Chapter Text
“-heard that?”
Viktor blinks, his right hand wandering towards his temple, where a massive headache is building up. He grimaces and tightens grip on his cane just a tad bit, fixing his stance; his left foot is skewed a bit too much to the right, so he forces it into a correct position.
His hand burns all of the sudden, and his cane falls from his grip. There’s a rune, soaking into his palm. There’s light. There’s Jayce-
He blinks, and looks at Professor Heimerdinger, who offers him his cane back, having grabbed it from the floor where it had fallen.
“Are you feeling alright, my boy?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just a headache.”
“Ah, the disease that plagues gifted minds,” Cecil hums, not sparing him another glance.
Viktor looks back to the paperwork he was handling just a moment before. Somehow, it feels like years has passed since this moment. He doesn’t let that discourage him - his position as the assistant to the dean of the Academy, while not the peak of his dreams, pays well enough that he can attend classes, rent an apartment in midtown, and buy an occasional sweet treat.
There’s an urgent knock to the door; Viktor opens it, surprised to see sheriff Grayson, her lips pressed into a tight line.
“Professor,” she addresses Heimerdinger first, though she does nod in Viktor’s general direction. “There was an explosion in the students’ apartments building.”
“That is… not good,” Heimerdinger mumbles; she leaves, possibly to lead the investigation.
Viktor sits down at his desk and starts reading the documents. His vision blurs and an image of a notebook, each page signed, appears. He tries to turn the pages, but instead is met with the loose papers of exams taken by the freshmen.
“Curious,” he murmurs, frowning. Visual hallucinations have never manifested for him, even during the worst of sleep deprivation he had endured.
With a satisfied smile, he grades the paper, making sure to write the seventy two percent as neatly as he can; the calligraphy lessons he took from stolen books before he snuck to the Academy, as an attempt to blend in better within the student body, have been useful.
The fruit of his labour is a row of perfectly written numbers, all indicating his utter disappointment in disregard for studying that the students are presenting.
A small hand slips a note onto his desk; he glances above the paper of the next academic victim and raises his eyebrow.
“It’s a list, of all things dangerous that need to be taken care of and removed,” Heimerdinger tells him, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
“Just another reckless freshman,” Viktor guesses, looking at it. The yordle hums sadly.
“This one cost us several thousands in repairs, I’m afraid. A whole wall- the structural integrity of the building is in shambles! We will need to relocate the students who live in it, at least until we can be sure that every dangerous material he had in his possession has been removed.”
It’s idiotic, truly - another reckless rich kid who had tried to throw himself into deep waters only to come back with the short end of the stick.
Viktor takes the list, leans on his cane and nods.
Viktor takes the crutch, Hexcore humming inside his body, replacing his heartbeat.
Viktor takes the rune and the world is exploding around him.
He blinks, his vision clearing. His hand is on the handle of the door, barely touching it. The cold metal meets his skin and he pushes the doors, exiting the office.
He takes his time, going to the exploded apartment. He’s already aware of the nuisance it will become as soon as he’s facing enforcers guarding the place; that’s why he makes a stop at his favourite café.
The barista waves to him in a friendly manner - perhaps the only person in Piltover he learnt to tolerate, and who hasn’t glared at him as he attempted to fit in during his first years in the city.
“The usual?” She asks, already preparing his sweetmilk. She stirs the dark powder concoction and adds as much sugar as Viktor’s body can handle. The only person who likes him more than the barista might be his dentist. He is perfectly aware that both of those people are pleasant to him out of necessity - it would be bad for the business to drive away your most paying customer.
He taps his fingers on the countertop.
A plate with a cookie is slid in his direction. The vastaya who was taking his order gives him a toothy grin.
“On the house,” she puts down his cup.
“Then take it as a tip for your service,” he slides three coins in her direction; far more than he should, but he is feeling rather altruistic.
He is about to ruin someone else’s day, after all.
“Have you heard about the explosion downtown?”
“That’s where I’m headed, actually,” he takes a sip, humming in contentment.
The girl - Cecily, if he remembers correctly, though there’s no much to remember from their casual conversations which point always were to eat away time - stumbles, grabs the ledge of the countertop and leans forward.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“I am tasked with removing dangerous things, Miss. it’s of utmost importance that I arrive there to make sure everything is handled properly.”
She nods, her tail swishing nervously behind her. The urge to gossip isn’t a new one; Viktor usually has better things to do with his time than indulge in such nonsense, but it’s a habit that he cannot swallow down in enterity.
The capability of being nosy in a correct manner - that being, not coming off as visibly interested - was a true savior back in the Undercity- Zaun- Undercity.
He rubs at his temple again, and perhaps it’s no ordinary headache but a migraine.
Cecily frowns.
