Recurrences, Recurrences

It has been three weeks and four days since Viktor fell. 

It has been three weeks and four days since Jayce last heard his voice.

It has been three weeks and four days since Jayce has left the hospital corridor where he set up camp.

There’s so much gold around here. It hurts the eyes to look at for any extended period. Jayce sits just outside Viktor’s infirmary room, where he’s been for the better part of the last twenty-five days. His eyes hurt every second he keeps them open, and his head hurts the moment he squeezes them shut. The last time they tried to let him see Viktor, Jayce had started sobbing so uncontrollably he had to be forcibly removed. For “his own sake”, allegedly, he was made to stay outside the room. 

Somewhere along the line, a nurse had taken pity on him and brought a chair over for him to sit on. They expected him to give up sooner or later, probably. Expected him to return home and sleep and wait for results to come by. 

Jayce has spent the past twenty-five days right here, thank you very much.

His once-pristine shirt is now wrinkled and stained, the vest thrown aside days ago. Heimerdinger swooped by every so often to goad him into showering, or at least changing out of his clothes. The original bloodstained garments were coaxed from him only a week after they first entered these hallways. Dark circles carved themselves a permanent home beneath his eyes, and a beard, rough and unkempt, sprung up not long after. For the most part, Jayce is a ghost, silently watching as nurses and doctors slip in and out of the room. 

His reflection shows in a window across the corridor—a glimpse of disheveled, dirty self he’s become. Grimacing, Jayce looks away, scrubbing a hand over his face. What would Viktor say here? 

Oh, look at you. Acting like the world has burned down just from a little accident.

He’s been hearing his voice more and more often, hovering along the edges of his consciousness at all times. The worse his headache grows, the louder Viktor’s voice becomes. Once or twice, as Jayce was falling asleep, he heard Viktor calling for him. A desperate scream startling him from his sleep. Then, he paced for hours outside the room. Just in case something would go wrong. Just in case . 

He doesn’t notice Councillor Merdarda until she quietly clears her throat. Standing just a few feet away, she’s dressed in her signature opulence—silks and even more gold that ripple with every movement. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s a softness in her gaze. Jayce starts to scowl. That softness, from someone so strict and firm… Is that pity ?

“Councillor,” Jayce greets, surprised at how raspy his voice is. 

He pushes himself up from the chair, wobbling for a moment. When was the last time he stood? The last time he spoke to someone? Mel’s hand shoots out, grabbing his arm with surprising firmness. That’s how Viktor’s hands should have felt. Instead…

“Jayce,” she says with surprising warmth. 

Her eyes roam over him, taking in the rumpled clothes, the exhaustion etched into every line of his posture. Pity isn’t a strong enough word to describe how she’s looking at him. “It’s been a while.”

“You could say that.” He laughs, low and bitter. Running a hand through his hair, Jayce can’t figure out if it’s from nerves or from a painful realisation about how unkempt he looks. “I’m sorry. I—I’m not exactly in a state to receive official visitors, Councillor.”

Mel’s gaze flicks to the door behind him, the nameplate half-obscured by a bouquet of wilting flowers. Courtesy of Heimerdinger. 

She rests her hand against the brass door handle, and Jayce takes a step forward. 

“He needs rest,” Jayce says. One step away from grabbing her hand and pulling it away. She pauses, keeping her hand there, but doesn’t open it. 

“How is he?”

Jayce’s shoulders slump. No point in putting up a façade. 

“Stable,” he answers, but the word feels hollow. “They keep saying that. Stable but critical.” His throat constricts, forcing the other words out. “He’s barely improved. They keep saying they’re optimistic, but…” 

His gaze flicks up to meet hers, suspicious. The hospital, like many other things in the city, is run on funding from the council. Viktor himself is kept alive through the pleasure and will of the council itself. Was Councillor Merdarda here to tell him any differently?

“I’m sorry. The Council hoped for better news. You and Viktor… you’re Piltover’s future,” she says, her voice gentle. Jayce feels the back of his neck prickle. “You are both Piltover’s brightest minds. We can’t afford to lose either of you.”

He barks out a laugh. Is this a joke? This has to be a joke. What did it matter if Piltover’s brightest were here? Was she just trying to prime him, for what the doctors have been dancing around for weeks? Piltover’s brightest are out of commission, so there’s absolutely no chance that Viktor will recover. 

That’s taking it a bit far, don’t you think ? 

Aren’t you supposed to be in a coma? Jayce blinks as he realises he’s talking back to Little Viktor.

I’m not going to die. Stop being so… dramatic.  

