Bloodied Hands

by radiantsoul

Summary:

Scientists Viktor and Jayce Talis find each other after the outbreak, partnering up to achieve the near impossible task of creating a cure at the end of the world.

But with both of them involuntarily having a hand in the creation of the virus, and one of them hiding his bite marks, things quickly become complicated.

 

Or; modern world zombie apocalypse fic where I put them through the horrors

Chapter 1: Beginning of the End

Notes:

Content Warning

Suicide attempt

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

 

Feet pounding on the floor. 

 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

 

Heartbeats roaring. 

 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

 

Guttural screams and groans—a choir of doom, swelling in volume with each step closer to their prey. 

 

Jayce looks at Viktor, breath ragged, desperately gulping down as much air as possible. Viktor is worse for wear, the jog towards any sort of building they could use for protection causing pain to flare through his leg. They couldn’t even find a building—only a few abandoned shipping containers in the middle of a field off the highway. The sound of the blaring car alarm which got them into this mess in the first place blares in the distance. 

 

“Use me as leverage, I’m pushing you up,” Jayce rasps out, already kneeling on the floor next to the metal crate, interlocking his hands to create a foothold. 

 

Viktor is so out of breath he can’t reply, he just moves. Jayce pushes him up the side of the container, and he clambers the rest of the way up, spine aching almost unbearably. 

 

He immediately reaches a hand down, bracing himself against the edge, ready to pull Jayce up along with him. 

 

But Jayce doesn’t move, his eyes are trained on the horde of undead closing in on them. A hundred meters?  Fifty?  

 

“Jayce, come on!” He yells, fingers splaying out. 

 

The infected are too close to pull Jayce up in time. They both realize this. “Grab my damn hand Jayce! ” Viktor yells regardless. 

 

Instead of complying, Jayce shoves their rifle into Viktor’s open palm. “Five bullets, keep them off me,” he pants, looking up to Viktor as if praying towards a god. It was the only ammo they had. 

 

And it’s like a switch has been flicked in Viktor’s mind. Escape wasn’t an option anymore. The adrenaline kicks into overdrive. 

 

Jayce is shoving off his backpack while Viktor throws down a baseball bat. “Don’t you fucking die on me!” He yells as Jayce grabs the bat and makes a run for it. 

 

Not a moment later, the first of the horde make it to the shipping container—slamming their entire bodies against the metal, hands outstretched to claw at Viktor. As long as he stood in the middle of the container, he was safe. 

 

Without his bag weighing him down, Jayce is able to gain a good amount of distance between himself and the infected chasing after him. Even so, he grips the baseball bat hard enough to lose circulation. All it takes is one slip-up, one trip, and he would be dead. 

 

He looks behind him, the horde chasing after him smaller now because half of them are on Viktor. Despite this, they are once again gaining on him. Jayce hopes that after running enough distance, the horde will be spread out enough that he can take them out one by one with his bat. 

 

BANG!

 

The shot rings out through the open field. Jayce watches as bits and pieces of brain explode from the infected closest to him, the headless body falling limp to the floor. His heart flutters as he turns to see Viktor, standing tall on the crate, looking down the scope of the rifle. God, he was lucky to have him. 

 

BANG!

 

Viktor pulls the trigger again, watching another runner fall to the floor behind Jayce. He tuts, not a headshot that time, as he pushes and pulls the lever of the gun to reload. His ears are ringing from the sound, drowning out the screaming creatures below, however his mind is clear. If he knew one thing, it was how to shoot. And so he shot—nuzzling his cheek against the rifle as if it were a pillow. 

 

BANG!

 

The first of the undead had caught up to Jayce, only a few yards behind. He stops in his tracks, too tired to run, planting his feet and readying his bat. He counts in his head the seconds it takes for the infected to arrive, chest heaving in desperate amounts of air. 

 

One… two… CRACK!

 

He swings the bat directly at the runner’s head, throwing the thing off balance and onto the floor. All it takes is a good stomp for the thing’s brains to spill. He huffs, looking up to see how far away the next ones are. There are only three more on him, but they’re quite close to each other. Dealing with three at once with only a bat would be a death wish—Jayce looks back to Viktor. 

 

Viktor, who is dangling off the side of the container. 

 

It had happened so fast, one moment Viktor was lining up the shot and the next his bad leg was dragged out from under him—his whole body falling back and slamming down onto the metal as he was pulled forward towards the edge. His foot was stuck in the loop of his discarded backpack, and the infected had managed to get a hold of a loose strap dangling off the side of the container. 

 

The rifle had dropped from his hands during the fall, head swimming and ears ringing from the impact of his head against the unforgiving metal. He blindly reaches out for his cane as he’s being dragged off, feet over the edge, all the while desperately trying to shake his foot free. He feels the metal screws of his back brace grind against the container. 

 

Undead hands grip at his ankles now, pulling off one of his boots as they try to claw him down further. 

 

The moment Viktor feels the familiar worn wood of his cane, he sits up on the edge of the container, unsheathes the hidden compartment, and stabs down directly through the head of the infected tugging on his bag. The thing goes limp, falling away alongside the backpack—freeing his foot. He draws back his sword, immediately aiming for one of the ones with a hold on his feet. He stabs down once again, the end of his sword going directly through one of their eyes. Then he stabs again, and again, until blood splatters cover his face and the threats lie dead on the floor.  

 

The only thought running through his mind as he scrambles back to his feet is Jayce needs me. 

 

Jayce had managed to kill one more runner, leaving only two left for him to deal with. He swings at one of them, the body falling to the floor but still moving. Before he has time to finish it off, the last infected catches him off guard and lunges onto him, knocking him backward into the grass. 

 

He’s able to lodge the bat between them, desperately trying to shove the undead away as it gnaws its teeth and claws at Jayce’s face. In his peripheral, he sees the infected he couldn’t finish off slowly dragging itself towards the struggle. 

 

“Fuck!” 

 

He clenches his teeth, pushing the infected on top of him against the bat while also trying to shift back and away from the other one crawling towards them. He feels sweat, or maybe blood, run down his temple. The undead screams in his face, the stench of death all he can smell. 

 

He thinks about his mom. Cait. Viktor. His arms begin to buckle.

 

BANG!

 

He feels the rush of the bullet as the infected’s head explodes, covering him in viscera. He only has a second to comprehend before he pushes the body off, scrambling up and away from the last undead. With a yell, he raises the bat over his head and smashes it down, caving the thing’s skull in. 

 

He’s stuck in that moment, chest heaving, covered in blood, the end of the bat still lodged in brains. And then he remembers Viktor. 

 

“V!” He’s yelling, running back towards the shipping container, stumbling over himself. 

 

By the time he’s back, Viktor has managed to finish off the rest of the undead surrounding the crate. He sits on the edge, feet dangling off, a boot gone, gripping his cane in one hand with the rifle laid across his lap. 

 

“Are you—“

 

“I’m fine, Jayce. No bites. You..?”

 

“I’m also fine. Fuck Vik.” He runs a hand through his hair. 

 

Then Viktor smacks him atop the head with his cane, the sword component sheathed away again. 

 

“Never pull something like that again. Understood?” He scolds, “We handled it this time, but who knows what could go wrong next time.”

 

“But we did handle it, you had my back,” Jayce looks up at him, eyes glinting with the setting sun, and Viktor just scoffs. I’ll always have your back. 

 

“Help me down. We should get back to base quickly before more undead arrive.”

 

Viktor hands Jayce his rifle and cane before hopping off the crate and into Jayce’s hands. He gently guides Viktor down, and as soon as he’s on his feet Viktor winces in pain. His bad leg buckles in, and all of a sudden he’s collapsing forward onto Jayce—who scrambles to catch him. 

 

“Viktor?” The panic is clear in his voice.

 

He hisses out a pained noise, bracing himself against Jayce’s forearms. Nails dig into the bare skin. “I fucking hate running,” he grits through his teeth, shaking slightly. Not only his leg, but his entire back burns with pain. 

 

Jayce rubs his thumb back and forth against Viktor’s arm until his breathing evens out. With a sigh, Viktor slowly pulls away and grabs his cane. 

 

“I had offered to carry you, you know,” Jayce mumbles. “I can carry you back if you want—“

 

“I can handle myself,” Viktor states simply. “I would not be here if I couldn’t.”

 

“Of course, Viktor, but there’s also no reason to push yourself if it can be avoided. I’m more than happy to help if I can.” 

 

Viktor tilts his head, rolling the thought around in his mind. Jayce exhales and moves to collect their discarded belongings. 

 

“Just don’t bump into any more cars next time, eh?” Viktor jokes. The car alarm is still blaring in the distance, almost mocking them.

 

“That car battery should have been long dead!” Jayce groans, and Viktor chuckles.

 

Jayce offers Viktor his backpack, and their hands brush as he takes it from him. “Thanks for saving me. And not dying,” Jayce almost whispers. 

 

“Thanks for not dying before I could save you,” Viktor smiles, shrugging his bag over his shoulder. 

 

Side by side they begin walking down the highway once more. The research they looted sits snugly in their bags, however insignificant the finds may be. In the far distance, the military base looms.

 

---

 

It was curiosity that led Viktor down the dim abandoned halls of Piltover Inc.’s main building. His cane clicked against the yellowing tile, eyes scanning over nameplates with his shitty flashlight as he walked. 

 

He supposed he was looking for an answer. A blame. Either would do. 

 

J.T.

 

The letters repeat in his head constantly—a mantra to remember. As if those initials haven’t been haunting him for the past year. 

 

Viktor walks steadfastly forward, maneuvering around toppled furniture and debris. And then he feels it—a faint breeze running past his face. Odd, considering every single door he’s past has been either shut, locked, or barricaded from the other side. Hell, Viktor spent hours breaking through the front door’s security lock because of the lack of electricity. 

 

He continues forward until he sees it—the last door of the hall, cracked open and swaying gently. It only takes a few more steps, a few more clicks of his cane, before he sees the nameplate. 

 

Jayce Talis. 

 

The initials finally had a name. Hopefully, this Jayce had left behind some good information. 

 

With a gentle push, the door opens almost by itself—carried by the wind. Viktor was expecting maybe an open window of some sort, or some sort of ventilation system causing the breeze. 

 

Not a giant gaping hole in the wall. Rubble covered the entire room, rebar sticking out of the concrete walls. Streaks of black-gray ash line the room, bursting out and away from the hole itself. Some sort of explosion, most definitely. 

 

Even more surprising than the hole, is the silhouette of a man standing at the edge of the flooring. The light of the full moon outside hugs the outline of his body, his back facing Viktor. Abandoned notes and research papers scuttle lightly in the breeze of the night. 

 

And Viktor freezes. 

 

Over the past year, Viktor has seen death. He has seen it in the shimmer virus and how it kills and infects–cancerous masses and purple skin. Has seen how the undead kill to satiate their hunger. He’s seen it in himself when he puts those mindless bodies out of their misery. 

 

He’s seen death in people, too. In the mass panic after the virus spread. Major cities bombed in an attempt to “cleanse”. Survivor encampments turning on their own people. Raiders. Betrayals. Murders. Suicides. 

 

Even Viktor himself was not above killing to survive. 

 

So in this new life of theirs, death was a common thing. Anyone in Viktor’s position would have let this man kill himself peacefully without interfering. 

 

But something pulls at Viktor. An almost overwhelming feeling of wrongness overcomes him. He needed to save this man, lest his rapidly pounding heart burst out of his chest. So he steps forward and says the first thing on his mind, accent sharp and voice rough from weeks of disuse. 

 

“Am I interrupting?”

 

The man stumbles back—catching himself from falling into the dark night. Not a moment later his face snaps back to look at Viktor, eyes wildly scanning the stranger. After not being deemed an immediate threat, the man’s shoulders fall. 

 

“What the hell is your problem?” He spits, taking a step away from the ledge to fully face Viktor. Viktor only walks closer, cane clicking lightly as he approaches. 

 

“What is your problem, Jayce?” Viktor replies, throwing out the name in hopes of correctly identifying the man. 

 

His hypothesis seems to be correct with the way Jayce’s face morphs from annoyance to shock.

 

“It was on the nameplate,” Viktor adds, a small smirk on his face as he points a thumb back at the doorway. 

 

Jayce sighs, bringing a hand up to his head to massage his temples. “I swear if this is an elaborate scheme by Mel…” He groans loudly before slapping his hand down. “So what? What are you doing in the birthplace of the virus that’s doomed the world?”

 

“This isn’t the birthplace.” Viktor states simply. Jayce does a double take, a mix of shock and relief on his face. Viktor raises a brow at the reaction. Just what role did Jayce play in this outbreak? Certainly he was involved, considering his initials on those notes…

 

Viktor had to be cautious.

 

“It’s quite obvious considering the severe lack of blood and undead in the area,” Viktor coughs. “But if you must know, I want answers. Surely the largest pharmaceutical company in the country has some research. A paper trail of how things got this bad. Chemical compounds, adjacent tests, anything.”

 

Jayce’s eyes go hazy, head tilting back to the gaping hole in the wall. “There’s nothing left here.” He almost whispers it. “I’ve scoured every inch of the building. I worked here before the outbreak, for fuck’s sake. All of the research is just… gone.” Jayce clutches his wrist, hand closing around a makeshift black ribbon bracelet. 

 

Viktor only tilts his head, watching Jayce worry the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

“I was working on a cure,” he whispers, then huffs out a weak laugh. Viktor’s eyebrow shoots up. 

 

“I’m a virologist,” he blurts out immediately, mind beginning to race. Fuck caution, this was more important than that. Jayce’s head lifts from the floor, finally making proper eye contact with Viktor. The moonlight makes the amber of his eyes as bright as the sun. “I want to see your work. Not only could I help with your progress, but I also have plausible theories on how the virus works—possibly even how it was built!” The words stumble out almost faster than he can control. 

 

Jayce stares at him, pupils dilating, heart beating faster at the first glimmer of hope he’s seen in months. 

 

“I don’t even know your name.”

 

Viktor smiles, the mole on his upper lip moving up with the motion. “It’s Viktor.”

---

 

In the darkness of his apartment, Viktor stares down at his right leg, free from his brace, foot propped up against the edge of the mattress. 

 

Staring back at him is an arch of indented teeth lined neatly at his ankle, bloody scabs left in their place. The skin underneath the bite mark has turned a deep shade of purple. 

 

The feeling of dread is replaced by a coughing fit that leaves Viktor heaving and shaking. 

 

He’s running out of time.

Notes:

I'm so excited about this fic! It's my first ever long fic, and I'm so passionate about this story I've planned out as someone who grew up on lots of zombie media!

Some story tidbits; TLOU tag is more for the setting and some story elements—the zombies in this fic are different, also none of the groups from the game are here. Takes place in the modern world, but country/state/city will be kept vague.

Any kudos and/or comments would mean the absolute world to me and help motivate me to write more! Right now the plan is to post every other week, but I may end up posting more frequently. Also feel free to subscribe so you get email updates. Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter 2: A Gift

Notes:

Content Warning

Implied Self-harm
Ableism

Viktor awakes with the rising sun. He stares at himself through the bathroom mirror, the bags under his eyes sunken deeper than usual. His bare body is reflected in shattered pieces of glass, bruises and scars littering his skin—self-inflicted and not. And then there’s the infections; ugly and purple, stark against his pale body. 

 

He stares down at the fresh bite mark on his ankle, the swelling had gone down overnight but the bite itself was still visible as ever—the infected skin having an almost webbed look to it. He mentally notes to throw out all of his short socks. 

 

Then his eyes flick up to his right hand—that same purple seen spread across his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers, the infection stopping right before his wrist. Memories fight their way up, but he shoves them down with a harsh clench of his fist, nails digging into his skin. 

 

He lets out a sigh as he tugs on his clothes, wincing as each pull of fabric sends waves of aching pain through his limbs. He slides on his gloves—black fabric, worn and familiar in his palms. Then, new to the routine, long socks that come up to his mid-shins. 

 

How long can I keep this up?  

 

He clicks his brace into place, grabs his cane, and leaves his decrepit apartment. 

 

The walk from the living quarters to the lab is far enough to warrant waking up at the crack of dawn to avoid running into civilians. The rations hall and medical bay don’t open until noon, but despite that people line up hours beforehand to secure their needs. The rations and medications are never enough.

 

The few civilians waiting in line glare at Viktor as he passes by, eyes following him as he continues toward the lab. Yet another reason to avoid the civilians, they’ve considered Viktor to be an outsider ever since Jayce brought him to the base. Viktor does not necessarily blame them—dozens of people show up and get turned away from the gates daily. Families separated, children doomed, and yet Viktor gets to stay. 

 

He coughs as he pushes open the door to the main building, where the General stays, the military are given their orders, and where their lab is—tucked away to the very far side of the building. He’s immediately met by a head of dark blue hair. 

 

“You’ve seen better days,” Caitlyn huffs as Viktor approaches her. She’s fit in her military gear, commander badge shining despite the rust. 

 

“Me and Jayce had a run-in yesterday,” he gestures a hand dismissively.

 

“Let me know if I need to knock some sense into him.”

 

“I already did yesterday,” Viktor smiles as he raises his cane, and Caitlyn lets out a loud chuckle. 

 

The small talk is cut short as Caitlyn pulls out a small metal device, the size of a remote. “Let’s get this over with,” she sighs. Viktor rolls his head to the side almost on command, baring his neck as she places the familiar metal against his skin. 

 

It’s a small portable infection scanner that Jayce and Viktor had worked on back when he first arrived at the base. The project was a huge success, their scanners being sent out to multiple other military bases scattered around the country. Additionally, the success helped to secure Viktor’s place in the base in the eyes of General Medarda.  

 

He feels the hum of the machine, and although he’s been doing this same routine for years, his heartbeat still races as the device scans for infection. The new bite mark itches under his skin. 

 

But the scanner chirps happily and Caitlyn pulls away, so with a polite smile and nod Viktor excuses himself to enter the lab. 

 

Light beams through the barred windows, illuminating their large work table and chalkboards filled to the brim with chemical equations and diagrams. Stacks and stacks of various research, chaotically organized in manila folders much too small, occupy the mismatched bookshelves lining the walls. 

 

Unlike most of the base, their lab has working electricity out of necessity, powered via a gas generator placed outside. They use it only for their microscope—shared between the two—and their small refrigerator to keep various samples and proteins fresh. 

 

To Viktor’s surprise, Jayce is already here, hunched over the main desk. 

 

At the sound of the door opening, he startles and turns around, arms shoving something behind his back. His eyes are sunken in, voice tired. 

 

“V-Viktor! You’re here already!”

 

“I’m always here at dawn,” Viktor raises an eyebrow. Jayce’s eyes dart to the window as if he hadn’t noticed the change in light. 

 

“Right. Can you turn around for a second?”

 

Viktor’s eyebrow raises higher.

 

“…please?”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” he sighs, turning around despite the remark. The second he’s not looking comically loud clanks and clangs fill the room. He has to stifle a laugh. Once the sounds reside, Viktor turns back to see an empty table, Jayce leaning sheepishly against the edge. 

 

“Can we get to work now?”

 

“Of course,” Jayce exhales with a smile, “how are you feeling?” He pushes off the table and settles into his seat, a worn wooden dining chair, as Viktor sits atop his plush stool chair with wheels.

 

“As best as I can be,” Viktor responds. He rests his cane against the table before kicking off and rolling to be next to Jayce. 

 

Jayce plops down a small stack of papers—their latest scavenged research. Wordlessly they spread the pages across the table and begin to read, scanning the pages for anything of note. 

 

Despite the silence, they both feel the frustration build with each passing minute. 

 

After about two hours of analyzing and comparing research, Jayce shoves all the neatly spread pages into a messy pile with a swipe of his hand. Some of it goes flying off the table, landing on the dirty floor. 

 

“Nothing,” he sighs, massaging his temples. Viktor feels the same, but gives him a sad smile regardless. 

 

“We’ll keep looking,” he reassures both Jayce and himself as he cleans up the mess of papers. 

 

In the first year of their partnership, they had managed multiple breakthroughs on how the shimmer virus works. It rapidly mutates cells in truly random patterns—causing an almost unique infection in each person. When the changing of these cells kills someone, around four to six hours after transmission via bite, the virus is somehow able to control the dead body.

 

The virus’s only goal is sustenance, meat to keep itself alive in the dead host. The most common source of fresh meat just happens to be humans, of course. 

 

The only common thread among the infected was three things; the deathly purple skin, the tumors, and the hunger. All other factors—their speed, strength, appearance, behavior—differed among infected. 

 

It’s the most complicated, parasitic virus the Earth has seen. So complicated that Viktor and Jayce, both skilled virologists and microbiologists, cannot make any progress in a cure due to its rapidly mutating random nature. The two scientists had to resort to scavenging research from the beginning of the pandemic, from when the virus’s mutations were more tame, to have any chance of creating a viable cure. 

 

Sure, the first few scavenges for research helped. But after their third scavenge, the information just seemed to repeat. Any of their time not spent scavenging was spent either producing more scanners for the military or wasting away trying to find a connecting thread between mutations across the infected. 

 

“Where are we going next?” Viktor sighs. 

 

“About that…” Jayce pulls out his map, a shitty tourist map of the state that he found in a gas station. All the hospitals, universities, and pharmaceutical companies were circled in red. Over every single circle, slashes have been made with various colors of ink. “We’ve been everywhere in the state, V.”

 

Viktor furrows his brows immediately, scanning over the hundreds of marked buildings—names all familiar. “We could go out of state—“

 

He’s folding the map away already. “We’d need permission from Mel and—“

 

“So go get permission, are you not in a relationship with her?” He questions, waving a hand. He never had confirmation of Jayce’s relationship, but has seen Mel kiss and dote the man countless times in the hall to take an educated guess. Hell, Jayce had given his apartment to Viktor and moved in with Mel when Viktor officially joined the base due to the lack of space. 

 

Jayce seems to shrink in his chair, but after a beat of silence, he nods. “Yeah, but I’d like you there by my side when I ask. It could help convince her.”

 

Viktor notices the drop in his tone and any amount of frustration he feels dissipates immediately. Yes, he’s frustrated with the cure's progress, but Jayce is the last person he wants to take it out on. 

 

“Of course, Jayce. Apologies, the pain has been especially bad today.” He sighs, leaning to rest his head atop his arms on the table. 

 

“Don’t apologize, I understand. If anything, I’m sorry about yesterday,” he places a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Listen, I have to go do something real quick, but I’ll fetch you to talk with Mel in a bit. You could try asking Sky for some painkillers in the meantime?”

 

“Like there will be any left at this point,” Viktor scoffs. 

 

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” Jayce gets up and shrugs on his backpack. “See ya in a bit, V.”

 

Viktor hears the door open and close behind him and sighs. He refuses to make more scanners or analyze mutations without Jayce’s company, so he grabs his cane and heads out toward the medical bay. 

 

The base is bustling with activity now; military personnel yelling out orders, people complaining about living conditions, surprise searches and scans, and bustling lines that wrap around the block for supplies. 

 

Viktor despises the noise. He knows that logically the base is secure and large enough that the noise should not be a threat, but his mind refuses to rid him of the fear. Although the much-needed human contact in the base is nice, he greatly prefers the silence of surviving alone. He only seems to find that silence nowadays when out scavenging with Jayce.  

 

He makes it to the medical bay, walking past the line outside and heading directly inside. Dozens of cots line the walls of the large room, all filled with ill and injured alike. He scans the room, searching for the familiar curled head of hair.

 

“Viktor!” Sky exclaims behind him in delighted surprise. 

 

“Hello, Miss Young,” he turns around, smiling at her energy. “I was just wondering if there would be any leftover painkillers I could use today.”

 

“We haven’t had any excess in a while—either we don’t have any or they run out before the day is over,” she pouts, then her face lights up. “I think we just got some more today actually! If you get in line now you’d probably make it.”

 

“Ah, no, it’s alright,” Viktor shakes his head. This was a stupid idea, of course there wouldn’t be excess. “The people need it more than me.”

 

She furrows a brow, looking Viktor up and down. “Respectfully, you look like you need it.”

 

“I’ve dealt with pain my entire life. I’ll live, thank you, Miss Young,” he bowed his head before heading out, feeling her worried eyes bore through his back. 

 

When he steps out, the man waiting at the front of the line grabs Viktor by the neck and shoves him against the door of the clinic so hard he drops his cane. 

 

“Think you’re fucking better than us? That you can skip the line and get the good shit just cause you work in a lab all day?” The man spits, rattling Viktor against the door with every word. Viktor’s head is spinning, only kept up on his feet by the force of the man pinning him to the wall. He claws at the man’s arms, faintly hearing other civilians encourage the attacker in the background. 

 

Then, his legs fully give out, and he hangs in the man’s hands like a noose—airway being crushed between his fingers. The man just laughs, “fucking cripple, can’t even stand on his own, how’d you manage to live this long?”

 

The words were all too familiar to Viktor, a question he constantly asks himself. He thinks of the purple infections hiding underneath his clothes, and his vision begins to fade. 

 

I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t be…

 

…

 

Viktor collapses to the ground with a heaving gasp, hands barely catching himself from kissing the dirt. He’s desperately gulping down air, curling in on himself as if becoming smaller would allow him to disappear. Everything felt as if it was on fire. 

 

“Touch him again and I’ll have you exiled from the base,” he hears the familiar voice above him. His vision clears enough to see Jayce, his fists clenched, with the attacker holding a hand to his newly bruised eye. The bystanders whisper to each other.

 

Almost immediately Jayce kneels beside Viktor. “Hey, are you alright?” He asks, hushed and kind. 

 

“I’m fine,” he states, voice raw, but his eyes are wet with unshed tears and the cruel hands have bruised his neck red.

 

Jayce gently takes his hands and wipes the dirt off the gloves. “Can I help you up?” Viktor nods. 

 

With a solid tug, Viktor is back on his feet. Jayce offers his cane to him, the wood splintering and dirty, and Viktor stares down at it with a hollow expression, hands unmoving. 

