Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning fell in upon them like a bookcase on a child, unknowing knowledge tugged with unknowing interest to crush them under its weight. Viktor blinked at the sunlight.

Sunlight. It was warm on his face, and as he blinked the vision back into his eyes, his body came into focus as well. It ached. It ached, sharp and deep and dragging its claws back into every corner of his consciousness. The absence had been magnificent, and its return was not welcomed. His eyes stung with tears for a moment, feeling all of the edges and hollows of his body return to him.

Then, the physicality left, the burning joints and screaming muscles subsumed by a yawning, pulverizing chasm in the center of his chest.

Jayce.

Where was he? Viktor’s eyes shot open and he looked around frantically. Where was he? There was sun, and thin grass in fine sandy soil, but not much else. Just a brilliant blue sky, completely empty except for the sun, and a whisper of the moon, caught in the daytime. Staring at the bright sky, Viktor sneezed, then coughed roughly.

Rubbing his face with a wheeze as the fit subsided, he heard the sound of coughing continue a short ways away. An echo? He reached instinctively for his staff, his cane, and finding nothing, crawled and shuffled his way to the top of the hill he lay upon.

The coughing grew louder as he crested the top. Viktor couldn’t see anyone from his low vantage point, but as it became clear the sound was no echo, the space in his chest throbbed painfully, fluttering. He strove into a half kneeling position, leaning his weight on one leg as he slowly stood.

There. At the bottom of the hill there was a small gully, a divot of loose sand and displaced shrubbery that formed an area of obfuscation in contrast to the blindingly empty rolling hills that otherwise surrounded him. The coughing must be coming from there.

Viktor began walking slowly down the hillside towards the gully, and took about three steps before realizing his folly. The lack of any supporting aide, the rediscovered pain, and the uneven, loose soil sent him immediately crashing down, tumbling head over heel into the ditch as well.

Well, a man falling on them ought to stop their coughing, thought Viktor in a short moment of stupid clarity as he fell. And indeed, as he thrashed a bush to pieces and came to a thudding stop, he heard a wheezing oof and felt the soft firmness of a torso against his shoulder.

“Ah, I am sorry,” he muttered out of obligation, struggling to roll away into a more dignified seated position. His mind reeling from the fall, the flood of physical input yet again being processed, and the still gaping chasm in his chest, Viktor stared about at the bushes and dirt and falling dust for a moment before realigning his vision and actually seeing the person whom he had just collapsed upon. When he did, though, everything spinning around him dropped away, the sweat beginning to develop a sheen on his forehead, the burgeoning sneeze. The hole he felt became a knife, a railroad spike, driving unrepentantly into his heart. There he was.

Jayce lay in the gully, weak coughs dwindling into soft, rhythmic wheezing. Viktor was on him in an instant, running his hands over his his chest, his neck, searching for any injury. His fingers ghosted in awe over the leg brace, familiar yet confounding in more ways than one, but there was no other injury; he seemed utterly unharmed physically except for the fact that he was almost completely unresponsive.

“Jayce,” Viktor said softly, pressing his hand into Jayce’s arm gently. “Jayce, wake up,” Viktor repeated more firmly, shaking him once. The only response was a weak groan, but it was something. “Jayce, come on, we need to move.” Viktor wasn’t quite sure where they needed to move to, but there was something that vaguely concerned him about staying in this flat pit at the bottom of the hills. A sense of water encroaching, perhaps, if it were to rain.

“Jayce,” he repeated again. “You know I cannot move you by myself. I can barely move myself. We must go.” Still no response. Viktor looked around, eyeing the shrubs and stout trees that filled the gully. A few feet away was a group of scraggly branches that was either dead or dormant. Viktor crawled over to it, tugging at the nearest piece. Fortunately, it dislodged from the loose pebbles easily, tumbling out to reveal a staff of modest size. Pleased, Viktor used it to pull himself to his feet.

This felt more proper. Nothing was the same, and yet he had again a whiff of the self that had led a community, commanded and directed and negotiated in solitude. With an air of authority, finality, Viktor spoke again:

“Jayce. Stand up.”

To Viktor’s astonishment, the body that was Jayce stirred. Heavily he turned and began to stand, arms giving out in a horrifying marionette. Viktor hurried forward, looping his free arm under Jayce’s armpit to help haul him to his feet. His knee singed with stabbing pain as Jayce leaned against his shoulder, swaying unevenly.