“Do you want something for the pain?” She directs her footsteps towards the shelf where she keeps medicine, but Viktor stops her. It’s not a secret that the better medicine can be rather costly, and when this is the only cafe he can afford to visit all the time, he cannot risk being indebted to it in such a manner.
“I should be going. Thank you for your kind hospitality.”
“You’re always welcome here,” she smiles, something sharp glinting in her eyes- ah, Viktor remembers why she is so kind. He had a fling with her ex fiancé, one who left her just before the wedding. That might’ve not granted him kindness, but how harsh he was with that man and how ruthlessly he broke his heart surely did.
People in Piltover were capable of holding grudges, and becoming an ache in the ass of someone’s enemy was one way to become someone met with kindness rather than harsh glares.
Viktor takes a step towards the building, and is promptly stopped by the enforcers guarding the entrance.
“This place is currently under an investigation,” one of them says, gruff and rude. Viktor minds his manners and instead of shoving the end of his cane into his stomach, he shows him the lost Heimerdinger prepared.
“I’ve been sent here by the dean of the Academy, as this whole… debacle falls under his jurisdiction.”
The man glances at his companion and steps to the side, his hand resting on the handle of his batton.
The apartment is in a miserable state, and so is the reckless, idiotic cretin who decided to handle explosives inside the place he lived in.
“Relax, kid. We know it was a break-in, but that doesn’t explain this,” comes the voice of sheriff Grayson. Viktor glances at the blackboard, all filled with scribbles. The chalk rests on the floor around it.
He sees a calculation that sparks a memory; he is floating, weightless, finally free of pain, even if for a moment. Then, he is puppeteering something improved, not a human anymore, but not yet soulless.
The anomaly swirls and changes, and-
“Be careful with that, please-!”
“I believe someone should’ve said that earlier,” Viktor looks around, noting the things that had already been removed. Two of the enforcers grunt, lifting up a bookshelf. “What happened here?” He gestures around.
The headache builds up under his skull, pressing into the space between his brain and the bone.
“Science, I guess?” Jayce Talis answers, and Viktor smiles fondly, because of course his partner has such a basic, useless answer for an explanation of something of this gratitude.
He frowns. Something isn’t right.
“Who are you anyway?”
Viktor presses his pointer and middle finger to his right temple. The Hexcore - no, his heartbeat - no- is deafening.
He blinks.
“Excuse me?”
Jayce stares at him, exhaustion and annoyance written into his features. Sheriff Grayson eyes him up and down.
“Are you feeling well?” She asks, not exactly considerate of his health, and more of the risk he poses if he collapses in an exploded apartment filled with illegal, unauthorised equipment.
“Yes, yes,” he waves her off, and makes a mental note to go rest when he has the chance to; the hallucinations may become concerning if they don’t pass after a good rest. “I’m the assistant to the dean of the Academy,” he tells Jayce, a sudden feeling of dejavú flowing in his veins. “Who it might serve you to remember is also the head of the Council.”
Isn’t Jayce the head of the Council? He was, after he forced retirement onto Heimerdinger, in an attempt to stop him from prohibiting any further research on the Hexcore.
“He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed, safely. Which, according to my list, includes you.”
Jayce looks up, bristling.
“What? How am I dangerous?!”
“Eh, that’s for the Council to decide,” Viktor says, studying his face. There’s something he’s missing.
A puzzle piece not yet whole; the picture is distorted and he cannot grasp what is should present.
He watches as Jayce Talis - a friend; a stranger; his partner - is put in cuffs and guided outside, possibly into the same holding cell where Viktor spent the night after he was discovered for sneaking into the Academy.
He looks back at the calculations and frowns.
Somewhere within him, there’s a spark of concerning familiarity.
He isn’t surprised to find Jayce standing on the ledge, looking down at the city, surrounded by the rubble yet to be removed by the authorities. He is in his Academy uniform, as if he hadn’t been expelled just a few hours ago.
The resignation written into his features registers in Viktor’s mind as concerning. His vision flickers, and he sees Jayce, older, kneeling on the top of the Hexgates, eyes closed, awaiting what comes next.
“Am I interrupting?” He asks and watches his stumble backwards, drawing a sudden hitched breath.
Viktor tightens his grip on the cane, and on the notebook; no matter how nonchalant he tries to look, he cannot disguise the shaking of his hands.
The headache only worsens, and for a moment he grows confused as to why he is here and not dying.
He almost laughs at the thought - it’s bitter, but amusing; he is always dying, ever since he was born into a family living in the fissures. A rotten luck, one that was bestowed upon most Zaunites.
“The hell’s your problem?” Jayce bristles, waving his hand in his direction. He massages the bridge of his nose, and through his legs tremble, he still directs his footsteps towards the ledge, once again.
“I’ve heard what you said at your trial,” Viktor says before Jayce can slip further away. “Your calculations are… wonderful.”