“Well, you just might. If I can’t figure something out soon—” His voice catches, and he drags a trembling hand across his mouth. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, and those doctors . And he’s just there …” He trails off, swallowing hard. Tears threaten to fall now , of all times? When he was alone, late in the depths of the night, he couldn’t will those tears to come. Now, in front of the councillor that can change Viktor’s fate… 

She steps closer, her heeled boots echoing on the polished floor. Gently, she reaches out, her hand hovering just shy of his arm, before she finally sets her hand on his forearm. 

“Jayce,” she says softly, “I don’t think anyone expects you to go through this alone.”

The words make him nauseous. 

“But I am alone,” he mutters, keeping his voice low. He sounds like a petulant child, as Viktor’s voice so helpfully reminds him. 

“All of Piltover wants results. The Council wants results. It’s always about results.” He gestures at the door. “I don’t care about that. And now, when Viktor himself needs results, I magically can’t give them to him.” Was he unable to deliver results and help now because it’s Viktor? Or had he never been able to do anything without Viktor in the first place? Probably both, Viktor’s slightly smug voice reminds him.

The woman lowers her gaze, thinking through her words carefully. “Jayce, you need to rest. Let the medics handle it. You can’t solve this problem if you’re going to destroy yourself in the process. You should head back to the academy, an—”

“And what?” Jayce snaps, pulling his arm free. He has to admit, the slight fear on Mel’s face brings him a sick kind of joy. A reaction. Proof that he can still change things with his own actions. “And what , Councillor? Continue the research? Work harder? Uncover everything that Viktor’s been working on for the sake of Piltover? If you mean—”

“I mean rest , Jayce.” 

Mel raises her voice as she speaks. Standing just a bit taller, just a bit straighter. 

Oh, you’re in trouble . 

Little Viktor giggles a little as it fades to the background.

Mel’s words take a moment to sink in, and Jayce sucks in a long, deep breath. She’s right—he knows it deep down. Viktor’s voice reappears only to chime in agreement. He can feel the exhaustion in every nerve, every shaky breath that forces itself in and out of his lungs. But at least he has another shaky breath. He has the ability to feel exhausted, to say he is exhausted. 

Viktor has no such guarantee.

“I can’t go,” Jayce finally insists, his voice low. Each word has to be spat out, clenching and unclenching his fist as he talks. The muscles in his shoulders brace for another argument. He had done the same with Heimerdinger, with nurses and with doctors. If it’s time to add a councillor to that list, so be it. “Not when he’s… He’s not out of danger, and if something happens—if he needs me—”

Mel lifts her chin, matching his defiant stare with equally calm composure. “Jayce, you’ve been out here day and night. Viktor hasn’t shown any change in weeks, and you’re beating yourself into the ground. I don’t want to see that happen to you. We don’t need both of you hospitalised.” There’s no cruelty in her tone, just a clear, unyielding certainty. She pauses, then reluctantly adds, “And besides, people are starting to talk.”

There it was.

“Excuse me?” It took every fibre of his being for Jayce not to raise his voice at her. Above all, she was still a councillor. Councillor, Funding. Funding, hospital. Hospital, Viktor .  

“I said, people are starting to talk.” Mel’s voice is frustratingly calm as she repeats herself. Hands over in front of her, she tips her head very slightly to the right. “People are starting to wonder why the brightest minds of the academy are both in the hospital.” 

He scoffs, turning away from her. “Oh, of course . And what about him?” The question bursts out before he can help it. “He’s the genius, the brains behind everything. The Council expects me to just pretend everything is normal—like I’m worth two people. Or maybe they’re expecting him to bounce back any day now. Newsflash , Mel! I’m not even worth half of him! And he’s worth everyone else in the academy put together.” 

Using her name snaps from her own thoughts. Mel blinks, and looks away. When was the last time someone talked back to her, he wondered? Someone who was used to always getting her way. 

Jayce rubs a hand over his face once again, scowling. “In case it’s not clear. I don’t really give a damn what anyone else is saying.”

Mel shifts her weight, the soft rustle of her robes painfully loud in the silent corridor. 

“No one is saying for you to get back to work. The council, I , am worried for you, Jayce. And we’re not going to give up on Viktor or force him to return to work before he’s ready.” 

“I’m not going,” Jayce says again, stubbornly. Mel closes her eyes, and he can see her taking in slow, deep breaths.

“Then stay, and we will cross that bridge if we must,” she says, surprisingly gentle, though her words carry a weight neither of them can ignore. “But this doesn’t help anyone—least of all you, Jayce.”

“I don’t care about helping me,” he spits out, then grimaces when he catches Mel’s flinch. Funding. Funding. Funding .