 

Jayce notices, and instead extends his arm—a silent offer. Viktor has been supporting himself for so long, mentally and physically. He was so overwhelmingly tired of doing it alone. The help he needed was right in front of him, offered in the shape of a tanned arm, he just had to take it.  

 

So wordlessly Viktor loops his arm around Jayce’s, and Jayce starts walking. Viktor doesn’t know where, but he follows without question—arm in arm. 

 

A few minutes later they end up back in the lab. 

 

“Going to make me analyze mutations now Jayce?” Viktor jokes, voice quiet as Jayce sets him down on the stool. 

 

“I would never,” he quips back before his eyes soften. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

 

Viktor looks down to his lap, rubbing his infected hand through the thin gloves. “There is nothing to talk about. It was just another asshole,” he shakes his head. 

 

Jayce looks at him, eyes trailing along the red bruising of his neck. Attacks like this were uncommon, but they still happened. Every time, Viktor dismisses it and seems to wall himself off. It makes Jayce worry—having thoughts like that build up was certainly not healthy. Jayce would know, he’s stood on a ledge because of it once. 

 

But pushing Viktor when he clearly does not want to talk about it was the wrong move, so Jayce does the next best thing; comfort. 

 

He kneels on the floor in front of Viktor, rummaging through his bag. “I wanted to surprise you, but now is as good a time as any.”

 

“Jayce?” Viktor questions, voice small.

 

Jayce sheepishly pulls out two metal contraptions, hoops and lines of metal adorned with adjustable straps. Viktor’s eyes widen immediately—he leans forward on his stool to get a better look. 

 

“A brace?”

 

“I was missing a couple of screws,” he slots the two pieces of the brace together as they should be. “Had to go run and get them, then ran into you as I was heading back to the lab.”

 

“I’m glad you forgot them, then,” Viktor smiles, his hands already working on releasing his own brace—rusted and not as supportive as it once was. Jayce hastily fastens in the missing screws, exchanging a quick glance with Viktor, and they both chuckle in their shared excitement. 

 

The old brace falls to the stone floor with a clack, and Jayce holds up the completed brace—the metal frame shines a bright silver, with multiple leather buckles adorning the length. 

 

“When did you…?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep after we came back yesterday, so uh, the past 12 hours? Caitlyn let me sneak into the supply storage for scrap,” he chuckles.

 

“Jayce Talis, stealing precious scrap metal for me,” Viktor chuckles, staring down at the man in awe for a quiet moment. “Why?”

 

“It’s my proper apology for yesterday, I know how bad it flared up your pain. I’m sorry,” he aligns the brace parallel to Viktor’s leg. “May I?”

 

Viktor nods, not being able to find the words. Gentle hands tug the brace on, pulling the framework all the way up to his upper thigh. The metal frames his entire leg, and his shoe slips into the support at the bottom. Agile fingers pull the buckles tight enough to secure the piece. 

 

With each brush of Jayce’s fingertips, the hair on the back of Viktor’s neck stands—each touch like electricity.

 

Viktor’s heart tugs when Jayce looks up at him, the excitement so evident on his face it’s contagious. “It fits,” he smiles. 

 

“It does,” Viktor nods, bending his knee to test the joint. Jayce stands, holding his hands out, and Viktor takes them to pull himself up. Instead of then pulling away, he grips the hands to steady himself as he puts pressure on his leg. Jayce stands obediently once he notices, sturdy and tall. 

 

The difference is immediately apparent—the design was made to spread the pressure evenly throughout his leg instead of clumping the pressure at his knee and thigh. He picks his foot up, and the brace bends effortlessly with his leg. He places it back down, face lighting up with joy. Jayce matches him, looking down at Viktor with the softest of eyes. 

 

“Oh! I also had something else—“ Jayce slowly drops his hands, Viktor immediately missing the warmth of them once they’re gone. He watches as Jayce wanders off into a corner of the lab, reaching behind a bookshelf. Viktor’s jaw drops as he pulls out a crutch. 

 

The metal and leather match the leg brace perfectly. The crutch is tall and supportive, unlike his worn-down cane. 

 

“I know you said you wear your gloves for grip, so I added the leather on the handhold to help with that,” he rambles as he hands Viktor the crutch.

 

Ah yes, the haphazard ‘grip’ lie. Viktor looks down at his gloved hands. It’s only his right hand that has the infection, so slowly Viktor frees his left. The cool air hits his pale fingers before he curls them around the handgrip, soft and comfortable. Then, he tucks the crutch under his arm and leans. And for the first time in a long time, his back feels supported while standing. 

 

“Jayce this is…” he shakes his head, unable to find the words. “Thank you, sincerely. This is a wonderful gift.”

 

“Of course, Viktor.”

 

“I will be missing my sword, though” he tuts as he looks at the discarded cane on the floor. 

 

“Oh! Check the top!”

 

With a raised brow Viktor pulls the crutch in front of him to look. Sure enough, there’s a little circular indentation where the top of the crutch meets the frame. Viktor pulls out the indentation to reveal a small knife—blade sharp and just long enough to kill comfortably. 

 

“You know me so well,” Viktor laughs, returning the knife to its hidden compartment. Jayce beams like the sun. 

 

And for a moment they’re just looking at each other, smiling. And for a moment, Viktor feels loved. 

 

Then, a knock on the door. Three sharp raps. Immediately Mel enters the room, heels clacking as she walks inside. She looks gorgeous, ethereal, with an undeniable air of confidence around her. 

 

“General Medarda,” Viktor nods out of respect, the overwhelming joy suddenly snuffed out of him from the intrusion.

 

“Mel,” Jayce states in surprise, the joy seemingly snuffed out of him as well. 

 

“Viktor, Jayce,” she greets as she approaches Jayce’s side, interlacing their fingers. “Where were you last night?” She asks, which makes Jayce go stiff. 

 

“Just uh, working. Here.” He gestures his hands lamely. 

 

“All night?” She tilts her head. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. 

 

“We actually needed to talk to you about something,” Viktor interrupts, saving the man. Mel raises an eyebrow. “We’d like permission to extend our scavenges out of state.”

 

“Out of state?” She tilts her head. 

 

“We’ve been everywhere here. Nowhere else to look,” Jayce adds on, pulling out their map and handing it to her as evidence. 

 

“Everywhere in the state, and still no significant progress on the cure?” She frowns. Jayce feels a lump form in his throat. 

 

“With all due respect, General, this virus is nothing like we’ve seen. Furthermore, the state over has multiple highly regarded pharmaceutical and hospital buildings. I have no doubt we will find something.” Viktor states while looking her in the eye, steadfast and determined. 

 

Mel hums, folding their map and handing it back to Jayce. 

 

“How will I know you aren’t just escaping?” She questions, which throws Viktor off but seems to send Jayce into a panic. 

 

“You know I wouldn’t leave you, Mel,” he immediately says, grabbing her hands into his own, eyes begging. He looks as if he’s ready to drop to his knees. Viktor rolls his eyes at the display. 

 

With a sigh, Mel frees her hands. “The state over is technically out of my jurisdiction, but since your focus is on research specifically…I’ll allow it. However, on two conditions. One, you return at least once every two weeks. Two, you take Caitlyn Kiramman with you.”

 

Viktor and Jayce exchange glances, both of their faces in thought. After a moment Viktor nods, and Jayce says “That works with us.” His shoulders seem to fall with relief. 

 

“You can take a couple of the horses, as well as some supplies and weapons from the lockers,” she continues. Viktor’s excitement grows. The usual scavengers take at most three days, so two weeks free from the base seemed absolutely wonderful. 

 

“Thank you,” Viktor smiles. She smiles back, then grabs Jayce by the collar to peck his cheek. 

 

“I’ll see you tonight,” she whispers to Jayce before her eyes flicker back to Viktor, looking him up and down. 

 

“Nice brace, Viktor,” she compliments before turning on her heels and walking out of the room, not even giving Viktor a chance to respond. 

 

Jayce’s face is flat, a hand clenching his wrist, running his thumb back and forth against his bracelet—a gesture Viktor recognizes as worry. 

 

“You alright…?” Viktor asks slowly. 

 

“M’ fine. At least we got permission,” he mumbles, slightly relaxing at the reminder of the achievement. 

 

Viktor nods. “Do you want to check out the weapons locker with me to plan?”

 

“Of course.”

 

---

 

Jayce walks down the white hall with a pep in his step, the bustling energy of the other scientists only adding to his own. He’s only worked at Piltover Inc. for a few months, but the amount of progress he’s been able to make on his research was incredible. 

 

He wears the black ribbon around his wrist proudly—a reminder of why he’s here in the first place. Salt and pepper hair tied into a neat bun using that very same ribbon. Kind, warm eyes, comforting words, home-cooked meals, hands that tucked him into bed. 

 

The smell of disinfectant and cleaning products, the hair loss, the tears, that cursed beeping noise he despised until it came to a halt. 

 

He carries the memories, good and bad, right on his sleeve. He’s determined to make a difference, change the world so no one has to go through that pain. And he’s so close—he can feel a breakthrough on the tip of his fingers. 

 

Jayce makes it to his office door, the nameplate shining. His own office—his own lab—the thought still makes him giddy. He reaches for his badge, ready to press it against the scanner to unlock the door. Then, he notices that the door is actually not closed at all—left barely open against the frame. 

 

That’s the first time that’s happened. Jayce gets a bad feeling deep in his gut. 

 

He drops his badge to instead lightly push the door open. The room looks normal, no one is inside either, but the feeling stays. If anything, the feeling grows as he steps inside—immediately walking towards his locked cabinet containing his research. 

 

He fumbles with the key, hands shaking as he slots the metal in. With a click, the cabinet opens.  

 

And with a click, the small bomb inside the cabinet is armed. 

 

Jayce’s eyes immediately widen, staring at the crude homemade bomb sitting in the empty cabinet—the cabinet that just yesterday was filled to the brim with his research notes. 

 

And for a moment he thinks about not moving, about losing his life along with his research, and the bomb ticks further and further. 

 

And then his body acts against his thoughts—pushing himself off the cabinet and scrambling towards the door before his mind can catch up. 

 

The blast is hot and angry against his back, the force not only throwing Jayce off his feet but also blowing off the side of the building. He flies into the wall with a brutal slap, and he’s unconscious as he hits the floor. 

 

When he wakes up days later, recovering from a concussion in a barren hospital room, he hears of a virus outbreak on the news.

 

A virus outbreak originating from Piltover Inc.

Notes:

Lots of setting in this one! Not to worry, things will start picking up real soon :)

I am an able bodied person so if any descriptions of Viktor's disability or reactions he has are off then please let me know and I'll do my best to change it! Also all the cure/virus talk is nonsense but I tried my best to make it semi-realistic despite that!

For all my Mel enjoyers out there, I promise she isn't like this for the entire story and she WILL get better.

Kudos, comment, bookmark, and subscribe if you're liking the story so far! I cherish all of your comments :)

Chapter 3: Swimming Lessons

Notes:

Content Warning

Animal cruelty/abuse

Rays of sunlight beam down through the dense expanse of leaves. The smell of greenery was almost overwhelming, overgrown grass and moss reclaiming the Earth. The gentle thump of horse hooves, as well as the sway of their gaits, provided a steady rhythm—Viktor was nodding off to the serenity of it all. 

 

His eyes then catch a pair of small white butterflies fluttering past, and he’s wide awake again. He smiles as he watches them. One of, if not the only, upsides to the apocalypse was the resurgence in nature.

 

“How much longer was it?” Jayce asks, his chest warm against Viktor’s back. They were only allowed two horses, so Jayce and he had to share Blitz—a large, sweet, yet timid brown horse with a line of white streaking down his face. 

 

“Should only be a few more miles,” Caitlyn looks back at them as she speaks, a map held in her hands. It’s the first time Viktor’s seen her in regular clothes—when she had learned she was coming with them, she was ecstatic to leave her post. Her dark hair and outfit contrast her stark white horse, Ace, gorgeously. “If you ask me again I’ll have Viktor push you off the horse.”

 

“Haha, like he’d do that.”

 

“Do not underestimate me, Jayce.” Viktor looks back to smile at him, and Jayce’s look of betrayal only makes Viktor chuckle. 

 

Viktor was a bit uncertain of having Caitlyn along with them at first, but after a couple days of travel, he’s warmed up very well to her—especially now she doesn’t have to keep up her image as Commander. Her banter is quite enjoyable, especially when directed at Jayce. 

 

Viktor idly runs his hand along his holster, tracing the seam with his fingers. They were all provided a pistol, as well as a rifle for Caitlyn and a shotgun for them to share. Jayce had also brought his own baseball bat and hatchet. Besides the weapons, their bags were filled to the brim with rations, water, spare clothes, and ammunition. Better safe than sorry. 

 

Luckily, they haven’t encountered much undead yet—mainly due to the border between states being largely uninhabited before the outbreak. But as they creep closer to civilization, their chances of an encounter rise. 

 

Soon, a faint roar of rushing water can be heard behind the bird songs. A few minutes later, they’re standing before a long wooden bridge. Underneath, the river currents crash against the rocky bank. 

 

They all stop at the bridge with a pull of a lead, exchanging glances. The bridge didn’t exactly look up to code. “We’ll take it slow,” Caitlyn says as Ace begins walking, metal horseshoes clacking loudly against the wood. 

 

Jayce, who has the reins for Blitz, taps the sides of the horse to get him into a walk. The wood creaks from the weight. 

 

Both the horses make it about ten meters across the bridge, reaching the halfway point, when three figures appear at the end of the bridge. Caitlyn immediately tugs at her reins to stop, signaling for Jayce to do the same with a hand gesture. 

 

“We don’t want any trouble. Just passing through,” Caitlyn shouts over the sound of rushing water. Both her hands are up in a gesture of friendliness. Viktor’s hand ghosts over his holster, feeling Jayce tense up behind him. 

 

As the three figures approach, Viktor notices the numerous firearms they have. Multiple guns strapped onto their backs and holstered on their waists. If that wasn’t intimidating enough, they all had matching tattoos on their face—almost certainly some sort of raider gang. 

 

“Hands up right now! All of you!” A voice comes from behind them, and they turn to see three more raiders approaching them, guns aimed. 

 

Jayce immediately puts his hands up, joining Caitlyn. Blitz huffs beneath them, looking at the strangers wildly. Viktor quickly looks back to make eye contact with Caitlyn, a silent ask shrouded in his worried face. Do we fight?  

 

She immediately mouths the word wait. Viktor nods, slowly beginning to put his hands up. 

 

“I SAID NOW!” The raider yells, pointing his pistol at the wooden floor and pulling the trigger. The shot makes them all flinch, loud enough to make their ears ring, the sound echoing through the forest.  

 

And that’s all it took for Blitz to spook, lifting both his front legs with a loud neigh. Jayce and Viktor, who both had their hands up, fall directly backward off the horse. 

 

Backward and into the rotting wooden planks of the bridge, which immediately break away and plunge them down into the river rapids. 

 

Viktor’s first thought as he crashes into the wood, the fall padded by Jayce’s body, is holy shit. His second thought, as he plunges into the freezing waters with Jayce, is I can’t swim. 

 

The current immediately sweeps the two of them under—Viktor attempting to breach the surface for air but being shoved down by the force of the water. Jayce, dazed and winded from breaking through the wood, lets the current drag him for a moment. 

 

Then he shocks back awake, arms and legs moving on instinct, swimming up for air. 

 

“Viktor?!” He yells, head swiveling to look for the man. In the direction of the bridge, he hears gunfire. “Viktor!” He yells again, louder. 

 

And then he sees it—the splash of a hand over the water. 

 

With a deep breath, Jayce plunges down and swims with the current. His eyes sting from the water, but he sees Viktor ahead of him—thrashing, struggling to breach the surface, his bad leg bringing him down. 

 

With a well-timed stroke, Jayce boosts himself forward enough to reach Viktor. Immediately, he wraps his hands around his waist and pushes them both up for air. 

 

Viktor takes a huge breath of air followed by a coughing fit. Jayce is struggling to keep them both up against the current. 

 

And then Jayce, out of the corner of his eye, sees it—a large boulder in the middle of the river. He only has a single moment, his body acting before his mind can think. He swings his arms so Viktor is opposite the rock, curling tight against his back to shield him. 

 

The impact hits Jayce right in the spine, the jagged edge of the rock cutting a huge gash along his back as the current carries them further. He lets out a cry, blood seeping into the river, the water burning the cut. 

 

But they’re still being dragged with the current. And Viktor’s still coughing above him. So, with a grit of his teeth, he paddles them both towards the rocky bank—eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Then, he finally feels the pebbles of the bank and drags them both up. 

 

Viktor doubles over, coughing his lungs out on his hands and knees. Jayce shakily stands up, leaning to hit Viktor’s back. “C’mon, Vik,” he rasps encouragingly. 

 

With one, two, three more hits, Viktor vomits out all the water in his system. He sits there, head down, heaving to catch his breath. After a moment, he tilts his head up to look at Jayce. 

 

Jayce’s eyes widen at the sight of blood dripping out of Viktor’s nostrils, trailing down his chin. 

 

Viktor’s eyes widen at the raider standing behind Jayce—pistol pointed directly at his partner’s head. 

 

“Viktor?”

 

“JAYCE—!”

 

BANG. 

 

Blood splatters the pebbled river bank. The raider falls dead to the floor. Caitlyn sits tall atop Ace in the distance, rifle aimed and smoking from the shot. 

 

Viktor collapses forward in relief. Jayce stares down at the body, hands trembling from the realization of what almost happened. He, too, collapses to his knees in front of Viktor. 

 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, looking down at his shaking hands. 

 

Viktor notices the sheer panic coursing through the man, his eyes wild, breathing irregularly, whole body now shaking alongside his hands. So, although Viktor isn’t one for initiating touch, he reaches out his hands to place them over Jayce’s—one hand bearing his sopping wet glove. Almost instantly the trembling stops in response to the touch. Jayce looks up to meet Viktor’s eyes. 

 

They both scan each other’s faces, pupils flicking back and forth in wordless communication. 

 

Thank you. I’m glad you’re alive. I can’t bear to lose you. 

 

Jayce brings up a hand to wipe at Viktor’s chin, Viktor slightly parting his lips in confusion. Jayce pulls back his thumb, covered in blood, showing Viktor. “Are you okay?”

 

And Viktor’s brows furrow at the sight. He lifts his own hand, using the back of it to wipe at his chin. Sure enough, he stares down at his hand, now smeared in blood. 

 

Well, that hasn’t happened before. 

 

“Headache,” Viktor lies immediately, “from the coughing.”

 

Jayce looks like he’s about to respond, eyebrows knit in worry, but Caitlyn finally reaches them with Ace. 

 

“Are you two okay?” Her British accent is more prominent with her worry. 

 

“Couple injuries, but overall okay.” Jayce goes to stand, his wet clothes dragging along his back against his wound. He hisses, then sighs. “Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“After you two fell, Blitz ran straight through two of the raiders and trampled them dead.” Good boy Viktor thinks immediately. “I got one with a quick draw, then killed two more over a gunfight. That one,” she points to the body on the floor, “slipped away, and when I realized I immediately came running. I’m glad I did,” she sighs out a breath of relief, slinging her rifle over her back. 

 

“Thank you, truly,” Viktor stands, wiping off blood from his chin using his wet glove. His bad leg is bent at the knee, keeping as much weight off of it as possible since his crutch was with Blitz. “Let us take a moment to recover. Did Blitz come back?”

 

“I saw him wandering through the trees, I can definitely find him. Here,” she reaches into one of their packs thrown over Ace’s back, pulling out a roll of gauze. “I’ll grab Blitz, you two wring out your clothes in the meantime.”

 

Viktor looks at the bandage in confusion, then he looks over to Jayce to see a huge gash along his back—torn through his shirt, from his shoulder to his waist, fresh and still bleeding. Viktor immediately grabs the gauze and limps over to Jayce as Caitlyn trots off. “When did this happen?”

 

Jayce is already peeling off his sopping wet shirt, throwing it to the floor with a wet plop. “Boulder in the river,” is all he says, and Viktor frowns. He was so busy coughing he didn’t even notice. Guilt runs through him as he begins to unravel the bandage. 

 

“Here, hold still,” the tip of his fingers touch Jayce’s bare back, right above the wound, and a shiver courses through Jayce. 

 

Wordlessly, Viktor begins wrapping the gauze, looping it around his upper body and over his shoulder to fully get the diagonal cut covered. Jayce sighs into the touch, shoulders dropping. “I can teach you to swim,” the thought slips out of Jayce without him realizing. 

 

Viktor scoffs, “with this leg?”

 

“Why not?” Jayce throws his head back to look at him. Viktor looks at him bewildered, snapping out of it a moment later with a soft chuckle. 

 

“After we‘ve made the cure, then,” he concedes, tying off the gauze and stepping away. 

 

“Okay,” Jayce smiles, turning around to face him. Viktor’s still wearing his wet clothes, frame trembling slightly. “Aren’t you cold?” 

 

Viktor seems to hesitate, but a moment later he’s untucking his shirt from his pants and pulling it over his head. Jayce’s gut reaction is to flush and turn away at the glimpse of Viktor’s mole-speckled waist—but his eyes end up lingering, frozen, staring at Viktor instead. 

 

The pale expanse of skin is dotted with moles, reminiscent of stars across the night sky. His back brace, a corset-like device altered to accommodate his spinal pins, frames his body like a portrait. Dozens of scars, large and small, litter his skin, and Jayce has the urge to ask about every single one. 

 

“Jayce,” Viktor warns, embarrassed over his own body. Skin and bones, covered in my mistakes, ugly and broken. And yet Jayce’s eyes seem to sparkle in the sun. 

 

“Sorry,” Jayce looks away, fighting down his blush, busying himself with wringing out his shirt. Viktor does the same with his own, water splashing down onto the rocks below. The sunlight is warm on their skin. 

 

Caitlyn comes back with Blitz in tow, guiding the horse by the reins. The first thing she does is hand Viktor his crutch, the man sighing in relief. Then, she throws down their bags so they can fetch their spare clothes. 

 

“I’ll wait for you two on the trail, we shouldn’t be too far now,” she trots off once again with Ace.

 

Jayce and Viktor glance at one another before sheepishly turning away, shoving off the remainder of their wet clothes. 

 

Jayce tries not to think about the rustling rocks behind him, or about the dead man a couple meters away, or about Blitz watching them both with his big round eyes. 

 

He winces as he pulls the dry shirt over his bandages. “You done?”

 

“One moment,” the rocks rustle again. “Okay.”

 

They both turn around, facing each other at the same moment. 

 

“Let’s get to this university, eh?”

 

---

 

Stagnant water sits still in the once-pristine stone fountain at the entrance of the campus. The walls of the many buildings are covered in vines, invasive and out of control, weaving between concrete. Horseshoes clack against the brick-paved walkways as they make their way through the main entrance. 

 

They find an empty classroom to leave Ace and Blitz in, taking their bags and leaving to scope out the building. Without electricity, their main source of light is the rays of sun seeping through the high windows. Floor tiles are cracked, dirt and rubble lining the crevices. 

 

Pools and splatters of dried blood line the hallway. Viktor tries not to fixate on it, tries not to imagine the scenarios that led to the stains. The mass hysteria after the outbreak was like hell on Earth. 

 

With Caitlyn leading, pistol in her hand, they enter what looks to be a teachers’ office. Dozens of desks fill the room, broken monitors and papers on each, with filing cabinets lining the walls. 

 

“Looks clear, I’ll move on ahead,” Caitlyn rests her pistol down. 

 

“Will you be alright?” Jayce asks. 

 

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?” She smirks as she steps out, the door closing behind her with a click. 

 

Viktor’s already looking through the filing cabinets, deft fingers flipping through folders. Jayce watches, almost in a trance at Viktor’s speed. 

 

Viktor seems to notice Jayce staring. “I was an assistant to a professor back in my university days, it made me very efficient in these matters.” He closes the metal drawer, immediately pulling open the next. 

 

“An assistant?”

 

“He said that once I had enough experience, he’d put in a good word for me at Piltover,” he hums. “Four years I spent as an assistant, obediently doing his paperwork, and yet every time I asked about Piltover, he brushed me off.”

 

“What an asshole,” Jayce huffs, flipping through documents and papers. "We could've been coworkers if it weren't for him."

 

Viktor laughs, “I sometimes thought about using my cane as a golf club on the man.” Jayce snorts.

 

Then the comfortable silence overcomes them, disturbed only by the light rustling of paper. Dust swirls in the rays of light beaming from the large window behind them. For a moment, it was as if everything was normal, and they were just two assistants sorting paperwork together in a regular world. 

 

“What were you like in university?”

 

“A bit of a menace,” Jayce chuckles. “Always pushing my professors to give me leeway on assignment requirements. Hogging the study rooms for my personal projects. I’m pretty sure half of the school had a vendetta against me for that,” he reminisces. 

 

“Hmm,” Viktor pulls away from the cabinet to look at Jayce. “I was much the same.”

 

“Really?” Jayce pauses his scavenge as well, making eye contact. 

 

Viktor nods, “We would’ve gotten along well.”

 

Jayce smiles, placing down his stack of papers. “We just have to make up for the time lost, then.”

 

---

 

Viktor had a regular routine he followed on weekdays. 

 

One, stop by the gas station on the walk to work. 

 

Two, go down the dark, scary alleyway beside his workplace. 

 

Three, open the can of cat food he bought from the gas station.

 

At the sound of the metal, immediately out comes Rio. She’s a small grey-brown tabby with wide green eyes, her whiskers crooked and bent. She circles and weaves between his legs, head bumping his shins, as he wrestles the lid off the can. 

 

“Hello there,” he smiles, bending down to place the can on the ground. Rio immediately starts feasting, Viktor petting her back as she does. Her tail curls around his arm at the touch, and his smile widens.

 

Viktor would love to take her home more than anything, but his shitty studio apartment is barely enough for himself, and he’d hate to trap her there all alone while he works. 

 

So Viktor resorts to feeding her instead, and when he finally makes enough to move into a better apartment he’ll take her in then. And also get her a friend as well. He smiles at the thought. 