“Too bad you’re the only one to think so,” Jayce mutters, bitter and defeated. He looks down, inching closer. Viktor stands beside him, despite the discomfort the height brings him.
He can see himself, in his hideout, inching closer and closer-
“I believe this is yours,” he doesn’t give Jayce his notebook back, but shows him that he has it. “I would say that it’s rather egotistical to sign your notes every page,” he teases, falling into an old-new habit.
“Is that why you’re here? To mock me?”
“No, no.” Viktor closes his eyes and leans on his cane. His body feels too heavy for him, like a puppet with strings attached to his soul, forced to drag it along. Jayce takes a step forward and Viktor’s heart almost leaps from his chest. “I want to prove it, with you.”
“No one thinks it can be done.”
“When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission,” now, he does hand him the notebook back. Jayce flips through it, frowning in consideration at the sight of Viktor’s add-ins.
Viktor digs in his pocket and fishes out a bracelet. The rune glitters in the moonlight, soft blue catching the light.
It’s fused into Jayce’s wrist. It’s ripping Viktor’s body apart, surrounding him with light.
He doesn’t register dropping it into Jayce’s hand.
“I don’t even know your name.”
He frowns; Jayce should. Have they not been partners for the better part of the last decade?
“It’s Viktor,” he says, and his stomach churns.
He guides them swiftly, effortlessly, through the corridors of the Academy. The keys swing and ring with movement, and Jayce flinches every time they make a sound, not overly confident in Viktor’s reassurances that the halls should be abandoned by now.
“You are mad,” he hisses, giddy and excited, despite the fear - they are risking quite a lot for this possibility. Viktor looks at him, a crooked smile pressed on his lips.
“Most notable geniuses are,” he argues, slowly picking up the pace. His leg isn’t aching too badly - it’s an improvement from what he remembers, before the explosion.
His gait changes; he stutters in his movements, suddenly unsure.
What explosion? The one at Jayce’s apartment?
The migraine worsens.
“Are you alright?” It’s a toss whether Jayce is concerned because he’s a kind man who cares for others, or because Viktor’s his only chance at redeeming himself.
“A headache,” he waves him off; the dismissal feels bitter, same as when they visited the Hexgates with Marcus. “It will pass.”
Jayce seems to worry, but he smooths his expression into something carefully stoic.
Good, Viktor cannot let them put their whole operation at risk because of something as silly as - possibly - exhaustion-driven hallucinations.
He taps his fingers on the handle of his cane, then pauses and pushes Jayce into a niche, keeping them hidden from view. The man struggles in his hold, his eyebrows furrowed in an annoyed and confused expression.
He halts in his movement when the faintest sound of footsteps appears.
Mel Medarda walks by, tilting her head, as if she was expecting to find something outside the doors of Heimerdinger’s office. She frowns and takes a careful step back, her gaze holding something calculating within.
Viktor grits his teeth as another painful pang rings out inside his skull, a memory that had not yet happened.
“How did you know someone would be there?” Jayce asks once she leaves and they are left alone again.
“I am… not sure,” he answers, frowning in contemplation. He wonders how they would attempt to justify their endeavour, had they been caught. He almost smacks himself for the simple fact that the first excuse coming to his mind is implying that he wanted to bed Jayce.
“Okay,” Jayce sounds curious, but he doesn’t speak again, careful not to risk the ire of the only person who decided to keep him around and look what happens.
“I don’t think it’s gonna hold! Look at the build up!”
“The resistance will stabilise it, trust me,” Viktor leans closer to the crystal, feeling Jayce’s shoulder brush past his’. The crystal cracks and glows and
Viktor is faced with the core of the Mercury Hammer, the cannon aimed in his direction-
Viktor is turning away, registering a strange glitch within the universe - only for a teenager to appear out of thin air and throw time itself at his face-
The crystal turns, lighting bolts of energy cracking through its surface.
“I told you it would work. All yours,” he takes a step back. Something heavy tugs at his chest.
Jayce is looking at the crystal, turned away from him; a part of Viktor is glad that he cannot see what surely must be an expression of guilt, as it is heavy against his heart and lungs.
He bites his tongue until he can taste copper.
Then an explosion rings out, the window is shattered and the glass is pulled in their direction. He shields his face from the oncoming attack, grunting when he feels the shards cut against his skin.
The crystal falls back and, after a moment of silence, Jayce tries again.
Viktor’s heart is palpitating. He fights against himself not to stop him - he was just at the ledge, considering jumping at the thought of losing his dream. No matter how wrong this feels, Viktor cannot force himself into interrupting it.
There’s a sound of heavy boots colliding with the doors.
“We should get to it faster. There is no time,” he urges, partly hoping that it will be enough to stop him.
But Jayce closes his eyes and his hand is on the machine again, dialling it up and then quickly lowering the frequency.
He works methodically, careful and considerate. The runes spin and Viktor has the urge to reach out.