“Okay, okay, thank you,” Viktor hushed. Finally both upright, he looked into Jayce’s face, searching. His eyes were glassy and focused at a distance, his face slackened and pallid. Whatever they had gone through to get to this place, whatever journey through the Arcane and however long they had spent there, Jayce seemed to have taken it much harder than Viktor. Whether he was inoculated somewhat by his time as the Herald or if there was some other factor was unclear, but there they were; lost in a mystery time and place, alone together as they had promised each other.

“I have you,” Viktor whispered, and together they slowly made their way out of the hollow and into the sunlight.

As they worked their way slowly up the hill, the sun began to sink towards the horizon opposite. Viktor scanned the valleys, looking desperately for some sort of shelter, a sign of civilization. Have I done this? he wondered, heart sinking. The world seemed peaceful, a far cry from the massive explosion he thought he remembered just before he and Jayce were thrust into the ether of the Arcane, and then to wherever they were now.

Perhaps they were in another universe entirely, an uninhabited one, sent mercifully to live out the rest of their days in solitude. It was not an unpleasant idea, even as depriving as the solitude had been before. Here, he was not alone; Jayce’s steady weight against him was slowly filling that gap in his chest, the hollowness that made it even harder to breathe.

But Jayce wasn’t quite there. Something was definitively wrong with him, and Viktor was beginning to accept that it was something that he would not be able to solve on his own. Was this his punishment? To live in the solitude of a sunny day, Jayce by his side but not entirely, wasting into nothing, exposed to a gentle breeze?

Viktor’s leg trembled, his knee protesting the unwelcome weight. “Almost there,” he murmured nonsensically, unsure to whom he was talking. He stared at his feet, resolved to simply pick a direction and walk, hoping there would be something invisible over the crest of a later hill.

They walked for several hours, until the sun began casting golden beams across the scarlet evening sky. Viktor was shaking all over with the exertion, leaning against Jayce as much as he leaned on him. His nose and throat burned with ragged breath. He began to cough again, stumbling. He lost his balance, panic and absurd embarrassment surging like he was tripping on the Academy steps on the first day of class. Viktor braced for impact, wincing preemptively.

And he didn’t fall. Something caught under his elbow, wrenching his shoulder painfully. He yelped, undignified, just as he heard a sharp “Careful!” from whoever had grabbed him.

The young man helped him steady himself and Jayce, peering into their faces in amazement. He had white hair in tight curls that spilled over his forehead, matched by a white hourglass shape painted over the bridge of his nose. One hand still supporting Viktor at the elbow, he reached out his other hand tentatively, as if to touch Jayce’s face. “Fascinating,” he whispered to himself, until Viktor jerked Jayce protectively against his chest. The man shook himself, then grabbed Viktor’s makeshift staff from where it had dropped, and offered it to him.

“Sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I’m just shocked to see you. I thought for sure you had been sent somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” Viktor asked.

“Yeah, to another timeline, like before.”

“Before?”

“When we first touched the Hexcore, I was sent to another timeline with a different chain of events. I assumed he was too; did he tell you about it?”

Images and memories began snapping into place, a dawning realization. Viktor nodded slowly. “In a way.”

The man nodded as well, still studying them in obvious fascination. Viktor recognized that look: the all-consuming curiosity that dashed away social mores, feeding giddiness with each new detail noticed and slotted into a greater understanding. He couldn’t help but smile privately; the man reminded him of a younger Jayce, almost.

“Well, let’s go,” the man said suddenly, startling Viktor out of his reverie. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Confident and surefooted, he led Viktor, and Viktor led Jayce, up and down several more hills before coming upon a small hut tucked into the hillside. “Come inside,” he said, opening the door.

The hut was warm and basked in an orange light from a crackling fireplace at the center. There was a small couch, a cot, and a small table all tucked to one side near the hearth, but the majority of the space was dominated by a large working table that sprawled beneath the one window. It was strewn with papers and bits of clockwork machinery, some larger pieces whirring with life off to the side.

“How long have you been in this place?” Viktor asked, stunned.