 

Rio looks up from the can with a quiet meow, the food finished. He grabs his water bottle from his bag, pouring water out into the can. Rio licks at his hand as he does so, drawing a soft giggle out of him. 

 

With a scratch on her head, Viktor pulls himself up with his cane. “See you tomorrow,” he says, as he walks out of the alley and through the front doors of his workplace—Zaun Co. 

 

Once he scans in, he’s greeted by a very enthusiastic Jinx.

 

“Viktorrr! My man!” She hooks an aggressive arm around his neck, long blue braids swinging behind her. 

 

“Hello, Jinx,” he grits through his teeth at the sudden touch. She was their CEO’s adopted daughter, his only pride and joy. Anyone who got on her bad side would be fired the next day. And so, although she isn’t a scientist, she is the most important person in the building. 

 

“Things are going to start changing around here, buddy,” she giggles, tightening her hold. “Real soon. Piltover’s going to get what’s coming to ‘em. Zaun’s gonna be top of the market, and it’s all thanks to me!” 

 

“Yes, Jinx, of course,” he affirms, although he has no idea what she’s talking about in her hyperactive state. Yes, Piltover Inc. is completely dominating the pharmaceutical market, leaving Zaun Co. in the dust, but how in the world would they lose their spot at the top?

 

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” She ruffles his hair before running off, presumably to find another victim to bother. Viktor just shrugs it off, smoothing down his hair and making his way over to the lab. 

 

As he walks inside, he’s greeted by Singed shuffling through some documents—nothing out of the ordinary. Viktor heads to his desk, sitting down and ready to continue his monotonous work of testing vaccines.  

 

“Viktor,” his voice is old and grainy. “We have a new assignment to prioritize, ordered by Silco.”

 

Viktor raises a brow as he shifts in his chair to face Singed. “So soon? I thought this current assignment was the only way to, eh, ‘keep the business afloat.’”

 

“Yes, well, change of plans,” he waves a hand dismissively. “If this is successful, the business will be much more than ‘afloat,’ I can assure you.”

 

Viktor’s face scrunches in confusion. Why was everyone being so vaguely optimistic recently?

 

Singed stands up to walk to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk and drawing a long, complex chemical structure on the board. He’s never seen anything like it before. 

 

“What is it?” He asks as Singed drops the chalk, the finished diagram taking up the entire length of the board. 

 

“Unimportant. Our job is to make a chemical to oppose this one.” 

 

Viktor frowns, “It sounds pretty important to me.”

 

Singed gives him a look, a mix of expectancy and disappointment. “Curiosity killed the cat, Viktor.”

 

Viktor fought tooth and nail for this job—nearly every other company had rejected him, most likely due to discriminatory profiling. Zaun was the only place that hired him, prioritizing skill level over anything else. He couldn’t lose this job, not when his savings account was dry, living off of a single meal a day. 

 

So he bites his tongue and gets to work. 

 

---

 

Viktor’s routine, the next day, starts the same. He buys some cat food from the gas station, walks to the alleyway, and opens the tin. He places the can down on the floor, by the dumpster where Rio usually hangs out. 

 

Except Rio is nowhere to be seen. Usually, she appears the second he opens the can. 

 

Viktor sighs. When he first started feeding her, she would hide and wait for him to leave before revealing herself. Over time she’s gotten much more comfortable, but there’s been some rare occasions throughout the year where she’ll start hiding again, and Viktor can’t figure out why. 

 

“Enjoy your meal, Rio.” He says, despite her not being there. With a defeated exhale, he stands to go to work. 

 

He walks inside, the halls unusually quiet. 

 

He pushes the door to the lab open. 

 

Singed is hunched over the table, frantically writing something down. 

 

“Hello…?” 

 

Singed turns at the sound, eyes wide. When he turns, Viktor catches a glimpse of a metal cage on the desk. 

 

Inside, striped grey fur.

 

Viktor’s walking forward before he realizes it, needing to confirm the thought running wildly in his mind. 

 

“Viktor, did you not get the email? You were supposed to take the day off—“

 

Viktor walks further, reaching the table. 

 

Undoubtedly, Rio is in the cage. 

 

She’s breathing heavily, curled up in a corner of the cold cage. Her light grey fur had a sickly purple undertone to it, with masses of flesh bulging on her back. Her soft green eyes, usually vibrant and sparkling, now devoid of color. 

 

“What did you do to her?” He spits, immediately reaching for the cage to free her. He fumbles with the latch, trying to tug it open before he notices a small padlock. Rio begins to hiss inside the cage—something he’s never heard her do. 

 

“Viktor, if you value your job, you need to leave.” 

 

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” He hisses, pushing Singed aside to better access the cage. 

 

“Viktor—“

 

Viktor’s not listening, he’s too busy attempting to grab the cage and run out with Rio. He’d find some bolt cutters somewhere. Job be damned, he’ll live on the street with Rio. 

 

But with one, two, three tugs, the cage doesn’t budge. It’s only then that he notices the screw tops hidden in the corners of the cage—bolting the thing down to the table. 

 

And it’s only then, as Viktor has his fingers through the bars, that Rio jumps and bites his finger. 

 

He immediately pulls his hands away, managing to free her fangs from his skin with a strong tug. He cradles his now-bleeding right pointer finger close to his chest. 

 

His body fills with a rage so intense that he feels faint. How could someone do this? Turn this sweet, innocent creature into nothing more than another experiment—no value for her life? 

 

“Viktor—“

 

“I quit. I will be reporting the company for medical malpractice and animal cruelty.” His voice is quiet, flat and controlled, yet each word burns with fury. 

 

Singed stares at Viktor, eyes filled with disappointment. “Silco will kill you.”

 

Viktor only hums as he turns his back to Singed, to Rio, and starts walking to the door. 

 

On his way, he spots that his own table is covered in dozens of research documents. What really catches his eye, though, is the small, nearly identical initials in the bottom right corner of each page. 

 

J.T.

 

His eyes linger only for a moment more before he walks out of the lab.

Notes:

Early chapter cause I finished it faster than usual! Kudos and comments are much appreciated, thanks for reading so far :)

Chapter 4: Dinner is Served

Notes:

Tags have been updated!

Content Warnings (SPOILERS)

Cannibalism
Amputation

Viktor’s knife slides out of the infected’s skull, black blood staining the blade as the body falls to the floor. He looks to his left, seeing Jayce wipe his baseball bat clean after taking out his own undead. 

 

Viktor shakes off the blood with a quick flick of his wrist before storing it back into his crutch. Both of them advance further into the abandoned drugstore—front windows smashed in, multiple shelves toppled over. 

 

Immediately it’s clear their chances are slim. All the aisles are wiped clean of everything, shelves empty and barren. Still, they look, Viktor wandering behind the counter while Jayce enters what appears to be a storage room. 

 

Viktor’s eyes scan under the countertop, but there’s nothing there. Even the large metal safe stored under the cash register has been ransacked, door left ajar. 

 

His stomach taunts him with an aggressive growl. They had only brought enough rations for a few days, deciding to save on bag space by mostly scavenging for food. Usually, they would have found something by now, yet it’s been days since they’ve run out. 

 

How is it that almost every building in this godforsaken town has been robbed clean?

 

Suddenly, the door Jayce had gone through slams back open. Jayce is walking backward, gun drawn and face panicked. 

 

“Viktor—” Viktor’s immediately alert, already drawing his pistol and rushing to his side.

 

“Oh, you have a friend!” A cheery voice exclaims. Viktor looks past the doorway to see two men, seemingly unarmed, standing in the grass of the back lot. 

 

“What do you want?” Viktor asks, reaching Jayce’s side, pistol drawn. 

 

“Now now, we don’t want any trouble. You see, we have a little community nearby! Lots of families, supplies, and a study wall. You folks are welcome to stop by if you’d like?”

 

“So that’s where all the supplies in the town went,” Viktor scoffs. 

 

Jayce’s stomach growls loudly, and the two men guffaw at the noise. 

 

“We haven’t heard that sound in a while!” One of them slaps a knee. “Say, when’s the last time you’ve had meat?”

 

“Meat?” Jayce questions. 

 

“A couple of our residents were farmers, moved all their livestock into our community. Although most the animals passed away, we preserved the meat! We eat well every night!”

 

Jayce and Viktor both glance at each other, their mouths already salivating. It’s been years since they’ve eaten anything other than canned foods and MREs. 

 

“And we could just have a meal then leave? No catch?” Viktor asks. 

 

“Yep, you’re more than welcome to stay the night too! We have an entire building set aside for passers-by.”

 

After another glance between one another, Jayce speaks up. “I think we should go,” he tells Viktor, voice lowered. “Who knows how much they’ve scavenged in this area? We might not find anything for days.”  

 

Viktor worries his lip, considering. Jayce was right, and they needed the energy to continue. Saying no would be a death sentence. 

 

“Okay,” Viktor nods to Jayce before turning back to the two men. “We’ll accept your offer, but only for the night. We also have another person with us, in the store next door.”

 

“The more the merrier!”

 

---

 

Caitlyn was almost mad at the two for accepting the offer, but as they trot to the base on their horses following the men, their suspicions are eased. A sturdy metal wall lines the perimeter of the small base—encompassing about six buildings. Large gates slide open as they approach, revealing teenagers playing in the streets and adults conversing on the sidelines. 

 

They’re led to what looks like an office building, halls upon halls of empty rooms. They tie up Ace and Blitz outside before entering the reception area. 

 

“Dinner’ll be starting shortly, in the bar,” he points down the street at a brick-paved building. “We’ll ring the bell when it’s time. Feel free to claim any room you’d like in the building to store your stuff.” 

 

The man leaves, the front door clicking shut as he does so. The moment he’s gone, a voice perks up behind them. 

 

“You guys passing through too?”

 

They turn to see a woman leaning against the doorway to the lounge. She’s fit in a black leather jacket, red-pink hair falling over her face, mullet cascading over her shoulders. 

 

Viktor and Jayce both jump as she speaks, not expecting another person in the room. I swear she wasn’t there just a moment ago Jayce thinks as he shivers off the scare.

 

Caitlyn’s eyes flicker up and down, looking her over. “Yes,” she nods. 

 

“Name’s Vi,” she pushes off the wall to walk over, crossing her arms against her chest as she joins their circle.

 

“Caitlyn. This is Viktor and Jayce,” she points to them respectively. 

 

“Great. Now that introductions are out of the way, I don’t trust these assholes,” her voice lowers as if they will hear her. “Gave me major creep vibes when they found me.”

 

“I agree,” Jayce pipes up. Viktor tilts his head, he had seen most of what Jayce had seen of them and hadn’t felt that vibe. Suspicious, yes, but not creepy. 

 

“How so?” Viktor asks both Jayce and Vi. 

 

“Before I could come back to get you, they had snuck up behind me, hadn’t said a word. I only heard them because they stepped on a branch—they only started talking when they saw you, Viktor.”

 

“Shit, they had snuck up on me too,” Vi adds. “One of them touched me—couldn’t tell if it was a tap on the shoulder or an attempt to grab me. On instinct I put the guy in a chokehold, almost slit his throat open before his partner started begging, offering me free supplies,” she huffs. 

 

“Let’s keep our guards up then, alright? It doesn’t look like they’ve lied, seeing all the people outside… but that doesn’t mean we’re safe either,” Caitlyn explains. 

 

“Agreed. It’s nice having others in the same boat as me,” she sighs. 

 

“Are you on your own?” Caitlyn asks. 

 

“Yeah. Have been since outbreak day,” she bristles slightly, crossed arms tightening against her chest. Viktor feels a pang of guilt wash over him, legs suddenly weak. 

 

“Excuse me,” Viktor says as he walks out of the reception room, wandering to the first empty office he could find. 

 

He immediately throws his backpack to the floor, clutching onto his crutch until his knuckles turn white. He feels so wrong, wrong wrong wrong. 

 

Then the coughing starts. Viktor doubles forward, hacking into his closed fist, leaning on his crutch like a lifeline. His vision blurs with tears, unable to breathe. His body jerks violently with each cough, and soon Viktor finds himself collapsing to his knees. He digs his nails into the carpet flooring, willing himself to stop, and with a sharp inhale he succeeds.  

 

His vision clears slowly, gulping down air. He stares down at the fresh blood staining the dark blue carpet and notices a metallic tang staining his mouth. 

 

Shit. 

 

He wipes at his mouth with his gloved hand, using it as an impromptu napkin. With trembling limbs he hoists himself up using his crutch, standing on unsteady legs. 

 

Behind him, the door clicks open. “Hey V, was wondering if you wanted to share a room—“

 

“Not this room,” Viktor interrupts, turning and hiding the bloodstain behind his feet. 

 

“Not this room?” Jayce cocks his head to the side, reminiscent of a puppy.

 

“I don’t like it,” Viktor keeps his face flat. 

 

“It’s an office building. Aren’t all the rooms the same?”

 

“No. Think of the window placement, Jayce.” 

 

“Ah, you’re right, there,” Jayce chuckles. “Hate it when the sun wakes me up.”

 

“Exactly, so let us find a better room,” Viktor carefully walks forward, picking his bag up. Jayce is none the wiser, resting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder as they make their way out of the room. 

 

As they walk down the hall they pass by an open door. Caitlyn and Vi are talking, sitting on the floor unpacking, voices quiet. 

 

They pass the room, instead heading towards the room adjacent. Jayce peeks inside.

 

“See! West-facing windows, perfect,” he smiles, already setting his bag down. Viktor follows suit, unzipping his pack to take out the blankets they use as bedding. “I’m glad you agreed to share, Caitlyn ran off with Vi the moment the conversation died down.”

 

“Of course, Jayce,” Viktor smiles, “I’ve grown quite fond of our ‘sleepovers.’” 

 

Then, they hear a faint ringing sound in the distance. 

 

“That’s dinner, I guess,” Jayce stands up. 

 

“I’m bringing my pistol.”

 

“Yeah, me too. Though the fact they haven’t confiscated them gives me hope,” he sighs. 

 

They walk out of their room, reuniting with the girls and heading to the bar. 

 

The doors swing open, the sound of conversation, laughter, and music loud in the room. About two dozen people are scattered about the bar. Most are sitting in booths and at the counter, eating bowls of what looks like beef and rice. There’s a small stage in the corner adorning a phonograph, old-timey jazz cracking through the speaker while pairs of people dance together. 

 

It gives Viktor whiplash, the stark contrast of this room in comparison with their daily life. The group exchanges glances.

 

They’re all called over to the bar by one of the men they met, four bowls already out and waiting. The smell makes their mouths water—a genuine, warm meal. 

 

Vi rushes over, immediately grabbing a bowl and chowing down. Jayce is not far behind, eyes fluttering shut in what looks like bliss at his first bite. Caitlyn seems appalled by their etiquette, scolding them with a “You’re going to choke!”

 

Caitlyn and Viktor grab their own bowls, giving each other a quick look before they both dig in. 

 

It tasted good. Plain, there’s only so much you can do with salt and pepper, but warm and filling enough to calm their ravenous stomachs. 

 

Vi’s already done, asking for another bowl. Jayce is leaning against the bar, eyes closed, content and happy. Viktor scarfs down the rest of his meal, stomach finally full after days, sliding the empty bowl onto the bar top. 

 

“So far so good,” Viktor says. 

 

“Better than good, V,” Jayce bounces off the bar with a push. “This is great. Feels like the apocalypse never happened!” He runs a hand through his hair with a small chuckle, looking relieved. 

 

He locks eyes with Viktor, smiling softly. “Dance with me?”

 

“What?” His tone is incredulous.

 

“Dance with me!” He repeats. “When’s the last time you heard music, Vik?” Jayce extends a hand. 

 

Without thinking Viktor picks up his hand, ready to place it in Jayce’s, but he stills. “I… I do not know how.”

 

“Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll support you,” his eyes are soft, hand waiting in the space between them. 

 

Viktor stares into those warm hazel eyes, mind running rampant, and places his hand in Jayce’s. “Okay.”

 

He beams with joy, immediately tugging Viktor closer to the phonograph. Once they reach the stage, nestled between pairs of other dancers, Jayce offers to hang Viktor’s crutch off his arm, which he accepts. 

 

The music is upbeat, Jayce already swaying to the tune while Viktor stands stiff—extremely out of his element.

 

“Can I touch?” Jayce asks, hovering his hands by Viktor’s side. He nods, so Jayce loops his arms underneath Viktor’s to keep him stable, hands resting at the small of his back. Electricity runs up Viktor’s spine at the contact, goosebumps lining his skin. 

 

“Step onto my feet,” Jayce says, and Viktor immediately shoots him a look of fear.

 

“We’re going to fall over—”

 

“We’re not going to fall! Have some trust in me,” he chuckles, pulling Viktor closer as if to prove a point. 

 

And his hands are so large, all-encompassing. Warmth radiates off of them, heat coursing through Viktor’s entire body. They’re sturdy as well, unrelenting. Viktor knows even if he tried to fall, Jayce wouldn’t let him—there to catch him no matter what.

 

So slowly, Viktor steps onto his feet, their chests practically flush with one another. He grabs onto Jayce’s shoulders, not having any other place to put his arms.

 

And then Jayce is moving, swaying their bodies to the beat, waddling them both like a penguin. And he’s smiling so wide, Viktor’s crutch hanging off the crook of his arm, the warmth from their close proximity—all while they’re moving their body like madmen. It’s so goofy Viktor bursts out laughing. 

 

“What’s so funny?!” Jayce continues swaying and waddling, attempting a slow spin. 

 

“You’re ridiculous. This is ridiculous!” He laughs, head falling forward into Jayce’s chest. 

 

“That’s the point, V!” He laughs along, continuing their absurd little dance, keeping each other company until the bar slowly empties out and they retire to their rooms.

 

And when Viktor is lying on the floor of their shared room, listening to Jayce’s soft snores, his heart pangs. And it’s all so unexpected and yet not at all—the warmth that floods his veins at the mere thought of the man. 

 

And it hurts when he shoves the feeling down, down into the recess of his mind, down until the warmth fades into cold nothingness. But what could he do? Jayce was not only his lab partner, but he was taken. He can’t let unnecessary feelings ruin what they already had, or even worse, ruin their progress on the cure. 

 

He wouldn’t allow it. So he represses the affection, hiding it away in the deepest cabinet of his mind, as he drifts off to sleep. 

 

---

 

“Jayce, Viktor, get up,“ the voice is quiet but harsh, a hand shaking the boys’ shoulders. Viktor immediately startles awake, met with a very panicked Caitlyn and Vi. The room is pitch black, both Viktor and Jayce sitting up in confusion. 

 

“We need to go. Now.” Caitlyn whisper-yells. Jayce and Viktor immediately sit up, throwing each other a worried glance. 

 

“What’s going on?” 

 

“I was keeping watch, looking out the window—oh god,” Vi pauses, gagging. “They were dragging a man with no legs across the street. And he was alive, screaming through his gag as they dragged him and I—“ she gags again, Caitlyn rubbing her shoulder in an attempt of comfort. 

 

Jayce and Viktor bolt out of their sheets, packing their bags with shaking hands as Vi and Caitlyn wait by the door. The moment they’re ready they all rush to exit the building, hunched over, footsteps as light as possible. They see Ace and Blitz waiting outside through the glass front doors, Viktor holding his breath as they slowly push the door open with a click.  

 

The dead grass crunches beneath their feet. 

 

It all happens so quickly. 

 

A shout, a gunshot, a tanned hand reaching out, face contorted in panic and fear— the back of Viktor’s head exploding in pain as he loses consciousness. 

 

---

 

Moments later, he feels the drag of his body against the dirt. He’s being yanked by his wrists, handcuffed, the metal cutting into pale skin. Gunshots and screams are heard in the distance, muffled by his ringing ears. He tries turning his head, but he’s so dizzy, vision blurred around the edges. Unconsciousness overcomes him once again. 

 

---

 

“VIKTOR!”

 

He awakens, eyes wild, hands immediately reaching for his pistol. But his hands won’t move, can’t move. The chain-link of his handcuffs grinds against the metal pole he’s been attached to, wrists burning behind his back as he tugs desperately. 

 

He then notices his pistol is missing.

 

Moonlight seeps into the basement through a small window above him. On the other side of the room, a cast iron stove is lit—flames dancing wildly, orange light flickering rapidly on the walls. 

 

Viktor’s eyes are locked on the scene in front of him, overwhelming dread seeping through his veins. 

 

Jayce, his limbs being strapped down to a rusted medical table by the three men surrounding him. The concrete floor is covered in old bloodstains. A tray sits by the table adorning an array of equipment—a tourniquet, butcher knife, hammer, and axe. Jayce fights against the hands forcing him down, wildly trying to buck himself free—but he’s outnumbered. 

 

“Jayce,” Viktor whispers in disbelief, trembling at the sight. 

 

But this isn’t a dream. 

 

“Jayce!” Viktor’s tugging against his handcuffs again, pole unrelenting behind him. He begins kicking his feet, trying to get the leverage to at least stand up, but his bad leg won’t allow it. “Let him go!” He yells, watching both of Jayce’s ankles get strapped down. 

 

Gunshots fire constantly outside. Viktor’s heart beats out of his chest from the adrenaline. 

 

“Why are you doing this?!” He shouts. “We’re survivors, just like you! Just trying to live!”

 

“Don’t you get it?” One of the men grunts, using his entire body weight to hold Jayce’s arm down. “We’ve got people to feed.”

 

People to feed. 

 

People to feed. 

 

The moment the puzzle piece clicks into place, Viktor vomits his dinner to the floor. Chunks of undigested meat—human meat—stain the concrete. 

 

Jayce, using a burst of energy, jolts his last free arm out to the equipment tray. His hand wraps around the handle of the hammer, and with a heavy swing, he bashes one of the men’s skulls with a yell. The man falls to the floor, but before Jayce can hit another one they yank the hammer out of his hand. 

 

“Little fucking shit,” one of them hisses as Jayce’s final limb is strapped down. Then they’re grabbing the tourniquet, tying it above his left leg’s kneecap. 

 

“Please!” Viktor is crying now, blood running down his wrists. “Take me instead, please!”  

 

I’m a dead man walking, I should’ve died on outbreak day. I’m past my time—don’t cut his short—

 

“Calm down, we aren’t killing him yet,” one of them grabs the axe, a fireman axe. “Tastes better when they’re alive.”

 

“No, please—“ Viktor begs. Jayce is hyperventilating, head lolled to the side, eyes locked with Viktor’s. 

 

He raises the axe. 

 

“PLEASE!”

 

The world slows. 

 

The blade comes down. 

 

Jayce’s scream is ear-shattering, guttural and haunting. His entire body convulses, eyes clenched shut, sobbing and wailing with pain. Viktor cries with him, watching as blood sprays to the floor. 

 

The blade hadn’t even made it through the leg—only coming halfway, shattering his tibia and fibula at once. 

 

And in his hysteria, Viktor almost doesn’t notice the pistol that falls beside his thigh. 

 

He throws his head up, finding the small window now open, catching a glimpse of familiar boots rushing away. The gunshots outside are louder, closer. 

 

The axe is wrenched from Jayce’s leg, once again being raised in an attempt to amputate. Viktor contorts his body, tucking a foot underneath himself in an attempt to push the pistol closer to his hands. He’s so close—fingertips brushing past the handle. 

 

Jayce’s sobs turn into a piercing scream, fists clenched so tight his nails cut crescents into his palms. The axe had come down again. 

 

Tear-filled hazel eyes stare down at the damage. His left leg sits still on the table, hacked off and severed from the rest of him. 

 

There’s so much blood. 

 

So much blood—

 

And suddenly, the head of the man with the axe explodes. Viktor’s holding the smoking gun, arms contorted, aiming the pistol from behind his back. The other man doesn’t have time to react before a bullet lands in his chest, joining his fellow cannibals on the ground. 

 

“Jayce,” Viktor cries, voice wobbling, finding his hands trembling despite them being steady seconds prior. With shaking fingers he flips the pistol around, muzzle pointing at his handcuff chains. His thumb catches the trigger, and a moment later his arms are pulled free from behind him. 

 

Viktor stumbles forward, pushing himself off the ground, rushing to Jayce’s side. He steadies one hand on the table, the other immediately flying to one of Jayce’s bound ones. 

 

But the fingers don’t react. 

 

His entire body is unresponsive, eyes closed, skin sickly pale. Viktor stares down at the bloodbath of his leg, the wound still bleeding profusely. Another burst of adrenaline rushes through him. 

 

He immediately reaches for the butcher knife, stumbling towards the lit cast iron stove and shoving the tool into the flame. 

 

And as he waits for the metal to heat, he notices a pair of eyes watching from the floor. The man Jayce had hit with the hammer. 

 

“You are no better than the infected,” Viktor spits, cocking his pistol and executing the man without a second thought. 

 

And with that, he pulls the knife from the flame, limping back over to Jayce’s side. 

 

“Stay with me,” Viktor holds Jayce’s hand while bringing the heated metal to the wound, located just underneath his left kneecap. Blood and flesh sizzle at the contact, the smell making Viktor gag as he continues cauterizing the wound. 

 

When he’s done, Viktor throws the knife to the floor to free Jayce, hands rushing to the straps holding him down. With all the buckles undone, Viktor immediately cradles Jayce’s head to his chest. 

 

His body is so cold, Viktor’s fingers trembling not from the temperature but the implication. He’s almost too afraid to check, but he brings a shaking finger up to Jayce’s nostrils anyway. 

 

Viktor holds his breath. 

 

A moment later, he feels a whisper of an exhale on his finger. 

 

And Viktor deflates, tears falling once again as he pulls the man closer.

 

“It’s over, it’s over,” he whispers into Jayce’s hair, rocking the limp body gently. 

 

Death was too kind for those monsters.

 

The door to the basement slams open, Viktor immediately pointing his gun at the intruders. 

 

Vi and Caitlyn stand in the doorway, covered in blood. 

 

“Oh my god!” Caitlyn covers her mouth in shock at the scene, rushing over to Jayce’s side. 

