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Jayce awakens on the ground of the destroyed council room, covered in debris and smoke, coughing and looking around blearily —
He worriedly holds Mel, gazes in horror as Shoola dazedly passing through them with her face severely damaged, the weight sinking further and further as he sees the remains of Bolbok, Hoskel —
Doesn’t register he’s shaking the shoulders of Mrs. Kiramman, she has to wake up, oh god Caitlyn —
Then it strikes him cold.
Slowly, he looks to the left —
Viktor, fallen, chest bloodied, darkening against the burning red sky —
Reaching out to him —
“Viktor!”
Rushes to his partner, holds Viktor’s face in his hands, tears stinging his vision taking in the damage, his partner’s hand, leg, glowing, and —
He has to get him out of here, to the lab, he can do something, he can save him, he has to —
And Viktor places his own cold palm, to the back of Jayce’s hand cupping his face, stopping his panicked thoughts, as the rushing world’s sounds go quiet, at the rough accented intonation of his name.
“Jayce…”
Eyes hooded, Viktor looks up at him, dazed, bleeding without end, and Jayce refuses to let him give up.
“Viktor, please…” His mind is in disarray, he hates that he can’t think properly, all these years these days under pressure and he needs to do something, NOW —
“…Jayce…”
Jayce sobs, because he can’t even understand why, why is Viktor wasting his precious energy on saying his name, he’s here, he’s right here, and he needs to save him first, as his hands reach out to carry Viktor, hold him once more —
Then —
Viktor’s hooded weak soft golden gaze focused only on Jayce dims, hazing over, as the light leaves his eyes.
Dead.
Cold.
…
Everything was a blur, after.
Viktor died, and Jayce buried him.
A lone Zaunite few cared about. Not when most mourn and bury the three pillars of Piltover’s Council with ceremonial honor.
Most likely the first Zaunite to get a proper funeral in ages, where the sun could reach.
At his funeral, to be laid to rest in the Talis family graveyard, Jayce’s expression is in every shade of grief.
The few who attended Viktor’s funeral — Mel, whose pain ached in empathy. Ximena, who cared for her son’s partner like her own. Vi, whose guilt was etched so deeply in her face, for the first time being at the burial of a victim of Jinx; a man she never met. Caitlyn, who hid her own pain from losing her mother, and reflected Jayce in their shared sorrow, their shared weight of the world.
Viktor died, and Jayce knew it was because of him.
Before they lowered the red and golden coffin beneath the soil, Jayce walked to the open coffin, and gently fastened his hex crystal cuff to his partner’s wrist.
And the few who were there witnessed Jayce hunched over, holding Viktor indiscernibly close one last time, as he sobbed, whispering something only for his partner to hear.
Then Jayce softly kissed Viktor’s forehead, and watched with quiet anguish as the coffin was closed, and lowered into the cold embrace of the earth.
Then, after the funeral, and Jayce must handle Hextech alone, the conflict between Piltover and Zaun as a Councilor, he just…changes.
Jayce begins to emotionally distance himself from everyone, including Mel to her frustration, no matter how she tries, no matter how pained and sad she looks at him now —
Hextech and the Council became his priority.
Many investors pulled back after hearing the council attack was through a Hextech missile, but there are other, greedier investors who come to him, with some being Clan Ferros and Giopara, emboldened by the further attacks to their city.
He leaves hunting Jinx — Vi’s sister, Silco’s choice over peace, Viktor’s killer — to Caitlyn and her partner. Jayce just makes their weapons.
Caitlyn, he trusts to find Jinx and capture her. Vi, he trusts to anchor Cait in her determined grief.
Jayce doesn’t trust himself, knowing he would kill Jinx if he was given even the slightest chance.
What happened to you?
He moved to another lab entirely, bringing everything from the old one. The scientist couldn’t bear being there, knowing Viktor would never…
The Hexcore had changed, and he knew it was because of Viktor. It emitted inhuman sounds, as though grieving its creator as well.
Destroying it felt like snuffing out one of the last pieces of Viktor that was still alive. But Jayce promised him. And so he killed it, alone.
He refused any other assistants. They don’t know anything about Hextech, not the way he does. Out of sync, unable to understand.
He doesn’t want another partner.
Jayce visits Viktor’s grave nearly every weekend, staring at the gravestone.
It used to be every day.
Here lies Viktor Talis.
When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission.
Caitlyn and the others asked why he gave Viktor his last name after his death, and Jayce would only gruffly say this.
“He’s my brother.”
Present tense. A slip of the tongue. Still unused to the past tense.
He thinks, remembering Viktor’s augments from the autopsy, and from his memory. What it could have been.
But he doesn’t care. It just makes everything worse, realizing Viktor was alone and experimenting on himself to save his life to this point. They blame Sky’s disappearance and most likely her death on Viktor as well —
But it doesn’t matter. They’re all dead anyway.
Their wishes, their dreams, dead with them.
It should have been me.
His life could be segmented, in truth.
Before his father died, and after.
Before the mage saved him and his mother, and after.
Before Viktor.
After…
He visits now again, staring at the grave.
Thinking of how Viktor wanted to change the world, to improve the lives of people in the undercity.
And here Jayce stands, having weaponized Hextech and started weapon production with the clans.
And having changed his name to Giopara.
Jayce silently presses a finger upon his cheek, below his eye.
His eyes have changed too. The gemstones as weapons in his experimentation and use of the Mercury Hammer and prolonged exposure have made them blue.
Would Viktor… recognize him?
Would he… Would he have loved him, taken the risk to save him that day, if he knew that he would die because of Jayce? That Jayce would cannibalize their dream, twist into the one thing Viktor never wanted?
He barely recognizes himself.
He doesn’t know. He’s terrified of the answer he fears deep down is true.
Then… Jayce goes down to the undercity in secret. To the streets where the brothels are.
They whisper about him, coming down here often.
Fucking prostitutes with pale skin, thin waists, moles, and dark hair. (None of them have golden eyes.)
Jayce is spiraling, he knows it, he feels it, reaching this point when his sexual taste is depraved in that he keeps fucking people who look like his dead partner —
Twisting the memory and honor of his love of Viktor into shameful lust.
Jayce Giopara is a jaded deadbeat bitter fuck who blames himself for Viktor’s death, driving away the people who care for him and seeking shallow comfort in drinking and sex, treating the hookers less and less like how he would treat Viktor in bed (they never, he never told him, never showed, were his touches enough, they WEREN’T, THEIR PARTNERSHIP IS WHAT KILLED — )
Barely looks at the face of the people he fucks, takes them from behind, just rutting and gritting his teeth, nearly crying and overpowered by grief and guilt and unending sorrow, that he’s sullying the memory of Viktor with his lust, but he doesn’t care anymore, he’s Jayce Giopara now, not Jayce Talis, not the man that got Viktor killed —
He won’t ever be that man again.
Jayce Talis died in that explosion, with Viktor.
If they were to die, it was supposed to be together.