns her legs into lead. “Okay,” she relents. Her hand won’t stop fucking shaking. “Okay.”

Vi holds her by the wrist and doesn't let go, nor does she tug her along like a rag doll. Miraculously, Caitlyn’s hand goes steady when Vi slips the pistol from her fingers, putting it in the waistband of her pants.

“Let’s go, I have an idea.” She begins the walk back onto the main road, pace casual. Caitlyn follows after her, this time able to keep in step with Vi without trying.

It's quiet again. Vi doesn't say much to her again. Caitlyn notes her surroundings again, her feet heavy and heartbeat pounding. They walk so close their shoulders brush, but Vi doesn't put distance between them. At the moment, Vi is one of the only things helping Caitlyn feel okay. 

For twenty minutes, they walk around this far-away, quiet side of the Undercity aimlessly. There aren't many people around, because most of the building conditions really are unlivable even by their standards. It's really just them, skulking around. Caitlyn isn't sure why Vi is stalling, but the topsider knows she can only be down here for so long. 

“I brought snacks,” she says, slowing her walk to take cover under a second story bridge between two buildings. “Are you hungry?”

Vi crosses her arms in a way that might be defensive. Her gaze is slightly more curious than judgemental, at least. “What snacks?”

Caitlyn takes a seat along the sidewalk, pulling her backpack around to her side. She offers Vi a container that holds a handmade sandwich. Caitlyn brought two in case she got really hungry, but she can spare one for her partner of the day. “Here. I also brought fruits, yogurt, and I think some sliced ham, if you want any.”

So Vi takes to sitting on her right side, accepting the food offered to her. “You packed a lot for one day,” she remarks, more to herself than Caitlyn. 

“I guess.” Caitlyn takes out her own sandwich. They eat without much more to say. “Where are we headed after this, by the way? You didn't tell me your new idea.”

Vi makes a noise around a mouthful of bread, turkey, and lettuce. She licks the mayo from the corner of her mouth before elaborating, “Deckard’s friends said he started acting weird a few months ago, remember?”

Caitlyn doesn't remember, but she follows along anyway. “Probably when he became some kind of tester for that drug.”

“Shimmer.” Vi takes another massive bite of her sandwich. “Well, a few weeks ago, my baby sister went snooping around, heard this scary noise when she was in the sewers.”

“Why was she–”

“I don't have a leesh on her,” drawls the older daughter. “When she got out of the sewers, she ended up coming from a manhole a few blocks over. Now that I know Deckard also died a few weeks ago, and on Shimmer, it's not a stretch to assume the ‘scary noise’ she heard came from him. The dates of when she was in the sewers and he died even match, more or less. He was probably some fucked up test subject before anyone could have it.”

Caitlyn nods along. Part of her has never felt more useless in helping, but she also knows they may just be hot on the main distributor’s tail. “By ‘scary noise,’ do you mean…”

“She said it sounded like a monster.” Vi’s gaze is so far away she may not be seeing at all. She shakes her head like that will clear her thoughts of a street rat, turned drug addict, turned dead boy. “Like I said, fucked up.”

“Well, there's a lot of suspicious buildings here– no offense.”

“None taken, actually.”

“Right. So, how do you intend to figure out which is the main lair that belongs to the drug lord we’re after?”

Vi looks at her, then, honest to gods, grins.

On the rooftops, looking at everything from above, this side of the city actually doesn't look so bad. The crime and the poor aren't everywhere she looks, and when they do catch her eye, the people are small. Insignificant. She can even breathe a little easier. Caitlyn selfishly enjoys it while she can, as Vi goes from building to building, looking for broken windows or holes in the roofing to peer inside.

By 4:08pm, they've already found five old factories that’ve been repurposed for Shimmer production. You’d think they would stop after finding the first one in their second hour of snooping, but Vi insists none of them are the one, and so they keep looking. Caitlyn marks down every major landmark near the factories they come across anyway in her notepad, just in case.

It's actually insane, though, when she peers through glass windows or cracks in the architecture to look inside– her, because Vi told her that, even if you can't shoot people, you have good eyes. Which is true, but still. Every factory is dark, dimly lit by the natural lighting and glow of clear vials of Shimmer. She can still see the general cycle of production, still makes sure to remember the workers with particular tattoos or hair, in case Caitlyn sees them anywhere else in the city.

Four times, she's nearly been caught by someone noticing her watching from just outside. Four times, Vi silently grips her arm for a moment before they both flee.

Now it's 4:10pm. They've been looking inside damn near every building they land atop of to see if it's the one Vi needs it to be. Six hours in, Caitlyn can tell her visibly mounting frustration. Her shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists, and instead of being quiet, she's talking a lot.

“Come on, there's another over here.”

“What are you seeing? Is there any monster looking thing?”

“Move over, you don't know what the chem-barons look like.”

“You're sure nobody saw–”

“Do you want another snack?” says Caitlyn. She's already dropped herself down onto the ledge of a building, taking out her cup of yogurt. Maybe Vi is thirsty, actually— they haven't had water sinse noon. She sets one of her three water bottles down. “Here, we can take a break.”

She doesn't want to, she wants to find the drug lord and tell the enforcers and then the Undercity can get better without the addictive drug on the streets. Then Jayce can refocus his efforts to helping topside, where Caitlyn spends her time too. 

She knows that in order to do that, she needs to get her energy back. Best case scenario, they find the main hideout, then they'll run to tell someone before taking another course of action. Caitlyn and Vi need to run on stomachs that aren’t empty.

“Just a few more warehouses,” Caitlyn mutters to herself as she hites down on a grape of her own. Vi reluctantly takes the water, but not the yogurt. “It has to be one around here; we'll find him.”

“Yeah,” comes Vi’s quiet response. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “We're close, Matilda.”

She looks at her for a moment, not understanding, until: “Oh, Matil– um, that, Matilda isn't my actual name.”

Vi hums, not seeming like this information caught her off gaurd. “You don't look like a Matilda,” she says, not elaborating further.

“It's Caitlyn–” it feels terribly awkward, all of a sudden, “my name.”

Vi, for the nth time, looks at her. Really, really looks. She gives Caitlyn her now empty water bottle back, then stands up. “Just a few more places he could be in. Let’s keep looking.”

She holds her hand out. Caitlyn accepts it.

So far from the city, many of the remaining factories they have to check are along the docks. It reeks of sea salt and oil, but Caitlyn hardly pays it mind. They're so close to finding the main man behind this, she’s nearly vibrating out of her skin from built up tension.

The cannery they come across is old and, like everything else, abandoned. It's secluded from any other buildings, so they have to approach it from the ground. Caitlyn is the first to notice a boarded-up back door. Instead of taking them off and trying to brute force the door open, Vi gives her a boost up to a ledge along the second story. It's hardly enough room to stand on, but they're both short and make it work. 

Caitlyn offers a hand up next. Vi takes it, using it and the boards as leverage to scramble up. Lifting her is hard– she hardly has any arm strength to speak of– but Vi pulls enough of her own weight to manage.

Once she’s found her footing, Vi says, “Drop the bag down. We can get it later.”

Caitlyn actually agrees with the Trencher’s logic entirely for once. Her backpack takes up too much room when they don't have much to stand on as is. She bends her knees, slipping it from her shoulders and onto the concrete as quietly as she can.

“Still have my gun?” She whispers as she shimmies along the crumbling ledge.

“Pay attention,” Vi reminds her, keeping step behind her. “Of course I do.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. She keeps her entire backside pressed against the wall, barely lifting her feet as she nears the window. “I think I hear something.” 

Vi goes quiet beside her, pressing her ear against the wall that's probably growing mold. They’re both too wired to pull away.

Caitlyn can hear dozens of different voices. The opening in the wall isn't too far. Without another word, she quietly shuffles forward, her entire body demanding she look inside, to confirm that this is the one. It has to be.

She crouches down, gripping the ledge for dear life as she peers through the dirty, foggy glass. She can feel Vi’s hot breaths from above, leaning over her defensively. She swallows thickly. She just needs to find proof this is where the drug lord has been hiding out.

“What does the chem-baron look like again?” she doesn't think the older girl ever told her.

“Um,” Vi sounds uncertain. It’s a terrible sign. “...evil?”

“What?” Caitlyn hisses in a disbelieving whisper. “You don't know what he looks like?!”

“I–” The many different voices coming from the old cannery quiet all at once. The girls don't move a muscle, fearing being caught. Caitlyn's heart is pounding so loud it might just break her ribcage. 

Vi murmurs from above her, “The roofing is glass. We’ll get a better view up there.”

Caitlyn stands up on shaking legs. Somehow, she finds enough footholds in the form of beaten in brick, boarding, and external piping to follow Vi all the way up.

The sun casts a golden glow over Caitlyn's pale cheeks, her chest heaving with the effort of climbing and fighting down her anxiety. She can see the headlines now: Two teenage girls try to track a drug lord and are never heard from again!

She has to squint to make any sense of the blobs that are people. But when she does, her breath hitches.

There is a man standing from atop a bridge that's inside the cannery, on the second story. He must be addressing the workers and thugs below, because they're all looking at him while not saying a word. 

Vi grabs her arm, her grip so tight it bruises. Her violet, wary gaze never looks away from the man on the bridge. “That's him.”

“How do you know?” Caitlyn questions, barely above a whisper.

Vi’s jaw clenches, searching for the right wording. Somehow, her grip tightens. “Trust me on this.”

Hysterically, she does. “Okay. Let's go tell–”

Vi releases her. Caitlyn's eyes widen when she pulls out her gun. “What're you– no, no! Killing him will make things worse right now!” Frantically, she tries to pull it away. When that inevitably fails, Caitlyn puts her own palm over the barrel, running on sheer hope it’ll be enough to dissuade Vi. “Stop! We have to go!”

“He killed Deckard,” Vi’s voice breaks but she has never sounded more infuriated, and Caitlyn has seen her get mad a lot today. This is different. This is grief and anguish and it’s not a responsibility a fifteen year old should be handling on her own and is for so much more than a dead boy. It makes Caitlyn afraid, because she doesn't know what to say that can calm Vi down and there is a drug lord right under them. “He’s a bully, but– but he didn't deserve to die like– some fucking experiment!”

Caitlyn is whispering what she thinks are reassuring words, trying to shake Vi out of it so they can go, when her gaze catches on something below. A large woman barges in, yelling in the leader’s direction while angrily shaking a backpack— Caitlyn's backpack.

Fuck.

Ignoring Vi’s protesting, Caitlyn drags her away from the glass, half-climbing and half-tumbling down the side of the building they originally came up using. As soon as their feet are on solid ground again, Caitlyn can hear the harsh shouting of more voices, voices that are getting louder as thugs begin to look outside for the source of the left behind backpack, and she hardly thinks for another moment before she takes Vi’s hand and runs to the docks, submerging them into the water.

Her clothes weigh her down, sticking to her skin as she swims under the wood dock with Vi. Vi splutters, looking at Caitlyn in disbelief, but there's an awareness that’s returned to her eyes that wasn't there when she started talking about Deckard.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn hurries to say, chattering through her teeth. Wet hair is in her eyes, and her legs might be going numb from the July water being icy cold. She can see her own breathing. At least she can't hear the thugs; they probably went looking along the street.

She presses her hand up against the wood dock above, fighting every urge to get out of the water because it’ll give them away. She tries to keep her voice even. “You wouldn't snap out of it, and someone realized we were there because of my backpack and— I’m sorry.”

Vi looks at her for a long time, her eyebrows pinched in concentration. There's hardly any space between them. “Alright,” she says. Her voice is soft. “I– shit, I dunno what happened. At least we know where the main production is.”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn breathlessly agrees. “How much longer until it's safe to get out, do you think?”

“Couple more minutes.” Vi pulls up her hand, the (now water-logged) gun still with her. After a moment, Vi hesitantly ventures to say, “You know, you're not so bad for a Piltie.”

Caitlyn makes a huff of laughter even though it's not very funny. “And you're nice for a Trencher.”

They make it back to The Last Drop after some hour and a half of walking, at 6:02pm. They're sopping wet from swimming underwater to get out a few buildings away from the cannery. Now Caitlyn is carrying her wet socks in one hand, her boots squelching against the ground. She can already feel her feet turning into prunes. Next to her, Vi has taken off her brown vest to conceal the pistol, and is carrying her shoes in her free hand, germs of the Undercity be damned, apparently. 

The silence between them is companionable, this time around.

Caitlyn pushes the entrance of the bar open, the simple motion feeling like a gargantuan accomplishment after all of the physical energy she’s used up. Water drips from her hair and her clothes still, despite most of it drying uncomfortably on the way back, but Vi pays no mind to her equally disheveled appearance as she marches to the side room she came out of so many hours ago.