 

And it’s like Viktor isn’t in his body at all, watching from a third-person view. He hears himself talking, explaining what happened to Jayce. He learns Caitlyn was the one who dropped him a pistol from the window, only after she had recognized the screams. He learns of how he was separated from the group, Jayce getting himself caught after pursuing Viktor. 

 

He learns of how Vi and Caitlyn had massacred the entire town. 

 

“He needs medication, antibiotics,” Viktor’s voice is quiet, raspy, worn out. 

 

“There’s a supplies stockpile in the bar,” Vi says, “let’s get him up, help me, Cait.”

 

And Viktor’s initial reaction is to cradle Jayce’s body closer, refuse to let him go, but then his mind rebuttals. He couldn’t carry Jayce, especially not without his crutch, and he trusted Caitlyn and Vi. 

 

So he takes a shaky step back, allowing the girls to get Jayce to his feet. To his foot. 

 

He stumbles to his stuff by the door, brought into the room by Vi as he and Caitlyn had talked. He shoves his crutch under his arm, followed by holstering his gun. 

 

His hands are still trembling as he follows the girls up the stairs, up into the moonlit, massacred town. 

 

---

 

Viktor stares down at his hand, hissing as he applies more antibiotics to the infection. He knew Rio was a street cat, but even then the infection was dreadful. It’s nothing like he’s seen before, the skin looking purple and bruised instead of the regular red and inflamed. It almost looked like Rio in that cage.

 

It’s been a few days, and the infection only looked worse, the purple color darkening more and more. 

 

His leg shakes up and down as he continues applying the antibiotics, news open in the background for noise. 

 

In the moments following the incident, Viktor had packed up what little belongings he had in his studio apartment and left. Although in the moment Singed’s threat about Silco murdering him hadn’t affected him, on the walk back to his place the words kept ringing in his mind. 

 

Additionally, his work email was being spammed with ominous threats, demanding he reveal his new location to the company.

 

So in his paranoia, he decided to stay at the local run-down motel instead—just until he could regain his footing. 

 

“WHO officials have warned the public of a new infectious disease…” the newswoman reports, falling on deaf ears. 

 

Viktor examines his fingers, the infection spread across his thumb, pointer, and middle. No matter how much research he had attempted to do, he couldn’t find a single person with the same type of infection as him. 

 

“Said to be spread through saliva entering the bloodstream, the fatal disease causes bruise-like spots and tumors on the skin, slowly spreading until the entire body is covered.”

 

Viktor’s eyes snap up to the screen, photos of purple, webbed skin on display. 

 

Skin that looks identical to his fingers. 

 

“Colloquially named Shimmer, due to the webbed effect on the skin causing a shimmering effect in the sunlight, the disease is said to have been leaked out of a lab—”

 

Viktor feels sick. He’s going to throw up, it all makes sense. Rio, the bite, the infection, it all points to Zaun Co.—

 

“Piltover Inc. is the lab believed to have leaked the virus. The prestigious company suffered an attack on one of their buildings, which is believed to be what exposed their infectious work to the outside world…”

 

Viktor stares at the screen in confusion. Shimmer… that was clearly what had infected Rio at Zaun, and what was on his hand. What did Piltover have to do with it? 

 

His hands start to tremble, one hand gripping the other in an attempt to stop the shaking. He stares down at the purple with newfound fear flowing in his veins. 

 

He was infected. 

 

---

 

Jayce’s mouth is agape, looking at pictures of his blown-up lab shown on the news. The reporter’s talking fast, too fast for Jayce to keep up in his post-concussion condition. 

 

Mentions of lab leaks and deadly viruses, all originating from his job, showing photos of his lab. 

 

He’s going to faint, he’s going to faint and nothing can stop him—

 

Except the door to his hospital room bursts open, which does stop him. 

 

In walks one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on, golden makeup shimmering in contrast to her dark skin. He’s almost too distracted to hear her talking. 

 

“Jayce Talis,” her heels clack as she makes her way to his bedside, extending a hand. “Mel Medarda,” she introduces herself. 

 

Jayce dumbly shakes her hand, mind blank until it’s suddenly not. 

 

Medarda. She was the CEO of Piltover—his boss’s boss’s boss.

 

“M-Miss Medarda…” he stammers, sitting up straighter in his hospital bed. 

 

“Just Mel is fine. I take it you’ve seen the news?” She glances at the television, now showing pictures of people infected with Shimmer. 

 

His mouth is left agape, like a fish. She surely wasn’t implying…

 

“It wasn’t me!” He manages to say, eyebrows knit in betrayal, holding a hand to his chest. 

 

She gives him a look. “Are you not an oncologist, your research specializing in reverse-engineering malignant cells in search of a cure for cancer?”

 

“Y-yes, but—“

 

She points to the television, which is conveniently showing photos of the tumorous purple masses found on the infected. 

 

“You can’t seriously be implying—!”

 

“Was your lab also not compromised four days ago, your research missing?”

 

Jayce runs his hands down his face in frustration, letting out a groan. “I didn’t do it, Mel.”

 

She hums, her hand brushing past Jayce’s thigh as she grabs the remote to shut off the television. “And yet, all signs point to your work being involved. Under international law, I’m required to turn you in.”

 

And it’s as if Jayce’s world crumbles around him. The room blurs, the quiet beeping of his heart rate monitor fading into nothingness. 

 

His mind grasps for something, anything, that could save him—get him out of this situation. This was his life’s work, his passion, and it was all about to be ripped out from under him because of a false accusation—

 

“I can make a cure,” his mouth speaks before his mind can stop it. Mel tilts her head, looking down at him like an amused cat. 

 

“Oh?”

 

“If it really is my research, surely I can make something.” 

 

She considers the proposal, fingers running along cords and cables while deep in thought. 

 

“If you dedicate yourself to a cure, and release said cure under Piltover’s name, I’ll protect you. Give you housing, materials, everything you need.”

 

And it’s Jayce’s only lifeline, the only light in the darkness. 

 

He nods his head. 

 

“Good. Well, let’s head out.”

 

“Head out?” 

 

“The infection is spreading rampantly, with more and more cases of violent symptoms being reported. My mother has provided me refuge in one of her bases for the time being. It would be wise to come along, as a precaution.”

 

And Jayce doesn’t particularly feel like he has a choice, so he once again nods his head. 

Notes:

I said I would put them through the horrors. Said horrors have begun!

I knew from the start Jayce's leg had to go. In the show the only way he was able to keep his leg was with weird magical infections. In real life? That shit is GONE!

Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Also, here's my twitter for anyone interested in following that, thinking of posting updates notifications there! Would also love to make some friends :)

Thanks for reading as always!

Chapter 5: A Gift in Return

Notes:

Content Warnings

Panic attacks
Suicide attempt

Dawn light breaks the sky, a gradient of hues bursting from the horizon behind still-dark clouds. Birds chirp with the rising sun, mocking the exhausted group. 

 

They had holed themselves up in the bar, barricading the building as an extra precaution. Viktor had done what he could with Jayce—given him what little medication they could find in storage, wrapped his leg in gauze. Fever had set in, his entire body burning to the touch. 

 

He still hadn’t opened his eyes. 

 

And yet, Viktor stays perched beside him, watching the slow rise of his chest. He feels he’ll lose his mind otherwise. 

 

The screams played over and over again in his head. 

 

“I have to take him back to the base,” Viktor says out loud, gripping his crutch tighter in his lap. “We can’t find research like this. I need him.”

 

Caitlyn stares down at them from the booth, leaning forward onto her knees from the seat. Her face is hardened, but her eyes reveal her true emotions. 

 

Sadness. Regret. 

 

Vi’s leaning against a support pole, arms crossed. She scoffs when Viktor mentions research. “What do you mean ‘research?’ Newsflash buddy,” she swings her hands out, “the world has gone to shit.”

 

“We’re trying to make a cure,” Viktor shifts his eyes from Jayce’s chest to his face. After a moment he huffs, the words reminding him of the night they met. 

 

“What are you, scientists?” She asks incredulously. 

 

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

 

“And what, you just have all the materials you need at your disposal to make a cure?”

 

“Working with the military has some benefits.”

 

“The military?” Vi’s fingers clench into fists. “Wonderful,” the sarcasm painfully evident in her voice. Caitlyn flinches subtly. 

 

Then Vi bounces off the pole, walking towards them, sitting crossed-legged across from Viktor on the floor. She stares down at the wooden paneling, hands running along the grain in thought. 

 

After a pause, she looks up. “Do you know Zaun Co.?” She blurts out. 

 

Viktor feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. His eyes snap up from Jayce’s body, locking with Vi’s, a mixture of worry and fear on his face. 

 

“It’s just that…” she runs a hand through her hair. “I’m looking for my sister. I… I think she worked there. And I’ve tried going there myself but there’s so many infected and the building is completely destroyed and… I just need a new lead. Since you’re a scientist I thought…” she trails off. 

 

Viktor’s mind eases a bit. He begins carefully, “I worked there before the outbreak—“

 

“Really?!” Vi’s eyes light up as she leans forward. “Her name is Powder, short hair, sweetest kid ever. Must’ve been around eighteen while she was there,” she’s out of breath, staring at Viktor with all the hope in the world. 

 

He thinks back to his time there, remembering coworkers and colleagues, and draws up a blank. “I’m sorry, I do not recall…”

 

Vi’s face drops, posture deflating. “Right. Of course, sorry.”

 

Viktor stares back down at Jayce, mind deep in thought. 

 

The virus was made in Zaun. If any research was going to help them, it’d be the research that was there. He couldn’t risk going to Zaun himself lest Silco or Singed was still alive, but perhaps if someone were to go in his stead…

 

“They have a second building,” Viktor says. Vi immediately leans forward once again, eyes locked with his. “I only remember the general location but… you may find something there.”

 

She smiles wide, pushing herself off the floor and onto her feet. “Come on, then, what are we waiting for?”

 

“I cannot come. I need to bring Jayce back,” subconsciously he brings his hand to Jayce’s, pinky finger brushing against his. “However, I can tell you where it is.”

 

She looks at him impatiently, hands gesturing for him to continue talking. 

 

“But only if you agree to bring back research—whatever you can find. Please,” he begs. 

 

Vi startles a bit at the request, looking uncertain all of a sudden. 

 

“I’ll go with her,” Caitlyn says, standing up from her seat. Viktor and Vi both stare at her in subtle shock. “Vi, you saved me, us, tonight. It’s the least I can do to repay you. And I’ll make sure to get that research for you as well, Viktor. Just…” she glances down to Jayce’s body. “Take him back. Take care of him, please.” She looks as if she’s on the verge of tears, it’s the first time Viktor’s seen her this way. 

 

“Of course,” it comes out as a whisper. Then, more determined: “I won’t leave his side.”

 

She sighs a breath of relief at the words, wiping a hand across her face and pulling herself together. “Well then, I’ll get the horses.”

 

---

 

The ride back to the base had been much quicker than the ride from—ignoring all stops and gunning it. Galloping hooves pound against the dirt floor as Viktor follows familiar paths back. Jayce was in front of him this time, his back to Viktor’s chest, held firmly together by the rope tied around their waists. Furthermore, Viktor hugs Jayce’s chest tightly as he controls the reins. 

 

He refused to let the unconscious man fall, much less fall alone. It’d be either them both or nothing. 

 

Rain pours down on them as they approach the base, Viktor slowing Blitz with a tug of his reins as he approaches the gates. 

 

“He’s hurt, I need help,” Viktor shouts over the downpour at the two guards. It was Steb and Loris, they had become acquainted from his and Jayce’s frequent scavenges. 

 

The guards exchange worried glances before rushing to open the gates. 

 

Loris helps untie and bring Jayce down, while Steb pulls out an infection scanner. Viktor’s instinct is to swat the device away—to rush Jayce to the infirmary for proper care. Instead, he grits his teeth as the metal is pressed to his neck. They do the same for Jayce, held limp in Loris’s arms. 

 

“What happened out there, lad? Where’s Caitlyn?” Loris asks as the scanners work. 

 

“She’s fine. We…” Viktor’s eye twitches at the horrid memories flooding his brain, screams bouncing off the walls. Luckily, the beeping of the scanner interrupts. 

 

They’re both negative. Viktor is already moving, grabbing the bags off of Blitz’s back before shoving the reins toward Steb. 

 

“Store him, please. Loris, take him to the infirmary.”

 

Loris quickly hoists Jayce into a bridal carry, and with that they’re off, Viktor following behind as fast as his crutch can take him. From behind Loris’s back, Viktor sees Jayce’s head peek out from the side. 

 

He looks so cold. 

 

“Jayce?”

 

Both Viktor and Loris freeze at the voice, the indistinguishable sound of heels clicking towards them. 

 

Mel Medarda stands in front of Jayce, breath quickening, eyes flickering rapidly across his body until she sees it. The missing leg. 

 

Her face shifts from fear to distress. “How could you let this happen?” She pleads.

 

The question throws Viktor off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “How could I let this happen? I saved his life,” he attempts to keep his voice level while speaking to the General, but anger burns beneath his skin. 

 

“It looks to me you’ve removed his limb.”  

 

“You’re mistaken, the group of cannibals who kidnapped us in the middle of the night were the ones who did that,” both Mel and Loris stiffen, “but you’re clearly more concerned with the fact that I saved him.”

 

“I can’t have him come into any harm,” her voice begins to raise, laced with desperation. 

 

“What, are you afraid you’ll lose your precious chance at a cure?” Viktor says tauntingly, jokingly, but Mel hesitates. Rain pours down on them all as Viktor watches Mel with wide, waiting eyes.

 

The silence speaks volumes. 

 

“Is that all you see him as? Another tool at your disposal?” He speaks in disbelief, mouth ajar. 

 

“Of course not! ” She digs her nails into her elbows. “Jayce is a brilliant man, one whose talents and discoveries will no doubt change the world—”

 

“And yet it seems you value his abilities as a scientist more than you value him as a person.” Viktor stares at her in dismay, hand tightening around the handle of his crutch in anger. “He is more than you will ever see him to be, General Medarda. Excuse us,” Viktor places a hand on Loris’s back, signaling him to continue walking. 

 

Mel watches with sorrow in her eyes as they head towards the infirmary, leaving her behind on the empty street, golden makeup smearing in the rainfall. 

 

They’re greeted by a shocked Sky as they walk in, Viktor immediately being bombarded with medical questions as Jayce is placed gently atop a cot. 

 

Amputated via axe. Fractured bones, blood loss, cauterization. Given antibiotics, painkillers, and fever reducers. Viktor feels himself dissociate further with each word spoken—Jayce’s screams a distant ring in his ears. 

 

“He needs a blood transfusion,” Sky says, already pulling out an IV from the cupboard. Viktor is about to offer his blood, opens his mouth to do so—but then the sudden reminder of his infections stops him.   

 

His fingers and ankle itch deep underneath the skin. Viktor had no idea what the effects would be if he were to give his blood. Sure, Viktor had some sort of immunity to the virus, but what if that immunity didn’t transfer? Would Jayce get infected?

 

Viktor feels himself tremble, clenching his crutch with both of his hands in an attempt to still them. 

 

Sky moves with purpose, administering tests with precision as Viktor watches with unfocused eyes. Then, she pulls a chair beside Jayce’s cot, sitting down with the IV in her hand. 

 

“Miss Young…?” Viktor questions. 

 

“Our blood is compatible, I’m relatively healthy, and I’m forced to stay here all night regardless. There’s no reason not to do this,” she responds, already poking the IV into Jayce’s wrist. 

 

Viktor feels himself almost tear up at the gesture, watching as she inserts the other end of the IV into her own vein. “Thank you, Miss Young," he exhales in relief. 

 

“Of course, Viktor,” she gives him a soft smile as she gets comfortable in the chair. 

 

Viktor then turns to look at Loris, who has been watching silently the entire time. “I need your help with something.”

 

---

 

Viktor searches through the cluttered storage room, digging through boxes and boxes of discarded material. Loris watches by the door, idly twirling the keys around his finger. Viktor hadn’t even needed to convince the man, he had wordlessly unlocked the room upon arrival. 

 

Viktor takes only a moment to appreciate the humanity left in the world before he goes diving for scrap. 

 

He spends his time searching, bending and hitting materials to test their strength. After about an hour of looking, he’s gathered a plethora of metal, wood, plastic, fabric—anything that he could potentially use. 

 

Loris helps carry everything to the lab, scattering the materials across the large table. With everything in place, they head back to the infirmary. 

 

By the time they arrive, the blood transfusion had already finished. Viktor takes a deep breath before he asks: “Can you two help me bring him to the lab?”

 

The two accept, but only after Viktor grants Sky’s wishes for a checkup every day. The two of them carry the cot with relative ease, gently placing the makeshift bed next to the table side. 

 

And after hours of running around, Jayce and Viktor are finally alone in the confines of their lab. Rain pitter-patters outside, soft moonlight glowing through the window. 

 

Viktor drags his exhausted body to his chair beside Jayce, sitting down, shoulders sagging with the overwhelming weight of guilt. 

 

Jayce had only been caught because of him. He’d never be able to walk the same ever again. 

 

Broken forever, like me.  

 

And for the first time since the incident, Viktor lets himself cry. He rests his head atop his arms beside Jayce’s limp body, tears streaking down his face as he stares at the slow rise of his chest. 

 

He falls asleep within minutes. 

 

---

 

While waiting for Caitlyn and Vi to come back, Viktor dedicated almost all his time towards making a prosthetic. 

 

He made a base using cup-shaped metal padded with fabric and foam on the inside of the socket, trying to cushion the point of contact as much as possible. The base would then attach to the limb via buckles at the knee. Then, the actual prosthetic could be attached to the base—a hook-shaped blade made of durable yet springy metal, providing a more realistic and comfortable walking experience. 

 

At least in theory. 

 

It had been two days and Jayce hadn’t woken up. Viktor had gently changed his dirty clothes out for clean ones, had given him water with Sky’s help, and had finished making the prosthetic. Mel had even come in for a tense moment to see Jayce’s condition and to ask about Caitlyn. 

 

And yet, Jayce sleeps. 

 

Viktor’s throat spasms into a cough, knocking the air out of him. He doubles over in his chair, hacking into a closed fist as the now-familiar taste of blood stains the back of his throat. After a moment, the fit subsides. Viktor slowly lifts his head, eyes level with Jayce’s body. 

 

A stubble beard had formed on his face, and Viktor idly wonders how often he had to shave to avoid the beard. It’s a shame, it suits him. His hair had grown longer as well over the week or so they’d been gone. Strands drape over his forehead, messy and unkempt. Viktor brings a hand up to push the hair aside, out of his face. The locks are soft between his fingers. 

 

With a sigh, Viktor rests his head on Jayce’s cot yet again. His back hurts at the curled position, but the proximity is the only thing that grants Viktor sleep. 

 

And so, Viktor dozes off to the sound of Jayce’s steady breaths for the third night in a row. 

 

Viktor doesn’t dream of much, usually. He prefers the plainness of nothing rather than the possibility of a nightmare, anyway. But tonight, he’s blessed with a kind dream. 

 

A dream of a small log cabin, surrounded by greenery and nature. Warmth as he lies on the couch, a strong arm wrapped around his waist from behind. A hand runs through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. Viktor melts into the touch, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. It felt so real, each scratch sending tingles down his neck, causing him to melt further and further. 

 

Then, a brush of a thumb at his cheekbone. 

 

Viktor gently opens his eyes at the touch and is greeted by Jayce staring down at him, a thumb resting on Viktor’s cheek. He looks solemn, pupils dilating softly. 

 

“Is this real?” His voice is rough, quiet and raspy. Viktor’s heart pangs beneath the overwhelming relief. 

 

“Jayce,” Viktor slowly sits up in his chair. “It’s real. We’re safe, back in the lab at the base.” 

 

Jayce’s eyes slowly drift across the room, as to almost confirm. 

 

He then stares down at his legs. 

 

He wiggles his right foot, watching the limb move. He then does the same to his left—feeling the weight of the movement so vividly in his mind. 

 

And yet there’s no foot. Pain shoots through his nerves like static—fuzzy and sharp, rapidly fading and stabbing all at once. 

 

His face is blank as he stares down, fingers clenched into fists as the cogs turn in his head, trying desperately to piece together the trauma his brain has buried deep into his subconscious. 

 

The cold metal of the medical table. The fire’s flickering light on the walls. Cruel hands forcing him down. Viktor’s pleas and sobs. 

 

Jayce pushes himself up to a sitting position, overwhelmed. Hands fly to his left pants leg, pulling up the fabric desperately. 

 

The stump lies there on the cot, wrapped in gauze. 

 

His eyes are empty. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Jayce,” Viktor says, voice wobbling slightly. Jayce turns to look at him, a small, sad smile on his face. 

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t your fault.” And Viktor feels another wave of guilt crash into him, shrinking slightly into his seat. Jayce shakes his head, “it wasn’t, Viktor. You can’t blame yourself for the actions of lunatics.” 

 

Viktor suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, the conversation too much for him. He makes his way over to the table instead, gathering the prosthetic. Jayce watches curiously as he brings the device over. 

 

“I made you a foot,” he changes the topic, placing the prosthetic into Jayce’s waiting hands. He turns the metal over, inspecting it carefully. “I know it’ll never be the same,” Viktor’s voice tapers off, taking a moment to collect himself. “But… I hope it can at least help.”

 

Jayce runs his thumb back and forth across the metal, a spark returning to his eyes when he lifts his gaze back up. “Viktor…”

 

And then the prosthetic is placed aside, Jayce’s hands flying up to pull Viktor into a tight hug. The touch startles Viktor at first, but quickly he melts into his arms, the all-encompassing warmth. Jayce buries his face deep into the crook of Viktor’s neck, eyes shut tight, clinging on as if to merge their bodies into one. And what can Viktor do but cradle him back? Hold him close, let him know he’s not alone?

 

“Thank you,” Jayce whispers into their embrace, stubble prickling Viktor’s collarbone as he talks. Viktor rubs Jayce’s back, unable to respond. 

 

They stay like that for a long moment, in comfortable silence. And although they’re broken little things, at least they have one another to hold the pieces together. 

 

Jayce’s hands slowly drop, pulling away with a deep inhale. “Thank you,” he repeats, looking visibly better than he did minutes prior. 

 

“Of course,” Viktor says, mind focused on Jayce’s heat leaving his skin with each passing moment. “Your wound still has to heal properly before you can use the prosthetic, but until then we have a wheelchair you can use.”

 

Jayce nods, shifting so he’s sitting at the edge of the bed. “Where’s Caitlyn? And Vi?”

 

Viktor sits back down, sighing as he explains. “Vi’s looking for her sister who used to work at Zaun. I… coincidentally had also worked there and pointed her in the right direction. Caitlyn decided to join her. They’ll be back soon, hopefully with some research for us.”

 

“I didn’t know you used to work there. Do you think the research will help?” He asks, reaching for the bottle of water and painkillers by the bedside.

 

“Yes,” Viktor says, infections itching under his skin. Memories of Singed, Rio, and the undead resurface, fear lacing his veins. “It will,” he almost whispers. 

 

Jayce hums, unnoticing his partner’s distress. 

 

“What did you research? At Piltover?” The question leaves Viktor’s mouth before he can stop himself. He never found out the answer, the initials of his partner still haunting the back of his mind. 

 

Jayce’s answer could change everything. 

 

He startles at the question, eyes widening in slight fear. Memories of his own resurfacing, of Mel Medarda interrogating him on a hospital bed on outbreak day. 

 

“I didn’t do it,” the phrase slips out of Jayce on instinct. The only other person who had questioned him had insisted that he was responsible. Almost gaslighting him into believing it himself. 

 

He needed Viktor to believe him. 

 

Viktor watches him carefully, face unmoving. “I was trying to make a universal cure for cancer. My mother passed away when I was a kid from sarcoma and… that’s it. That’s all I was researching. This was hers, she used it to tie her hair up,” he explains, thumb tracing over the ribbon bracelet on his wrist. 

 

“Then one day, my research was stolen and my lab was bombed. Remember the gaping hole in the side of the building? The one I tried to kill myself from?” He huffs out a sad, weak laugh, gaze falling to his lap. “The media wrongfully connected the explosion to be the source of the leak since the events were so close together, and then Mel essentially blackmailed me into creating a cure, and I just—“

 

“Jayce…” Viktor interrupts his panicked rambling, voice soft, gently resting his hands atop of Jayce’s to catch his attention. Jayce’s head lifts to meet Viktor’s eyes, irises flickering rapidly across his partner’s face, desperately trying to read him. 

 

“I believe you,” his voice is kind, warm. 

 

And the tension melts from Jayce’s shoulders immediately—physically deflating from relief. “Thank you,” he whispers, eyes slipping shut. 

 

Viktor, internally, is distraught. Stolen research? Explosions? Jinx immediately comes to mind. That must be how his research ended up in Zaun. 

 

Singed’s words echo in his mind: “Our job is to make a chemical to oppose this one.” 

 

The chemical they were opposing… was it Jayce’s work?

 

A full-body shiver courses through Viktor, he snatches his hands away from Jayce to bring them close to his chest—a futile attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart. 

 

Zaun had made a cancerous, parasitic virus, using Jayce’s research as a starting point. 

 

And Viktor had helped. Viktor had helped. 

 

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice drips with worry. 

 

Viktor doesn’t respond, mind racing so fast his vision blurs. All he can hear is the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. 

 

“Viktor, you’re bleeding!” He sounds panicked now. Viktor can’t bring himself to move, his entire body feeling faint, but the unmistakable taste of blood seeps through his lips. 

 

A moment later, Jayce carefully cups Viktor’s cheek in his hand. “Viktor?” He asks again, eyes frantic and concerned. The touch grounds Viktor slightly, eyes finally refocusing to stare back at Jayce. 

 

“Jayce…” Viktor says weakly, voice wobbling and quiet. Jayce brings his sleeve to Viktor’s nose, wiping away the blood that drips down. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

And a lump forms in Viktor’s throat, tears threatening to spill at the question. 

 

Well Jayce, I had a hand in the creation of the virus that destroyed the world. In addition, not only am I immune, but I’ve been bleeding out of my nose and coughing up blood ever since that second bite mark. So, you know, living the life!