“Four hundred twenty seven days, two hours, and,” he checked his watch, “thirteen minutes.” He smiled ruefully and shrugged. “When we were transported the first time, Heimer went to the same timeline as me, but over a thousand days earlier. It seems like the same thing happened to us. Did you both arrive here together?”

“We did,” Viktor replied, looking at Jayce, who simply stood at his side, listing into his shoulder, staring at nothing. “But it seems that not everything came with him.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, peering at Jayce once more. As he did, Viktor’s traitorous legs twanged painfully with overwrought tension, causing him to stumble forward. “Excuse me,” Viktor muttered. “Do you mind if we sit?”

“Not at all!” The man bustled them over to the couch. “Sorry to inspect you at the doorway, it wasn’t what I meant to do at all. I brought you here to rest; we can discuss our situation later.”

Viktor eased into the couch, stiffness blooming into burning in front of the fire. He pulled at Jayce, who folded himself down robotically and sat stiffly, staring towards the fire. Viktor touched his arm delicately, then pulled away. He couldn’t look at Jayce for more than a few seconds before the ache in his chest threatened to split open and swallow him whole again, so he simply stared at the fire too. The warmth was wonderful; he hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten outside, how stiff his joints had become. He closed his eyes, exhaustion setting in.

“Has Jayce talked at all since you got here?” the man asked, and Viktor’s eyes snapped open.

“How do you know his name?” he asked.

"Oh, he—” the man pointed at Jayce, then himself, then clapped his hands together. “When I said we touched the Hexcore, I meant Heimer, me, and him. We were trying to… well, in a way we were trying to figure out what happened to you. You are Viktor, right?”

Viktor nodded slowly, vague understanding solidifying further. “And you are…?” he prompted.

“Oh!” The man extended a hand. “I’m Ekko.” They grasped hands, and shook, once, firmly. There was an element of searching in Ekko’s eyes, almost testing. Whatever he found must have been sufficient, for he stood up and busied himself at the small table by the fire.

“Coffee?” he offered after a moment. “I know you Pilties like that tea, but I think it’s disgusting. Filion root is a good enough coffee alternative for me, so it’s all I’ve bothered to find.”

“That is fine,” Viktor replied. “I don’t much care for tea myself, if I am fully honest.”

“Perfect,” Ekko said, and after a moment brought over two steaming mugs. He handed one to Viktor, who clutched it gratefully, steam easing the stiffness out of his fingers.

“Do you think he will drink it?” Ekko asked softly, looking at Jayce. Viktor looked over. Jayce’s breathing was steadier than before, but he still seemed completely unaware of everything around him.

“Jayce,” Viktor murmured, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt presumptuous, somehow, even though Jayce had been half hugging him all day as they stumbled over the dunes. But Jayce didn’t react to the touch, nor Viktor’s voice as he spoke his name again.

“Will you drink?” Nothing. No lifted brow, no huff to his breath. He simply stared.

Viktor sighed, throat tight. He took a sip from his mug to test the temperature, and shuddered at the bitterness, the scald on his tongue. It was wondrous, the feeling of warmth, of caffeine, after all these months. He blew gently on the liquid before turning again to Jayce, lifting the mug to his lips. If a hand on his shoulder felt presumptuous, this was far more so, bringing a flush to his cheeks he hoped wasn’t visible under the firelight. But he knew Jayce needed sustenance, hydration, potentially even more than himself, so he tilted the mug up, hoping that Jayce would drink once he felt the coffee against his lips.

“Sakra,” Viktor cursed as a dribble of coffee spilled down Jayce’s cheek. He struggled at the robes tied around his neck, trying to free an end to wipe with, when he caught sight of Ekko, wordlessly holding out a cloth to him. Viktor thanked him, and dabbed at Jayce’s cheek. Still no response.

Viktor’s eyes stung, and he blinked hard, turning away. He took a hearty gulp of the coffee, relishing as it burned his tongue and throat.

There was a loud creak as, across from him, Ekko swung himself up to sit on the table. He leaned forward, chin in his hand, and studied Jayce, puzzled. Viktor was envious of the distance and innocence with which he could approach this problem, like a curiosity rather than a condemnation.

“How did you get him to walk here with you?” Ekko asked.

Viktor considered for a moment. “I talked to him, and tried to shake him. The only thing that worked was,” he swallowed. “I commanded him, I suppose.”