She follows after her, taking mild notice that there's a different man serving drinks than earlier.

The door leads to a long case of stairs, stairs that they go down equally slowly because their muscles are burning. Then there's another door at the bottom that Vi doesn't bother knocking with before opening.

Two faces look up at the duo that probably look like sad, wet cats right now. Caitlyn actually recognizes one face, which is probably the most confusing thing she’s seen all day. And that’s saying a lot. “Jayce?”

“Sprout?!” He’s already hurrying over, fussing over her muddied clothes and wet appearance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Not far behind, the huge bartender stands up, putting a heavy hand on Vi’s shoulder. “I could've sworn I told you to take the young lady to Benzo's.”

Vi shrugs defensively, not looking him in the eye. “Plans changed. I found Silco– that’s his name, right?”

A heavy tension settles over the room, so thick it could be cut like a hot knife through better.

“Talis,” says the man, low and firm. His eyes are only on Vi. “You should go now, take her back to her family while you're at it.”

Jayce looks between him and Caitlyn, before slowly nodding. He puts a hand on her back, leading her out; Caitlyn is too confused by events to argue or resist as she's led up the stairs.

“Are you alright? Hey? Cait?” 

She snaps out of it with a start. “I– yes.” She really does not want to explain why she was down here in the first place. “I wasn't hurt, just had some… rough housing.”

Jayce purses his lips, but doesn't press the issue of her sneaking down to the Undercity. Not tonight, at least.

Oh, Caitlyn belatedly realizes when they’re on the shaft ride back to the topside, her head leaned on his shoulder, half-asleep even though it's only 6:45pm. Vi still has her pistol. She smiles to herself. All the more reason for her to go back to the Undercity soon.

Chapter Text

After Sevika finds the backpack that could only belong to a topsider, Silco begins routinely visiting the bridge dividing Piltover and Zaun, some time after midnight. He sits under the archway of the bridge, on the sand for an hour. It's unproductive. He can't think when it's so quiet, when the water is crashing into the shore, and all he can think of is that he nearly drowned a few years ago.

He could be making deals, expanding Shimmer, trying to find the topsider child who was snooping where they shouldn't be. He doesn’t understand why he does this.

Vander comes by after a week he begins this late night ritual, and Silco has his answer.

He takes a spot meters away from Silco, under the polluted sky instead of the bridge. Even from this far, Silco can tell the years haven't been kind to him. It hasn't to either of them. Vander isn’t even forty, yet he's graying, and he holds his shoulders like the weight of the world is on them and he can barely accept it. Hound of the Underground. So much for that title. The most Vander has ever done in the last six years is throw out unruly patrons and fraternize with the enforcers.

Vander does not say a word. He doesn't acknowledge him at all. It’s been six years since Felicia died, and Silco could trick himself into thinking neither of them care about the passage of time. He does no such thing. Vander is here, Vander found him after six years of no contact, because he wants something. Maybe to finish what he started when he nearly drowned Silco when they were younger, maybe to try talking things out.

Silco doesn't want to hear. It’s too late to do anything but let the dominoes fall.

Perhaps Vander has a similar progression of thoughts, for after fifteen minutes of a silence that melts the tension into acute wariness, he stands, and wordlessly takes his leave.

It becomes apparent that it’s not going to be a one time thing.

Just as Silco going to the bridge becomes routine, so too does Vander’s presence. Every night, without fail, he comes down to the water, not far from Silco, and sits down. For ten minutes. Fifteen. Thirty. He loathes the fact that Vander probably thinks Silco doesn't know what he's doing. It’s degrading, Vander trying to subtly warm up to him again like Silco is an abused fighter dog.

He doesn't confront him about it. To confront him would be to play directly into Vander’s hands, to reopen the wounds that have healed wrong and act like it doesn't hurt. Silco won't allow it.

He makes his routine spontaneous. Sometimes the sun will still be up, sometimes it’s so late he's the only citizen in Zaun not asleep, sometimes it's barely five minutes before he leaves and others it's hours.

Infuriatingly, Vander doesn't budge. The moment Silco finds a new pattern to follow, Vander figures it out and matches it. When that happens, Vander always gets there before Silco. How early, he’s unsure, but Silco continues to be the last to leave.

To drop the routine would be to admit defeat, to admit that Vander's quiet insistence is getting to him. So Silco continues to visit the bridge, and the thoughts of go away, go away, go away, grow more prevalent.

“I’m sorry,” says Vander, one night. He speaks not facing Silco. Instead his body remains angled to the water, a chasm of distance between the men, and his voice carries. “I should have told you that a long time ago. I’m sorry I didn't.”

Is he apologizing for what he did when they were young, or what he's failed to do now that he's grown, then?

Either way: “I don't care.” Nor does it matter. Maybe, if they were still boys who aspired to make change, his answer would be different, but he hasn't been twenty for a long time. 

He clenches his jaw so he doesn't say more.

Vander leaves without another word.

“Remember when we met,” Vander begins fondly, two nights later, “and you introduced me to Felicia a little after?”

He couldn't forget. After escaping death by drowning, he'd deliriously thought that, maybe if Vander hadn't met her, he wouldn't be with a river-poisoned eye— Singed tells him that it's deteriorating, and he will live to be sixty if he's very lucky; if he injects just enough Shimmer into his eye that it’ll slow the effects of the mutation.

If. It might be Silco’s least favorite word.

“I remember.”

“I was such a fool around her.” He pauses like he expects Silco to interrupt with something quippy. When Silco doesn't, he continues, “She was cooler than either of us could've hoped to be. I couldn't believe that she wanted to be your friend first.”

Felicia was good, that's why. Silco was scrawny and labeled a ‘pretty boy’ by the miners. It's dangerous to be noticed down there, and even more so in such a delicate, feminine way. Felicia, who he met at a bar with the intent to forget everything for a night, noticed. She came up to him, declaring herself his new acquaintance, one that he could stay with whenever he needed. Their friendship was one built on her pity, and Silco desperately clung to her offered companionship like a lifeline. Anything, he’d thought, is better than being looked at in those fucking mines.

He was going to cut his hair– the part of himself that the men would look at the most– until he met Vander. Silco felt safe enough around him to style it as he liked.

“Are her children still alive?” he dully remarks. He doesn't mean to say it aloud.

Despite being a question with a simple answer, one Silco knows, Vander takes a long time to do so. Finally, he says, low and protective, “They are.”

Silco retires for the night first.

More nights pass.

Vander talks. Of the bar, of the skirmishes he's had to prevent, of the topsider who's been coming to the Lanes and trying to do good work with Vander’s help. Most of all, he talks about the past.

Silco doesn't listen to him recounting memories of Felicia, or Connel, or the mines, or them. He doesn't. 

“What do you want, Vander?” he asks, more frustrated and tired than he's ever allowed himself to present, because he doesn't understand. So much time together, even more spent apart, what the fuck does Vander think will happen from these nightly interactions? That Silco will eventually roll over for him, and do as he asks so there can be a better maintained illusion of peace in the Lanes?

“Silco, you know that I only want t–”

“No.” 

The distance between them hasn't closed since the first night Vander started to come by. Even meters away, Silco can see the way he flinches, the way his broad shoulders tense. 

Silco is a fool. He stopped bringing a dagger when he was certain Vander would not stop seeing him under the bridge. He should've instead brought extra, because like this, he is reminded that Vander isn’t his ally, that Vander tried to murder him, and Vander has always had a steely resolve when it came to doing what he thinks needs to be done as the Hound.

Silco stands on shaky legs and leaves.

He takes to bringing a gun with him, after. 

He refuses to consider why he continues to meet Vander at all.

It wouldn't hurt our efforts to keep our enemies closer, Singed had said. 

It is what is running through his head, over and over, when he says to Vander, “Tell me about the girls.”

Violet and Powder. Fifteen and eleven. Their hair matches their names. Vander doesn't need to say it for Silco to understand they are his entire world. 

It would be easy to take them hostage, to threaten their lives for however long he needs, so Vander can finally use his claws and Zaun can be more than a dream. Revolution can't be without force, without sacrifice, without Silco taking initiative every damn time and someone he cares about dying, every damn time.

Silco can’t get far in his plans for an independent nation of Zaun if a key player like the Hound is against him. Vander is his enemy. Vander tried to murder him. Vander has deals with the enforcers. Vander is raising two girls as his own and everything about him is pissing Silco off.

“I hate you.” He's never meant anything more in his life. He doesn't know if Vander can even hear him from this distance. “You won't take action because you're afraid they'll get hurt, because something could happen and it'll be your fault. Keeping things as they are while Piltover forgets all about us, sitting back and doing nothing— even if they die, this way you can at least sleep a little easier knowing it's because that's just how it is down here.”

He hates Vander. The Hound, the Hero, the Peacekeeper, always so proud of doing what is needed of him. He's a killer when it's needed, he's a leader when it's needed, but he won't raise a single fucking finger to help the rest of the Lanes until the danger is blatantly affecting him. Their people are hurting every damn day, and Vander will pretend the injustices aren’t there, that it'll fix itself with time, that even though he's a man of influence, there isn't anything he can do about the long standing problems they are forced to be the victims of. 

For once, he wants Vander to do something before they reach a tipping point. It's terrible as it is, but Vander has never acted until Silco has made it the worst. Until someone he cares about dies, only then does Piltover step too far. As if every footprint before hasn't been doused in gasoline so they can set fire to them all later.

Vander growls, “Do you still believe in the idea of Zaun?” He sounds disbelieving and like he’s been personally offended.

The other sneers. “It could be so much more than a fucking i—”

“You are a drug lord!” shouts Vander. He’s standing now. “What the hell sort of good could more drugs on the street possibly do for us?!”

Silco reels back as if he's been hit. Frustration makes his blood boil under his skin. “How else can anyone gain power here?! If topside hadn't fucked everyone over, then I wouldn’t have to play just as dirty as they are!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Vander's hands ball into fists at his sides. Deliberately, he steps forward. “You're acting no better than them! Even if you get enough influence to be noticed by the rest of Piltover, you won't have a free Zaun after turning its population into drug addicts!”

“Don't come closer!” Silco warns. His hand takes hold of the gun kept in his coat, pointing it at Vander. “Don't!”

Vander doesn't listen to his warning. He marches forward, sand crunching under his shoes, until he's in reaching distance of where his old friend is still sitting. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Vander firmly tells him. Silco thinks he says it more so to remind himself that he's left ‘that life’ behind. “I swear. Let’s talk.”

“Because your word matters,” Silco hisses. 

Vander’s eye twitches, then he’s lunging forward and trying to wrench the gun away. Silco cries out in alarm, kicking Vander in the shin and knocking him into the sand. Vander’s larger body sends them both tumbling down, nearer to the water. Silco’s breathing comes faster, and he can't tell if it's from the murky water beginning to lick at his hair or that he must use his full body weight while Vander pulls for the gun using only the strength in his arm.

Silco shoves at him, but Vander has always been immovable in what he thinks is right and even more so physically. He doesn't budge, and it's driving Silco wild. Vander has never had to struggle the way Silco has; not in his physicality, or working in the mines, or getting people to follow him. Silco has fought for everything he has ever wanted tooth and nail, and Vander accepts whatever is given to him.

Even now, when Silco bucks his hips and Vander temporarily rolls off of him, he knows it's only because Vander chooses to— that all this is just a tussle to him, like they're friends again. Except it's not to Silco, who is about to lose the only defense he has, Vander’s crushing weight on top of him, and he’s half submerged in the water.

“No!” he chokes out, barely able to keep a grip on the gun now that his hands have been made wet. “Get off!” He flails to take proper hold of it, throwing sand into Vander’s eyes. The man flinches back, shaking his head, and it's enough of a lapse in effort that Silco’s finger finds the trigger and doesn't care for where the gun is aimed.

BANG.

A stuttered gasp escapes Vander, his eyes clouded in disbelief. Silco’s heart sinks. His shaking arm pushes Vander away, and the man collapses into the sand, a hand clutching his weak fist.

“Fuck,” Vander half-growls, half-moans in pain. Silco realizes that Vander’s hand must've been covering the barrel when he shot.

It's not lethal. Vander will live. And so, swallowing thickly, with his breathing fast and heavy, Silco pockets his gun and flees the scene.

The next night marks the first time Vander doesn't come to the bridge. Silco takes his spot at 8pm, and waits for some five hours to be greeted with Vander’s presence.

He digs his hands into the sand, the grains sticking to his palms. He waits for him.

Two weeks go by.

Silco goes to the bridge, alone, and the lack of Vander is undeniably getting on his nerves. He doesn't want to think about why, but when he is left with his thoughts for so long, it's all he can do.