 

People would kill him if they knew. He swallows the lump down, forcing himself to speak. “I’m fine.”

 

Jayce frowns, staring at the blood-smeared skin of his upper lip, eyebrows knit in worry. 

 

---

 

When Viktor puts the pieces together—finds out where the virus truly came from—he immediately leaves to go to Zaun. 

 

Death threats be damned, he was infected with a highly fatal virus. They must have some sort of cure in the works.

 

Besides, they couldn’t kill him if he successfully snuck in.

 

The walk to the lab isn’t too far, the orange light of the sunset bouncing off building windows. The streets are jammed with long rows of cars, horns honking, the smell of gas abundant. People walk down sidewalks carrying bags upon bags of supplies, whispers of the virus spoken between one another. 

 

Viktor shoves his infected hand into his pocket as he walks, fingers twitching. In the far distance, he hears what sounds like fireworks. He walks faster, cane clicking against the pavement.

 

He can see Zaun Co. in the far distance, the tall building about four hundred meters in front of him. All he had to do was use the backdoor, sneak into the lab, and see what he could find. His fingers trace the key in his pocket, lost in thought as a small group of people rush past him.

 

The strangers in the streets, originally speaking in hushed tones, begin to raise their voices. The commotion quickly turns from confusion to panic as a piercing scream is heard nearby.

 

Viktor stops walking at the sound, eyes scanning the area as his heart rate elevates. People begin running past him, shouting at others to do the same. Drivers start leaving their cars, abandoning them in traffic, as more screams fill the air. Viktor quickly hides behind a lamppost to avoid the stampede—clutching his cane tighter as he tries to figure out what is going on. 

 

As the crowd clears slightly, Viktor spots a woman leaving the alleyway beside Zaun. She, too, was attempting to run, but trips face-first into the pavement. Viktor winces at the sight, about to look away.

 

But then, the air shakes with what can only be described as a roar. 

 

Color drains from Viktor’s face as a giant creature, around eight feet tall, emerges from the alley. The build of the creature is inhuman—huge muscles bursting from its entire body, frame incredibly wide. 

 

Covered in purple skin and tumorous growths.

 

Like a predator hunting wounded prey, its eyes lock onto the woman on the floor. 

 

In a blink, it towers over the body—the woman hysterically bawling as she tries clawing away.

 

A moment later, her head gets ripped off in one clean bite. Blood sprays the pavement, sprays the people running away, as the creature feasts on the body.

 

Viktor watches in horror, heart pounding, beating so fast he feels faint. Sweat drips down his skin, entering a full-body tremble as he desperately attempts to process what he just saw.

 

That thing… it was infected.

 

Suddenly, an ear-piercing boom shakes the earth. Viktor’s hands fly up to his ears, cane clattering to the floor, as a wave of heat washes over him. With wide eyes he stares at the Zaun Co. building, currently crumbling down onto itself from the explosion. The monster in front of the building gets flung into the streets, screams of terror filling the air.

 

Viktor runs.

 

He picks up his cane and guns it, heading back to the motel. There are so many people around, running and screaming. More fireworks—or perhaps gunshots—fire from close by. He then notices people acting strange in the crowd. Not running and screaming, but chasing and groaning. 

 

Then he sees the purple of their skin, too.

 

The fear intensifies twice-fold, Viktor now wary of the strangers surrounding him, watching them with wild eyes. 

 

Someone drops in front of Viktor, a gun falling out of their hands and skidding across the pavement. They scream as an infected person bites down on their neck—blood splattering across Vitkor’s face. He shakes as he bends down, picking up the pistol with his infected hand.

 

The person in front of him stares with dead eyes. They’re already gone.

 

Viktor holds the pistol and his cane with a death grip. His only lifelines. His bad leg aches unbearably as he forces himself to move.

 

Ignore the screams. The blood. The gunshots. Just move.

 

He slams the door of his motel room shut, leaning against the wood with desperate breaths. He slides down, collapsing to the floor, cane falling beside him as he clings to the gun.

 

His mind races wildly, desperately trying to process what he just witnessed. Zaun is gone. The infected are turning into monsters. 

 

He stares down at the pistol in his lap, hand trembling violently. He was going to turn into one of those things. He was going to die, turning into some mindless monster, ravenous for human flesh.

 

He can’t. He won’t.

 

He lifts the gun, placing the muzzle to his forehead. The metal is cold, indenting his skin from the pressure.

 

All he can hear is his heartbeat, rapidly thumping in his eardrums. He brings his thumbs to the trigger.

 

It was going to be okay. It’d be over soon.

 

Deep breath in… deep breath out.

 

Deep breath in…

 

Click.

 

Viktor chokes out a gasp—the gun falling out of his hands. 

 

Empty.

 

He grabs the gun and chucks it to the opposite side of the room—thudding against the wall before it disappears behind the bed.

 

Tears fall down his cheeks, sobbing as he curls in on himself. He laces his fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands, desperately trying to ground himself. 

 

He would stay there, curled up on the ground for days, before realizing the special circumstances of his infection.

Notes:

Early chapter for you guys :)

Lots of story in this one. I want to preface this by saying I love Mel in the show, and I do believe she did actually did fall in love with Jayce. In the circumstances of this fic though, there is not only a power imbalance between them, but I think she would also prioritize the cure over Jayce himself. This'd lead to a borderline manipulative relationship where Mel tries to keep Jayce happy enough to make the cure while Jayce feels like he has no choice—especially because Jayce believes he has nothing to do with the virus. I hope I wrote her in a way that doesn't paint her as a complete asshole, I just genuinely think she would prioritize the possible well-being of the world. She gets better, I promise.

If anyone is confused about the cancer stuff, I wanted to write this as realistically as possible while still being connected to the show. In the show, the shimmer addicts that Viktor heals (ex. Huck) do have very visible tumors and also purple veins/skin. In addition, Viktor's disease in the show is almost certainly some sort of lung cancer.

Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments if you have any! Kudos are also very much appreciated, and you can subscribe if you want email notifications for new chapters. Also, here's my twitter where I'll be posting chapter updates and wips. See you in a couple weeks!

Chapter 6: Confessions

Notes:

Content Warnings (spoilers)

Smut (frottage, body worship, oral)
Implied self harm
Kidnapping

Pen scratches against paper, rough, fingers tightening around the grip enough to hurt. Viktor stares down at the scribbles of blue, blinking to refocus his drooping eyes. 

 

Was it… like this? No, no that wouldn’t work. Why can’t I remember? Why? Why?

 

The page tears—Viktor’s hand stilling at the noise. Diagrams upon diagrams of chemical compounds fill the sheets, now adorned with a gash across the lower right-hand corner. 

 

Viktor shoves the paper off the table, the page fluttering down to join dozens more on the floor. His glove, although black, has been stained with a noticeable deep blue from the ink.  

 

It’s been days since Jayce woke up and Viktor can’t sleep. Can’t stop to think lest he spirals further. So he distracts himself by trying to recreate his work from all those years ago. Vi and Caitlyn were taking too long, they need something now. 

 

Viktor is the key, he just has to notch the ridges and push the pins until it clicks. 

 

He thumps a fist against his forehead, tired eyelids flickering up on command. He could probably get one more page done, hide his work, and wash his face before Jayce came in. 

 

Jayce. Viktor’s heart aches at the mere thought of the man. With each night spent alone in the lab, with every hidden splatter of blood, a weight grows in his chest. But how was Viktor supposed to tell him? His partner for all these years, fighting hand in hand to make a cure, was involved in the creation of the virus?

 

He couldn’t. 

 

Viktor grabs another sheet of paper, forcing trembling fingers to grip the pen. The familiar scratching noise fills the air, Viktor’s thoughts quieting ever so slightly. 

 

Then the coughing starts. 

 

The pen clatters out of his hand, rolling off the edge of the table as Viktor doubles over. It was an almost familiar routine now, and yet he couldn’t get used to the feeling. The desperate breath of air in between coughs, the way his entire torso heaves with each push, the metallic red staining his mouth. 

 

Viktor pushes himself up and out of his chair, the stool toppling to the floor, fists clenched on the edge of the table as he hacks. His eyebrows crease deeper at the prolonged fit—head light from the lack of oxygen. 

 

Through tear-blurred eyes, he sees a splatter of red against his work. He stares down at the blood, fixated on the tiny crimson droplets stark against the white paper. 

 

Then he finds his eyes drifting—rolling up and into the back of his head. He falls, unresponsive, body slamming into the cold metal table. The dead weight drags him down slowly, slowly slipping off the edge, until his body slams to the floor—nestled atop his research. 

 

---

 

Jayce walks to the lab, balancing three portions of rations in his left hand while his right holds his cane. It was actually Viktor’s old cane, wooden and worn, but perfect for Jayce to get used to his prosthetic with.

 

The phantom pain was still there, albeit much less than when he first awoke. The stump was tender despite the padding of the prosthetic—a constant hum of pain in the background. There was only so much you could do with a makeshift medical device. 

 

Despite this, Jayce was relieved. He and Viktor had gotten out alive—in his mind, his leg was a small price to pay. 

 

Plus, they matched now—Jayce finding the time to tap his prosthetic against Viktor’s leg brace at least a few times a day. The small smile on Viktor’s face after every tap was addictingly contagious. 

 

He listens to the click of the cane echoing through the empty hall to the lab, deep in thought. 

 

Viktor had been… hurting, recently. Far too often does Jayce catch a glimpse of a bloodied tissue, or a painfully repressed cough, or even an outright nosebleed. His eyes are sunken in, eyebags a deeper purple than usual. And although Viktor insists he’s getting enough sleep, Jayce hasn’t seen him step foot out of the lab. 

 

But with every attempt to ask, Viktor would dismiss him, close in on himself further. 

 

And Jayce isn’t one to push, but with each sighting of red his chest caves in further—heart tightening. 

 

It hurt. Bad. 

 

And so Jayce begged the ration handlers to give him an extra portion today, showed them his leg to make them feel guilty. It had worked, thankfully. Protein was good for blood loss, and Jayce wanted to help in any way possible. 

 

He reaches the lab door, pushing it open with a gentle click. 

 

“Hey V, guess what I-“

 

The rations clatter to the floor. 

 

Jayce stumbles forward, throwing himself to the ground beside Viktor. Viktor, who is lying limp on the floor like roadkill. Viktor, whose mouth and chin are smeared with blood. Viktor, limbs spread across dozens of pages—hundreds of crudely drawn diagrams. 

 

“Viktor, Viktor,” Jayce pleads like a broken record, hands shaking as he sits Viktor up and against the base of the table. 

 

And Viktor’s tired eyes crack open slowly, deep honey meeting hazel. 

 

He takes a moment to process—eyes drifting from Jayce to the pages on the floor. The blood is sticky on his face. 

 

“I’m fine…” he begins to say, already moving to get up, but Jayce grabs onto his hands. 

 

“You’re not fine,” his voice breaks. “You haven’t been fine for weeks, Viktor. You can’t ignore it,” tears drip off of Jayce’s chin. “I care about you so, so much. And I’m terrified of losing you.”

 

“J-Jayce, I can’t…“

 

“Why?” He begs. 

 

A pause. Viktor’s lip trembles as he breaks eye contact.

 

“Because I fear you’ll hate me,” he whispers, a confession. A stray tear falls down his cheek. 

 

A hand immediately moves to wipe away the tear, cradling his cheek softly. At the touch, Viktor turns back to look at Jayce. 

 

Jayce, whose expression is a mix of shock and sadness. 

 

“Never. I could never hate you, Viktor,” he says, thumb moving back and forth along his cheekbone. And Viktor melts into the touch, eyes closing shut as his mind runs wild. 

 

He was so… so tired. 

 

Wordlessly, Viktor lifts his gloved right hand. Jayce’s gaze falls to the glove, confused. 

 

“Take it off,” Viktor whispers, voice low and broken. 

 

After a moment, Jayce brings his hands to the hem of the glove, slowly peeling it off. Purple fingers twitch as the cool air hits them. 

 

Jayce’s heart drops, eyes frantic, flickering between Viktor’s hand and face. Dread seeps through his entire being. He opens his mouth to speak, but Viktor cuts him off. 

 

“I got this bite mark one week before the apocalypse. We started a new project at Zaun, which would later become classified to me. Then, I got bit by an illegal test subject I attempted to save. My hand’s looked like this ever since that day, and yet I haven’t turned.”

 

“You got this… a week before the outbreak?”

 

 

Viktor nods his head, heart pounding in his chest. “Jayce… your research was at Zaun.”

 

His eyes go wide, eyebrows knit in confusion. “What…?”

 

“It’s how I found you. You signed your research with your initials, then the news said the outbreak came from Piltover.”

 

Jayce sits on his haunches, processing the information. Viktor inhales a deep breath, unbuckling his leg brace with deft fingers. The device slides off, clanking to the concrete floor. He rolls up his pants leg to his knee, then reaches down to his sock. 

 

With a tug, he reveals the second bite mark—a splotch of purple hues at his ankle. Jayce looks between the bite and Viktor’s face with wide, worried eyes. 

 

“I got this one a few weeks ago, from the highway incident. Ever since then my… disease… has been worse,” his voice lifts at the end as more tears begin to fall. “I don’t know what I’m sick with, but whatever it is, it started after the bite marks. Maybe I’m not immune, I’m only resistant, and I’m going to turn—” 

 

“Viktor, stop, it’s going to be alright—“ Jayce starts, reaching a hand to his for comfort. 

 

“Don’t you get it?! The blood is on my hands, Jayce!” He sobs, flinching away from his hand. Jayce pulls away as if he’s been burned. “I helped make the virus! Millions, billions of innocent lives gone! And now, I’m going to die before I get the chance to make a cure, before I can right my wrongs” He cries, nails digging into his forearms. “How can you even stand to look at me?” He asks, quieter.

 

Jayce stares at him, sorrowful and solemn. “You didn’t ask for this.”

 

“What?”

 

“You were just doing as you were told, if you knew this would be the outcome you wouldn’t have done it. You said my research was in the lab, too. I’m just as involved in this as you are,” his hands finally reach back out, grip strong around Viktor’s hands. The touch grounds the two. “You said your disease started after the bites, so theoretically it can be cured with the Shimmer cure. We’re the two most well-suited scientists for this, we’re going to figure this out together, Viktor.”

 

Viktor stares back at him, afraid. “I need you to promise me something.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“If my disease becomes grievous, or if I end up turning, you have to kill me.”

 

“It won’t come to that point,” he stares into Viktor’s eyes with steadfast determination.

 

“Promise me,” he pleads. 

 

Jayce’s eyes slip shut, the mere thought of hurting Viktor too much to bear. But he can’t deny him this. “I promise,” he says. And in his mind, it’s not a promise to put Viktor out of his misery. It’s a promise to save him, no matter the cost.

 

Viktor finally feels like he can breathe. Jayce’s hands are so warm against his own. Slowly they help each other up, settling into their lab chairs. Using a discarded bottle of water, Jayce begins to wipe the dried blood from Viktor’s mouth.

 

“Have you ever… examined the bite marks?” 

 

“Not properly. I just…” he trails off, eyes losing focus. Silence stretches between the two.

 

Subconsciously, Viktor knows why he hasn’t examined them. Hasn’t experimented on them. Any operation to utilize his dormant infection would kill him. And oh, how he has craved death. But he can’t make a cure if he’s dead. And he hasn’t trusted anyone enough to reveal his immunity to. Until now.

 

Viktor tries his best not to think about it.

 

“May I?” Jayce breaks the still quiet.

 

Viktor freely extends his hand, Jayce gently cradling it between his own. He runs his thumbs across the purple skin, webbed and dry to the touch. 

 

He’s very quiet, eyes tracing the faint veins seen through the skin. Then, he suddenly retracts. “It won’t help with our research.”

 

And despite being a virologist, despite knowing how much it could help, the lie eases Viktor’s mind. “Okay,” he whispers, a strange sense of relief flooding his body.  

 

Then, the door to the lab opens. 

 

Viktor startles hard—scrambling to turn his back to the door and hide his exposed hand. As Jayce gets up from his seat, Viktor shoves his furled pants leg down. 

 

“Mel?” Jayce questions, moving in front of Viktor to hide the man. 

 

Mel’s eyes sweep over the disarrayed lab—ration boxes on the floor, paper scattered everywhere. After a moment, “Can I speak with you, Jayce?”

 

Jayce throws a look back to Viktor, the two exchanging a quick glance. With his resolve steadied, he turns around and exits the lab with Mel, the door clicking shut behind them. 

 

Mel goes to walk further, presumably to their shared room for more privacy, but Jayce stills. “Whatever you need to say, say it here,” he says, standing outside the door to the lab. The halls were empty on this side of the building, anyway. 

 

She looks him up and down before turning back, the two facing each other in the eerie silence. 

 

Before the incident, Jayce would’ve been nervous facing Mel alone like this. She was a smart, competent, natural-born leader with the intent of curing the world from Shimmer no matter the cost. Providing materials, housing, protection, and desperately needed physical touch to the only scientist she believes is capable of doing so.

 

After he’d recovered from the incident and gone back to their shared apartment, Mel was… distant. Quiet. Almost avoidant. Something had changed. 

 

Now, as Jayce shifts his weight to his good leg, he doesn’t feel scared. He’s been following Mel’s orders blindly for so long, afraid of the consequences of failure, that this past week of distance has helped his mind clear.  

 

Mel hugs her shoulders, staring at Jayce with an unreadable expression. 

 

“I want to apologize,” she says. Jayce knits his brows, the words completely unexpected. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve been treating you unfairly, abusing my position as a CEO and then as General. Putting all that pressure on your shoulders, making you feel like you had no choice…” her nails dig into her skin. “Jayce, you are a brilliant man. Although I do believe you’re on the brink of a cure, cure or not, you will always have a safe place in these walls, no catch.”

 

Jayce blinks. “Mel, I…”

 

“This means putting an end to our relationship. It is for the best,” she finishes, eyes looking up into his. 

 

“Okay,” he nods, convincing himself of the reality of the situation. “Thank you,” he says, quieter. 

 

She gives a small smile, “I would still appreciate it if you could make a cure.”

 

“I will,” he says. Not for the good of his own consciousness or for the good of the world, but instead for the man standing behind the lab door—his partner.  

 

She nods, the smile slowly falling from her face. “I know Viktor is immune.”

 

Jayce’s face drops.

 

“The single glove was suspicious enough, and I just confirmed it with my own eyes a moment ago.”

 

“Mel, you can’t tell anyone—“

 

“I won’t. However, I hope you’ll be utilizing his immunity to make the cure?”

 

“No.”

 

Mel cocks her head. “The possible answer to all of your problems is in that room, and you’re not going to use it?”

 

“I won’t. Any procedure done to utilize the immunity would be fatal, Mel. I won’t do it.”

 

She stares at him, silent, face unreadable. 

 

“It’s out of the question,” he raises his voice, taking a step forward to solidify his point. “Viktor and I will find another way.”

 

“Okay,” she says. After a moment, “I trust you. Goodbye, Jayce.”

 

He watches as she turns and leaves, heels clacking as she does so. A moment later, he turns to the lab door and pushes it open. 

 

Viktor is no longer in his chair, but rather leaning against the wall by the door. Quiet tears run down his face. He looks afraid, almost terrified.

 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Jayce immediately goes to his side. 

 

Viktor clenches his fists. “Ever since the outbreak I’ve wanted to die. And now, when my death can finally have purpose, I find myself afraid.”

 

“Viktor…”

 

“I’m a selfish coward. For the first time in my life, I find myself truly wanting to live…” he hangs his head down, hair falling over his face. “Because I cannot bear leaving your side,” it comes out as a whisper, spoken through trembling lips.  

 

Jayce’s heart stutters, mind going blank for a moment. 

 

Then Viktor’s words begin to repeat, playing over and over again in his head. 

 

Viktor, his closest friend, his partner. His equal, his counterpart. The person he admires most in the world. 

 

And Jayce suddenly realizes that Viktor’s words apply to him as well—He can’t bear being apart from him. Ever since that day they met, the day Viktor saved him, their destinies have been intertwined. Two gears, side by side, a perfect fit. Every moment cherished. 

A life without you isn’t a life worth living. I don’t know how I didn't realize it earlier.

 

Jayce brings a hand to Viktor’s chin, gently lifting his face up. Viktor’s anxious eyes slip into something more curious. Pupils meet, dilating slowly as they stare at one another, mere inches apart. “Then stay,” he whispers, and Viktor swears he feels his breath brush across the skin of his lips. “We’ll survive together, side by side,” no matter the cost goes unsaid. 

 

Viktor’s eyes flicker down to Jayce’s lips, framed inside his beard—the beard Jayce decided to keep after Viktor had complimented it. His hair, only an inch or two longer than how he used to keep it, falls over the tips of his ears. Viktor hesitantly brings his hands up, fingers gently tucking the messy strands away. His hands then cup Jayce’s cheeks, the man melting into the touch.

 

His heart almost bursts. 

 

“Is this… okay?” Viktor asks, breathless. 

 

“Please,” Jayce whispers. 

 

And so Viktor pulls Jayce forward and connects them—eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Jayce moves in closer, Viktor bumping into the wall behind him. Their lips are chapped, and yet it’s the softest kiss Viktor’s ever felt in his life. It feels like a dream—but the silky hair between his fingers, the press of Jayce’s broad body against his, and the flicker of a wet tongue are all proof of the contrary. 

 

They separate for a moment, foreheads pressed together, as they catch their breath. “You are love incarnate,” Viktor whispers against his lips. “Every glance, every touch, every word. It’s addicting.”

 

Jayce’s eyes soften, staring into Viktor’s golden ones. “You deserve every ounce,” he pecks Viktor’s lips, “all of it and more.” He moves forward again, properly reconnecting them. This time, their mouths part enough to allow their tongues to meet—soft and wet as they press against one another. Viktor moans into his mouth, hands gripping Jayce’s hair to encourage him further. 

 

Viktor’s entire body was on fire, sensitive skin tingling with every touch. He had seldom been intimate with anyone before, always too focused on his work. Now, he finds himself infatuated, trying to pull Jayce closer and closer. 

 

They part again, a thin line of spit connecting them as they pant—faces hot and flushed. With each passing moment, they slip further into the haze of lust, staring desperately into each other’s soul. 

 

“My apartment. Now.”

 

---

 

They’re a tangle of limbs as they hit the bed, prosthetic and leg brace discarded. Jayce straddles Viktor’s lap as he sits against the headboard. They shift to accommodate each other—legs splayed out comfortably and pillows placed against Viktor’s back—before they’re kissing again. 

 

With their positioning, their crotches are flush with one another, hips rolling and bucking for friction between too many layers of clothes. Despite this, their arousals are evident—Viktor’s cheeks flustered at the hard length pressing against his.  

 

They part, foreheads touching as hands fumble for each other’s garments. Jayce rocks forward, Viktor repressing a whine at the pressure. 

 

“Let me hear you, please,” Jayce begs, their shirts now both discarded to the floor. Pleasure-high hands fumble with their pants buttons, and eventually, the two manage to free themselves.

 

Jayce is immediately on Viktor again, aligning their cocks side by side. Viktor stares down, eyes darkening as he compares their sizes. His cock visibly twitches against Jayce’s.  

 

“Beautiful,” Jayce whispers before he wraps a hand around them both—Viktor gasping at the pressure. And then he starts moving, sliding his hand up and down while grinding forward. 

 

“Fuck, Jayce—“ he moans, hips jerking up uncontrollably. With each glide against Jayce’s cock, each thrust up into Jayce’s tight grip, a hot wave of pleasure courses through him. 

 

Viktor throws his head to the side, moaning softly with each tug. Jayce takes the opportunity to dive into Viktor’s neck—mouthing at the twin set of moles settled there. Viktor bares his throat further, Jayce nipping and sucking on the spot like a starved man. 

 

“J-Jayce—“

 

“They’re like stars,” he whispers against the skin. 

 

“What?”

 

“Look,” Jayce brings a finger to Viktor’s collarbone, his nail trailing down to Viktor’s sternum, then to the underside of his pec. All spots with moles on them. “A constellation,” he smiles. 

 

Viktor flusters hard, throwing a hand across his face. Immediately, Jayce pulls the obstacle away—bringing Viktor’s infected hand to his cheek. 

 

“Don’t hide,” he murmurs, lips kissing the scars lining Viktor’s wrists. “You’re perfect.” Viktor watches with wide eyes as Jayce trails the kisses up further. A kiss to his palm, a kiss to his fingers. Then, he opens his mouth and sucks the purple fingers in, moaning around the digits, all while jerking them both off. 

 

Viktor almost comes right there. 

 

The blinding wet heat of his mouth, tongue lathering the digits in saliva, Jayce’s golden eyes staring up at him like a god. Viktor swears he sees hearts in those desperate eyes. 

 

“S-So good,” Viktor praises, hips rocking in tandem with Jayce’s to chase his release. Jayce lights up at the words, pulling the fingers from his mouth with a moan. 

 

Then Jayce’s hand on their cocks disappears, Viktor whining at the loss. Jayce apologetically kisses him, short and sweet, before repositioning himself. He moves down Viktor’s body, lips grazing against every mole on the way down. Viktor slots his hands into Jayce’s hair as he descends, down to his shoulders, chest, back brace, then his waist—their gazes locked together. 

 

Jayce plants a final kiss to the divot of Viktor’s hip before finally slotting between his thighs. He grabs Viktor’s cock, pulling the foreskin down with a tug to reveal the flushed head—pink against his pale skin. Then, his tongue dips into the slit, licking the dribble of precum off.  

 

Viktor’s fingers tighten in Jayce’s hair, legs spreading open further as he moans. “Please,” he exhales, and Jayce isn’t one to deny. 

 

He takes Viktor into his mouth, slowly sinking down until his nose meets the coarse hair at the bottom. He moans at the heavy weight in his mouth, tongue pressed to the underside of Viktor’s dick while the tip breaches his throat. The wet heat makes Viktor keen, curl his toes and buck up into the heat. Jayce rests his hands atop Viktor’s thighs, the gentle pressure enough to still him.