A distant memory, one that is not his; a blanket bleached by the sun, wrapped around his body like a robe; a staff with an anomaly trapped within it.
The fields of endless solitude, and one goal in his mind: to stop himself from becoming-
Then, they are floating.
The equipment, books, the shards of glass that were laying on the floor - it all lifts up with them, and orbits around the core they created.
Jayce swims through the air, the distant screams of orders forgotten. He picks up a cog and laughs softly.
Viktor watches as it flies in his direction, through the core created of pure arcane energy and into his hands.
He looks at it spinning in the air;
It falls to the water, as he eyes Jinx and harshly calls her by the name he knows from Vander’s mind;
It falls from his hand as his commune collapses alongside him;
He curls into himself and his whole body starts trembling as it shifts; his fingers are cold and made of metal, and there’s a robe strangely similar to a blanket he saw at Jayce’s apartment, wrapped around him; then his limbs grow longer and his vision comes to him in two planes; physical and astral; then, once again, he is human, and the whole ordeal is over within a fraction of a second.
He meets Jayce’s horrified stare and attempts to smile in reassurance.
The doors open, and his cane floats, cracked in half.
Professor Heimerdinger looks at them in wonder. And Viktor does his best to signify to Jayce that mentioning whatever had just happened is a very bad idea that will possibly have them exiled.
“Will you two please stop hovering?” Comes an exasperated call; Viktor glances at Jayce.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that, sir,” he chuckles, but under the intensive stare directed at him, the feeling of astonishment is swallowed by one of unease.
They land eventually, and though enforcers move to arrest them, they are stopped by Heimerdinger, who has had a soft spot for Viktor at one time, after all.
“Are you alright, my boy?”
Viktor waves him off.
“A migraine, is all. They can last up to seventy two hours, and it seems that my body is experiencing one of such calibre.”
The yordle hums and looks at the enforcers he brought with him; at the mess they created.
“I will take you home,” Jayce offers, and Viktor has to stifle a joke about how he should make such an offer to councillor Medarda instead. He eyes the cane, snapped in half, and grimaces.
“Alright, thank you,” he looks at him, a cheeky smile pushing its way onto his face, “partner.”
Jayce beams, and if he could, he would’ve shone with the shine of thousands of stars.
He spends the entire way to Viktor’s apartment rambling on about Hextech, or about how he never thought he would be the type to work with someone, because he was yet to find a person just as clever - he chuckles nervously when Viktor calls out his rather arrogant approach.
He walks a bit too fast, and it sits wrong with Viktor’s muscle memory - Jayce should be used to slowing down his pace to match with Viktor.
He frowns; his mind is playing tricks at him, expecting something that is yet to happen. False memories - perhaps caused by the stress. Or his migraine is a sign of something rather concerning, more than a casual headache.
He heard about those who fell sick because of the chemicals, and how the sickness slowly spread; usually attacking their lungs and organs inside their chest, but there were few unlucky enough to have their brains infected with it, big tumours forming inside their skulls, pressing at its sides.
“About what happened when we were-“
“Not now, Jayce,” he stops him. The man looks at him with his big hazel eyes, and Viktor allows himself to feel bad for snapping so harshly. “It is late, and we will have a chance to discuss it properly soon anyway. Right now we should focus on the project. We need to plan this out.”
“Right, of course,” Jayce is hesitant. He puts his hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Thank you, for believing in me. We’re going to change the world, together.”
That’s what Viktor is most afraid of.
He bids Jayce goodbye and locks the doors of his apartment. It’s dim inside, the only source of light coming from a lamp he forgot to turn off - it was his senior project at the academy, a light powered by the energy of the sun.
He walks inside, leaning on the walls for support. He takes off his vest and leaves it laying on the floor, a sad, crumpled piece of fabric.
“Hey, cookie.”
He yelps, makes a sharp turn and hisses when his back collides with a wall.
“Powder?” The name leaves his mouth in an instant; an instinctual response he was not aware of.
He blinks and rushes to the sink; leaning over it, he vomits, the cascade of memories flooding his mind.
He looks at the girl; a child, still.
Her eyes are red and puffy, and her face is swollen - there’s a nasty bruise forming on her cheek. She’s covered in cuts and sits on the windowsill, curled up into herself, head resting on her knees.
“Hey,” she repeats, sounding hollow and resigned. “I didn’t know where to go.”
Viktor stays silent, watching her - but just like he feels younger, she must too, because she doesn’t lash out, or scream at him for what he did.
She sniffles, and hugs herself tighter.
“I thought it was a second chance. Or that all of that… I thought it was some crazy nightmare. And then I jinxed it, like I always do.” She huffs and wipes at her eyes. “And I don’t have anywhere else to go, so I figured- it’s dumb, but your cult was the last place I felt safe in. Before it all went to shit.” She looks at him, not afraid but alone. “And I figured that, hey, who will understand a monster better than another monster, right?”