In the Undercity, it's a lesson learned early that the only way to have control in your life is to break rules. Steal, cheat, lie, it's what must be done to simply get by. It's learned much later that the only way to have power is to fight for it, to hurt, exploit, and manipulate. Do you really want it if you won’t cross a line for that which you desire most?

You won't have a free Zaun after turning its population into drug addicts.

Silco thinks of what happened to the young street punk he recruited, who he hurt, exploited, and manipulated. The monster he turned into that couldn’t be sustained in a time of war, of revolution. He became addicted, his body began to fail. When he died, so too did Silco’s plan to use Shimmer soldiers in a violent uprising.

He still put it on the market. Small doses, enough to get people hooked, as any good drug should. Enough for Silco to expand his empire, at the cost of breeding more violence, something that has always existed in the Undercity— only now he'd be contributing to it. What difference will it make, if the end result is the nation he's been fighting his whole life for?

You're acting no better than them.

Silco hates Vander. Hates the deals he's made with enforcers, his inaction against root causes, his children he left his past’s work behind to raise. He hates that sometimes his views are right, but his line of reasoning is flawed. 

Yea, Silco is selfish, he wants power, he wants protection, what he's doing with Shimer harms the citizens; he’s always been aware of this. It doesn't change the fact his original intent was to achieve the most good, one day. His intent matters, is what separates him from the pigs topside.

Vander and topside. Silco’s priorities. He hates them both, but one is his old friend and the other is—

Keep our enemies closer.

Oh. Silco's been looking at it all wrong. 

He won't make the same mistake.

After seventeen days, Vander comes back. His left hand has been completely wrapped in bandages, and he sits so close to Silco that their legs touch. Vander is on his left, covering his blind spot.

Looking out at the dark water, Silco says, “I don't want our people to suffer.”

“I know you don't.”

“Your inaction has been harmful.”

“So have your efforts.”

“You're right.” Although it pains Silco to say it. “Neither of us will be able to turn Zaun into a reality, at such a rate.”

Vander doesn't say anything for a long time. 

Silco offers, “I will slow down the production and selling of Shimmer, if you help me in my pursuit of Zaun.”

“What help could I be?” He doesn't mention that last time he ‘helped,’ Felicia was killed.

“You underestimate the power of your name.”

“I don't—” Vander falters. “I want my kids to be alright, that's all I care about now. I’m sick of fighting, Silco.”

“Vander,” he insists, turning to look at him. All either of them have ever known is violence to get their way, it’s hard to think anything else could work. “I don't expect you to fight. I expect you to try.”

“You still want revolution.”

“I want change; it could be bloodless.”

“Could you swear to that?”

“No. But you could keep me in check, this way. No one else has to die, old friend.” He would have shot more than Vander’s hand, otherwise. So easily, Silco could've killed him and taken his place in the power vacuum that would be left behind. It should be a sign of good faith that he didn't. Instead, thinking of it makes his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“And if I say no?”

“Then Shimmer production will continue, I’ll grow my power how I see fit, and perhaps my work will reap us a free Zaun in our lifetime.”

“Or you'll reap even more crime and violence.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It's your call.”

Chapter Text

Viktor’s eyes flutter open. His lower back aches from a pain so sharp that it feels impossible for him to move, so he stays slumped over his lab desk until it inevitably passes. He swallows for the first time in hours, taking in the sun’s rays that’re just starting to bathe the room in an early dawn glow. There's a pencil under his palm, crust in his eyes, and he can smell freshly brewed coffee.

He swallows again. The ache has gone away. He grabs the edge of his desk, rolls his chair back, then stretches his back out like a cat. He sighs in relief at the cracking from his spine.

“Viktor,” Jayce's head peers out from the doorway of the lab, “how do you take your coffee?”

“No creamer. Six packs of sugar.”

Jayce hums in understanding, then goes to the tiny community kitchen where all of the other scientists who have a terrible work-life balance get their meals. Jayce's mug of coffee is still steaming from the other side of the room.

Viktor smacks his lips, his mind gaining full consciousness back at a rate that's annoyingly slow. He hates having to sleep, not because he thinks he doesn't need it, but because trying to resettle into whatever pattern he had before rest overtakes him is almost impossible for him to replicate after more than six hours. Having his entire focus on his work feels more important than ever. Now it's not a school project or case studies, but something truly life changing for so many in the Undercity. He and Jayce have already proven Hextech can work, now they need to make it safely accessible.

Progress is… frustratingly slow. Viktor doesn't know how Jayce didn't give up on his dream after working on it for years and not having a breakthrough until recently. Their partnership has barely lasted four months thus far, and Viktor could throw himself off of a cliff with how little they have to show for it. They've figured out levitation and some magic, yes, wonderful, but it's only within a certain radius, and what good would that trick be to the people of the Undercity?

Viktor hates sleep. He always wakes up in an awful mood.

It's only four months, he reminds himself, taking a deep breath. Once they figure out the calculations, they can begin proper workshopping. Then, it'll be one step closer to making a difference. It could be worse. If it hadn't been Mel Medarda who found them in the middle of their first successful utilization of the Arcane, he and Jayce might've been exiled. Or, worse, made to focus on projects that place profit over any kind of consumer well being.

Viktor's expression sours when he thinks of Medarda. She's done so much for Hextech that it would be fair to worship the ground she walks on. He has no reason to dislike her, but he does, and he can't rationalize why.

Jayce enters the room with his hair disheveled and a mug of black coffee in his hand. Viktor shoves all of his negative thoughts away and accepts the drink. “Thank you.”

He hums like there are at least three other tasks in his head that are fighting for his attention to be done first. Knowing him, Viktor doesn't think his theory is far off. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Viktor drawls around the rim of his mug. He's not particularly concerned, because Jayce is the smartest man he knows and should be aware of his limits (they are still the first people in history to ever experiment on magic, so Viktor will give him leeway).

“No.” Jayce paces around the perimeter of the lab once, then twice, stopping before the chalkboard riddled with half complete equations in quick, illegible strokes. “I have a really bad feeling about today.”

It’s a fair reaction. After Ekko’s birthday, the partners were told of the chem-baron Silco, and what his plans must be in order to gain control of the Undercity. “Are you prone to bad feelings?” 

“I don't think so.” Jayce wraps his hand around his left wrist, the rune in his bracelet glinting. “This— it’s terrible. I couldn't sleep because I was so worried about something, and didn't get any work done. Sorry.”

“Take the day off,” Viktor suggests, setting his coffee down so he can look over his notes from the previous night. He can't read his own handwriting. “Go see the kids. The last time you went to the Undercity was, what, almost two weeks ago? You're due for a visit.”

Jayce frowns. His attention keeps switching between Viktor and the chalkboard. Awkwardly, Jayce suggests, “You should come with me.”

Viktor huffs under his breath. “Not today.”

His partner leaves after thirty minutes, finishing his coffee and reworking the chalkboard notes so Viktor has something readable to work with.

Jayce returns to the lab just before 9, silently fuming. 

Viktor has never seen him like… this. For him to be annoyed and upset, always because of Hextech or members of the Council, is one thing. It's familiar. Viktor always joins him wallowing in the shallow anger, because it's unbelievably therapeutic to have someone who experiences Viktor’s same frustrations all the time.

This is different. Jayce's anger, his real anger, is so quiet Viktor doesn't hear him coming until he rests a large, firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder, squeezing hard and looking over to read the most recent notes.

Viktor winces. He usually likes Jayce's casual, heavy touches, treating Viktor like he won't keel over if he pats his back a little rough. This is just painful, and digs uncomfortably into his skin.

Jayce pulls his hand away. And as quickly as it made its appearance, his ire melts into something other Viktor dislikes in equal measure. Jayce looks like someone just kicked a puppy and is conflicted between sadness for the puppy or hate for the perpetrator. “Sorry.”

Viktor turns in his seat to survey Jayce fully, and distractedly says, “It's alright. What happened today?” The front of Jayce's clothes are muddy and wet, his hair is flat, and he's messing with his bracelet. Viktor's eyebrows pinch in worry.

“Caitlyn was in the Undercity.”

The implication is lost on him, because the young Kiramman is not a stupid girl prone to making unsafe choices. “Her parents allowed her to go with you?”

“No,” he growls. And there is Jayce's anger again, piercing through every other emotion weighing him down. “She snuck out and went looking for fucking Silco— her and Vi. And then— then they actually found his evil lair and were noticed— nearly killed—”

“Jayce!” Viktor doesn't actually know when he managed to stand and grab at one of Jayce's fidgeting hands, but now his awareness is entirely focused on his partner. “Is she hurt?”

Jayce hurriedly shakes his head. “A few scrapes and bruises. I’m—” Jayce purses his lips, searching for the right words. “Mr. Kiramman was there when we got back to her house. He got worried and pissed when he saw her, and we all started arguing, then she blurted out that she never would've had to go if I weren't away working with Hextech or in the Undercity all the time.”

Jayce tilts his head down to hide his face in Viktor’s shoulder, defeated. Viktor is almost grateful he does, because otherwise Jayce would've seen his flabbergasted, guilty expression that is almost comical.

He can vaguely recall his first conversation with Caitlyn Kiramman; an inquiry about their projects, the Undercity, and then where Jayce was. She didn’t know that he was spending considerable time on the other side of Piltover, forging a standing with the Hound of the Underground and his many children.

Viktor had thought that, by being vague about where Jayce was that day, she would decide to speak to her older brother about it directly. Why didn't he consider that a kid would jump to multiple conclusions on her own and take wild action for it, instead of talking about what's on her mind? 

Logically, Viktor knows his terse conversation isn't the cause of Caitlyn sneaking off in search of a chem baron. It's hard to think with only logic when Jayce's is leaning on him and  blaming himself for everything.

Viktor schools his features, before awkwardly patting Jayce's back. “Well, how did you react?”

Somehow, Jayce makes himself small, curling his shoulders in. “I, sorta… left.”

That would explain why Caitlyn didn't talk about how she's feeling; she's no better than her brother.

Viktor sighs, nudging Jayce so the man will look at him again. “Will you talk to her about… all of that, in the morning?”

It's not actually a question. Jayce, being his partner, deduces this. “Yes— yes, first thing.”

“Good.”  He suddenly remembers that Jayce, unusually, is the one between them running on the lesser amount of sleep. “I’ll walk you home.” He begins to head out of the office, not needing to look to know Jayce is following him.

A few days after, Jayce tells him that he's not going to be in the lab for much of the seventh, because he's promised Caitlyn he'll spend the day with her already. Viktor isn't particularly annoyed, and spends the day in the lab, playing music on the phonograph and talking to himself in his mother tongue.

Jayce returns in the evening, with a slice of vanilla cake (made by none other than Caitlyn) he made sure to get for Viktor.

The first prototype for a gemstone is almost complete, so it only makes sense that their newest obstacle becomes having to attend a gala on the same day they intended to run tests. Jayce is obligated to go because it’s hosted by the Kirammans; Viktor attends because Medarda invited him.

“Heimerdinger’s assistant,” Councilor Salo calls out from behind him. He's holding a champagne glass and his cheeks are rosy. Viktor tightens his grip on his cane, turning to shift his attention to the blond man. He's barely been here an hour, mostly talking with colleagues from the Academy, and he wanted to keep it that way. His eye twitches.

“Yes, Councilor?”

“I’m curious,” he begins. “Is it true you're working with the Talis boy?”

“Eh, it is, yes.” Subtly, Viktor shifts on his feet, away from Salo. 

Salo chuckles to himself like Viktor’s answer confirmed some greater joke. Viktor is reminded of how uncomfortably it is to stand next to someone as tall as Salo, who is looking down on him in more ways than one. “Of course, so remarkable he's even caught the eye of Councilor Medarda. He must be incredible in the, hm, his lab if she won't tell a soul what it is he's up to…” Salo snickers, and tries to pat Viktor’s waist. Viktor steps out of his reach. “Tell me, assistant, I don't think you have anything to show for your work, so what have you been getting up to with Talis?”

Viktor sneers at the ground, taking another step away. “You are being highly inappropriate by implying—”

Salo rolls his eyes, champagne spilling from his glass. “Bland gossip wouldn't make someone so defensive if it weren't tr—”

“Salo!” Medarda’s smooth, posh voice exclaims. The guests in her way part like the sea around her as she gracefully enters herself into the conversation between the two men. “I was looking all over for you. How is your niece; is she still a problem child?”

“Oh, just last week she got into another fight with a boy over the dress code. She won, of course, but my idiot sister thinks her daughter shouldn't…”

Viktor recognizes the out Mel gives him, and swiftly takes it. His brown eyes rove over the dozens of different people mingling about, dresses glittering in the chandelier light and men’s gelled hair not moving as they dance and lift their partners around.