“Commanded him?”

“I am not sure. I simply demanded he stand up, and he did.” Upon reflection, it seemed unnatural, disgusting. Viktor shuddered. “I do not know if it was a reaction to my words, or simply a coincidence.”

Ekko’s brow furrowed. “Well,” he smiled. “Only one way to find out. You’re a scientist, aren’t you?” He held out the other mug.

Reluctantly, Viktor took it, and looked at Jayce. He took one of his hands, limp at his side, and placed the mug into it, gently curling the fingers into the handle and around the sides. He hoped that the warmth would ease any unspoken stiffness or pain, at least, if this wouldn’t work. He almost hoped it wouldn’t, as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, searching for the same feeling of command as before. Jayce’s hand was rough where he cradled it in his palms, the weight of it and the full mug pressing down on his wrists. There was a feeling there, not quite pain, just pressure that threatened to be so. He focused on it, eyes still shut. Then, with a breath, he opened them, and spoke.

“Drink.”

Jayce shuddered. That horrifying marionette came to life again, his hand lifting away from Viktors’ and bringing the mug to his mouth, swallowing the entire helping in swift draughts. It made him cough, violently, three times, as Viktor and Ekko leapt nervously to his side. But he soon quieted, empty mug dropping from hands yet again limp. Ekko quickly snatched it up, turning away. Viktor shut his eyes, his hands empty.

None of them talked for some time, silence broken only by Jayce’s occasional grumble, clearing his throat of a lingering cough. Each time Viktor winced, but did not look. He knew what he would see: that same blank, empty stare, the bent shoulders, the lifeless stillness. Whatever awful power Viktor’s voice could hold over him, be it arcane or personal, it was a poor and nightmarish illusion of the liveliness that so endeared Jayce to Viktor originally, that spark and flare in his voice, his movements, his eyes.

“Well,” Ekko intoned slowly. Viktor opened his eyes, staring wretchedly at him. “That does provide some measure of proof.”

“For what good?” Viktor replied. “I will not do it again.”

“You may have to,” Ekko said softly. “If he cannot eat with assistance, you’ll have to make him do it himself. Otherwise he’ll starve.”

Viktor shook his head. “I will not. I will not control his will again.” He grabbed his cane and stood, hobbling over to the dark window, his back to Ekko. The stars were brilliant, the sky as astonishingly clear as it had been during the day. They clearly were not near Piltover, for there the sky was often hazy with smoke and other offdrafts from the city.

“Viktor.” Ekko’s voice was at his side. Viktor turned away, almost petulantly. “He’ll die. You won’t do this even to save him?”

Viktor swallowed thickly, his chest throbbing in that same stabbing, wrenching pain. “What am I saving?” he whispered. Behind his closed eyes he could see all of the golden lights of the people he had taken into the Herald’s Arcane, the connections and flares, the power, the freedom, their crumpled bodies and screams when he had left them.

“You know, I considered killing you when I first realized that you might end up here too. I was prepared, even, in the first days.” Viktor turned to stare at at him. Ekko continued, “But after a while, I felt myself changing, out here by myself. I was lonely, then bored, then desparate. I decided I wouldn’t kill you, at least at first, because I realized I needed someone else to get out of here. Or to be here with me, even hated, if getting out wasn’t an option.” Ekko stepped forward. “And, I thought it was naive, but I thought it was possible that perhaps you’d changed, or I had misjudged you.” Ekko smiled sadly. “I’m sorry it’s like this, but I am glad I was right.”

Viktor turned away roughly, dashing the back of his hand against his eyes. He took a shuddering breath. “I have learned many things in my relatively short life,” he said shakily. “It took me far too long to learn the value of another person by your side.” Viktor turned to face Ekko again. “I see it is not an easily won lesson for you, either.”

“No,” Ekko said ruefully. He looked at Jayce, still sitting stock still on the couch. “I am glad at least one of us has a second chance.”

Viktor watched him quietly for a moment, both lost in reflection.

“You should sleep,” Ekko said eventually. “See if Jayce will lie down in the bed, it should fit you both.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “Where will you sleep?”

“The couch is fine,” Ekko replied, going to the fire and scattering the coals. The room grew dim, shadows cast long and quavering across the walls.