It’s hopeful, despite how bitter her words are and how they bite under his skin.
Viktor swallows, his stance riddled with exhaustion. He opens his arms, an invitation he doesn’t expect to be accepted, but Jinx surprises him; she jumps to her feet and rushes towards him, colliding with his ribcage and hiding her face in his chest.
“I just wanted it to get better,” she sobs, her hands squeezing the fabric of his shirt. “And I don’t think I can be better if I’m there again.”
From what Viktor assumed about Jinx, she seemed content with who Silco was, and regarded him a good parent; at least at first, back when she was blowing up government buildings and killing enforcers with little to no regard to any casualties.
Just as his illness has regressed to its first stages, hers seemingly did as well.
Nervous giggling slips past her lips.
“Sorry, I just- I really have a tendency to find myself the worst guardians, right?” She asks shyly, glances up at him; it’s a test. “All my dads were kinda shit.”
Viktor rests his hand atop of her head.
“You can call me mum, if it makes you feel better.”
She laughs.
Her clothes are soaked, her shirt and pants have smears of soot and mud on it. Her hair is in disarray, the braid falling apart with each sudden movement.
Viktor slowly untangles himself from the embrace and eyes her up and down.
“You need a bath,” he decides, and she makes an offended gasp. “I will give you my clothes, then we can buy you some proper ones in the morning.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?!”
He looks at her; a pointed stare upon which she bristles.
“Look at them.”
“Said the guy who wore a blanket for ten months straight.” She challenges, frowning. “Did you even have something underneath or did you walk around Zaun naked?”
“I had ascended above the need of clothing-“
“That’s some weird exhibitionist thing to say-“
He sighs audibly and falls onto his armchair. If she is to stay with him, he will need to look into bigger apartments sooner than later - a teenager will need her privacy, he is sure of it. But that begs him to turn towards a less enjoyable matter.
“How are you here, remembering? I was in the astral plane, stopping the calamity. Jayce was with me, and yet he showed no recognition.”
“Last thing I remembered was hugging my dad goodbye after pulling out my last grenade. Fuck you, for what you did to him, what is your fucking problem? You lured us in with a promise of helping him and then you-“
“I’m sorry.”
She blinks, frustrated and surprised.
“What?”
“I do wish that I could explain it to you, but I cannot. I wasn’t only misguided, I was bitter and I used my anger against others,” he looks at his hand, now pale and human, “I always looked down on those who abused their power and yet I became just as corrupted when I started believing that my beliefs were the only correct ones.”
She shrugs, dejected.
“Okay. It’s not okay, I mean, but- I understand. Like I said, two monsters-“ she hugs herself.
“Did Violet not travel with you?”
“No. No, it was only me,” she holds her hand to the bruise on her cheek. “Who do you think left this here?” She asks, then curls into herself. “I know she loves me, but I don’t think I can be around there right now. Sometimes, to break a cycle, you need to walk out.”
“So, for now, it is only us two.” He frowns. “How did you know about me?”
“It’s simple, I didn’t,” she laughs at the expression he makes. “It‘s lucky, but in all honesty, I just… I remember how you were with Isha, and other kids, back at your cult. I figured out you might take pity upon big ol’ me. Poor orphan from Zaun who can’t do anything right.”
“But you didn’t come here right away.”
She averts her gaze to the floor, her eyes shining.
“Like I said, I thought it was a second chance. And I blew it. Jinxed it; that’s my thing. I really don’t have anywhere else to go, unless I crawl to Silco and beg him to take me in. But I don’t think I like the person I was when he was… around,” she finishes lamely, tugging at her hair.
“You are welcome to stay.”
She nods and walks to the bathroom - Viktor isn’t surprised that she looked around his flat before he arrived, just a tad bit annoyed. He leaves fresh clothes on the floor in front of the door and lays down on his bed.
Jinx walks out and curls to sleep on his armchair - he would offer her his bed, but his leg aches in protest.
“Do you think it could be different this time?” She whispers, staring at the ceiling. He turns to the side, grimacing. Golden eyes meet blue. “You said that I could use my talent to do good.”
She’s thinking about someone else entirely when she addresses him, that much is clear. Viktor offers a sympathetic wince.
“I am sure that, when time arrives, you will find her again.”
Jinx nods, and stifles a sob, but not enough to prevent it from making a choked sound down her throat.
“I think it’s shimmer ,” she says before he falls asleep. “For me, at least. We both appeared in this timeline at the time of the explosion, right? That’s when I first started having the flashes of my actual memories. And we both died because of something connected to Hextech. My grenade, and you, I assume, were defeated by Ekko.”
“The boy who smashed that device containing an anomaly right into my face?”
She clicks her tongue.