His eyes catch sight of Jayce, who's the center of attention around four researchers ranging in ages from a young Academy graduate and an older woman who should retire soon. Silently, Viktor takes the space behind him, glaring at whatever his eyes focus on. Fuck Salo. 

He sighs loudly. Jayce startles, then shifts his attention over. Sheepishly, he asks, “How long were you here?”

“Less than a minute.” Viktor shrugs. The researchers quickly grow bored from Jayce's redirection and find others to mingle with. Even without the prior audience, Viktor lowers his voice. “Have you heard the rumors of you and Medarda?” And us, he doesn't mention. “They're terrible.”

“Oh, well,” Jayce begins to whisper too. “It's— yes, I know, we sort of started them on purpose.”

Viktor’s face twists like he bit into a lemon. “Why?”

“People will think they have an answer for why she's spending any time with us.” Jayce’s hand reaches out, stopping just short of holding Viktor’s wrist when he notices his expression. “Then they won't snoop into the work we have on Hextech, or what it's capable of in the wrong hands.”

“You—” It makes sense, he supposes. Hextech can too easily be used for power and weaponry if anyone at this party finds out, and it'll be far less harmful if people think Jayce and Mel are together than knowing magic is being harnessed. And yet, this plan makes Viktor irrationally upset. Was sex really their best cover option? “You came up with it?”

“...Mel proposed the idea, and I agreed.” Jayce frowns when this only makes Viktor more upset. “I should've told you before we started, I’m s–”

“You shouldn't have done it at all!” he quietly hisses. Despite being away from the large, chatting crowds, they are still receiving odd glances. Viktor elaborates hurriedly, “Your reputation is going to be—”

“My reputation?” He looks like Viktor kicked a puppy. Viktor himself knows his reasoning is an excuse, but saying he has a distaste for Medarda despite all of her help will only strain things further. He doesn't even have a good reason for how he feels. “What does that matter if the end result is going to help E– the Undercity?”

What Jayce will temporarily lose won't matter for all the good that'll come of it. It makes sense. Of course it fucking makes sense, it was Medarda’s idea. And yet. And yet. Viktor clenches his jaw. “Fine. Keep this ruse up until the state in the Undercity improves. I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk y—”

“You should leave with Mel,” he suggests, unable to keep the distaste out of his tone. In the back of his mind, he wonders why Medarda invited him. To show off how close Jayce is with her? To make him miserable for a few hours? “For appearances sake.”

The next day is full of awkward, quiet tension in the lab. They pass notes full of suggestions or help on a new equation instead of talking directly. It's childish of Jayce to start it and for Viktor to not apologize for his unwarranted behavior the previous night, but neither can address the argument that happened. It's suffocating— and every aspect of negativity is completely discarded when the time to experiment with the gemstone arrives early in the evening. 

Their mutual giddiness overpowers any discomfort, even if only temporarily, as they close the blinds to their lab, turn off the lights, and put on their goggles, the stone glowing blue in the darkness.

It’s only one test. To see if, when connected to the rest of the light systems in the room (through a circuit they had to make from scratch too), the stone can power it. It might explode. Viktor really hopes it won't explode.

“Crank it?” he suggests with a grin.

“Crank it,” Jayce echoes, grabbing the lever and pushing down.

Viktor can physically see the electricity course through the wires, reaching the base of the platform the gemstone rests on. He holds his breath, please work—

The lights are made so bright that, even with his dark goggles on, Viktor is blinded like he’s been staring at the sun. And it's all powered by a single stone.

Fifteen seconds later, the lights don't dim and Jayce exclaims that he closed his eyes and can still see bright circles in his vision. Viktor tells him to not turn it off just yet, wanting to see if the gemstone can adjust the necessary power that the lights need.

Something glass shatters, followed in quick succession by many others, and the lights fizzle out.

Viktor takes off his goggles and rubs his eyes, not able to see a thing for a few seconds. And then his eyes adjust, he still can't see. The entire room has gone dark and the only light comes from the hallway, peering under the crack of the main door.

Viktor goes to flick the switch, hears glass crunch under his feet, and flicks the button on. Nothing happens, and his pupils are dilated wide in hopes of seeing anything. Giving up, he pushes the door open so the hallway light can flood the room. “Well.”

The entire floor is covered in glass from the shattered bulbs that were intact a moment ago. In the center of the room is the smooth stone, not a scratch on it and the circuit melting underneath.

“Huh.” Jayce mumbles. “Um.”

“Interesting.”

A pause. Viktor grabs a broom kept in a storage closet. Jayce ventures to say, “At least we know it can… definitely be a power source.”

“Back to the drawing board. It would be more practical if the gemstones can adapt to the circuit than making circuits that have to be paired with the stone to do any good, so what if the calculations are reworked to…”

“I need you to come to the Undercity with me.”

“Not today, I think.” Viktor has an irrational fear he's going to see the Doctor there and something terrible will come of it. It's why he hasn't went with Jayce every time. He only did once to meet the kid Jayce has become attached to, then again in May because it was said kid's birthday. It's August, and Viktor hasn't gone since.

“It’s about Silco. He's working with Vander now, I think.”

The lead of Viktor’s pencil snap, skewing a mark through the equation inputs he was trying to figure out. He's not sure whether to feel immense dread or cautious hope. “What, did the Hound convince him to stop the production of Shimmer?”

“I think so? The details aren't entirely clear, but Vander said he wants us— both of us— to talk to him and Silco about it. See if some kind of… agreement can be made.”

Viktor’s eyebrows pinch. He takes his cane and begins the walk out of the lab, to the shafts that head to the Undercity. “Agreement about Shimmer, or Hextech?”

“Not sure.” Jayce takes their jackets on the way out. “Are you comfortable with this? Going with me to see Silco?”

“The Hound is a good man.” Viktor didn't live in the Lanes, but he knew of their fighter turned peacekeeper. Vander is not a chem-baron, but is the only person on that side of Piltover who has the same level of respect and fear instilled into the population. “If he thinks this is a good idea, whatever happens next should be manageable.”

They speak in quiet tones on the walk to the shuttle. Mainly, it's about Silco, about Shimmer, trying to make sense of his motives despite never knowing him. Even Viktor, who grew up in the Undercity, hasn't heard of the chem-baron until recently. All they know of Silco, all Vander told them, is that he used to be close with Vander, Silco went too far in a fight against enforcers, they lost all contact for years, and now he's back with a new and addictive drug on the market.

The discussion began seriously, at least. Maybe they began to talk, after Vi told her father where Silco is hiding out. Maybe Silco wants to take steps to make the Undercity safe, too, and can only do it with a drug empire. Maybe Silco is holding Vander hostage, maybe they fell in love, maybe Silco saw the kids Vander is raising and had a total change of heart, maybe Vander was secretly Evil (yes, with a capital E) this entire time, maybe Silco is mind controlling Vander with Shimmer.

“Are any drugs even capable of such a thing?” Viktor snickers. They walk particularly slowly through the Undercity. He’s not sure if it's to delay the inevitable confrontation or to talk with Jayce longer.

Jayce smiles. “Mind control, getting the fix for your addiction, it can't be that far off from one another, right?”

It's not that funny, but Viktor finds himself laughing anyway, and Jayce joins him.

The mutual joking is silently replaced by caution when Jayce pushes open the door to The Last Drop. There are still dozens of patrons, chatting and drinking under the dim lighting. Viktor remembers they're in their nice, Piltovian colored clothes, and Jayce gives him one of the jackets he'd been keeping in his arm before putting on the other.

They move through the crowds of people together, coming across Vi at the bar, who must’ve been waiting for them. She frowns at the sight of them. Vander is nowhere to be seen.

Jayce waves at her, his own features hard and wary. “Are they in the back room?”

“Yep,” she says distractedly. “This is such a terrible fucking idea.”

After hesitating, Jayce pats her shoulder. “We can make this work.”

Vi shrugs out of his touch.

Jayce looks like he wants to say more, so Viktor tugs on his sleeve to lead him to the downstairs room, cutting the conversation short. It'll do them no good if Jayce makes promises he can't keep.

When they eventually walk down every step of the stairs, Viktor twists the knob of the bedroom, creaking the door open. Around the small coffee table are a handful of different places to sit. Vander has taken the single loveseat at the far edge of the table, and another man- Silco, he assumes- is on the couch facing the door, sitting on the cushion farthest from Vander. His dark hair is slicked back, half his face is marred by a scar, and while he is smaller than Vander, he's probably the most dangerous man in the room.

There's only one possible seating option left for either of them: the dingy sofa with its back to the door. Jayce takes the cushion that has him directly facing Silco, and so Viktor occupies the spot closest to Vander. The sofa springs groan under their weight.

Uneasy quietness falls over the room. 

This, Viktor recalls Vi’s previous words, is a terrible fucking idea. Silco wants independence, Viktor knows this, but he's also a chem-baron. To stop the production of Shimmer would be to take his power. Unless the drug is replaced with something just as in demand, Silco will never—

“If we give you products of Hextech, what do you plan to accomplish with it?” Viktor asks him, barely able to keep his tone neutral.

Silco hums, closing one eye in thought. His left has been mutated and doesn't have an eyelid, remaining wide open in Viktor’s direction. He opens his right, saying to him, “That is entirely dependent on what the product is capable of.”

Medarda would like this man, Viktor thinks.

“Hextech has always been meant to do good,” Jayce insists. “Our main project right now is to make work in the mines easier and safer.”

This displeases Silco. His scarred features twist, the grooves in the tissue deepening when he scowls. “Tell me, boy, you've been here often, have you not?”

Jayce's eyebrows pinch together. Honestly, he says, “Since last December.”

“So what makes you think better mining will fix the problems created by top–”

“Silco,” Vander says in a warning tone, their voices clashing, “Small steps to improve–”

“These steps towards progress aren't going to matter if they don't address root–”

“Shimmer can be used to do actual good for the people,” Viktor loudly proclaims.

Silco and Vander shut up. Jayce whirls his head to look at him, features marred with disbelief and confusion. Viktor swallows, bravely continuing, “It's a drug that can mutate people into monsters far stronger than a normal person in great enough doses, correct?”

Silco glares at him, and slowly replies, “Yes.”

“Then, at its core, Shimmer… improves people. Theoretically, in smaller doses and if the formula is, eh, reworked, it could become a widely available, incredibly effective pharmaceutical drug.” The thought of Shimmer's capabilities in different hands has been on his mind for months. And if he could find a way to mix the drug's science with the magic of Hextech...

“Theoretically,” Jayce cautiously reminds him, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts.

“Have you ever met a man known as Singed?” Silco questions at the same time.

Viktor's jaw tenses. “It was him who came up with Shimmer, isn't it?”

“It is,” he says. “He would like you.”

Extending life, to remove human weakness, to improve upon pre-existing strengths, that's always what the Doctor wanted. Shimmer is a means to an end, a way to create something to help his daughter. Viktor doesn't know her, doesn't know the extent she needs treatment, but he knows that the Doctor is a broken man who will do anything to save her.

“V,” Jayce murmurs, and he's not looking at anyone but his partner with so much emotion that Viktor can't decipher if he's hurt or in awe. “What are you suggesting?”

Viktor takes a deep, calming breath. To Silco, he offers, “If you let me and Jayce have a vial of Shimmer, we can give you a prototype of what we're working on with Hextech. I know, and I’m sorry we aren't capable of more right now, but it's better than letting things continue as is.” And he wants to say more, to explain what good Hextech can do for the people, but that's not what Silco needs to hear. He knows that's not it, but he and Jayce are only scientists. They treat problems, not the source of them. How can they possibly bring some kind of greater reform—

Mel Medarda.

He runs a hand through his hair. She's a Councilor and their secret sponsor, she knows their efforts are focused on the Undercity and is allowing it. She wants to improve Piltover, wants the entire city to be a symbol of progress and not leave half the population to suffer. She wants peace, and just like him and Jayce, wants to use Hextech to create a better standing with the Undercity.

He also knows that a man like Silco would despise such help from a member of the Council. 

Jayce, following along the same line of reasoning but being wary not to offer the help of the Council, tentatively says, “You're on good terms with Sheriff Grayson, aren't you, Vander?”

He hesitates. “‘Good’ is… a way to describe it.”

“Better terms than the rest of us,” Silco bitterly remarks.

Vander seems like he wants to bicker, but decides against it. “She respects how I run the Lanes.”

“Have you ever…” Jayce waves his hand, struggling for the right words, “made deals with her?”

Vander leans his elbows onto his knees. “We came to an agreement that keeps her enforcers out of the Lanes, and my people don't mess with whatever happens topside.”

Silco’s green, working eye widens. “You are working with enforcers?!”