Viktor bent at Jayce’s side, placing an uneasy hand on his shoulder. “Come sleep,” he whispered, and tugged Jayce to his feet. His unconscious movement put too much weight on his braced leg, and he swayed dangerously. Viktor grabbed him around the shoulders, righting him. It was strange, knowing exactly how to tilt them both so the weight settled on a stronger hip, turning the shoulders so they leaned away from the pain. This unwitting knowledge, practiced damnation; he had never expected it to help anyone besides himself.

“You okay?” Ekko asked.

“Yes,” Viktor replied, and shuffled them, mirror images, towards the bed. He saw Ekko curl up on the couch and turn away. Viktor was grateful for the feigned privacy as he pressed Jayce down to the mattress, a splayed hand on his chest to get him to recline. There was no genuine reason to be embarrassed, Viktor knew; there was no other way to get Jayce into any position resembling sleep. But the movement was so intimate, the sound of Jayce’s breath exhaling in a soft moan as he fell back almost filthy, Viktor had to shut his eyes and take a moment to compose himself. It would be impossible to get Jayce to readjust closer to the wall to give Viktor space at the edge of the bed, so Viktor had to crawl over him to lie down himself. He pulled the covers over them, still cold metal of their braces radiating into the space between. He should have taken them off, but he was exhausted, and sleep was coming dangerously fast now that he lay down. Grateful, Viktor let himself be swept off into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The fire hissed and crackled as it was stoked, sparks floating up into the makeshift flue. Viktor blinked awake, vision bleary. He was warm, his whole body suffused in it. He lay there, cataloguing sensations as they returned to him. His hips and knee felt like heavy stones. His shoulders protested any shift of his head. But the smell of the fire, of brewing coffee, and the warmth; it reminded him somewhat of Zaun, before everything. He tried to focus on the warmth, to revel in the way it sank into him. As he did, he noticed something: one side of his body where he lay was significantly warmer, pressed up against what felt like a heating conduit. Jayce.

Viktor sat bolt upright as soon as he realized, memories flooding back. He groaned, a headache stabbing into his forehead from the sudden movement.

“Everything alright?” Ekko asked, knelt by the fire.

“Fine,” Viktor replied, rubbing his face. “He’s very warm.”

“A fever?” Ekko’s face appeared by the bedside, pinched in concern.

“I am not sure,” Viktor replied, touching the back of his hand to Jayce’s forehead. “He has always complained of running hot, so this may be normal.” Unbidden, memories flitted into his head: Jayce standing close at the lab table, Viktor grabbing at the edge of it to avoid leaning into the warmth radiating from him. A hand on his shoulder, leaving a cool spot by contrast when he walked away. His back brace warm to the touch for perhaps the first time, leeched from where Jayce had helped support him back to his room. “Yes, I think I may have forgotten,” he mused.

Ekko's brow twitched, but he didn’t say anything. He turned back to the fire. “Coffee? I have rye biscuits nearly done too.”

“Thank you.” Viktor crawled delicately over Jayce’s body and hobbled back to the couch. It was comparatively cold outside of the blankets, and he shivered. Jayce remained still, staring empty at the thatched ceiling. “I cannot tell if he slept at all,” he said thoughtfully.

Ekko inspected the prone form as he brought the coffee and biscuits over. He waved a mug above Jayce’s gaze, watching his eyes. “I don’t know. He looks rested enough, no dark circles or anything.” He handed Viktor a mug, brown biscuit balanced on the rim, and sat back on the tabletop. “Unlike yourself.”

Viktor shook his head with a wry look. “Fully back to myself, it seems.”

The biscuit was hot from the fire, burnt in some spots and still doughy in others. Yet as Viktor took a bite, he found it was satisfying and complex, charred grains almost sweet against the bitter coffee. “Surprisingly good,” he noted, nodding at Ekko.

Ekko smiled. “You’d think I’d be better after a year of cooking with a fire, but I still can’t help but burn it most of the time.”

“Call it seasoning,” Viktor replied, finishing his off.

“Right, a gourmet meal,” Ekko answered, taking the mug back. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do if we make it back, a restaurant on Sidereal, ‘Ekko’s Eclectic Eats: Taste the Arcane.’”

Viktor laughed in spite of himself, a small chuckle. “You would be surprised how many in Piltover would be eager for a chance to eat ash and call it a delicacy.”