“I just… I can’t bear to watch him fade without doing something. ”

Her expression gentles, and after a long pause, she dares to place a hand on his forearm—offering comfort, or maybe to catch him if he raised a hand. “You can’t do that if you collapse,” she says softly. She pauses, letting the words settle. There’s no reaction from him, and she continues with, “You’ve lost weight, you’re barely sleeping. Let the staff do their job, let them handle the daily routine. You can’t fix this by punching a hole through a wall or inventing a miracle in the middle of a mental breakdown.”

“But it’s Viktor,” he murmurs, voice cracking over the name. Did he deserve to say that name, even now? No, especially now. Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. He wanted to say that name over and over again. As many times as needed to call the man back to him. Any number of times to hear Viktor call out to him, too. 

Jayce glances at the infirmary door again. “He’s him. I’ve never been able to solve problems without him by my side. Even with the both of us, we were only just scratching the surface. And now… I’m alone, Mel. I’m alone, and I’m failing him.”

Mel meets his gaze, her tone firm. “You are many things, Jayce, but you are not alone.” Her hand tightens slightly on his arm. “We all have a stake in seeing Viktor recover, and I know he’s your partner, so it means more.” 

“No, Councillor,” Jayce says, frowning. “He’s not just my partner. He’s my partner . I can’t… I can’t just leave him alone. I just…” 

He’s out of excuses, at least for now. The little Viktor in his head is also telling him to go home and rest. Mel squeezes his forearm, nodding sympathetically. 

“It can’t be easy,” she starts. “It can’t. I know. I’ll have someone watching him at all times. And if you just go home, back to the academy. Or even out for a walk. Just for an hour or so. I promise you’ll feel so much better.”

Mel looks exhausted, Jayce realises. For a councillor to come down and speak to him directly, to concern herself with the matters of just a researcher—even if it ‘s Viktor… Surely she wouldn’t go through all the trouble to watch him die. 

“I’ll try,” he says at last, letting out a trembling sigh. “I’ll go home, or at least back to the Academy. Just for a few hours… but I don’t want to be far. And if anything happens—”

“We’ll send for you first,” Mel promises. Her features soften with relief. “That’s all I ask. I promise I’ll have someone keep you updated—hourly if you want.”

Jayce manages a small, relieved smile. It’s a strange feeling, almost like he’s forgotten how. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

He turns, guided by Mel’s gentle hand. What was he supposed to do? He said he would rest, so the lab is out of the question. Maybe something to eat, that would be nice. And then maybe he would take a nap in the gardens. Being able to sleep and stretch out his legs sounds amazing. Especially on the soft gra—

Viktor’s room door slams open with a resounding thud. Both he and Mel snap their heads up, and Jayce’s heart lurches at the sight of a breathless doctor, half-stumbling into the corridor. He doubles over, resting his hands on his knees. 

“Councillor!” the doctor wheezes, voice strained from exertion. For a moment, his gaze flickers anxiously to Mel, but then he squares his shoulders, locking eyes with Jayce. “Sir. He’s—Viktor is awake.”

For several beats, Jayce can’t comprehend the words. 

Viktor is… awake? 

The words hang in the air, unbelievably huge, saturating every inch of space around him. Mel, the doctor, the floor, everything melts away.

Viktor is awake. Viktor is awake. Viktor is awake Viktor is awake Viktor is awakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawakeViktorisawake.

Viktor is awake. 

“Awake?” Jayce echoes, and he’s off before he can stop himself. Legs propel him forward with a speed he didn’t know they could muster. The doctor steps in front of him before he can run in, grabbing his shoulders with surprising strength. 

“Easy, sir. Easy,” He says, only tightening his grip as Jayce tries to wriggle free. “You can’t get him too excited, please. We’re not sure what’s happening now. Anything could cause another trigger.” 

“Wasn’t it the fall?” Jayce asks, pausing. Heart pounding, he stares hard at the other man. “It was the fall, right?” He insists. 

The other man bites his lip, shaking his head. “No, not entirely,” he says. 

“What do you mean, not entirely ?” 

“We… don’t know exactly what set it off. So we’re being cautious. His pulse is weak and there’s no real explanation for his condition now. We don’t… We don’t know what his condition is, either. But he’s weak now, and asking for you. So please, sir, you can go see him, but do not excite him.”

Jayce glances back once at Mel, who stands rooted to her spot. A pause. Then, finally, she says, “I’ll have someone send for your clothes.” 

That’s all the permission he needs before he’s darting into Viktor’s room. Nothing else matters—his exhaustion, his hunger, his grief. 

The room is surprisingly breezy, decorated with a surprising number of flowers and plants. Had those already been there? Or were they delivered in the few minutes that Jayce would find himself nodding off? There, laying on a bed, propped up with no less than five pillows, is Viktor. Gaunt and looking exhausted, but there is no denying the single, glorious truth that it’s—

“Viktor.”