After three more hours of shouting, standoffish glares, bickering, arguing, (all courtesy of the older men) and the scientists uncomfortably witnessing Vander talk Silco down from not shooting all of them (after Jayce made a mumbled comment about how he'd refuse any future negotiations if Silco brought harm to Caitlyn again), an agreement is finally formed. 

The next meeting will be a trade; a chance for Viktor and Jayce to see the properties of Shimmer up close, and for Silco and Vander to see for themselves what Hextech can be used for. Singed will be present next time. And from now until they all reconvene in a month, it's expected that Vander will begin to alter his deal with the Sheriff for her enforcers to be held accountable for their constant mistreatment against citizens in the Undercity, not just the Lanes.

Silco, on his way out, sneers at the blue haired girl and black boy who had their ears pressed against the door.

When the man is fully up the stairs and out of hearing distance, Ekko rushes over to Jayce. “I thought you were gonna die, like, three separate times!”

Jayce looks five minutes away from passing out. He awkwardly laughs, patting Ekko’s back. “Oh, you know… wait- how much did you even hear?”

“We kept checking in on things every twenty minutes,” Powder cheerfully informs. She's about to say more, but immediately shuts her mouth at the look her father gives her. “The only stuff we heard was the loud shouting.”

“So most of it, then,” Viktor mumbles to himself. He's still in reeling shock no one got stabbed or shot at. At a speaking volume, he says, “We should go; we have a lot to get done now. Right, Jayce?”

Jayce startles, blinking back to full awareness. “Yeah- yes. Sorry, Ekko, I promise to come by next week. Alright?”

“Alright,” Ekko says dejectedly, already walking up the stairs with his back curled and head down, looking like a kicked puppy. Powder pouts before going after him, eager to avoid the inevitable scolding she'll get from Vander.

“That could’ve gone much worse, Hound,” Viktor drawls, trying to be hopeful but instead coming off as bitter. He hopes that at the next meeting, for all their sakes, Vander and Silco will be on better terms. Viktor personally considered grabbing Jayce and getting the hell out of the room after the third time the older men got out of their seats to argue about which of them really cares about the wellbeing of Zaun.

Without another word, he and Jayce leave The Last Drop, and begin the slow walk to the shuttles.

Viktor looks down at the cracked sidewalk, his cane rhythmically clacking against it. The air in his lungs is thick and full of toxins, and they walk past dozens of homeless people sleeping against abandoned buildings and trash cans. Viktor’s grip on his cane tightens. “Are we thinking of the same thing?”

“Are you thinking of Mel?”

“Yes.” Unfortunately. “We’re going to need her help.”

Jayce rubs Viktor's lower back. The tips of Viktor’s ears go pink. “She's already helping us with Hextech, it… shouldn't be that hard to convince her to bring up more Undercity-centered legislation in Council meetings.”

Unless she finds out Jayce and Viktor are pushing for it because they're now in kahoots with a drug lord. That might– will definitely be enough for Medarda to give up on Hextech and land them both a cell in Stillwater. No pressure. “Never lose your optimism, Jayce.”

Chapter Text

The next time Jayce comes to The Last Drop, a week after meeting with Vander and Silco, he’s not alone. It’s not Viktor, either.

He’s with an older girl Powder hasn’t seen before, with straight blue hair a few shades darker than her own, slim eyes, and wearing the sort of scrappy clothes Jayce does whenever he comes to see Ekko and doesn’t want to be viewed as an obvious target of robbery. Powder’s pretty sure everyone in the Lanes knows he’s a topsider by now, and the real reason he hasn’t been jumped is ‘cause Vander knows him. 

The teenager comes up to the bar Vander is managing, sitting down on a stool a few seats away from Powder. Jayce waves in Powder’s direction, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Hi, Powder.”

“Hi,” she greets, her eyes trained on the girl conversering with Vander, who mentions Vi’s name. This raises at least ten different questions in Powder’s mind, the biggest being how a Piltie knows her older sister. The next is why Vi has never mentioned her to Powder. “Who’s she?”

“Oh, that's Caitlyn,” Jayce says, so casually that she wonders if they have met before and Powder’s forgotten. “She came down here once and met Vi.”

As if saying her name manifested Powder’s sister into existence, Vi opens the side door of the bar, stopping in her tracks when she sees Caitlyn. Powder has never, ever seen Vi stop in her tracks for anyone, and doesn't like it one bit. Awkwardly, Vi says, “Hey.”

Caitlyn turns her head to Vi, so Powder only sees the back of her head. Her tone is halfway between eager and flustered when she says, “Hi.”

Powder puts her face into her hands.

“Um, I came back for my gun— uh, do you still have it— I mean—”

“I— yeah, I can show you it.” Vi then tacks on, “In my room.”

“Sure,” Caitlyn glances over at Jayce for permission, before following Vi down the stairs to the bedroom where Mylo and Claggor are hanging out too.

When the door is shut closed, Powder groans into her hands. “What. Was that.”

Vander shrugs, playfully swatting her head with his dish rag. “Don't worry too much about it. Why don't you go spend time with Jayce and Ekko?"

Powder had sort of wanted to just spend a day doing whatever with Vi. But it seems she's busy with her company of Caitlyn and Mylo and Claggor. That's fine; she can still be with her tomorrow.

Rolling her eyes to quell the burning of her nose that happens when she’s about to cry, she hops off her stool to lead Jayce over to Benzo’s shop. “I guess,” she dramatically grumbles.

The short walk to Benzo’s shop is spent with Jayce asking her a bunch of different questions about her new gadgets and latest project, asking what scraps she uses to make her things, how can she improve upon pre-existing ones, the whole bit. Powder doesn’t really get why he’s so curious about her projects, and comes to the conclusion he’s going to get her something and this is a secret test to see if she deserves it. So she gives lavish explanations about her latest grenade she used to scare a bunch of enforcers, her very first monkey bomb (that still won’t work), and oh, if only I could use the sort of equipment you and Viktor have!

Talking with Jayce is fun, and easy, and they go to Benzo’s to pick up Ekko for lunch. Powder completely forgets about her disappointment about not seeing Vi when Jayce tells them about the latest (failed, but still cool) experiment with the crystals. Apparently, he and Viktor are working themselves over time to get some presentable results, so Jayce may be coming down less frequently. Powder appreciates the warning, and when Jayce leaves with Caitlyn hours later, she proposes an idea to Ekko while they’re in his room.

“We should help Jayce and Viktor with the crystals.” It goes unsaid why the magic is so important to them, to the future of the Undercity. They could help.

A screw explodes from the mini-bomb Ekko is tightening up for her. “How’d we do that?”

Powder has given some thought to it. She doesn’t want to intrude on the progress being made by Jayve and Viktor, but they only have so much to work with inside Benzo’s workshop. They don’t even have one of the crystals. At best, she has an idea of what they’re doing, based on the rune of Jayce’s bracelet. “Remember when we listened to them talk with Vander and Si–”

“Remember when we got in trouble?”

Powder groans. “Then we won’t get caught next time!” 

Ekko turns his attention to the bomb in his hands.

“Dude,” she whines, “what’s the worst that could happen? I know you wanna see how the crystals work too.”

Seconds pass. The silence is filled with Ekko’s tinkering. Finally, he says, “Realistically, we’d have to prove to Jayce we can get work done, so we can start our own experiments with his stuff.”

“Yes!” Powder cheers, and so begins their mission to make as many blueprints and machines as possible.

After three more sporadic visits by Caitlyn and Jayce, Caitlyn comes to The Last Drop by herself. Powder doesn’t like this at all, not when Mylo is the first to eagerly greet her, leading her to the abandoned arcade where he and his siblings have made it their own hangout spot. The duo walk in when Vi has beaten yet another high score of hers on the punching game, panting from exertion.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Powder how Caitlyn is staring at Vi. She really doesn’t like that.

Claggor says a warm “hey,” before turning back to reading the book Vi stole in their latest robbery topside. Powder wasn’t invited to that one.

“Hi— oh, is that the book I told you about last time?” Caitlyn begins. She sits on the cushion next to the boy, their backs to Powder. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, the descriptions are so vivid it’s like…” The older kids start to talk amongst themselves like it's the easiest thing in the world, like Caitlyn isn’t an outsider they’ve only been with a few times. Powder wonders what could have possibly happened in the last few times Caitlyn’s been here for her to become all of their friends. Maybe Powder would like her too, if she actually felt welcomed by her siblings and their new friend. 

She looks at the plastic gun in her hands that’s full of ping-pong balls for bullets. She should stay open-minded. Right. Right, take the initiative. So she powers up the arcade shooting game, hits every bulls-eye, and whoops at her own victory. Surely, her aim could impress the new girl? It probably wouldn’t hurt to mention she’s the reason the game is running right at all…

“Woah,” Caitlyn murmurs, star struck. She waltzes over to Powder. “Could I try too?”

Powder nods. Okay, she’s doing good so far. Caitlyn is definitely impressed, and she seems nice so far. And if Caitlyn is any good, maybe they could talk about having something in common?

She beats Powder’s personal record with hardly any effort.

Claggor and Mylo both watch, jaws hanging open. Mylo exclaims, “Since when could you— you’re so— huh?!”

“Wasn’t her being any good implied when she came to The Last Drop to get her gun back?” Vi smugly remarks.

“Any good is not that. That— was so cool, could you, uh, show me some pointers?”

The color drains from Powder’s face. What. This was supposed to be her way of getting to know Caitlyn, or giving her siblings something to talk to Powder about. How have they completely forgotten Powder did something cool? Why does Mylo never ask her for pointers? She’s a way better shot than him too!

No one notices when she leaves.

The day Jayce and Viktor come to the Undercity again is a tense one. Powder's siblings go to the old arcade, and promise Vander they won't cause trouble topside in the meantime. Powder has noticed they've been robbing people way less frequently after befriending Caitlyn.

The Last Drop temporarily closes so the adults can all chat at the bar area instead of in the bedroom of children. Ekko and Powder hide upstairs, in the unused office/Vander’s room, and keep the door open a crack. He wondered if it would be smarter if they split up, but was shot down when she said it would be easier if they both got in trouble at the same time.

The first to arrive for the meeting, after Vander, is the Doctor and Silco. The Doctor settles down in a bar stool on the far side. Silco tensely stands behind him. None of them say a word, until Vander asks, “Shimmer?”

The Doctor puts a clear vile of purple, glowing liquid onto the table. The conversation ends there until Jayce and Viktor enter a few minutes later, too. The Doctor looks at Viktor and tells him, “You’ve grown.”

“Hello,” is all Viktor says to him, sounding bitter.

It's at this point that Powder closes the door almost fully, unable to get a view of the bar from this angle. She doesn't want to risk getting caught.

Jayce says, “Here it is.” And puts down what sounds like a box onto the bar.

“This is what you've been working on?” Silco scrutinizes. “It's a marble.”

“A conductor,” Viktor corrects, his earlier bite gone. Now he sounds weary. “It can power anything, so long as it has somewhere to enter.”

A long pause. 

The scarred man says through grit teeth, “There are no inventions here that have a marble shaped port. What could it possibly power up?”

“...Other inventions made by me and Viktor; that have the port designed into it,” Jayce explains. He sounds tired and defeated. “We tried to make the crystals be universally applicable to the machinery already in the Undercity, but…”

“Magic can co-exist with only certain modern science,” Viktor defends further. “This can still be good. Don't you want to update the infrastructure?”

“Of course I do.” Silco sounds offended Viktor would think otherwise. “But, do tell, how do you intend to fund such a project?”

“Have you stopped production of Shimmer?”

“No.”

“Then…” Viktor says more, but it's so quiet Powder can't hear a thing. 

The next clear words she hears comes from the man who brought the Shimmer, saying, “Remember my daughter I once mentioned to you, when you were younger?”

“I do.”

“Altering the current formula to be less… extreme will set her back.”

“Your daughter,” growls Viktor, “is dead. That's not something you can cure.”

It goes so quiet she could hear a pin drop. She holds her breath in case they hear her. Next to her, Ekko murmurs, “This was a bad idea.”

Powder doesn't respond out of fear the men will hear. So she squeezes Ekko’s hand in acknowledgment. She agrees, but not wanting to listen to the conversation any further means they’ll be caught.

There's the muffled sound of feet shuffling on floorboards downstairs, low arguing, before Vander bellows, “All of you, I’m sure we can figure this out if we just— just talk. For once. Please.”

“Please, Doctor,” Viktor urges further, sounding desperate. “This Shimmer that’s remaining on the market is going to lead the Undercity to self-destruction. You know it isn't sustainable.”

The Doctor lightly agrees, “You’re right, but I don't care what happens to the Undercity if it means I have her back. You would understand, wouldn't you, Hound?”