Ekko hummed thoughtfully. “I really don’t find it that surprising.”

There was a moment of silence, first brooding then awkward. Viktor coughed lightly.

“Right,” Ekko said, clapping his hands and hopping off the table. “If you feel up to it, I’d appreciate if you’d review my notes so far. I haven’t found any meaningful patterns yet, but maybe new eyes will help.”

“Of course,” Viktor replied quickly, joining him at the desk.

The table was covered in papers, all coated in minute pencil marks, equations and notes and drawings. Ekko pushed a stack towards him, clearing space. “This is what I think’s the most understandable; the rest are mostly… well, just start there.”

Viktor nodded, already reading the first page. It was fascinating, seeing how someone else conceptualized the Arcane. His mind felt a little rusty at reading, having to decipher another person’s thoughts through their marks on a page rather than simply experiencing them as if they were his own. It was wonderful — the feeling of ideas sorting themselves, picking them apart and rearranging them, the slowly dawning understanding blossoming from the the back of his mind like the opposite of a headache, fogginess replaced by clarity.

“This is all your own?” he asked. The material was quite thorough, and some of it seemed familiar in its construction.

“Some of it is from my discussions with Heimer, and even some with Jayce,” Ekko explained, tinkering with a small magnifying glass. “I was fortunate to have a few tools and a notebook in my bag when I got… sent here. There’s an empty schoolhouse or something a couple miles away, so I was able to find more paper and pencils. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Viktor replied. “But that may prove difficult. I wouldn’t want to leave him here alone.”

They both looked at Jayce, still laying on the bed. He didn’t stir.

Viktor turned back to the table. “This is very thorough,” he complimented. “I am glad to see many of the findings Jayce and I made to be repeated here; it indicates accuracy to see it replicated.”

Ekko nodded. “That’s good to hear. There were definitely some nights I thought I was just going bonkers.”

“Well,” Viktor smiled, turning over another page. “By some metrics, I am sure you were. The Arcane has a way of demanding some insanity.”

Ekko chuckled hollowly. “I guess you would know.”

“Indeed.”

They stood in silence, poring over the notes for a while longer, until Viktor’s knee started to protest the unfair treatment, gathering a tremble. He sighed and stepped away.

“Do you mind if I take this to the couch?” he asked, gesturing to a folded folio set off to the side. Ekko looked up, lost in thought, before recognizing what Viktor pointed at.

“Oh, that’s… That’s not research notes.” He coughed lightly. “How about we break for lunch?”

“That is fine,” Viktor replied, amused. Jayce had also had a habit of leaving half sheets of folded paper strewn about his desk, also oddly possessive of them when questioned. He shuffled over to where he lay, gazing down at him. Jayce looked pensive, like he was simply laying down to ponder a tough problem in their lab, reclined under the large windows looking out from the tower.

Viktor sighed shakily. “I should get him to eat,” he mused aloud.

“I can make oatmeal,” Ekko offered. “Sorry, it’s a lot of field grains and small game and not much else here, I’m afraid.”

“Oatmeal would be perfect,” Viktor said gratefully. “Can I help?”

Ekko glanced over at him. “I have enough for this meal, but if you can hull these for tomorrow, that’d be great.” He handed Viktor a bowl of grains and a dull stick. “Have a seat on the couch; just crush them lightly with the stick until the seeds fall out of the hull. We can separate them out after we eat.”

Viktor sat, cradling the tools against his chest and placing his walking stick off to the side. He really needed to make something more substantial that would support more of his weight; his wrist was beginning to flare from the excess pressure. He ignored that for the moment, though, following Ekko’s instructions and gently separating the oat berries.

Soon, Ekko came over and traded the bowl for another filled with warm sustenance. It was essentially gruel, but like the biscuit, it was imminently comforting in its rusticness. He was sure he would crave more complex meals in time, but having consumed nothing for such an extended period, he was grateful for the simplicity.

“I know you will disagree again,” he said, “but this is really very good. Thank you.”

Ekko laughed. “Yeah, for day two I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s hope you don’t need to try it on day four hundred.”

Viktor smiled. “Nevertheless. I am grateful that you also did not decide to kill me.”

“Yes, well.” Ekko returned to the fire to make another serving. “Gruel is better with conversation.”