“That’s the one! The boy savior.” She hums. “Maybe shimmer, when it made contact with the arcane energy, managed to pull us through the anomaly into the past. But I don’t think you-“
He raises his eyebrows.
“I did. That’s how Hexcore adapted to me. It’s the device I was fused with,” he quickly adds the explanation. She whistles.
“You Pilties are all about unethical science, huh?”
“It was actually Jayce’s attempt at saving my life. I died in an explosion.”
She frowns.
“What explosion- oh,” she stares at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t know-“
“And, I’m a Zaunite,” he adds, because that part annoyed him far greater than dying. “Goodnight, Jinx.”
“Powder’s fine,” she mumbles and sighs. “Don’t let the nightmares and guilt get you, oh great Herald.”
He rolls his eyes, ignoring the clawing feeling at his chest.
He wakes up to the faint sound of snoring. Sometime in the middle of the night Jinx had relocated herself onto his bed. She’s sprawled across it, her knees digging painfully into his back.
He does his best to make as little noise as possible, slowly stumbling across his apartment. There’s a spare cane in the closet, one a bit too short for his current height, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he has to depend on the hope that Jayce will greet him with a new one; a gift for the beginning of their partnership.
His kitchen is miserably empty, and he doubts a kid Powder’s age should have a diet containing stubbornness and coffee. Then again, she is a Zaunite, so she is most likely accustomed to an empty stomach more than to a full one.
“Hey, tincan.”
“I’m not metal yet,” he reminds her, setting down two cups and preparing sweetmilk. They will have to dine in the Academy’s cafeteria, it seems. She takes the drink and drinks it in one big gulp; he doesn’t see a point in scolding her for creating a choking hazard.
“So, what’s the plan, mister fanatic?” She leans forward on her elbows; her nose is swollen and she has a wild look in her eyes.
“Breakfast,” his response is dry. He moves his cup to the kitchen sink and sighs, massaging his temples. “We will have to set that nose of yours, Powder.”
She bristles, then touches her nose and yowls in pain, only now registering that it’s broken.
“Heh, my sister really knows how to throw a punch, huh? Even without the bitch-mittens.”
Viktor doesn’t ask what happened - Jinx doesn’t owe him an explanation; it’s a miracle that she chose to trust him out of all people. He supposes that a person who was raised believing that the world is harsh and cold would be inclined to follow the warmth of kindness, even if it wasn’t a noteworthy one.
“You’re taking this all well,” she comments, staring at him. He shudders and looks away.
“I suppose once you become an omnipotent being ascended above humanity itself you do lose the ability to be surprised,” the guilt still claws at his throat, but the memories of his doings feel distant, trapped within a fog he doesn’t want to wander through. “You are taking this rather well too.”
Jinx shrugs, frowning.
“Well, yeah, once you’re crazy you kinda get used to it.” She stares ahead, her eyes empty. “And if I’m dead, then this is a better afterlife than I probably deserve.”
“Second that,” Viktor agrees, and thinks to himself, briefly, that one day they could perhaps tease each other about having a kill count.
His hands start shaking, so he grabs the door handle and pushes the door open.
“Breakfast?” He offers, and he doesn’t need to say it twice. Jinx walks beside him, looking around in astonishment.
She stops outside and takes a neckerchief she smuggled inside her pockets, then turns to stare at him expectantly.
“You’re gonna set it?” She holds the cloth to her nostrils and squeezes her eyes shut.
Viktor knows they must look bizarre to any passer-by, but he does his best to be quick and precise.
“Shit- have you done this before?” She asks, sniffing loudly. Viktor raises his eyebrow.
“I’m a Zaunite as well, you know?”
“You sure are,” she agrees and he looks at her, confused.
He never felt like he belonged anywhere; he crawled from Zaun onto Piltover’s golden steps, never seen as more than a lucky trencher by the classist society of the Topside and as a traitor by the Undercity.
He didn’t fit in, not enough of a Zaunite and not enough of a Piltie, despite how much he tried to be proud of his identity. Always less.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jinx laughs. “You took a stray in without much thought. You didn’t even try to chase me away. That’s a Zaunite thing to do. We take care of each other, when it matters.”
He hums and slowly limps towards the Academy; Jinx’s eyes widen, definitely recognising the building.
“What are we doing here?”
“We both need a meal, and my scholarship under Professor Heimerdinger grants me free ones from the cafeteria. Also, I do work here,” he cannot remember if he is still the assistant to the dean - last time, he lost the position almost immediately, when Jayce and he were in a holding cell, arrested after creating Hextech. This time, he managed to dodge spending a night there, so he has not yet had the talk with his employer.
“You work here?”
“I’m the dean’s assistant. And, Jayce’s partner. We created Hextech together,” he tells her and she squints.
“Hextech was created by a Zaunite? And here I was, thinking nothing can surprise me. They kept you off the posters, huh?”