Vander doesn't say a word of disagreement.

“Now, if we can't come to an agreement, I will leave, and you can consider any help to the Undercity impossible to achieve.”

Jayce slowly says, thinking aloud, “You can't cheat death using only science. Have you ever tried manipulating magic to— cure her?”

“I’ve never had the resources available to me, no.”

“Okay,” Jayce sighs. “Okay. If Viktor and I help you experiment with Hextech to find your daughter a cure, will you allow the formula of Shimmer that’s being sold be altered into a drug that’s more pharmaceutical?”

“Jay—!”

“I’ll consider it,” says the Doctor, cutting off Viktor’s outburst.

“Excuse us,” says Viktor, dragging Jayce into a far corner of the bar. Powder can't hear what’s being said, but it stretches on for minutes. In the meantime, Silco and the Doctor converse with Vander. This, Powder can hear.

Silco drawls, “You never told me that your daughter was sick with death.”

“It’s irrelevant to how you operate your drug business.”

“And yet, you can't keep your nose out of my personal affairs.” 

Powder can take a guess that he's talking about Vander. She's seen the drug lord go in and out of this office with Vander a couple times this past month, always late in the night. She wonders what happened between them every now and then.

There's more chatter, intelligible to her. Viktor and Jayce finally rejoin the conversation, and she thinks she hears Viktor mumble, “Cheating death… can’t be…” before he coughs and ends his train of thought.

Ekko and Powder remain sitting against the office door for an hour. Hextech is hardly mentioned in further detail, as the conversation shifts to Sheriff Grayson and dismantling the greater ‘system’ of Piltover, starting with uprooting treatment of the Undercity. Silco off-handedly mentions what, exactly, is in the most dire need of help in the Undercity. “Half our working population is children who become homeless amputees that can't work in the mines anymore. They need some sort of aid that doesn’t rely on magic...”

Amputees and the mines, Powder thinks. She and Ekko can do something about that.

She can’t sleep. Claggor is snoring too loud and her mind is a whirlwind of different plans she should start. She doesn’t know much biology, or how prosthetic limbs function when they aren’t, y’know, actually part of the body. Powder should probably get a book on that, so she doesn’t start making robot arms that don’t act right, especially when her stuff is finally starting to work. Vi and her brothers have hardly noticed, but it just goes to show she should either start making more things, or make them more impressive. 

Powder slips out of her bunk, going upstairs to the bar with her monkey bomb in hand. She sets it onto the bar top, and rests her chin onto it. She’s used to ruining things one way or another. If her gadgets work, it creates destruction for enforcer’s or the local bullies. If they don’t, her siblings get hurt or in trouble. How is she supposed to start on projects that, for once, don’t create mayhem? She’s not Ekko.

From the office Powder and Ekko were hiding yesterday, the door creaks. She looks over, her blue eyes tracking the thin figure of Silco walking down to the main floor. He hardly pays her mind as he goes outside to smoke a thick, brown cigar.

Minutes later, when he returns and walks past Powder, she finds the sudden confidence to ask, “Why haven’t you ever tried to work with topsiders? Not before Jayce, at least.”

He doesn’t respond. Rather, he turns back to look at her, and his mutated red eye seems to glow in the dim light of the bar. “You think I haven’t? They don’t adhere to words and promises of negotiation.”

Powder’s jaw clenches, her bravery wavering. “Then why are you helping Vander and Jayce now? What— what changed?”

He says, “Technology has grown exponentially since I was your age, girl.” Silco takes one more look at her blue eyes, turns his back on her, and returns upstairs to talk with Vander.

Frustrated by the lack of straightforward answers, she goes back to her room, staring at Vi’s bunk above hers until she falls asleep.

When Ekko asks Jayce if he could please, please, please bring some engineering and biology textbooks for him and Powder to borrow, he happily agrees. His next visit results in him hauling a thirty pound bag full of thick, hardcover books that feature way more content than what they asked for, and each book has varying levels of reading difficulty. 

“So you can get ahead of the curve,” Jayce tells them, “compared to the kids your age that’re topside.”

“What do topside kids matter?” Ekko doesn’t look up from what he’s drawing in his notebook. Powder peaks over his shoulder, seeing it’s another variation of the hoverboard he wants to make. In the corner is a doodle of Jayce. 

Powder snickers. Offended, Ekko closes his journal and keeps it out of her reach. “It’s not like they’ll come down here and we get to show off.” 

“Well.” Jayce wanders around the shop, looking for whatever little trinket catches his attention. Powder notices that he’s taking a long time to pick today. “What if you two go to them?”

“That sounds impractical,” Powder giggles. But besides her, Ekko has gone still as stone and his mouth is a little dropped open. Did Powder miss something? What is Ekko understanding from Jayce’s words that she doesn’t? 

Jayce meaningfully looks at them both. “I’ve been considering, maybe, that you two would really succeed at the Academy. If you want."

Something flutters in Powder’s chest and she’s unsure what she feels. Her emotions feel too big for her body. “For real?”

“For real.”

Ekko and Powder tackle him into a hug.

Another sleepless night. She's antsy again. She goes upstairs, to the roof, and reads a biology book for beginners under the stars. She marvels at every function her cells and tissue and muscles do as her eyes flick across words and her fingers turn pages.

Again, she talks to Silco. He's not that scary like this, under the dim light of the stars and moon. She can hardly believe he’s the same man who killed Deckard. That thought makes her scared of him, so she looks at her book when she says, “Why are you up here?”

“The view here isn't so bad, compared to the rest of Zaun. I used to come up here all the time to see it with Vander.”

Zaun. That's what Silco is doing all of this negotiation with an old enemy and new allies is for. The name has a cool ring to it.

She taps her finger against the paper, wondering. “If you like Zaun, why are you a drug lord?” She hopes he can give a straight answer, this time, even though she knows enough about the other chem-barons that Silco is too complicated a man for that.

“Respect,” he answers. “Influence.”

Huh. It… makes a lot of sense, when she gives it further thought. “So it’s just a means to an end then, right?” She doesn't think Silco would do it very long term; he speaks too highly of his Zaunite dream for drugs to be all there is. “For Zaun?”

“Yes.” He even goes on further to say, “No change can happen if there aren't sacrifices made for what you want, girl. You would be wise to remember that.”

He goes back downstairs, to Powder’s dad.

After a slight moment, she mumbles, “huh,” and goes back to reading.

Powder comes across an older lady with a prosthetic hand in The Last Drop. Tentatively, she asks how it was made. 

The lady says she's not too sure herself, that a gentleman of an engineer her age came across her one day, with a prosthetic hand as a gift to her. They got together, then got married and stayed that way for years. Then he died last year because work in the mines was bad for his lungs. Powder almost cries listening to the story. Now her prosthetic is busted up from getting into too many bar fights and now is in need of an update. Without her husband, though, there isn't anything she wants to do about it.

The lady says that her prosthetics relies on energy signals to move properly. Scrubbing her face, Powder thanks her, and goes to be with Ekko, where they stay in his room and silently read up on their textbooks together.

She sits on the roof again a few days later, when the sky is dark and the streets bustle with a dangerous level of life. She expects to be interrupted, as she has been recently by Silco. And she is, just not by him.

“What’re you doing here?” says Mylo.

“The view is nice. Why are you?”

“Claggor’s snoring is getting louder.”

“Oh. Yeah. I think he has a breathing problem.”

“Maybe.” He sits next to her, feet dangling over the edge of the roof. “Why are you always up here? The view is boring compared to what’s topside.”

“I’m not… always here.”

“Well you’re never in your bed, stupid.”

“Ugly.”

“Skinny.”

“So are you!”

“I hold my own in a fight.”

“Ugh.”

“Answer my question.”

“Ughhhhh.”

“Dude.”

“Bro.”

“Powder.”

“What?!”

“Stop being so whiny.”

“I’m literally just reacting!”

“In a whiny way.”

She marches off the roof.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed! So leave me alone!”

She doesn't realize until morning that Mylo annoying her so bad she finally goes to sleep was probably intentional.

“So Jayce…” Powder says to him as he fiddles with her newest grenade. Ekko is taking a nap upstairs because he pulled an all-nighter working on repairing a robot leg for an eight year old. “How’s Hextech stuff going?”

“It’s definitely going.”

“Right, right. So what’s been, like, the hardest part of everything?”

He sighs. The bags under his eyes are prominent. “You’ll worry if I tell you.”

“Nuh-uh,” she insists. “I’m just curious. Maybe I can help.”

Jayce opens his mouth, closes it, and carefully says, “The sheer scale of everything has been a process, I guess. For Hextech to be implemented in the Undercity, we’ll have to update the entire infrastructure.”

Powder frowns. Listening to the last meeting, costs of all the projects was a big concern on Silco’s end. After all, it seems like his role is going to be that of funding. She thinks of what she knows: the danger of closed off mines, lost limbs, and now problems of shelter. She knows Sheriff Grayson is part of this in some way too, so maybe her older siblings could help on that end of things?

She’s overwhelmbed by what all needs help, tasks that are nowhere near what’s on the plates of Jayce or Viktor or Vander. So she tries to improve Jayce’s mood a little. “Starting small, right?”

“Right.” He ruffles her hair. Before leaving, he gives her a handful of coins, as he always does.

Again, she thinks of how Jayce and Silco have been focused on the logistics of funding things. Then Powder thinks of the substantial stash of coins Ekko has kept under his floorboards that he thinks she doesn’t know about.

From what she’s read, there’s two ways to go about improving infrastructure. The first is to add updates to what already exists. The second is to blow the obsolete architecture up and rebuild with a blank slate. She assesses her options, knowing that, realistically, half the Undercity buildings would go down by typical standards. She also knows that the radical action would only make things worse for the population. Start small. Right.

She eagerly tells Ekko about her scheme. Together, they find an old building on the outskirts of the city that might have been a bank at one point in time. It has a giant vault full of cobwebs and dust, the lights don't work, the floor is covered in mold, and there are holes in every wall. It's the perfect place to revamp into something safe and usable. Better yet, it doesn't seem any of the teenage gangs or thugs rely on it; it's so decrepit not even Zaunite scum want it. Only Powder and Ekko find its use as a test subject for their engineering and mechanic skills. She’ll take on the challenge.

They spend an entire day scouting the bank, seeing what renovations seem most important and, with their current skill level, actually doable. Ekko sketches the interior and outside of the current state of the building, marking down what piping he can see and state of the electrical board. Powder is given the duty to start on possible blueprints and figuring out what sort of cleaning supplies is topside that can help with mold, rats, what might be termites, and rotting floorboards.

“This is great,” Ekko says to himself. “So great.”

She replies even though she doesn't need to, “Definitely. We’re in the city of progress. Sure isn't easy progress.” She wonders if Vander still has his old mining hat with the light. It would be useful now, as she’s given a leg up by Ekko to check out the air ducts up close. She sneezes when she wipes her hand on the duct and dust flies up her nose. “But we're gonna get there.”

“What the fuck?”

Ekko startles from the noise and Powder collapses on top of him. Her head smacks against the grimy floor, and something in Ekko's back pops loud when he falls. She scrambles up first even though that makes her brain pound in her skull, as she grabs her nearest grenade. Fuck. She's never got in a serious fight without her sibling backing her, but first time for everything. “Who’s there?!”

“Is that a bomb?!” 

She squints in the dark, catching a glimpse of a Chirean shaped figure. As threatening as she can, she says, “Don't make me use it. What are you doing here?”

“I live near here.” Stepping nearer, Powder makes out that the purple skinned figure is a Chirean boy maybe a few years older than her. In his hand is a rusty knife and he holds it like he really knows how to use it. “What are both of you doing? You’re kids.”

“Renovating,” Ekko quickly says before she can sass how the stranger is just some moody teenager. He sits up, and the motion makes the large ears of the other boy twitch. “It's not like anyone uses this building.” More hesitant, “Right?”

The bright green eyes of the boy scrutinize them both. “Why renovate what no one uses?”

“To repurpose it,” Powder says. She would call him an idiot too if he weren't still gripping a knife. Keeping her eyes on him, she gives Ekko a hand up. 

“By yourselves?”

“Got a problem with it?”

The teenager scoffs. “What the hell, not my problem.” He turns his back on them and leaves the old bank without a care.

Weirdo, Powder thinks as they take the sign to grab all of Ekko’s sketches before beginning the walk home.

She and Ekko sneak up topside in search of cleaning supplies. She told Vander she'd be at Benzo’s, Ekko told Benzo he’d be at Vander’s, and Powder didn't even have to worry about her sibling because they're spending the day with Caitlyn at the arcade hideout.