 

Then Jayce starts bobbing, sucking, staring up at Viktor like he’s hung the moon. 

 

“A-Ah, Jayce!” Viktor trembles, pleasure too intense, the hands in his hair torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. They find a middle ground, instead fisting the strands like handles as Jayce moves. He watches with dark eyes as Jayce takes him in, over and over, lips swollen and slick with spit.  

 

Jayce stops his rhythm to sink down fully, repeatedly swallowing and moaning around Viktor’s cock with wide, pleading eyes. His thumbs rub back and forth against Viktor’s skin, encouraging, waiting. It only takes a moment more before Viktor cries out a moan, whole body trembling with his orgasm. Come spurts down Jayce’s willing throat, moaning around Viktor’s cock as he swallows greedily.  

 

Viktor goes limp, riding the aftershocks of his high as Jayce sits up. 

 

“Gorgeous. You did so well,” he praises. He pecks the corner of Viktor’s mouth, which has Viktor grabbing his chin to lock them into a proper kiss—passionate and tender. 

 

With his free hand, Viktor reaches to finish Jayce off, but finds the man already limp. He parts the kiss with a quirked brow, looking down to find the sheets covered in spend. 

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Viktor laughs, and Jayce smiles fondly at the sound. 

 

“I love you,” Jayce says, and the world seems to still. In the quiet peace of the bedroom, in the aftermath of their coupling, Viktor feels bliss. 

 

He responds with a soft kiss, cradling Jayce’s face in his hands. “Stay with me?” Viktor whispers against Jayce’s lips as they part. 

 

“Always.”

 

---

 

For the first time in his years staying at the base, Viktor doesn’t go to the lab at dawn. Instead, he curls closer to Jayce’s side in the bed, head laid atop his chest. The steady heartbeat and warm hand on his back makes him want to never get up. 

 

Despite them both being awake, they lie there together for hours. In the confines of their bedroom, the apocalypse seems like a distant nightmare. 

 

Jayce is busy playing with Viktor’s hair when the door pounds. 

 

The two freeze—the knocking taking them out of their fantasy. Jayce starts to sit up as Viktor internally curses their visitor for disturbing them. 

 

“I’ll go,” Jayce says, already beginning to attach his prosthetic. Viktor sits up as well, reaching for his back brace. Despite his rush, Jayce is out of the bedroom before Viktor’s even touched his leg brace. 

 

When Jayce opens the door, he’s met with Caitlyn and Vi. 

 

Caitlyn only looks confused for a brief moment before she launches herself forward. “Jayce!” She says in overwhelming relief, arms hugging him close. Jayce immediately hugs back, hand rubbing her back. 

 

“Hi Cait,” he responds, smiling as he pulls away. 

 

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she exhales. “Why are you in Viktor’s apartment?” And as she asks, the puzzle piece seems to click. She looks up at him in delighted surprise, raising an eyebrow. Jayce only smiles sheepishly in return as Viktor emerges from the bedroom. 

 

“Caitlyn, Vi,” he smiles. “Welcome back. I hope the journey went well?”

 

The mood dampens slightly, Caitlyn and Vi exchanging a glance. “Well, we found it. Slight problem; the place is swarming with infected outside. We couldn’t get close,” Vi huffs, crossing her arms. “The plan is to prepare here for a week before heading back, see if the herd dies down.”

 

Viktor frowns at the news. Jayce locks eyes with him, a silent exchange of words; don’t worry, we’ll have the research soon. 

 

“Okay,” Viktor exhales. 

 

---

 

The next few days go by like a dream. Viktor and Jayce take a break from working in the lab, instead opting to wait for the Zaun research before continuing. So, the two spend their time together in quiet peace. 

 

Telling stories, sharing touches, sleeping together. It makes Viktor almost forget about his disease. 

 

Almost. 

 

The coughing and nosebleeds are still a problem, happening daily. At least there’s a warm hand ready to wipe away the blood for him, this time. Kind words promising that they’re going to figure this out. Jayce speaks with so much hope that Viktor starts to genuinely believe him. 

 

Currently, they’re sitting with Caitlyn and Vi in the lab eating their rations together, the two girls sharing stories from their trip. 

 

“One second we’re riding Ace, and the next some antlered thing jumps right in front of us! It was like a moose or something!” Vi explains, waving her hands around. “Almost crashed right into it!”

 

“I don’t think we have moose here. It might have been a deer?” Jayce asks.

 

“Perhaps a reindeer, no?” Viktor chimes in. 

 

“Like Christmas?” Vi and Jayce simultaneously say, and Viktor almost chokes on his food. 

 

“I wish the damn thing didn’t run off so quickly,” Caitlyn groans. “It’s the biggest mystery of the century.”

 

“You’ll solve it one day, cupcake,” Vi leans her head on Caitlyn’s shoulder. 

 

As the two are distracted, Jayce taps Viktor’s brace with his prosthetic. Viktor looks to Jayce, who is pointing to his own nose with a worried expression. Viktor scowls, feeling the familiar trickle of blood trail down to his lip. He brings up a hand to cover it, standing suddenly. 

 

“Excuse me,” he says, abandoning his half-eaten ration and walking out of the lab. He’d left his makeshift handkerchief at his apartment, might as well grab it to help stop the bleeding. 

 

Although it’s a short walk, the bustling streets extend his journey—Viktor dodging and weaving between civilians getting their rations. Once he makes it to the safety of his apartment, he sighs and drops his hand, blood dripping down freely. The handkerchief is left by the bedside table, stained pink despite constantly washing it. Jayce had made it for him out of some scrap cloth, soft cotton. He hums as he brings it up to his nose, wiping away the blood. 

 

Then, the Earth shakes. In the distance, an explosion. Viktor feels the prickle of fear on the back of his neck immediately, memories of outbreak day resurfacing. He stands there, frozen, listening for any sort of indication of what has happened outside. 

 

One, two, three beats of silence. 

 

Then, the chaos ensues. 

 

Gunfire, screaming, the pounding of feet against the street. 

 

His hand instinctively reaches for his pistol, but grabs nothing. They aren’t allowed weapons while inside the base, all he had was his hidden crutch knife. 

 

And despite the voice in his head screaming at him to hide, to stay inside, there’s an even louder voice telling him to find Jayce. So, he pulls out the small blade and runs outside. 

 

The once-calm streets are in disarray—stampedes of civilians running away from what looks to be the entrance gate. A hole has been blown into the wall, still smoking, exposing them to the outside. 

 

Infected pour in through the breach. 

 

And Viktor’s mind truly begins to race. There aren’t supposed to be any infected in the vicinity, the military always kill the ones near the base, so why are there so many?!

 

As people rush past, undead chasing them down, Viktor manages to kill a few of them by sticking to the alleys—stabbing them in the head until they fall to the floor. All the while, he starts his slow trek to the lab. 

 

That is until he hears a familiar, ear-piercing scream. Instantly his head snaps to the sound, in the direction of the infirmary. 

 

Sky stares at him, body limp and eyes dead as an infected tears out her throat. 

 

And Viktor freezes, staring at her corpse, the chaos around him fading into nothingness. His breathing quickens, heartbeat thumping in his ears, mind begging him to move but his body won’t respond. 

 

It’s then that he feels a prickle in his neck.  

 

He gasps, head whipping back immediately, raising his knife. He’s met with wild eyes and long, blue hair. She’s covered in fresh gore, smeared all over her clothes and face.  

 

“What a surprise,” she purrs, discarding her syringe to the floor. 

 

Viktor tries to speak, but the voice dies in his throat. The knife falls between his fingers. His limbs feel like lead, heavy and distant. His legs collapse beneath him, crumpling to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

 

Jinx stares down at him, a bone-chilling smile spread across her face. 

 

“Found you.”

Notes:

Hiii :)

Secrets revealed and promises made, the boys are finally together :)

Kudos and comments are very appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts! And feel free to follow my twitter to see a very special surprise soon!!

EDIT: The surprise is here! This chapter now features commissioned artwork made by the WONDERFUL wrungt on twitter! I hope you guys love it as much as I do, go show them some love!!

Chapter 7: A Broken Promise

Notes:

Content Warnings (spoilers)

Kidnapping
Experimentation
Animal Abuse
Throwing up
Suicidal Ideation
Murder/Suicide Threat

With the explosion, the entire foundation of the lab shaking, comes a dread so overwhelming that Jayce feels faint. The room stills, Vi and Caitlyn freezing, the three staring at each other in a tense silence. 

 

When the gunshots begin to fire outside, they spring into action.

 

“Jayce, Vi, go to the armory,” Caitlyn says, already sprinting to the lab door and grabbing her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder. Before she’s out the door, she throws the armory keys to Vi, who catches it with ease despite the fear.

 

Jayce and Vi follow her out the door before splitting away to head to the armory, needing their own weapons.

 

“Be careful!” Vi yells out.

 

“We’ll be right with you!” Jayce follows. The armory isn’t too far, a quick sprint between buildings and they’re already there. Jayce finds himself surprised at how well his prosthetic holds up as he runs—the blade springing him forward with not much more added pain.

 

Vi fumbles with the key, a moment later barging into the armory. There isn’t much inside, only a few pairs of weapons left on the rack, but it’s enough to work with. Vi grabs a shotgun, preloading it with two shells and shoving her pockets with more, while Jayce grabs a pistol. He was never the best with guns, his aim mediocre at best, so after a moment he grabs a hatchet as well. With that, they run out into the main area of the base, which has delved into chaos.

 

Jayce had originally thought that raiders were attacking, it was the only thing that made sense. He doesn’t expect to see infected pouring through the exploded entrance, running down the main street of the base.

 

“I’m going to find Viktor, you go to Cait!” He yells over the gunshots, over the screams and the panic. Vi nods, already running into the fight. Jayce goes the opposite way, heading to the apartment building with his hatchet held firmly in his hand.

 

Viktor would have stayed in the apartment, surely? 

 

An infected lunges at him, growling, hands outstretched to grab him. With a clean thwack the blade of his axe lodges into its head, splitting the forehead cleanly in two. The hatchet is dislodged with a jerk and the body falls to the floor—joining the corpses of civilians and undead alike.

 

The streets are a bloodbath.

 

Jayce runs into the building, going to Viktor’s apartment— their apartment. The door slams against the wall as it’s swung open. 

 

“Vik?!” he shouts, panting heavily as he waits for a response.

 

None comes.

 

He runs to the bedroom anyway, pushing the door open with frantic hands. He scans the empty room, the dread turning into panic. Viktor’s handkerchief is on the floor, the corner soaked in fresh blood.

 

“Shit,” he hisses, staring down at the piece of cloth, trembling hands reaching to pick it up. The blood stains his fingers, sticky between the pads of his thumb and pointer.

 

He only allows himself a moment more of panic before he swallows it down—pocketing the handkerchief and running back outside to continue the search.

 

He pulls out his pistol, now, aiming at the infected attacking the civilians. He manages to kill a few of them, the things falling limply to the floor as he pushes back towards the front gates. His wide eyes search over the crowd, passing over the chaos to try and catch a head of chestnut hair. A flicker of those moles. A glance into those golden eyes he holds so dear. 

 

He doesn’t see any of it. 

 

An undead jumps at him—Jayce stumbling backward into an alleyway to avoid being grabbed. He switches out his pistol for his hatchet, swinging the axe with a yell as the infected staggers forward. The blade connects with its neck—its head flying off at the force of the swing. Jayce watches as it drops to the floor, rolling further into the alley.

 

His heart drops as he spots it. 

 

Viktor’s crutch, left abandoned on the concrete. Beside it are two things; the crutch’s hidden knife, and an empty syringe.

 

“No, no, no—“ he falls to his knees, gathering and cradling the crutch in his arms as if it was Viktor himself, thoughts racing and breath quickening. 

 

Viktor was never far from his crutch—it was almost a part of him. So seeing it here, alone, with no Viktor in sight, felt like an impossible thing. One of the laws of nature breaking. 

 

Someone had taken him. Someone had taken him.

 

A nearby scream drags him back to reality. 

 

“Fuck,” he whispers, head looking back to the opening of the alleyway, watching people run past. As much as it pains him, Jayce gently places the crutch down before pushing himself up. He needed to help secure the base—help Caitlyn and Vi. Without the base, the chances of finding Viktor drop exponentially. 

 

Forgive me, Vik. I’ll come back for you soon. 

 

He runs out of the alley, dodging between people and undead alike as he sprints toward the giant gaping hole of the entrance gate. 

 

He spots Caitlyn first, perched on a small hill of grass with her rifle, utilizing her deadly aim to cull the infected attempting to enter. There’s a pile of dead soldiers near the gate, Jayce’s face dropping at the massacre of the front line. He then sees Vi, desperately attempting to push the huge gate closed manually. 

 

A string of curses leaves his mouth as he rushes to her side, dodging between undead and praying that Caitlyn and the other soldiers have their back. The gate doors were essentially long sliding walls, designed that way so they could be repaired and still in use at the same time. If they were to push the gate enough, the hole would be covered. 

 

Jayce practically slams into the wall by Vi’s side, immediately getting his hands on the edge of the gate. They exchange a quick glance, a brief moment to catch their breath. And then they both push, feet digging into the floor and clenching their teeth. 

 

The door moves maybe an inch before it stops. 

 

The two pull away, Vi teary-eyed from the frustration and Jayce panting for air. 

 

“The body!” Caitlyn yells, and the two stare back at her blankly. She has to put down her rifle for a moment and point, Jayce following her finger towards the edge of the breach. 

 

A large body lies on the floor there, its legs blocking them from closing the door. 

 

“Fuck!” Jayce yells, already running towards the corpse. When he reaches it, he’s met with an infected hunched over the body, tearing into the person’s chest. He pulls out his pistol and shoots the undead in the head.

 

It’s then that he notices the blood-covered face of the body—Loris. Jayce’s heart pangs as he grabs onto his ankles. And he should be pushing Loris outside the wall, since it would take less effort and time. But Jayce finds that he can’t leave the man out there, left like a piece of meat destined to be torn apart. So instead he pulls, heaving with all his strength, using his weight as a counterbalance. 

 

Bullets whizz past his head, and Jayce swears he feels the air of them rushing past. The corpse begins to slide toward him, a boost of adrenaline rushing through his system at the progress. With one more heave, Loris’s body is out of the way. 

 

Vi begins pushing the door shut immediately, screaming with exertion as the metal gate finally moves. A moment later, the breach is sealed, infected pounding against the other side of the door. 

 

Jayce nearly collapses from exhaustion, knees trembling as he desperately gulps down air. There was still the problem of undead inside the base, as well as bitten civilians no doubt, but at least the walls still stand. 

 

Now, he needs to find Viktor. He’s about to go to collect Viktor’s crutch, but a sob comes from behind him. 

 

He turns to see Vi, leaning against the wall, crying behind her arm. 

 

“Vi…?” Jayce asks, mind immediately assuming the worst. But he doesn’t see any visible wounds or bite marks. 

 

Caitlyn is at their side now, immediately pulling Vi into a hug. They cradle each other tight, desperate, Vi visibly calming down. Jayce’s heart hurts. 

 

“I saw her,” Vi murmurs, heaving in a breath. “Powder… in the herd. Smiling as she left. She walked straight through them. I don’t understand…”

 

Caitlyn wipes away the tears with her thumbs. Jayce furrows his brow at the information. Her sister, who worked at Zaun with Viktor, was here? The company Viktor was terrified from, hid from, after the outbreak?

 

“We have to go to Zaun,” Jayce blurts as he pieces it together.  

 

“What—“ Caitlyn begins, but Jayce cuts her off. 

 

“Viktor is gone, I found his crutch next to an empty syringe. Someone has to have taken him. The only logical solution is Powder.”

 

The two stare at him, teetering on the edge of offended and confused.

 

“Think about it!” Jayce throws out his arms as he speaks. “Viktor was terrified of going to Zaun, you told me so yourself. And now, when one of his old coworkers shows up during an attack on our base, he’s gone!”

 

Vi’s face slips into something more regretful as she processes the words. She wants to scream, tell him that Powder would never do something like that. But she hasn’t known Powder for nearly a decade, not since she was thrown in jail. And seeing her just now, moving through the crowd of undead as if it were some sort of joke?

 

Her shoulders sag as Jayce’s theory gains plausibility.  

 

“Did you see anyone else with Powder?” Jayce asks as he notices the shift in her demeanor. 

 

“Another person I think… there were too many infected to really tell. I only noticed Powder cause of her hair.”

 

“Hold on, why would they take Viktor in the first place? What’s the reasoning?” Caitlyn asks, and Jayce stills. They don’t know of Viktor’s immunity or his involvement with Shimmer, and it isn’t Jayce’s place to reveal it. 

 

His hand instinctively goes to the bracelet on his wrist, worrying the smooth ribbon between his fingers. “You just have to trust me. Please,” he begs, holding his breath as the two girls stare at him in a mix of confusion and pity. 

 

After a moment, Caitlyn speaks. “Today, we clear the base of infected and search for Viktor. If we don’t find him, we go to Zaun tomorrow.”

 

And although Jayce itches to go immediately, he can’t argue with Caitlyn. So he grits his teeth and nods his head, mind focused only on Viktor.

 

---

 

Viktor’s body is heavy as he feels his consciousness come back to him. Something is swaying him, a steady rhythmic motion almost lulling him back to sleep. The blood pooled to his head isn’t helping—his eyes flickering open to see the world flipped upside down.

 

The first thing that hits him is the overwhelming smell of death—the stench of blood and rot coming from nearly everywhere. The second is the strong, muscular arm holding him at his waist, the dead weight of his body laying limply over their shoulder like a bag of flour. The third is the wetness of his clothes and skin, covered in something unidentifiable. 

 

He feels too weak to move, letting his arms sway with the steps of the person carrying him. His eyes weakly stare at the sun setting over the dead long grass of whatever field they’re in.

 

Then he hears the sounds, the grumbling and moaning of the undead. The person carrying him doesn’t falter, continuing forward towards the noise. Viktor debates thrashing out of their grip, attempting to somehow escape. Instead, he holds his breath.

 

They walk directly into the crowd, undead scattered within meters and yet…unreactive to Viktor and his assailant. He watches with wide eyes as they pass all the infected.

 

The crowd begins to dense, bodies pressed next to one another with barely any room to pass. They continue forward anyway, bumping shoulders with the infected as they push further. 

 

Viktor starts thinking that he is dead, that this is some sort of cruel nightmare in the afterlife, claustrophobic and taunting. But as they move past the herd, undead arms and shoulders brushing against his body, the touch is undeniable. Real.

 

He stares at the infected as they pass, their irises faded into a milky white, eyelids pried open like a dead fish. They stare back, lost and devoid of emotion. 

 

At once, they stop. The person holding him shifts, and Viktor hears the sound of a heavy, metal door push open. The nostalgic and familiar scent of disinfectant washes over the smell of rot and gore—the combination making him queasy. He notices, out of the corner of his eye, that the hallway they enter has a long mirror adorning the wall. Carefully, he lifts his head to look at it. 

 

In the reflection he sees himself being carried by… Sevika? His mind struggles to remember her name, the stoic guard who used to work at Zaun Co. He passed by her almost daily when he would enter the building for work. A few feet in front of them, Jinx skips happily, heading further and further into whatever facility they’re in. All of them are covered in gore—a sickly brown-red smeared over their clothes and skin. A camouflage of sorts, Viktor realizes, hiding our smell and blending in. The idea is ingenious, albeit macabre. 

 

As they continue their descent into the depths of the building, Viktor suddenly makes the connection in his mind. Jinx, Sevika, the huge herd of infected outside…

 

They’ve brought him to Zaun, their second location.

 

Viktor’s heartbeat steadily accelerates as they turn down the twisting halls, his mind bombarding him with countless scenarios—none of them positive. He finds himself losing focus, vision blurring as he spirals further into panic. 

 

Suddenly, he’s thrown to the ground. He hits the smooth stone floor with a hurt groan, stabbing pain shooting up his spine. He pushes himself up with an arm, wide eyes scanning the room he’s been dropped in. A cell, placed inside what looks like a laboratory. Viktor feels his heart spike in panic. Sevika looks down at him, indifferent, while Jinx smiles. 

 

“Silco’s going to be so happy with me,” she lets out a giddy sigh, already turning to leave the cell. 

 

“W-Wait!” Viktor finds himself shouting, trying to push himself up despite the cries of his body. 

 

The cell door slams shut with a loud metal bang. 

 

“Don’t worry, your friend’s gonna come visit you real soon,” Jinx says as she locks the cell, a large padlock keeping the door shut. The two leave without another glance spared. 

 

Viktor starts to hyperventilate, pushing himself backward until he hits the cold stone wall, hugging his knees to his chest.

 

This morning, he’d woken up in the arms of his love, the most at peace he’s felt in his life. Now, he stares down at his gore-covered hands, blood beginning to dry and crackle. He swallows down the bile that rises, hands clenching into fists in an attempt to ground himself. 

 

He still had his glove on, bite mark covered. They… they couldn’t possibly know, right? Viktor thinks back to that day, desperate to get Rio out of that cage. Had Singed noticed? Is that why they’ve captured him? No, no they—

 

Viktor’s thoughts are interrupted by the lab door opening. Singed walks in slowly, almost leisurely, as if Viktor isn’t sitting in a cage right there. 

 

“We meet again, Viktor,” his voice is hoarse and intrigued. Viktor stares at him, silent, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t, merely wandering around the lab and tinkering with something out of his view. 

 

Viktor waits and waits, but after a few minutes of tense silence, nothing happens. 

 

“Why am I here?” He finally asks, a hand subconsciously running along his leg brace. Searching for comfort. 

 

Singed stops his tinkering to glance at Viktor. After a moment he walks to the cell, pulling out a chair and sitting. He stares at Viktor through the bars. Viktor feels the hairs on his nape rise. 

 

“You know that Zaun started the virus. If word were to get out, our company would be ruined. We’re just tying up loose ends.”

 

Viktor blinks, processing. “What… how could you still care about the company after society’s already collapsed?!” He shouts, bewildered. 

 

“We’re making a cure,” Singed sighs. “It was the plan all along. We already had the baseline for a cure,” Jayce’s research, “so we decided to make a virus as well. Release the virus to the world, force everyone to buy the cure from us. Could you imagine the recognition? The profit?”

 

Disgust floods Viktor’s body, the color draining from his face. “You… you did this… on purpose?”

 

Singed exhales, bringing his free hand to his forehead. “It was never meant to be like… this. Killing people in hours, reanimating the bodies… the virus truly leaked out of our lab before we were done refining it.”

 

“But you did intend to release a deadly virus regardless, no?”

 

Singed simply nods. 

 

And Viktor truly feels sick. Since they were working with Jayce’s research, that meant the original “goal” of the virus must have been to give people an infectious version of cancer. 

 

“You disgust me,” Viktor spits out, fear replaced with rage. “Where’s your fucking cure then, huh?”

 

Singed only stares at him. 

 

“All these years, and you still haven’t cracked it? Do you understand how insane you are, working on the virus before completing the cure?”

 

Singed stands, walking towards the bars. Silence stretches between them, Viktor’s heavy breaths the only sound in the room. 

 

“What’s underneath your glove, Viktor?”

 

Viktor feels his heart drop, hand instinctively grabbing onto his gloved one in a poor attempt to shield it. Singed hums. 

 

“The first human infected, yet you haven’t turned. It was quite a shock when Jinx brought you in, we thought you were long dead. Tell me, have you had any symptoms? Or are you truly ‘immune’?”

 

Viktor grits his teeth. 

 

Singed sighs, sitting back down. “You can either tell me—help me make this cure—or I’ll have to resort to more… unfortunate methods of research.”

 

Viktor glares at him through the bars with all the anger and hate he can muster. 

 

Singed waits a minute, watching him carefully. When Viktor doesn’t comply, he stands and walks out of his field of view. 

 

Viktor counts his breathing, trying to calm his nerves—a cluster of fear, anger, and disgust burning under his skin. He watches through the bars of the cell with wild eyes, waiting for Singed to come back. 

 

Nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see. 

 

Singed walks into view holding an animal carrier, the lighting too dark to see what’s inside, but Viktor just knows. 

 

He feels sick staring at the plastic container, his mind trying to convince him that this is just some morbid nightmare, that maybe there’s nothing inside at all. 

 

Singed places the carrier down, the door placed against the small hole cut in the bottom of the cell meant for food trays. He slides open the carrier door. 

 

Viktor stares at the carrier, holding his breath, crowding himself further against the wall of the cell. 

 

For a moment, nothing happens. 

 

Then suddenly, Rio sprints out of the carrier. 

 

Viktor barely has time to shout before she runs straight towards him, pouncing on him. He manages to shield his face with his arm—her claws latching onto his bare skin. He can only watch in horror as she bares her teeth. 

 

The moment those sharp canines sink into the flesh of his wrist, Viktor feels his veins thrum under his skin. With each pulse, each rush of blood, the small vessels feel like bursting. He stares down at Rio with wide, tear-filled eyes, watching her snarl around his skin, attempting to tear him apart. 

 

And he should try to kill her—snap her neck, bash her head into the wall, put her out of her misery. But as he stares down at her striped grey fur, her crooked whiskers, he can’t find the courage. Not with his bare hands, not when he can feel her pass under his fingers.  

 

Instead, he brings his free hand up, trembling horrifically, and laces his fingers through her fur. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, tears dripping off his face as he pets her. He feels the tumors under her fur, sees how the emerald green of her eyes has faded into a cloudy, muddled blue. 

 

She only snarls around his flesh, mouth bloodied. 

 

Viktor’s too distracted to notice Singed shoot a paralyzing dart through the cell, hitting Rio. She seizes, her muscles relaxing, the death grip on his arm finally being released. With a gentle pull, Viktor frees himself. 

 

“If you would,” Singed gestures to the carrier. 

 

“Fuck you,” Viktor hisses, allowing himself a few more moments petting Rio’s fur. Eventually, though, he does place her into the carrier. 