“I asked them to. I am aware that I’m not the most pleasant thing for our investors to acknowledge.”
“Will we be working on Hextech today?” She sounds eager to find something to occupy herself with. Viktor has to disappoint her.
“No, we are here to ensure you can stay with me without raising much suspicion about your origin. Vander’s daughter might bring attention of someone we would rather avoid.”
She curls into herself and tugs at a strand of her hair. An anxious movement she doesn’t seem to be aware of. Viktor slowly and gently guides her hand down and takes it into his, letting her squeeze and pinch his skin.
After raiding the cafeteria - because that is the only world capable of describing what they’ve done to it; Jinx because she hasn’t had a warm meal in two days, and Viktor because he has a distinct memory of his last time eating being almost a year prior, and despite being back in the past, he does feel the hunger of a man who didn’t have any human needs until recently - they stumble to Heimerdinger’s office.
He knocks thrice, then twice more, in a rhythmic pattern Heimerdinger is familiar with - he always liked knowing who was about to invade his privacy.
Jinx jumps when the doors open, and four cookies fall out of her sleeves.
“Ah, Viktor my boy! And who is that?” The yordle’s attention immediately turns to Jinx, who tries to discreetly pick up the treats she dropped.
“That’s my daughter,” he replies instantly; the lie tastes bitter, as not only is he forcing it onto his mentor, but also playing into hurtful stereotypes citizens of Piltover have about Zaunites.
Jinx picks up on his cue and hides behind his back, playing a role of a frightened, overwhelmed child.
“Oh-“ Heimerdinger looks between them, a look of pity crossing his eyes.
“I was rather young when I had her,” he would’ve been about fourteen when she was born, if his assumptions are correct, “and recently the person who has been taking care of her has… passed. I am aware that it might pose an inconvenience, but I cannot turn her away. She’s my responsibility now.”
Jinx waves at the professor, yanking at Viktor’s shirt with her other hand.
“How did you manage to get all the way to Piltover, young lady?”
“I am good at sneaking,” she says innocently, playing into the bit. “My other dads decided to murder each other so I figured out I would stay with mum.”
Viktor glares at her harshly, regretting making that joke in every possible way known to man. He quickly schools his expression into one of shameful guilt, one that he hopes indicates how worried he is that his kid has seen so much violence.
“It’s- fathers are overrated,” he explains lamely. Heimerdinger nods as if it makes sense, then smiles politely. “Professor, I know this is much for me to ask, especially after yesterday's fiasco.”
“You mean breaking the law on multiple occasions, breaking and entering into the Academy’s grounds with a fugitive, breaking the ethos, taking part in a wildly unethical, illegal science, and breaking a lot of the Academy’s property, including very expensive windows that were supposed to be explosion-proof?”
Jinx looks up at Viktor, her face split with a manic grin.
“You didn’t say you were cool!” He shushes her and she shows him her middle fingers in response.
“Yes- I am really, really, sincerely sorry about that. I don’t doubt your reasons to fear magic, it is a dangerous force. Perhaps we acted foolish,” he admits, “that’s why this project will need your guidance, sir. But now I need to be here for… for-“
“Powder,” she finishes, waving again. “But I also go by Jinx nowadays. It depends on what kind of day it is,” she disregards any customs or titles. Heimerdinger laughs.
“I suppose you need to be… properly registered, here in Piltover.”
“I know I am asking for much, sir, but I cannot accept any form of refusal,” Viktor states; he is a confident man, but it’s hard to think clearly and not be on the verge of begging when he remembers being an apathetic deity, and also trying to harbour a terrorist and convince others she’s his child.
Heimerdinger studies him.
“Nonsense. I am aware of how fleeting moments of anger are; I hold no bad feelings towards you, my boy. I am glad to see you’re the kind of person who is up for a challenge! It does good, keeping minds busy! May parenthood be yet another amazing adventure!”
“I assume I am still fired, though,” he moreso states this than asks; professor smiles, something mischievous shining in his eyes.
“Oh, my boy, I could never keep you as my assistant, no matter how great you are at this job. You dream bigger, and your ambitions need fulfilment. The Council will vote on this… Hextech project of Jayce’s, and he has been stubborn about how much he wants you to be his partner.”
“The funds won’t be enough for me to keep Powder. It’s not a stable job, with all due respect,” he says, frowning. The mischievous glint appears in his mentor’s eyes again.
“That’s why you are promoted! A half-time job, teaching here, at the Academy! I know you are capable, and you’re already familiar with most work.”
He blanches.
“If I kept you as my assistant, we would risk indicating that I’m favouring you, and that would put a strain on-“
“Everything,” he says, already aware of the answer. It would risk Hextech as the Council could assume that Heimerdinger agreed to it only because his assistant was taking a part in it. It would put him at risk of facing his fellow students and scientists’ wrath. All but an inconvenience. “I understand.”