They walk along the sidewalk, sticking out like sore thumbs compared to the other kids around. Their clothes are ragged, hair unwashed, and one lady clutches her purse tight when she walks past Powder and Ekko. She can't blame the lady; Vi definitely would've stolen something with a sleight of hand.

For a moment, she wonders. If everything goes right, if they fix the infrastructure and the enforcers and the poverty, will topsiders ever see Zaunites as equal?

“Powder?” 

She nearly jumps out of her skin. “Mr. Viktor! Um, hi, nice to see you around these parts.”

“Likewise.” His cane clacks against the sidewalk as he begins to walk in line with them both. Maybe she's remembering wrong or it’s her imagination playing tricks, but Viktor’s perfect posture is slouched. Just a little. “Is it just you two?”

“Um, yeah,” she says. “Not a lot of pest control in the Undercity. Are you looking for anything?”

“Oh,” Viktor is caught off guard for such a simple question. “I intended to go to the Undercity today.”

“Without Jayce?” says Ekko. “I mean, if you’re there, then he isn't far away, y’know.”

Viktor chuckles. “I was only going to see if you two would like to come to mine and Jayce’s lab.”

This would be the second time they've ever been. The last was basically forever ago. “Yes!” Ekko whoops. “After we get our stuff, though, please?”

They buy a bunch of pest control and chemical mixes that’s supposed to help with all the dirtiness of the bank project. Powder and Ekko scrutinize the list of ingredients for everything they buy. The cost is… a bit more than Powder shot for, but isn't crazy for what they bought. It was a big haul, too, considering they're starting with nothing. And at this rate, maybe she and Ekko can get to recreating the soaps so they don't have to spend so much of the day at a corner store.

“Where did you get all of that money from, Ekko?” Viktor wonders on the way to the lab building. He's carrying one light bag while the duo carry two each. “I would assume you're not taking any from your shop’s register.”

“No way!” Powder answers before Ekko opens his mouth. She's always been quick to his defense, and this one to defend her best friend came easy. Ekko isn't bad, he doesn't rob people, and all she can think of is the woman who warily glanced at them earlier and the cashier who looked disgruntled Ekko was paying for cleaning supplies. “It's from whenever Jayce comes over. He's rich. Ekko still hoarded whatever he got from the past few months.”

“Dude!” Ekko shoves his shoulder into hers. When they start bickering, neither of them notice how Viktor’s eyebrows pinch when Powder describes Jayce as rich.

Viktor pushes the lab door open with a, “Ta-da!”

Her eyes are immediately drawn to the mech hand in the center of the room and a clear vial of shimmer on the table right by it. After that, she notices Jayce standing off to the side of the room. Since she's been here before, she knows the lab table he's by wasn't there before. She drops her bags, hurrying over to the lab table full of the kind of equipment Jayce and Viktor must be using to make their inventions. When she and Ekko have hardly gotten started on help, Jayce has already decided they can enter his and Viktor’s space. 

“For whenever you need a change of scenery,” Jayce begins, not stopping his rambling for air, “or just want to stop by, or need some equipment we have. We probably won't be able to help often, with Viktor and I’s projects to work on, but I hope you like having the new equipment to try out. Or, y’know, if you have an idea for Hextech, you can share it whenever, since you’ll be around our work more— if you want to be around at all.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes trace the grooves of every machine, notices the disarray of Jayce's hair and his hopeful smile, the textbooks lining every shelf, how Ekko is frozen and looking at everything like he's never seen it before. Then she sees the smooth crystal in the center of the mech hand— Vander has an identical one in a drawer of his room— the crystal that's the same blue as her eyes and she aches with a need to experiment on it in every way. She's one step closer. Powder says for them both, “I totally wanna be around here more! It’s so cool!”

She goes up topside more. While Vi, Claggor, and Mylo rob people when Caitlyn isn't there, Powder is with the scientists and Ekoo. She likes it this way; she's getting a lot of smaller projects done now that she isn't so busy trying to impress her siblings with the destruction her gadgets can cause. The pace of the lab is different; Viktor and Jayce talk about theories openly with one another, and she listens in despite not contributing to the conversation. She's started bringing a notebook that's half doodles and half notes for herself, ranging from the prosthetics to her bombs to the crystals.

And finally, after trying and failing for three months (the last month having lab resources), she has something to show for it: a mechanical hand for the lady she met three months back, who really kick started everything for Powder’s new projects.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Powder anxiously whispers to her best friend, taping the wrapping paper on the hand together. Viktor has fallen asleep on the pull-out couch he insisted they get after waking up with a stiff back so often from all nighters. Jayce is quietly working on an equation. Powder stays quiet in wrapping the arm so she doesn disturb his concentration or expose her worry to him. “I doubt she remembers me.”

“Why wouldn't she?” Ekko reassures. “Like it, I mean. Maybe she forgot you— that's not the point. Her prosthetic was all messed up before. This is definitely an upgrade.”

“But her husband,” Powder whimpers. “Sentimentality. Her hand is all she has left from him.”

Ekko frowns. He grabs the ribbon and ties it around the wrapped hand. “She’ll appreciate how much you care. What if I go with you?”

Somehow, that gives her the bravery to go with him to The Last Drop just shy of 10pm. 

The lady, whose name Powder never learned, is there just as she was last time. Ekko stands not far away, a comforting presence from afar as Powder walks over to the patron. Today, the smiling older woman is with a friend her age. 

Powder explains everything, about how she felt bad and wanted to help, before shoving the gift her way. Curious, the lady tears open the paper, and her face crumbles when she sees the beginning of a metal finger.

Powder worries, tries to figure out what she did wrong and internally yelling at herself stupid stupid stupid always hurting everything for ruining the lady's night. Why did she think the lady would want to be reminded of her dead husband, or that a kid she doesn't know would give her a gift that ignores the final memory of the man, thinking the widow would be grateful?

Her anxiety melts away when the thin woman crushes her in a hug.

“Oh,” the blonde sobs, just once. “Sweetheart, oh, Joel would've loved to know you…”

They stay like that for a long time. The lady rubs circles into Powder’s back. The hug doesn't end until the woman pulls away.

Powder sniffles, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Yeah— yeah, I can— I’m glad you like it. I can help again anytime.”

“Ah, you’re good, girly. Don't forget it.”

She sits on the roof.

“Hi,” says Vi.

“Hi.”

She sits next to her. Powder leans her head onto Vi’s arm. They don't say much else for another thirty minutes that’s spent looking at the view. Powder has never felt more content.

Chapter Text

1. Patron

The first button of Jayce’s shirt is undone, courtesy of the alcohol making his skin feel too warm, and Mel encouraging him to loosen up a bit. Viktor, never too far from him lately, nurses his drink in the loveseat of Mel’s living room.

Like herself, Mel’s home is beautiful, appealing to aesthetics, and carefully oriented. The walls are high, decorated by shelves full of books and paintings— most of which are her own. The only lighting comes from the setting sun, and a warm-lit lamp in the corner of the room.

“This is… quite a bit of you to ask for. By both of your standards,” she tells the two scientists, voice as smooth as the whiskey in Viktor’s hand. 

“I know,” Jayce slowly agrees. Fuck, he shouldn’t have actually dranken anything. While he’s only a bit tipsy, he needs all of his awareness when it comes to Mel. When it comes to talking about the Undercity. “But it… it’s important. Have you seen how bad the Undercity is lately?”

“I can’t say I have.” She takes a barely there sip from her glass of champagne. “And what do you suppose I tell the Council at the next meeting? No one would support an entire renovation of the Undercity, even if I am the one to propose the idea.”

He hasn’t thought that far ahead. That’s why he and Viktor are going to Mel. She should know what to do, being the one with the most political power among their growing group, and now filled in on every important conversation held between the scientists of Piltover and select bosses of the Undercity (sans, admittedly, him and Viktor working with the Doctor to cure death).

Viktor protested the idea, saying that Mel would have them imprisoned if she learns the full truth.

Jayce internally preens at how it was his own judgement of Mel that’s correct. He’s made her invested in their schemes, giving her a good puzzle to put together. And that might be why Viktor looks so irrationally bitter.

“The mines were the only real job opportunity for civilians there. Now that they’re closed, people don’t really have any way to make money beyond crime, with some exceptions,” Viktor explains to her, getting over the fact he made the wrong judgement about Mel. “More job opportunities could be a fair start.”

Mel hums, seemingly not against the idea. “Those children that’re around the lab, do they have to do with this interest in ‘fixing’ the Undercity?”

Jayce flushes. As far as he knows, Mel hasn’t been to the lab beyond brief checkups on their progress, whenever she finds that time in her schedule. How does she know about Ekko and Powder? 

“...And if they do?”

“I’m simply curious,” she replies with a shrug. Across from Mel, Viktor eyes her dubiously. Seeming to try to ease Viktor’s worries, she elaborates further, “There’s quite a few Academy students with talent you could’ve latched onto instead, are there not?”

Latching on. Is that what Jayce did, after he made the decision to continue to go to the shop for the simple reason of seeing the young cashier?

Jayce searches for the right words, eventually coming to a conclusion that adequately makes sense. “It’s easy for Academy students to get a patron.”

“Is that what you are?” Mel probes further. “Like the Kiramman’s are to you?”

He’s certainly not as well off as the family. But it’s an accurate description, is it not? Founded upon transactions of money and, later down the line, knowledge to help the kids with their inventions. And when he thinks of the Kiramman family, he thinks of Caitlyn before he does her parents. He thinks to himself that he cares about her as much as he does Ekko.

“I… yeah, pretty much.”

Mel hums, corner of her glossy lips quirking up into a gentle smile, satisfied by something in his response. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do about bringing up the Undercity in the next Council meeting. Expect to see me at your lab more frequently; I shouldn’t have to explain how important it is that we stay in touch.”

Jayce smiles, equally pleased by how well the conversation went with her. Viktor glowers at Mel’s kindness.

2. Mentor

“You know,” Viktor says to Jayce, when it’s only them in the lab and they have nothing to do but calculations that’ll take another hour to finish, “Powder once said you were rich, not too long ago.”

The color drains from Jayce’s face. Viktor’s voice is even, calm, but Jayce can sense his partner’s irritation far too clearly. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, “Oh, did she?”

Viktor is unimpressed by his reply, drawling, “How much of your money have you been giving away for her to have such an impression?”

He exclaims in a rush to defend himself, “It’s really not that much! You know how Powder’s grown up, a little goes a long way for her and Ekko!”

Viktor, still, is unimpressed. Jayce puts a hand to his face so he doesn’t have to witness the other man’s glare in his direction.

“Jayce.” 

Jayce also ignores how the way Viktor says his name makes goosebumps tingle along his spine, for an entirely different reason than knowing he’s going to be chewed out. “...Yes?”

“I think you’ve reached a point where you don’t need money for the kids to still like you.”

“But—” Jayce fumbles for the words, unsure why talking to Viktor feels so much more daunting than negotiating with Mel can be. Even more unsure why giving thirteen year olds his money matters so much. “But I’m their— a patron.”

“Said who?” Viktor scoffs, properly annoyed now. “And with what money are you funding them as a ‘patron’? Is that why I never see you buy stuff for yourself?”

“I wouldn’t buy things for myself either way!”

“How is that supposed to be— you’re missing the point!”

Jayce groans, putting his face into his hands. “They need it more than I do.”

“That’s— slightly debatable,” says Viktor. Then, “What do I need to tell you for you to understand you don’t have the funds to be anything close to a patron?”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he’s not a patron for Ekko and Powder, what is he to them? What are they supposed to be to him , other than kids whose skill he wants to nurture? It’s just like him with the husband and wife of the Kiramman family: transactional, clean cut, clear where they all stand in the relationship.

Except, he knows the Kiramman’s would end their financial report and any sort of relationship with him— reluctant, maybe, but they would— if Jayce falls short, if he doesn’t show results that prove he can be a benefit to the family. To Piltover. The thought of ever doing the same to Ekko or Powder makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

“If I stop giving Ekko money all the time, will you also be mad if I keep taking him to lunch?”

Viktor frowns at him. “No. So long as the meal is reasonable compared to how much money you actually have.”

“Okay.”

Moments later, Viktor limps close without the use of his cane, leaning against Jayce’s desk. He’s barely a foot away from where Jayce is sitting in his chair, looking over him for… something. “Why are you so upset by this?” he asks, gentler than before. More curious.

Jayce admits, “I don’t know.” He tries to actually explain how he feels, unable to look at his partner as he does, “I mean, it’s weird, right? Random kids from the Undercity come into our lab, and sometimes I go to the other side of Piltover to see them too. Why would that happen, if it weren’t for me being a patron supporting them?”

Viktor tilts his head. “A patron would never care as much as you do. Besides, is it not obvious you’re more of a mentor for Ekko and Powder?”