 

As Singed goes to return her, Viktor stares down at the blood rapidly leaving his wrist. He feels faint as the droplets of red trickle down, splattering onto the concrete floor. Another bite mark, another infection.

 

Singed comes back, throwing a roll of gauze through the bars. Viktor glares at him again, but picks up the gauze nonetheless. He begins wrapping the wound, in no way clean and definitely contaminated, but at least he can stop the blood loss. Singed stares at him, once again seated in his chair, however this time with a clipboard and pen in hand. 

 

Viktor grits his teeth, a pathetic attempt to quell his anger as Singed begins writing something down. He’s been reduced to a test subject, broken body more important than he’ll ever be. Just as Viktor finishes tying the gauze off, his throat seizes. 

 

He doubles over as the coughing fit begins, immediately bringing a hand to his mouth, his other hand bracing against the floor. The coughs are intense, stomach and chest heaving with each one. 

 

And suddenly, it’s more than just a cough. 

 

Vomit seeps through the fingers he has on his mouth, splattering to the floor as it rises up his throat. 

 

Viktor stares down at the purge, dread overcoming him as he sees the deep red color of it. 

 

Another gag, another splash of blood onto the floor. 

 

He can barely breathe. 

 

Singed watches with interest, pen scratching against paper. 

 

With one final retch, his airway finally clears, collapsing face down to the floor as he gasps for air. The metallic taste stains his mouth.

 

“Only resistant, then,” Singed hums. “The virus is unable to kill you as it does with other infected, yet it lives dormant inside you. With each new bite, it grows stronger. If I were to guess, it’s given you lung cancer. In the event you die, regardless of the circumstances, you’ll most likely turn.”

 

Viktor listens to his ramblings, cheek submerged in a pool of his own blood, a bone-deep exhaustion running through him. He can’t even respond. 

 

“Nevertheless, you’ll be of great use to us. I’ll let you rest tonight, and we can do the operation tomorrow after my preparations.”

 

“Fuck… you…”

 

“Thank you for your sacrifice, Viktor.”

 

Distantly, Viktor hears the door open, then click shut. 

 

Viktor wants to laugh. To cry. To scream. All it took for his fantasy to fall apart, to crumple to dust between his fingers, was a single day. Warm touches, soft kisses, whispers of a better future—things he’d never experience again. 

 

And really, Viktor was at fault for thinking he was worthy of that love. That he deserved any of it. Because why would he? It was merely an anomaly, a mistake in the timeline. Things are correcting themselves, now. Tomorrow, he’d be dead, like he was always meant to be. His body used for a cure, the idea Jayce detested so. The most inhumane company on Earth, killing him for the chance of profit. 

 

His eyes wander to the hastily bandaged wound, purple skin seeping out from beneath the gauze already. A prophecy, thrice foretold, waiting eagerly to be fulfilled. 

 

If he concentrates he can feel his lungs rotting under his ribcage, under his skin. It terrifies him down to his core, makes him wish for a quick death so he doesn’t have to feel his body slowly decay.  

 

Silent tears fall as his eyes slip closed.

 

---

 

Jayce, Caitlyn, and Vi stand at the edge of the field, watching the sea of undead ripple around the lonesome Zaun Co. building in the distance. The sun rises over the horizon. Ace and Blitz kick at the dead grass behind them, both horses tied off to trees. A pair of butterflies flutter past.

 

The group is geared to the nines—rifles, shotguns, grenades, pistols. 

 

Jayce thinks back to yesterday's sweep of the base, how there had been no trace of Viktor other than what he had found in the alley. How, when he analyzed the trace contents of the syringe, he discovered it was a sedative tranquilizer commonly used to “knock people out.” 

 

He had delivered Viktor’s crutch to the bedside table, resting it against the worn wood like an offering. A prayer. A promise. 

 

Jayce’s thumb runs over the handle of his hatchet. At his feet lies a dead infected, one they had found in the woods before arriving. He stares down at the corpse, face grim. His only plausible theory as to how Powder could have possibly moved through the infected herd was camouflage—masking her scent with that of an undead. 

 

With a grimace, Jayce glides the blade of his hatchet from the corpse’s sternum down to its stomach. The smell is repugnant, the bloated organs cold to the touch as he digs in. Caitlyn gags behind him as he smears the gore over his face, down his neck, spreading it all across his clothes. 

 

Vi kneels down beside Jayce, hands sinking into the corpse to cover herself as well. Caitlyn reluctantly joins. 

 

Soon, they are prepared. 

 

The plan was simple, in theory. Get in, get Viktor and the research, and get out. Vi and Caitlyn wanted to find Powder as well, but that was their own mission. 

 

Backup plans included: using the grenades to distract and kill the horde, and running for their lives. 

 

The three tentatively start walking towards the crowd, dead grass crunching beneath their feet. 

 

Once the undead are close enough, Jayce watches their behavior carefully. He holds his breath, keeps his steps steady. 

 

They don’t seem to bat an eye. 

 

Vi and Caitlyn give each other a celebratory glance as they continue forward. 

 

The crowd begins to dense, the group actively slithering between the infected. The proximity makes Jayce worry, shoulders practically bumping as they pass. He grips his hatchet tighter, holding himself together. 

 

Soon they reach the door, a heavy vault-like thing. With a careful pull of the handle, the cold facility air hits them in the face. They crowd inside, closing the door behind them. 

 

Almost immediately Jayce starts running, pulling his shotgun from his bag as he does. He thinks Caitlyn shouts at him as he goes, but he can’t hear her over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. 

 

At the end of the corridor is a branching path and a small directory, rooms labeled in neat Times New Roman. Jayce takes one glance, sees the word “laboratory,” and sprints down the right hallway. Caitlyn and Vi’s footsteps disappear behind him as he goes.  

 

Jayce can barely think, his mind repeating his task to find Viktor. Find the research. Find Viktor. Find the research—

 

Suddenly the hall plummets into black and red. Alarms blare, red shifting and dancing against the walls as the light spins. Jayce’s heart rate spikes, praying the undead outside can’t hear the sirens. 

 

He feels sweat run down his nape, fingers tightening around the handle of the shotgun. Find Viktor. Find the research. Find Viktor. Find the research.

 

Jayce finally makes it to a set of doors, two on one side of the hall and one on the other. With a deep breath, he pushes the first door open. A supply closet. 

 

As he turns to open the next door, he comes face to face with a scalpel.

 

He takes a step back, immediately raising his shotgun. The man, old and shriveled, jumps at the sight of the gun. 

 

“Where’s Viktor?” Jayce immediately barks, shoving the gun forward until the muzzle is almost touching the man’s chest. 

 

The man’s eyes dim at the mention of Viktor, fingers clutching the scalpel harder. 

 

“Where is he!” 

 

“I won’t let you take him. He’s our only chance for a—“

 

Blood splatters Jayce’s face as he pulls the trigger, his hands buzzing from the recoil, the ringing loud in his ears. The man crumples, a hole in his chest, viscera leaking out of him as his dead weight slams to the floor. 

 

Jayce keeps moving. 

 

Viktor awakens to the sound of a shotgun. His eyes shoot wide open, limbs jerking in place. The stone floor is cold, the blood wet against his cheek. He can’t control himself from immediately retching, a mix of bile and blood burning his throat as it joins the gore on the floor. 

 

He can only focus on breathing, wheezing as he inhales, vision blurred and body weak. His limbs do not feel like his own. His organs less so. The infection festers beneath his skin, itching, waiting for the transformation to complete. It feels as though his body is decomposing from the inside out. 

 

Suddenly, a blurred figure runs into the room, head wildly looking for something. Abruptly they stop, vision locking onto Viktor’s small form on the floor of the cell.

 

Then the figure rushes over, hands fumbling to grab something from their bag. With each step the figure takes—the sound, the weight, the pacing of the gait—Viktor’s tired mind connects the dots. He would recognize that sound anywhere, in his subconscious, in his dreams.

 

“Jayce…?” Viktor questions before he feels himself gag. Once more, blood threatens to spill from his mouth, forcing up his throat. He swallows it down. His lungs sing in pain, rotting from the inside. He can’t breathe properly, breaths short and aching.

 

“Viktor, you’re going to be okay baby.” Jayce smashes the lock of the cell with his hatchet, rushing inside.

 

“No,” he sobs, “I’m turning, Jayce.” Viktor looks up to Jayce like a dying dog, waiting for the mercy of a bullet in his head. He feels his organs decompose, feels the decay of his skin. Rot, rot, rot, vision hazy and limbs decaying. How long did he have left until his body shut down? Days? Hours?

 

He’s glad of the promise they made, glad he could see his love one last time before the end.

 

But Jayce doesn’t raise his hatchet, or grab his pistol. Jayce moves to pick him up.

 

“No,” Viktor whines, too lethargic to push him away, weak hands merely resting atop his chest as he picks him up. “You promised me, Jayce,” he cries. 

 

Jayce only holds him tighter as he rushes to the table—his research from all those years ago stacked in a neat pile. 

 

“Kill me!” Viktor musters the last of his strength to scream, to pound a weak fist against Jayce’s shoulder. “Please, please…”

 

Jayce only clenches his teeth, looking down at Viktor with the desperation and anguish of a lover.

 

Viktor’s face is a mix of sorrow and betrayal before his consciousness fades, body becoming dead weight in Jayce’s hands. A steady stream of blood runs from his nose. 

 

Jayce shoves the research in his bag and runs. 

 

---

 

Hunger. He has never known the word so intimately before. 

 

His entire being is empty, ravenous, begging for anything to ingest. It feels as though his stomach is eating itself, screaming for any sort of sustenance. 

 

Consume, his mind commands. 

 

Everything is hazy, the world moving rapidly around him. He blinks his eyes, trying to get them to focus, yet to no avail. In front of him, a warmth. 

 

He nuzzles closer to the heat, the contrast stark against his cold skin. And he doesn’t notice it, at first, but as his nose dives deeper into the divot in front of him, he smells it. 

 

Meat. 

 

Instantly he feels his mouth salivate, gums itching, the desire to sink his teeth into flesh greater than anything he’s ever experienced. 

 

He opens his mouth, lips grazing the skin beneath him. 

 

“Viktor?” A pained voice, desperate, confused. 

 

Viktor shocks awake, vision and mind suddenly clearer. They’re riding Blitz, galloping through tight forest paths, trees flying past. Viktor’s arms are wrapped around Jayce’s waist, his nose in the crook of Jayce’s neck. 

 

Viktor immediately pushes back, away, staring down at the tanned skin in terror. His breaths become short and quick, mind desperately trying to process what he had almost done.

 

In his shock, he doesn’t realize he begins to slip. 

 

“Viktor!”

 

He crashes into the dirt, losing consciousness at the impact. 

 

---

 

“Open the gates!” Jayce yells, hopping off of Blitz and gathering Viktor into his arms once again. 

 

The gates start to slide open almost immediately, a group of soldiers waiting for Jayce’s return, alongside Mel in the center of them. 

 

She had agreed to their mission, had encouraged Jayce to go find Viktor. But as her eyes land on Viktor’s frail figure in Jayce’s arms, sees the purple skin on his wrist, her face drops. The soldiers see it immediately, too, pointing their guns up and blocking the entrance. 

 

His face flashes in disbelief at the hostility. “Let me in, I have to save him!”

 

“Jayce, he’s clearly turning!” Mel shouts, face pained. “You can’t—“

 

Jayce shifts, placing Viktor on his feet momentarily. Then, he pulls out a grenade. 

 

“Either you let me in, or your only chance at a cure is gone! The research, blown to shreds!”

 

“Jayce—!”

 

He pokes his thumb through the pin ring, eyes wild as he stares at Mel. She looks back in horror, Jayce’s breath heavy as he holds Viktor close. He holds the grenade as if it were his own beating heart.

 

They stare at each other, still in the tense silence, Mel deathly afraid. She can’t lose anymore people, not after yesterday. And, she trusted Jayce with her life. 

 

With a hand gesture, the soldiers lower their weapons. 

 

Jayce sprints inside, Viktor in his arms bridal style, and goes straight for the lab. 

Notes:

I think this chapter might be my magnum opus. So many scenes I've had planned out from the start happen here! Rio still being alive, Jayce breaking Viktor's promise, Viktor begging Jayce to kill him, and the grenade scene at the end. Hopefully you guys like it!

There's a lot of lore with Vi and Jinx that is a bit brushed over since this fic happens in the POV of Viktor and Jayce. They do have a backstory though, which I hope you were able to mostly piece together. The idea of someone camouflaging themselves with zombie guts is 100% a Jinx invention btw!! (The idea was taken from TWD games)

I hope you all forgive me for calling Viktor immune all this time when he was really only "resistant," using the word immune just made more sense with the context + it's easier to understand than saying he's resistant. English also isn't my first language, I'm trying my best :')

The last 2 chapters will be posted simultaneously, as one is an epilogue. Are you holding onto that "angst with a happy ending" tag yet?

Please feel free to kudos or leave a comment!!! Would love to hear your thoughts :) and here is my twitter where I'll be posting update notifications!

Chapter 8: The Cure

Notes:

Content Warnings (spoilers)

Cannibalism
Vomiting
Suicidal ideation
Suicide attempt

The first day back, after Viktor’s been gently placed atop the cot in the lab, Jayce frantically barricades the doorway—heaving bookshelves until the entrance is covered. Folders and research spill off the shelves as he does so, joining the fresh droplets of blood Viktor has left in his wake. 

 

I won’t let them take you.  

 

He practically collapses into the chair closest to him, Viktor’s stool, his leg burning in pain from overexertion. The prosthetic gets shoved off, metal clattering to the floor before he digs in his bag for his research. His cursed, wretched research. Something so innocent, stolen and twisted. 

 

The pages are spread across the table, nostalgia seeping through him as he stares at his own work. His handwriting, neat and curved. His initials, the pi-shaped letters, found in every worn corner. 

 

A droplet falls onto the page, and Jayce is suddenly aware of the hot trail of tears running down his cheeks. His face is still caked in grime and blood. It’s as if the tears were attempting to cleanse him. 

 

He hastily wipes them away, leaning back so as to not ruin his research further. Blindly he reaches for his water bottle, unceremoniously tipping it over his face once he finds it. The water cascades down, drenching his head and splashing to the concrete floor below. 

 

Instantly he feels more awake, focus honed. He couldn’t afford a break, not when every second counted. Not when the research they needed was finally in his hands. Not when Viktor’s breath could cease at any point. 

 

Finish your work. Make the pieces fit. He tells himself subconsciously. All you have to do is basically cure cancer, he huffs out a breath—a desperate little sound between a laugh and a cry. 

 

He grabs a pen and hunches over the table. 

 

---

 

The second day back, Jayce’s hand trembles as he adds to the chalkboard. Equations and compounds scrawled upon the dark green, written small as to fit everything. 

 

Viktor hasn’t awoken. The rise and fall of his chest is so faint that Jayce can’t tell if he’s hallucinating it. He’s too afraid to check.  

 

He couldn’t think about Viktor dying. It wasn’t a viable option, his mind couldn’t even comprehend it. His love, dead as a consequence of his failure. What would come next? A funeral? A pat on the back accompanied by whispered condolences? No. He wouldn’t be far behind if Viktor passed, that he knew for sure. 

 

I won’t fail. 

 

The chalk in his hand snaps, the broken pieces falling to the floor, dust coating his palm. He mutters a swear under his breath, bending down to pick up the shattered chalk. It’s then he hears it—the click of a doorknob turning. The lab door immediately knocks into the bookshelf blocking it. 

 

Jayce stays deathly still, as though he was prey spotted by a predator. 

 

“Jayce?” He can make out Caitlyn’s voice. Filled with worry. Pity. Talking to him like he’s a frightened dog. “Mel told me what happened. Won’t you come out to talk, take a break?” She asks. 

 

He stares at the barricaded door.

 

“At least say something so I know you’re alright,” she pleads. 

 

His eyes wander to Viktor, gaze immediately softening at the sight of him. “I’m going to save him, Cait,” his voice is rough as he speaks, an instant reminder of his dehydration and hunger. “I’m so, so close.”

 

Jayce can practically hear her frown through the wall. A moment of tense silence later, and he can feel himself begin to crack. The plethora of emotions, hidden deep in his subconscious while he worked on the cure, threatens to spill through the fissures. 

 

“Please…” he begs—for Caitlyn to understand, for her to leave before the dam breaks and he loses focus. Time was the only thing he had, already slipping too fast between his fingers. He can’t afford to lose a second more to his emotions. 

 

“…I’m leaving rations by the door. And I’ll be back in a moment with spare clothes and Viktor’s crutch.”

 

An audible sigh of relief echoes through the quiet room. 

 

---

 

On the third day back the lab air is thick with must—the consequence of isolating with no open airways. Jayce stares down at Viktor, eyes sunken into his skull from exhaustion. 

 

The purple of Viktor’s ankle has spread, now covering almost his entire right leg. Similarly, the infection on his hand has grown, climbing up until it connected with the new bite mark on his wrist, then more so until his whole forearm was covered.

 

Jayce had cleaned him yesterday—wiped away the grime and changed his clothes. Moving his deathly-still limbs with all the care and precaution in the world. His crutch sits perched against the cot, waiting for Viktor. The bookshelf, returned to its original position. 

 

In Jayce’s quivering hand is a syringe filled with the cure. A prototype, the first of its kind. 

 

By medical standards, the vaccine hasn’t been through nearly enough medical trials to be considered safe for use. But Jayce was sure of his work. He was certain that, even if the cure didn’t completely heal him, it would at least help. That Viktor would finally open his eyes. That he could hear that beautiful accent once again. That he could cry into his open arms, feel those slender fingers run through his hair once more. 

 

He holds his breath as he swabs Viktor’s arm clean with alcohol. He stares down at the spot, nerves flaring, heartbeat thumping loudly in his ear. 

 

His free hand slowly rises, finding its way to Viktor’s own almost instinctively, curling around the cold palm. And although his fingers bunch uncomfortably to fit entirely, Jayce thinks it’s perfect.  

 

With a deep inhale, Jayce injects Viktor. 

 

He watches intensely, looking for any sort of sign. Any indication that it’s worked. And in the back of his mind he knows that’s ridiculous, that it’d be hours—possibly days—before anything could happen. 

 

But he stares at Viktor anyway, eyes flickering across his face in the quiet of the lab. 

 

He holds Viktor’s hand tighter, silently praying to a god he doesn’t believe in, as he drifts to sleep by his side. 

 

---

 

Viktor’s eyes flutter open slowly, staring up at the ceiling of their lab. It takes him a few moments— eyes tracing broken fluorescent lights and shadows cast by daylight—to fully wake up. 

 

Immediately he feels the weakness in his limbs, the frail lethargic state of his body. 

 

The hunger that runs deep beneath his skin.

 

He finds the strength to shift his head, gravity lolling it to the side, immense vertigo hitting him all at once. 

 

As his eyes spin, the lab swimming in his vision, he manages to lock onto something. A figure, slumped forward beside him on the cot. 

 

Jayce. 

 

Viktor can’t help the flood of relief that rushes over him, no matter how betrayed he had felt during his rescue.  

 

He opens his mouth, dry lips parting to say Jayce’s name, but no sound escapes his throat. He furrows his brows, tries again to speak, but his voice refuses. 

 

Instead, Viktor finds his hand moving. And it’s confusing, as he watches the purple fingers rise, because he isn’t the one controlling them. 

 

It lands in Jayce’s hair, threading through the locks. Jayce stirs beneath the touch, shifting slightly before he suddenly shoots up. His eyes flicker wildly before he sees Viktor staring back at him. 

 

“Viktor? Oh my god!” He instantly falls forward, wrapping his arms around Viktor, burying his face into the crook of his neck. And Viktor wants to relax into the hug, desperately wants to melt in the comfort he’s given, but he notices his hands moving again, of their own will. 

 

They trail up Jayce’s back, running up the knobs of his spine, until they reach his nape. One hand cradles him there, while the other wraps around his shoulder—nails digging into the skin with surprising strength. 

 

Viktor tries speaking again, every part of his brain shouting at him that something is wrong. But when he opens his mouth, no words come out. 

 

Instead, he finds himself diving forward into the juncture of Jayce’s neck—teeth sinking into his flesh. 

 

The rush of blood that floods his mouth is immediate—the succulent, sweet taste coats his tongue and he feels himself moan as Jayce screams. He tries to push himself away, but Viktor’s grip only tightens in response. 

 

He bites down harder, spurred by the saccharine taste, canines digging further into flesh as Jayce bucks wildly in his grasp. The blood is sticky on his face and chest, and the bits of flesh he’s able to gulp down are divine. 

 

Jayce starts to go still above him, and Viktor takes the opportunity to clench his teeth and pull, finally tearing out Jayce’s throat. With a groan, he swallows down the mouthful of meat—sweet ambrosia, settling deep in his empty stomach. 

 

It’s then that Viktor’s eyes meet Jayce’s, lying limply atop him, no light shining in those hazel irises. They stare back, unblinking, mouth slightly ajar. 

 

---

 

Viktor wakes up screaming, bolting upright, hands immediately hugging himself. 

 

“Jayce?!” Tears run down his face, breaths short and quick as he scans the lab. 

 

A figure stands in front of the window, their body a silhouette against the orange light of the sunset. 

 

Viktor topples out of the cot, falling to the floor before dragging himself towards the figure. 

 

“Jayce, Jayce…” he repeats, wondering why he won’t respond. Why he won’t look at him. 

 

When Viktor reaches the figure’s feet, pulling himself to his haunches as he grasps at their thighs, the smell hits him first. 

 

His face blanches, horror seeping into his entire being. He stares up as the figure shifts. 

 

Infected skin, branching out from the hole in his neck, purple flesh and veins spread over half his face. Those beautiful hazel eyes, faded into a spoiled white. 

 

It’s as if he’s been standing here, abandoned in the lab, for decades. Skin sagging off his flesh, flies buzzing around his being.

 

---

 

It’s nighttime as Viktor jolts awake, body instinctively rolling to the side as he purges the contents of his empty stomach, vomit splashing to the floor beside the cot. Subconsciously he notices the lack of metallic taste, instead feeling only the burn of bile. 

 

He brings up a trembling hand to wipe his mouth, gasping for air as his heart pounds. It’s then he sees the growth—his entire hand now covered in purple, the infection spread all the way to his elbow. 

 

“No, no, no,” he whispers, staring down at the flesh, almost certain he’s in another nightmare. He whips his head to the opposite direction, desperate to find Jayce, confirm he isn’t infected, dead, rotting away. 

 

Viktor finds him straight away—resting against the edge of the cot, face buried in the crook of his elbow. 

 

“Jayce?” His voice is low and rough, accent thick, no louder than a whisper. 

 

Jayce immediately shoots up, blinking rapidly as his mind catches up to his body. Moments later, his eyes find Viktor’s. 

 

“Viktor,” it’s spoken as an exhale, filled with such overwhelming relief. “You’re alive,” tears fill his waterline as he begins to laugh. “You’re alive—!”

 

He moves to pull Viktor into a hug. Viktor shoves him away. 

 

Jayce audibly whines from the rejection—barely catching himself from toppling over. He stares at Viktor, confused. 

 

Viktor, whose eyes are wide with terror, lip quivering and hands trembling. It’s only in the silence that Jayce can hear the murmurs under his breath. 

 

“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you—“

 

“Viktor…?” Jayce tries to reach out again, tries to quell the violent shaking of his partner’s limbs. 

 

“Don’t touch me!” He shouts, pulling his hands away like he’s been burnt. Jayce mirrors the movement, alarmed. 

 

“Viktor, the cure worked—“ Jayce tries to explain. 

 

“No!” His nails dig into his elbows. “You can’t possibly know that! You don’t know what I’ve seen, what I’ve almost done, Jayce,” a sob breaks out, and Jayce feels his heart shatter. 

 

“V, love, listen to me. You’re okay. We’re okay,” He tries to soothe him. 

 

Viktor shakes his head. “I felt myself turn, Jayce. I still feel it, when my mind drifts, I lose control,” he heaves in a breath. “I could turn, and you wouldn’t even kill me.”

 

Jayce freezes at the words. His mouth opens to retort, but nothing comes out. 

 

“You’d promised me,” Viktor wipes some tears away with the palm of his hand, skin flushed red from crying. “You’d promised to kill me and you broke it.”

 

“I knew there was a chance to save you!”

 

“And what if I did turn?! Would you let my undead body rot, wander mindlessly in the lab? Risk me infecting and killing you, Jayce?”

 

Yes. Kill me, I don’t care. As long as it’s you. 

 

Jayce bites his tongue. How could he argue when every word was true? When he knew he’d never harm Viktor, no matter the state?

 

Viktor suddenly swings his legs off the cot, grabbing his crutch and hoisting himself up. His whole body trembles.

 

“Where are you going?” The words come out angrier than Jayce had hoped. 

 

Viktor grips the handle of his crutch tight enough to break. He spares a single glance over his shoulder. “You’ve made your cure. Goodbye, Jayce.”

 

Jayce’s world stills, heart dropping to his feet, as Viktor walks further away. “Goodbye? Viktor, you’re my partner!” He tries. 

 

Viktor doesn’t look back. 

 

And Jayce doesn’t follow, for what good is he when he’s betrayed his partner’s trust. 

 

---

 

Viktor has not been alone in a very, very long time. 

 

In his solitude during the first few years of the outbreak, he used to ‘slip.’ Fall into an emotionless state, pushing himself forward, living through the noise just to survive. And it was an almost comfortable feeling, he told himself. Letting the static cover his mind, body working on autopilot. 

 

After that first day—muzzle pressed to his forehead, pulling the trigger so fast as to not process his actions—he couldn’t bring himself to try again. So instead he waits for what he feels is destined to happen, a feeling pooled deep in his guts. 

 

At any moment, an infected could catch him off guard. In his sleep, perhaps. Or maybe he’d be overrun by a horde. And in that moment, as he’s torn apart by the consequences of his actions, he’d be at peace. Repentance. This, he knew. And this, he waited for.