Heimerdinger nods and turns to Jinx.
“I hope you find Piltover lovely, young lady. And I hope it will treat you right.”
She snorts, clearly in disdain, but Heimerdinger mistakes it for gleeful amusement.
Viktor tugs at her hand.
“We need to… acquire proper clothing.” He nods to Heimerdinger, “I will fill in the paperwork and bring it in by tomorrow.”
“Good. And, Viktor? Congratulations on your partnership. I wish you good luck - I was quite surprised that Jayce insisted that you should work on this project together. He isn’t the kind of person who likes group projects.” The professor laughs; a memory of a blanket being pulled tight around his body, even as he could not feel cold, swirls in his mind, filling it with colours.
“Neither do I,” he says.
“Do you all really spend so much time on choosing the most boring clothes possible?” Jinx groans, tugging at her new shirt. It’s plain, grey-ish green. Viktor scoffs.
“As if I didn’t notice you stealing those markers. You’re going to improve it in a way you deem more noteworthy as soon as we are done.”
“I hate being in public. Makes me all- queasy.”
Viktor does share the sentiment; every person dressed in white and gold, which, being the colours of Piltover, means a lot, reminds him of the puppets he assimilated into his hivemind and then improved to reach the final stage of the glorious evolution.
He coughs, and his chest hurts upon the realisation he wants to see blood on his hand, and taste copper in his mouth. A desire for a punishment; one he won’t get, unless he confesses and gets locked up in a clinic somewhere, seen as a lunatic.
He looks down at Jinx and tightens his tie; a noose around his neck, the uniform of an Academy he never truly belonged to. It’s like a leash - with the investors and sponsors holding its very end, tugging at it and demanding tricks.
He cannot let all those emotions swallow him whole; not where there is one person who is holding him accountable in her own way. He owes Jinx, and he cannot offer more than to dance as she pleases.
If he were alone, all he would need to do would be finding a high enough rooftop - but the anomaly has dragged Jinx with him, and he cannot doom her to the loneliness of being stuck in a time outside her own.
“Have you ever tried meringue with cream?” He asks instead, swallowing down the resentment he feels when he catches a glimpse of his reflection.
Jinx looks intrigued, shakes her head slowly and looks around.
“Then we’re going to take a break from shopping,” he decides and guides her towards the cafe. Cecily looks up, delighted to see him, and even more when she takes notice of his company.
She takes their order without any further comments - but allows Jinx to choose a table, strongly suggesting one in the corner, up the stairs; it oversees the whole street and the couch is filled with decorative pillows, ones left by friends of the owners.
The climb up is awful, but Viktor has crawled out of Zaun once, so he clicks his jaw shut and watches as Jinx runs up, her footsteps louder than they need to be.
She behaves more like a child, though there is a certain sadness lingering in her eyes; it’s noticeable, once you know how to differentiate between this restless sadness and the casual trauma being from the Undercity left a person with.
“I’m going to look like a Piltie in all those frilly outfits,” she complains loudly, as Viktor leaves the bags with clothes under the table. Her fingers tap on the armrest of the couch, and her knees dig into the pillows as she looks outside the window, hair caught in the wind. “I can think more clearly now,” she comments, a bitter twist to her lips. “I didn’t even know- that’s funny, right? I didn’t know that I didn’t think clearly, before I woke up here.”
“It is the same for me, yes,” and while he cannot understand the ways her mind was damaged in, his own became stunted as his emotions were ripped away from him.
It’s overwhelming, having them all back at once; the joy of being alive, with Jayce; the bitter feeling of betrayal because he should’ve died long ago; the absolute, horrifyingly breaking grief for what he lost.
“Do you think I could really stay here?”
“Where else would you go?” He asks, not to be rude, but pragmatic. Jinx’s shoulders drop, then he shrugs helplessly, though her eyes stay glued to the world outside, observing it with caution.
“I always wanted to fly on one of those airships. I liked to imagine that it would take me far away,” she giggles nervously. “I was going to, if I lived. When I pulled out the grenade and held dad, I thought to myself, this is how I break the cycle.”
Yet another opportunity ripped away from her hands.
Viktor frowns, but doesn’t say anything. Cecily brings them the meringue; the cream on top is decorated with chocolate and fruits, put together to look like a flower.
“You’ll help him, this time,” Jinx states. “You better figure out how- We can do that together. But you need to help him this time.”
“Your father?”
She hugs herself, playing with the fruit. The little fork is held like a weapon, and it glints in the sun, catching the light. She settles it down and licks the meringue, face brightening up.
“It’s how I fixed things with Vi,” she mumbles, putting her finger in the cream and then licking it off, all the social etiquette she might’ve picked up from Silco gone. “And he deserves to- he needs to have something better happen. We all do. Break the cycle, right?”
“We will do our best,” Viktor promises; it doesn’t feel as empty as it should.