“Oh,” says Jayce, eyes lighting up. That makes sense.

3. Brother

“I don’t get it,” says Ekko.

Jayce can feel him staring holes into his back, so he turns to look at his unofficial apprentice. “What’s up?”

“How do you have muscle when you’re a scientist?!”

Heat crawls up his face because that is what Ekko had been so focused on. Jayce quickly shakes off the embarrassment as best he can, answering, “I go to the forge in my free time. And I guess my diet helps?”

Ekko groans, slumping into his chair. The action reminds Jayce that he really is becoming such a teenager . Only thirteen, but still. While his voice hasn’t changed much, he certainly has grown taller in the last few months, going from reaching Jayce’s elbow now to the bottom of his chest. 

“Why’d you ask, kiddo?”

“Don’t—” he shakes his head— sensitive about a nickname, definitely a teenager— focusing on the actual question. “Nevermind. I thought you had an actual routine; I wanna start getting stronger.”

“You’re still a kid,” Jayce points out. “You have a couple more years before worrying about appearance like that, I think.”

“I’m a kid from the Undercity,” Ekko corrects, not without sass.

Jayce sets down his wrench, considering the boy’s words and looking him over. Along with height, he’s definitely gained some much needed weight, probably from the lunches Jayce buys him and the community kitchen in the building. “Alright, alright. Do you want to come with me to the forge this weekend?”

“Yeah.” Ekko nods, feigning nonchalance even though he can’t quite hide the eagerness in his voice.

So they go to the forge a couple of hours before dinner, that Saturday. The rush of heat is immediate when Jayce opens the door, setting aside his bag full of their change of clothes in the room bathed in intense fire light.

“Woah,” Ekko coughs, fanning the hot air in front of himself. “This is— woah.”

Jayce shows him how to make three separate hand tools: a wrench, hammer, and chisel, because they’re safe and are items Jayce has made over a dozen times each, so explaining the process feels like second nature. It clears his head, and Ekko’s presence has this strange side effect of allowing Jayce to focus on tasks easier. 

Ekko, meanwhile, is panting for breath at the end of the session, hands on his knees and arms visibly trembling from the strain.

Feeling bad for possibly pushing the boy too hard, too soon, Jayce pats his hunched over form. “You alright, kiddo? Here, have some more water.”

Ekko doesn’t even try to be offended by the nickname, holding his hand out blindly for the bottle. “Please and thank you.”

Jayce gives it to him, unable to restrain his laughter when the boy pours it over his head instead of drinking it. A warm, affectionate feeling blooms in his stomach. “Okay, come here, time for some rest.”

Ekko collapses face forward onto the nearest bench once they’re away from the heat, pressing his cheek and bare torso into the cool, refreshing metal. “That’s nice…”

It comes over Jayce slowly, the same way light does when the sun rises, that he would never do this with Powder. Powder would never ask this of him. But he’s had friends ask him before, and he’d deny, because the forge is his space and his alone, where he can focus on a simple task with all of his focus, finding comfort in knowing the exact outcome of the work he’d committed. 

Why did he agree to let Ekko come here so easily, when the forge is as sacred to him as Janna is to her believers?

He sits down on the bench opposite of Ekko, throwing a towel his way that Ekko lets land on top of his head.

“Have fun?” he asks, feeling like the answer to this question will be incredibly important.

Ekko sighs, grabbing the towel to ruffle his curls. “Of course I did.”

That same feeling in his stomach returns, the one that made his heart fuzzy. Probably the same one that made it so easy to let Ekko into this space like it was second nature. 

Jayce considers what he knows further. He really does consider Powder his own student. A protege. Is that why he felt satisfied by the label of being a mentor when Viktor brought it up? It certainly does fit his relationship to the freshly turned thirteen year old. He’s her mentor, and he’s proud of how many more things she’s made with his help and resources, and he’d never need anything more from their relationship to be content. 

Then he thinks, I’m Ekko’s mentor, and something feels missing from it. Like that’s not enough.

Okay. Huh. Aside from the fact that Powder would never ask him for anything that wasn’t related to her work, if she did want to improve her strength, he knows for a fact she would go to Vi.

Her sister. A sibling. Is that what he wants to be for Ekko?

“I hope you know you’re getting me dinner for this,” Ekko grumbles into his sweat covered towel.

Closer to the truth, that much he knows, but the label doesn’t fit right. He sometimes thinks of Viktor as a brother, when there are nights in the lab in which they have their own little world, and Jayce feels like he has never been closer to anyone else in his life. That love— because it’s so easy for him to love Viktor— is distinctly different from what he feels for Ekko.

He’ll put a pin in it. Defining what Ekko is to him isn’t a priority, and surely it’ll become more clear with time. With that, satisfied by the ache in his muscles and the clearness in his head, Jayce grabs a towel of his own to wipe the sweat off his body. “Yeah, yeah, I wouldn’t have chosen the time to come here if I wasn’t taking you for food too.”

Ekko whoops in joy, the most energized he’s been in the last two hours since entering the forge.

4. Parent

The Doctor’s lab— his actual one, not the lab Silco has for him to produce Shimmer— is a dank, humid cave on the edge of the Undercity that’s source of light is mainly in desk side lamps and tubes of glowing, green ooze that are bigger than Jayce. Bigger than any human possibly could be. Every flat, elevated surface is covered in illegible notes, vials, and a test rat trapped in a cage. Paranoid, the rodent does nothing but pace its tiny space in circles.

Viktor doesn't stray from Jayce’s line of vision. He doesn’t go further than two meters away from him, actually, and Jayce couldn’t be more thankful. He’s already on thin ice with Viktor from amusing the Doctor’s desire to revive his child.

Jayce leans against a bare wall, squinting to read the Doctor’s hand writing about his latest findings. The script is already rushed and messy; the lack of light only worsens his need to hold it inches away from his face. “Reading this makes your science with Shimmer look more like magic,” Jayce mumbles to himself.

Mad, unethical, and clearly the doings of a father still grieving, that’s what Jayce can tell. The Doctor is constantly pushing the laws of science to their limits with every new experiment, turning mice into monsters, making their body stronger in every way. 

The glaring issues, as the Doctor has told them on the walk to this suspicious cave, are that the minds are lost in the process; once peaceful, anxious little rodents turn into feral killers. On top of that, Shimmer only improves what is already present in the body. The mice regenerate quickly from the drug because they have an immune system that’s mutated into something stronger, healing them quicker. Orianna, dead as she is, does not have a functioning immune system that the current version of Shimmer can mutate to the point of reviving her. Zero times a hundred will still be zero.

“This won’t work,” Viktor decides, tossing the papers into his hands on one of the tables. Jayce tries to think of when Viktor has been this deeply frustrated with someone, and comes up empty. “Even with Hextech. The runes we use are the transportation sort, not anything that can be made compatible with life and death.”

The Doctor agrees, “Perhaps. Shimmer— science, really— will never be strong enough to kick start her organs into functioning. Magic should be able to break that rule, even if the runes aren’t meant for treating life or death.”

Jayce frowns. He knew it was a bad idea to come here when he said it at The Last Drop, but he needs the Doctor on their side to shut down the production of Shimmer. Or, as Viktror suggested, turn it into a drug that could be sold on a legal market.

So why does he want to indulge the Doctor further? Why does a small, desperate part of him want to turn a corpse back into a girl? 

Viktor shifts his weight onto his cane, just a little bit more than he often does. The action gives Jayce the answer he really wants to ignore, because to acknowledge that means acknowledging something else: Viktor is dying. Viktor knows it too, but hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s also been ignoring the signs from his paling complexion, how much more easily it is for him to bruise, the more he’s relying on his cane. Ignore it until it reaches some breaking point.

“She’d be as dependent on this cure as addicts are to Shimmer,” says Jayce. “Is that what you want?”

“If she’d be alive, yes.”

Well, fuck.

The rat’s cage clatters, The little rodent scurries out past the open gate to rush to the floor, hiding in the shadows until it escapes the cave. The three men make no effort to capture the escaped rat, too busy staring at the cage that was unlocked. At the pair of children who have followed Jayce and Viktor into the lab. 

Powder’s hand is still on the gate, her other on top of the cage before it teeters off the edge of the table.

“What,” seethes Jayce, slowly, trying to keep his voice even, “are you doing here?”

Ekko, slightly taller than Powder now, readjusts himself to stand in front of her. As if the color of her hair is never an obvious way to find her. “We— we want to help y—”

“No,” he barks. “No, you two are done here. We’re leaving. Viktor—”

“I’ll remain here,” says his partner. He shifts his gaze back to the Doctor, and Jayce knows Viktor is much better equipped to try talking sense to him. Beyond that, it’s Viktor who made the big breakthrough on Hextech; maybe he can do it again and find the cure to death.

Part of Jayce wants to throw the kids over his shoulders and haul their asses back home. The other part merely has to step closer to Ekko and Powder, glare at them, before the two are cowering and following him in step out of the cave.

“Sorry,” mutters Ekko once they’re walking along a cracked sidewalk. His voice so shaky Jayce is nervous he might cry.

Jayce feels like a fucking dad. Furious. Disappointed. Worried, which is why he feels everything else swirling inside his chest. “Why did you— either of you— think it was smart to spy on us?”

Ekko half-heartedly shrugs his shoulders. “I-I— it seemed smart when we came up with it,” he says, not offering a better explanation.

“Powder?”

She’s in no better shape than her friend, head bowed down. She steps over every crack in the pavement. “It’s important for us to know more about Hextech?”

“Hextech isn’t your project,” Jayce tells her. “Why do you feel a need to worry yourself with something that doesn’t concern you?”

He doesn’t mean for it to be some gotcha, but Powder acts like it is, her mouth shutting. “I—” she bites at her cheek. “I didn’t— I just want t-to help.”

Something paternal in him feels like it’s been stabbed by the uncertainty of Powder’s words. Has her self-esteem always been this low? “You are helping. That’s why you’re always welcome to the lab.” 

“‘s different.”

“It’s not.” Jayce stops walking, giving her his full attention. “Powder, you do more than enough to improve the Undercity, that’s why there was no need to follow us, even if you did want to help with Hextech. You— both of you know that, right?”

Obviously not, by the way Powder sniffles.

His expression softens, ruffling her blue hair lightly. “We should head home.”

+1. His

Powder’s home is The Last Drop, which she returns to with quiet steps, greeted with a scolding from her father and siblings for sneaking off to somewhere dangerous. It’s swiftly followed by a bear hug from each of them.

After checking in— and receiving a similar scolding— from Benzo, Ekko follows Jayce back to the lab, allowed to spend the night there.

Viktor is still not back from the Doctor’s lair, so there’s a comfortable silence as the sofa is pulled out into a bed, and Ekko puts the sheets over the thin, springy mattress.

“I’m not tired yet,” says Ekko, but there’s not much bite in his words. 

“I know,” says Jayce. “But rest anyway. Draw. Daydream. But I’m grounding you to only stay on this couch for the night.”

Ekko sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile that Jayce catches, just a little quirk of his lips. It’s much better than when he was so close to tears, barely an hour ago.

Ekko doodles into his latest sketchbook, while Jayce begins a new hypothesis for merging Hextech with Shimmer. He doesn’t get much done, though. His brain can only focus on the sheer terror that filled him when he saw Ekko and Powder in the Doctor’s lab, terror that could only translate into anger so they understood just how affected he was. What if they were hurt? What if something went wrong, and they had a dosage of that Shimmer that turns rats into monsters? Fuck, what if the rat Powder freed had rabies and bit one of them?

He glances at Ekko, and tries to think of what he would’ve done if any such “what-ifs” actually happened.

Jayce stops after only a few moments of fantasizing, because he knows— he knows he would go to the same extreme ends the Doctor has for Orianna, if it really came to that. It makes Jayce feel nauseous. He tries to ignore it all the time, tries to be the Academy golden boy and not some evil scientist. As if he wouldn’t break every code of ethics to save someone that important to him. 

The hours pass, and the next time Jayce looks over, Ekko is under the blankets, curled up and faintly snoring.

Important . That’s what Ekko is. Jayce has known for months that Ekko is important, that Ekko matters to him. But being at the Doctor’s lab, feeling that unbridled fear at the thought of him being hurt, is the first time he’s really had to reckon with the extent he’s grown to care for Ekko. Affection has settled itself so deeply into Jayce, that he can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize why no label he’s tried applying to their relationship fits just right. Ekko’s not his son or student or anything else. Ekko is his, the sheer weight of this truth unable to fit into any clear set of roles; not any that satisfy Jayce. 

Ekko is mine, Jayce thinks. And this time, he can label the feeling that caused his heart to be fuzzy, back at the forge: fulfillment.