 

When he met Jayce—that stupid, genius man—he’d been pulled out of the water. Mind no longer hazy, instead kept company. Jayce’s intellect complimented his own like no other, and for a moment Viktor’s gut feeling disappeared. Replaced by overwhelming fondness and love. Maybe his story could have a happy ending, after all.

 

What a fool he’d been. His disease, seemingly cured, and yet he still feels tainted. An infection lurking deep inside, foretold by nightmares, waiting to sprout at any moment. He can’t take that risk, staying by Jayce’s side. And so, to protect the stupid man who’s at peace dying by his hand, Viktor left.

 

One problem, traded for another, for living means nothing if it’s not by Jayce’s side.

 

He slips out of the base and back into old habits. Sneaking out unnoticed isn’t the hardest thing, especially since he doesn’t particularly care if he is noticed. People look. No one stops him. The comforting static overtakes him once more. 

 

When his feet hit the dying grass of the outside world, he clutches his crutch and walks. 

 

And walks. 

 

And walks. 

 

---

 

Time moves differently when Viktor is gone. 

 

Jayce hadn’t found the energy to leave the lab, go to their … Viktor’s … the apartment. He sleeps hunched over the uncomfortable metal table, despite the empty cot beside him. Jayce’s only mercy: the fact that no one’s checked in on him in the past day. 

 

Everything feels still, yet moves too fast. He thought he’d beaten the slipping sands of time, but now it feels as though the hourglass has broken entirely. 

 

He feels lost, empty. And it was wholly, completely his fault. No one else to blame. 

 

In the early hours of dawn—Jayce dead asleep, cheek pressed uncomfortably against the cold metal table—is when Caitlyn sneaks in. She was worried, the brief conversations with Jayce through the wall not enough to quell her anxiety. And so, if sneaking in was the only way to ensure that Jayce and Viktor were still doing relatively well, then she’d do it.

 

She braces against the door at first, ready to slowly push open whatever barricade Jayce had made. She’s pleasantly surprised to find that there’s no resistance whatsoever.

 

Her nose scrunches at the musty air of the lab. Immediately, two things are clear. One: Viktor is not here. Two: Jayce is miserable. 

 

She looks at the state of the room further. Dried vomit on the floor, medical vials and empty syringes on the desk, Viktor’s crutch nowhere to be seen. 

 

He must have left, for some reason. 

 

“Jayce?” She tries to wake him up finally. He doesn’t react. She walks closer, hand landing on his shoulder to gently shake him instead. 

 

He startles awake immediately, head flying up fast enough to give whiplash. When he turns around, his eyes flicker across the room as if he were looking for something. In the next moment, they glare over.

 

“What happened?” Caitlyn asks. 

 

His gaze drops to the floor, taking slow breaths as he gathers his thoughts. “I…” his face finds Caitlyn’s. “I made the cure.” The words spoken as if confessing his guilt. 

 

Caitlyn blinks, the stark contrast between his words and his tone far too great to ignore. “That’s—that’s wonderful, Jayce,” she starts, “and where’s Viktor?”

 

Tears begin to well in those tired hazel eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

She frowns. “What happened?”

 

Jayce turns back to the table, littered with his research and samples of the cure. “I messed up. And he left.”

 

“A week ago you two were inseparable, come on, what aren’t you telling me?” She grabs the empty wooden chair, settling down across from Jayce’s stool. 

 

When he realizes he can’t escape the conversation, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “He was… sick. Made me promise to put him out of his misery if it ever got bad.” He runs his fingers along his bracelet. “When I found him at Zaun, it was bad. He was— fuck— begging for me to kill him, Cait. And I couldn’t do it.” He wipes a stray tear. “How could I ever hurt him?”

 

“Oh, Jayce…”

 

“The cure… it made him better. But I betrayed his trust, and now he’s gone.”

 

“And you just… let him leave?”

 

“What was I supposed to do, Cait, keep him here against his will?” He stammers. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do, it feels like a part of me has been torn out,” he runs a hand through his greasy hair, fingers grabbing fistfuls of strands. 

 

Caitlyn leaps out of her seat to hug him. He immediately lets out a sob, burying his face into her shoulder as she rubs circles into his back. They stay like that for a long moment, until Jayce’s breathing slowly evens out. 

 

“What do you want to do?” She asks him then.

 

“I… I should work more on the cure—“

 

“No, Jayce, what do you want to do?”

 

He blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been asked that question, and yet the answer is ready on his tongue. 

 

“I want to find Viktor,” it’s spoken through an exhale. 

 

“So let’s go find him.”

 

---

 

It’s been about a day, wandering through empty fields and streets. They aren’t unfamiliar, considering he’s passed through these roads hundreds of times with Jayce during their scavenges. However, they are empty. Which is awfully inconvenient for Viktor. 

 

He moves with purpose, though, feet almost guiding him. He remembers how, during one of their early scavenging trips, Viktor had suggested cutting through the forest to get to their location faster. Jayce had immediately told him no, explaining how there was a church in the clearing that was completely infested with undead. 

 

He weaves through the trees, mind empty and far away, until he hears the flutter of wings sweep by him. It’s accompanied by an odd whistling sound, and Viktor immediately finds the source. A mourning dove. The bird flies up through the foliage, neatly landing on top of a cross framed between branches. 

 

Viktor’s eyes immediately widen, almost tripping over himself as he follows the dove. Past a few more trees and he finds himself in the clearing.

 

The church is deteriorated—beautiful stained glass shattered, wooden panels peeling, and best of all; crawling with infected. Dozens of undead wander the premises. 

 

Viktor moves forward. The mourning dove coos, a sweet sullen sound. 

 

The infected seem to spot him, the way they all turn to face him as he approaches. His heart begins to race, pumping adrenaline despite the fact he’s made up his mind. Another step forward, and the undead begin to walk towards him. 

 

He closes his eyes, his fate looming mere seconds in front of him. He feels the rotten breath on his skin. 

 

He waits. And waits. And waits. 

 

And nothing happens. 

 

He cracks open his eyes, finding himself completely surrounded by infected. And yet, all they’re doing is staring at him. 

 

“No, no!” He shouts, arms flailing as if to provoke them. It was supposed to be over. 

 

They don’t even flinch, only quietly observing Viktor. It hits him at once—the fucking cure was stopping them. That was the only explanation, them recognizing him as tainted food—something that would make them sick, cease to exist.

 

He falls to his knees, curling in on himself as he screams—a hoarse, guttural thing, echoing through the forest. In his hysteria he reaches for his crutch, unsheathing the knife and bringing the blade to his wrist. 

 

He stares down, panting heavily as the cold blade presses against his skin. All it would take is one deep cut. His fingers twitch, and as Viktor stares down at them, a memory flashes in his mind. 

 

Kisses splayed across his wrist, palm, and fingers, tickling him as they go. Warm fingers interlaced with his. Whispers of you’re perfect and gorgeous.  

 

The knife falls out of his hands. 

 

Despite the overwhelming despair he feels, the roots of affection are too strong to remove. It flows through him as easy as breathing. 

 

But how could he ever return to Jayce? Nightmares, visions, threatening to come true. The mere thought of an undead him killing Jayce makes him sick to his stomach. 

 

Shakily, Viktor stands. Maybe living under the same sky—the same sun, moon, and stars—would be enough. It had to be. 

 

Viktor parts through the infected, heading inside the church. They slowly follow behind. 

 

---

 

Caitlyn had one condition before searching for Viktor: that Jayce gets a good few hours of sleep on a bed. 

 

“I can’t go back there, Cait,” he had pleaded, referring to the apartment. “Not alone.”

 

So she had begrudgingly relented to him resting on the shitty lab cot as she went out to start the search. 

 

For the next few hours he attempted, and failed, to sleep. Tossing and turning—finding himself on the edge of unconsciousness, but never succumbing. When he hears the distant clacking of horseshoes outside, he bolts out of the lab. 

 

“Any news?” Jayce looks up to Caitlyn, who’s sitting atop Ace. 

 

“Not yet. He couldn’t have gotten far though, considering he was on foot,” she sighs as she dismounts, hopping to the floor. Jayce immediately looks defeated. “Hey, we’re going to find him,” Caitlyn tries to reassure him. He appreciates the effort. 

 

From the corner of his eye, Jayce sees Vi approach them. Following behind her is a girl with long, blue hair. Powder, he bristles at the realization. She stands a considerable distance away as Vi reaches them. 

 

“There you are,” Vi sighs as she pulls Caitlyn into a hug. “Where were you?”

 

“I told you, I wanted to check up on Jayce and Viktor.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn’t say you’d be gone all day!”

 

“I didn’t know! I would’ve updated you, but you were sleeping,” she sighs. “Look, Viktor’s missing.”

 

“Again? How is that even possible, I thought he…” she trails off, all of a sudden remembering Jayce standing two feet next to her. She coughs awkwardly. 

 

“He’s alive,” Jayce grits out. 

 

“Right, sorry.”

 

“Can I go search now?” Jayce asks Caitlyn, who shakes her head. 

 

“The sun’s setting soon, it’s too dangerous at nighttime. It’ll be harder to find him, too. First thing tomorrow, though, okay?” She places a hand on his shoulder as if it’ll lessen the blow. It does not. 

 

They all part ways, and just as Jayce turns to head back to the lab, he notices vibrant pink eyes tracking him. 

 

He stops, making eye contact with her. “Powder?” He asks to confirm. 

 

“It’s Jinx now,” she spits out, expression immediately souring. 

 

“Did you really take him?” Jayce has to tell himself to stay calm. That this is Vi’s sister. That he’s in the middle of the base. That he’s bigger than this. 

 

But when she nods, oh how he wishes to strangle her. Instead, he opts to dig his nails into his palms. 

 

“Why?” The question comes out wobbly. 

 

She stares at him silently for a long, long moment. The tension is thick in the air between them, almost suffocatingly so. 

 

“I saw him,” her voice is quiet. Jayce furrows his brows immediately. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She begins to approach, and Jayce feels his body freeze in place. By the time she stands by his side, shoulder to shoulder, his muscles have locked. 

 

Slowly, she raises her hand—fingers dirty and picked bloody. Her arm is outstretched, index finger pointing to the eastern horizon. 

 

“That way, towards the forest in the distance.”

 

Jayce’s eyes widen, adrenaline immediately shooting through his veins. 

 

“Tell him I’m sorry, when you find him,” is the last thing she says before Jayce stumbles away in a daze. 

 

Blindly his feet take him to the lab. He can barely think, the thought of finding Viktor the only thing on his mind. He grabs his discarded bag, already containing his hatchet, and starts shoving in supplies. Discarded bottles of water, uneaten rations Caitlyn had brought.

 

Then his eyes make contact with his research. His hand hovers over the pages, trembling as it does so. 

 

He doesn’t grab them. 

 

Instead, his hand pivots to grab a vial of the cure and a syringe—shoving them in his bag. He hadn’t injected himself yet, originally waiting until he could develop it more. But he might not have the chance to do that, after all. 

 

Only a few doses of the prototype batch remain. Enough to study and replicate, if needed. Enough to fulfill Mel’s wishes. 

 

He leaves the lab, immediately heading towards the stables. If he went with Blitz, he’d have enough time to look before sunset. Caitlyn would forgive him, surely. 

 

One simple lie later, sweet and heavy on his tongue, and he’s galloping out the gate.

 

---

 

As Blitz’s hooves beat against the dirt, Jayce tries to wrap his head around why Viktor went this way. They both knew that it was too much of a risk to enter the forest, considering the dense vegetation and the horde of infected around the church there. They both knew. 

 

A sinking feeling develops deep in his chest. And Jayce isn’t a fool, he knows what Viktor has tried to do. All he can hope for is that it isn’t too late. That he still has the chance to beg and grovel for forgiveness.

 

He arrives at the edge of the forest just as the sunlight turns orange. Jayce ties Blitz around a trunk, the trees too dense to bring a horse through. Then, he enters. 

 

He finds himself stumbling, prosthetic catching over thick exposed roots and moss-covered stones as he rushes past. The woods are a maze, no path in sight, and yet he feels drawn forward by some invisible force—eyes locked onto something he can’t see. 

 

That is, until he does see it. Parted through the trees, the chipped white walls of the old church. 

 

He enters the quiet clearing, heartbeat pounding in his ears against the silence. Not a single undead in sight, contrary to the warnings. 

 

Despite running all the way here, Jayce finds himself taking his first step forward tentatively. Schrodinger's church; Viktor is currently dead and alive simultaneously. Is it worth it, walking into that church and deciding his fate?

 

He takes another step forward. And then another. Yes. Yes. The answer will always be yes. 

 

The world stills as Jayce makes it to the open doorway. 

 

Viktor sits on the altar in the center of the church, bad leg thrown over his good one. His body is covered in a rainbow of hues as the setting sun shines through the stained glass—painting him. 

 

At his feet lie a bloodbath of undead, dozens of bodies soaked in rotten blood. A dozen more surround him, alive, circling the altar as they watch him quietly. 

 

In his hands he cradles the head of an infected, who kneels in front of him seemingly willingly. He stares down at it solemnly, as if apologizing, before grabbing his knife and plunging it into its skull—piercing right through the rotten flesh and brittle bone. 

 

The body falls unceremoniously, joining the pile on the floor. Another infected comes to kneel. 

 

Jayce finds himself drawn in closer, completely awestruck at the scene. At Viktor. Ethereal, radiant, beautiful him—alive and breathing in a sea of dead. 

 

The wave of relief that crashes into Jayce is so overwhelming that he falls to his knees—wide, sparkling eyes looking up at Viktor like a god. 

 

The rotten wooden floors creak as Jayce drops, and Viktor’s eyes immediately snap towards the sound.

 

When their gazes connect, golden irises finding hazel, the world stills. Jayce presents himself like an offering—affection clear and laid bare in front of his partner. And despite making the decision to leave, Viktor’s entire being floods with warmth at the sight. 

 

“Jayce,” his expression is surprised, yet soft. 

 

It’s then that time resumes. 

 

The undead, all at once, turn to Jayce—snarling and groaning. Viktor’s face immediately drops. 

 

“Jayce!” He yells, panicked as the infected start to move. He scrambles up, gripping his knife tightly as he follows after the undead. 

 

Jayce barely has time to react before they’re on him—nails piercing his skin, pulling at his limbs. Then, the first set of teeth sink into his flesh. Followed by another. And another. And another. His screams echo in the decrepit building as they attempt to tear his flesh from him. 

 

He distantly hears Viktor’s screams over his own—a fucked up harmonization, an encore for his end. 

 

Viktor’s throat turns raw as he yells, crawled over the dogpile of infected on Jayce, stabbing down over and over and over in an attempt to save him. It was never meant to be Jayce in this position, never. 

 

The bodies go limp one by one, and Viktor feels as though he’s tearing open a present. What’s underneath, a corpse or a soon-to-be corpse? His only indication of Jayce being alive is the haunting screams. 

 

Distantly, through the haze of pain, Jayce notices the jaws on him easing. Slowly, one by one, until the only pressure he feels is the crushing weight of undead atop him. 

 

Almost immediately after, he feels himself be dragged out from underneath the bodies. Viktor is in tears, cradling him as he stares down in horror. “Why? Why?! I leave to protect you, only for you to walk right into a horde to find me, fuck—“

 

Jayce, lightheaded from the blood loss, blindly grabs Viktor's hand. Squeezes it as tight as he can. “You… still care about me?” He manages to say, pained and quiet. 

 

“Of course I care,” he takes a shaky breath, “it’s only ever been because I’ve cared for you, Jayce.” Viktor’s free hand cradles his face, thumb wiping away the tears.  

 

Jayce, in that moment, is at peace. Knowing he didn’t fuck up their relationship beyond repair. Knowing there’s a real chance of getting him back. If only he had more time, then it’d be perfect. 

 

Oh.

 

“Cure… in bag,” he grunts, gritting his teeth through the pain. Viktor’s eyes go wide, hands immediately scrambling for Jayce’s bag. 

 

The jab in Jayce’s shoulder gives him an almost instant numbing feeling—skin prickling distantly instead of stabbing pain. He finds himself breathing easier, a mix of relief and exhaustion. 

 

“We’re even, now,” Jayce huffs out. Viktor doesn’t laugh.

 

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

 

Immediately Jayce sits up. “I’m so sorry, Viktor. I fucked up, I know, and I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me. You don’t—you don’t have to forgive me,” he inhales a slow, shaky breath. “But I don’t have any regrets. None. And if I somehow found myself back in that moment at Zaun, I would’ve done it all over again.”

 

The admission hurts, stings Viktor deep in his soul. The immediate burn of anger gets buried under a thick layer of grief. But as he stares into those unwavering hazel eyes—now almost golden as they reflect the orange sunlight—he sees a devotion so pure he can’t help but consider his viewpoint. 

 

Viktor is conflicted. 

 

“You don’t… you don’t need me anymore, Jayce. You’ve completed your task, you made the cure. Why come find me, after the way I treated you?” It’s spoken quietly, eyes downcast towards the purple skin of his hand. 

 

The words hurt Jayce down to his core. “The cure was just something I… we felt like we had to do to clear our consciousness. Clean our bloodied hands. It could never save humanity—bring the world back to the way it was—and we both know it. And then, your disease came. And I finally found the ambition to make the cure. Not to save humanity, but to save you. It was only ever about saving you, Viktor.”

 

The confession has Viktor’s breath hitching, head floating in a way where it doesn’t feel real. But then, Jayce reaches forward, taking Viktor’s hands into his own—thumbs soothing over his knuckles. 

 

“It means nothing, without you,” Jayce whispers, and it’s the exact same words Viktor has told himself countless times over.  

 

“Why?” His voice wobbles with newfound tears. “I’m broken, Jayce. I can’t die right. Can’t live right. I’m so scared of somehow turning and hurting you.”

 

“You were never broken, Viktor. Never,” Jayce squeezes the hands tight. “I love you. Every single part of you—your mind, body, soul. All of it is an inseparable piece of everything that makes you you. If that means taking the risk of dying by your hand, then I’ll take it. A hundred times over. I love you.”  

 

Viktor blinks away his tears, staring deeply into Jayce’s eyes. And he finds that he can no longer keep the words in his heart at bay. 

 

“I love you, too,” spoken with a weak smile, eyelashes wet and clumped together. The words are foreign on his tongue, yet they feel so right. Jayce’s eyes go wide, physically melting at the admission—all the tension in his shoulders disappearing. It’s the first time Viktor’s ever told him that. 

 

They stare at one another, eyes flickering across each other’s faces in the tranquil moment. 

 

It’s hard to tell who leans in first, but nonetheless, the two meet in the middle for a kiss. Viktor cups Jayce’s cheeks in his hands, while Jayce cradles the back of Viktor’s head. 

 

Their tongues dance against one another, a reunion far overdue. Then Viktor is gently guided down, Jayce crawling atop him on the floor, bodies pushing together as if to merge into one. Soft, loving, all-consuming. 

 

They finally separate, panting into each other's mouths, afraid to move further away as if it’ll break the moment.

 

“What do we do now?” Viktor whispers against Jayce’s lips. 

 

“Anything. Whatever you’d like. I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”

Notes:

Sorry for the late update, but here it is!

When I started drafting this story, I knew I somehow wanted to reference commune Viktor as it's a part of him that's usually left out of fics. Then the imagery of him being surrounded by undead, slowly putting them out of their misery in the center of a church, bathed in colorful light came to mind and I knew I had to include it. Shout out to the two mourning doves that have been flying around my house recently, their sad songs were a perfect omen for the end of this work, so I included them in as well haha!

Chapter 9: New Beginnings

Notes:

Epilogue

Jayce stares down at the long strands of chestnut hair, freshly released from Viktor’s hair tie. He runs a hand through the locks, layered and soft, feeling the way Viktor hums as he shifts atop the tree stump. 

 

“Do I have to?” The words leave Jayce’s mouth before he can stop himself. “I mean… I thought you liked it when I played with your hair. I won’t be able to if we cut it short again,” he tries to argue. 

 

“You just like tugging on it while we have sex,” Viktor says, matter of fact. Jayce flusters, the dull razor blade almost falling out of his hands. “It’ll grow back.”

 

Viktor’s hair sits past his shoulders now, the result of neglecting his monthly trim ever since Jayce and him have been living in the cabin. And Jayce loved the new look, the feeling of seeing his partner change over the course of months igniting something deep and domestic within him. 

 

So when Viktor had woken up this morning—eyes red and tear streaks staining his cheeks—asking for a haircut, Jayce knew he couldn’t refuse. The nightmares have been tough on them both, but Viktor had it especially bad. Most days he’d have it under control, having become used to the dreams. But occasionally he’d wake up screaming, repeatedly asking for confirmation that he wasn’t dreaming, distancing himself from Jayce until he could calm down. 

 

It’s a shame, though. The hair looks beautiful like this. 

 

“What if we meet in the middle?” Jayce finds himself asking. “At your chin, instead of your old style?”

 

“Eh…” he considers, staring out to the small pond in front of them. “Only if you make dinner,” he throws a cheeky look back to Jayce, who lights up immediately. 

 

“Of course, love,” he leans down to peck his lips, a quick sweet thing.

 

The cut itself doesn’t take long, Jayce’s practiced hand layering and shaping the hair until the wavy strands frame Viktor’s face perfectly. 

 

“I didn’t realize how heavy hair could get,” Viktor murmurs as he stands from the stump, bare shoulders completely covered in trimmings. “Did you want to take a quick dip with me?” 

 

“Of course,” Jayce responds easily. They sit at the bank of the small pond, a slow river flowing through either side, as they remove their clothes and mobility aids. 

 

Viktor slips in first, eager to wash the itchy shavings off his skin. He submerges entirely at first—dunking his head under before swimming to the top with idle kicks. 

 

Jayce can’t help but smile at the sight; not only is Viktor swimming, but he currently looks like a wet cat with the way his hair has flattened out and stuck to his skin. A moment later, Jayce joins him in the cool water, bright sunlight twinkling across the rippling surface. 

 

It doesn’t take long for them to meet, floating in each other’s arms, moving to a shallow spot in the pond to lazily make out. 

 

---

 

They get out once their fingers turn pruney, taking the short walk back to their cabin. It was a quaint little thing in the middle of a small forest—a single bedroom, half bathroom, and kitchen connected to the living room. It was sheer luck, finding the place. 

 

The two had both decided to leave the military base almost immediately after the church incident. “I don’t think I can handle it anymore,” Viktor had said. “Living under the guise of rebuilding society. Not with the people we’ve met, the things we’ve lived through.”

 

Jayce had agreed. Raiders, cannibals, kidnappers—there was only so much a cure could fix. And so they left, traveling far into the countryside to avoid the possibility of any encounters. When they’d stumbled upon the empty cabin, albeit in desperate need of repairs, it was love at first sight. 

 

They’d spent the first few months working with their hands—hammering, sawing, nailing. It was a welcome change of pace, working on something so physical instead of the usual mental labor. 

 

In that time, Viktor had found some packets of vegetable seeds during one of their scavenges, building a small garden plot and planting the seeds with low expectations. “I was gifted a succulent in university, once, but it died in a month,” he had explained. So when, miraculously, small sprouts of green littered the soil—he was ecstatic. Enough to make them scavenge a library for a book on gardening. 

 

Thanks to that, they were practically self-sufficient now. Fresh vegetables and herbs, paired with the occasional hunted animal, and the two were eating better than they ever had. 

 

They slip inside the cabin, Viktor settling into the couch as Jayce begins preparing dinner. Immediately Viktor fiddles with their radio, a battery-powered system with a CD player included. He turns the dial, skimming past various tones of static until he’s gone through all the frequencies. 

 

It’s become a habit, checking the stations for any possible news. Jayce had made a cure, after all, albeit leaving the task of mass production and distribution to Mel. If society were to return, there’d certainly be some sort of activity on the radio. 

 

And yet, despite living in the cabin for a year, all Viktor has heard is static. Not entirely surprising, but concerning nonetheless. He distantly wonders what’s gone wrong, before dismissing the thought.

 

After his check, Viktor pops open the CD compartment. They have a modest little collection of albums, all scavenged and carefully curated, stacked neatly on their shelves. Their favorite lies on the top for easy access—a lovely album simply named songs.

 

As the sweet melody of plucked guitar fills the room Viktor wanders over to Jayce, grabbing his waist from behind and peeking over his shoulder. He’s cooking a stew, the aroma of the boil immediately making Viktor’s mouth water. 

 

“Hi there,” Jayce smiles, leaning to plant a peck on his cheek. Viktor immediately decides he wants more, turning Jayce fully so their chests are flush and connecting their lips properly. It’s slow, and lazy, and they’re swaying gently to the music as they kiss. 

 

And it feels good, Viktor thinks, finally having a constant in his life after the hell they’ve been through. Someone ready to hold him, kiss him, fuck him, comfort him. Someone he can truly be himself around, who knows him like the back of his hand. 

 

Someone who loves him enough to make him not only want to live, but excited to live. To grow old together, care for one another until the end of the world. 

 

As they separate for air, love-struck eyes opening to meet once again, Viktor finally finds himself understanding. 

 

He would go through it all again, if it meant being by Jayce’s side in the end. 

Notes:

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my work. If you enjoyed at all, please feel free to kudos or leave a comment, they mean the world to me!

It's been a wonderful experience writing this story, piecing together moments from the canon and scenes from TLOU in a way that surprisingly worked (or at least, I hope you think it did) was so fun! There's so many scenes that I'm proud of, and I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. I will say, I struggled with this ending a lot, and I had even considered going in the complete opposite direction and making it a sad ending. But after writing the chapter where Jayce got amputated, I just couldn't do it. Everything else was already sad enough, they deserve a happy ending even if it's unrealistic!!!!

Also for those who missed it, chapter 6 now features commissioned artwork made by the WONDERFUL wrungt on twitter! They did an amazing job bringing these boys to life, go show them some love and support!!!

Finally, thank you again for reading. Making this has reignited my passion and love for writing and there will definitely be more to come (especially considering my jayvik addiction)! So if you enjoyed my work, feel free to subscribe to my account to get updates on new fics! You can also follow my twitter to get these updates. Bye bye ^^