“That is certain.” He sat, lost in thought for a few moments, before shaking himself and finishing his lunch. He got to his feet to take the second bowl from Ekko, but Ekko placed it down on the table instead. Viktor looked at him quizzically.

“We should sit him up first,” he explained. Viktor nodded, going to Jayce’s side.

“Come, you must eat,” Viktor murmured, sliding an arm behind Jayce’s shoulders to lift him up. Fortunately, Jayce was not a complete ragdoll; he responded in kind when Viktor moved him, pliable beneath his hands. Viktor also appreciated that Ekko hovered off to the side, ready to intervene but keeping his distance. He seemed aware that there was something between them that he couldn’t access, even though he clearly worried for Jayce and didn’t quite trust Viktor.

Finally upright, Viktor held out a hand for the oatmeal, placing it gingerly in his lap. Placing a protective hand on Jayce’s shoulder, Viktor took a small spoonful and touched it to his lips. “Eat the food, please” he whispered pleadingly. Jayce swallowed, but didn’t open his mouth. “Come now, Jayce,” Viktor continued, unwilling to let even a slight edge into his voice, though frustrated as he was. “You will starve,” he whispered, placing a hand against Jayce’s cheek. Tentatively, he pressed two fingers against the crook of his jaw, applying gentle pressure.

As he hoped, Jayce’s lips parted, and Viktor was able to slide the spoon in. “Good. Eat,” he said softly. And Jayce did, though excruciatingly slowly. Viktor sighed in relief, and heard Ekko do the same.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Ekko murmured, busying himself back at the desk, leaving them to their slow, halting dance to keep Jayce alive.

It went on like this for some time. Viktor would leave Jayce, ostensibly sleeping, in the bed as he went about morning chores inside, hulling grain and spinning flax thread. He took mercy on Ekko and took over the cooking, managing a sufficient yet tasteless diet for them from what Ekko found out on the plains. At midday he helped Jayce to the couch and fed him, then took him to a chair outside while he tended to the small makeshift garden he had begun, to allow Ekko to focus on finding game. This brought some variety to both their diets and their day, scant tubers and berries, sun and wind. It seemed never to rain, wherever they were, but the soil remained fertile enough, so Viktor didn’t ponder it at length.

In the evenings, when Ekko returned from his trekking with a small rabbit or snake, they would all three sit on the couch, Jayce in the middle, discussing possibilities from their observations and meditations from the day while they ate dinner.

“The thing I keep getting stuck on,” Ekko continued, polishing off the bone of a rabbit’s thigh that he had finished, “is that there are signs of civilization here, but no evidence of actual people. There are buildings, but no signs of wear on the floorboards. There’s books on the shelves, but not a single one askew or set aside.”

“It is peculiar,” Viktor agreed. “I have also noticed that the plants are extraordinarily similar to one another. Each hull of oat has exactly four seeds; every stalk of flax two flowers. Never more or less.”

“Heimer hypothesized that the Anomaly was a reaction to the excess of order demanded of the Arcane by the Hexgates. It’s strange to be in a place that’s so orderly; it doesn’t seem to connect to that idea.”

“No,” Viktor said thoughtfully. “Perhaps there is somewhere in this realm that is creating excess chaos.”

Suddenly, Jayce coughed, bits of grain sticking to his lips. Viktor turned, patting his back and watching him worriedly. Jayce quieted quickly, returning to his stupor. “Alright?” Viktor asked softly. He brushed the grains away with his thumb, wiping them off against the edge of his bowl. He met Ekko’s eyes, concern mingling with despair.

“I do not know how long this can continue,” he admitted quietly. “He is getting thinner.” It was true; where before Viktor’s entire hand could splay out atop Jayce’s bicep without barely curling, now he could nearly encircle the muscle with his fingers. He knew Jayce wasn’t eating enough, and hardly moved. He sighed, and tucked a stray strand of Jayce’s hair behind his ear.

This was the other thing. By refusing to command him, Viktor had to dictate Jayce’s every move with touch. It was not as though they had never come in contact when they worked together in the lab, but this was far different, and Viktor worried that he was becoming superfluous, almost greedy.

He would comb his fingers through Jayce’s hair when they moved outside in the afternoons, telling himself he was removing the tangles. When they ate their lunch on the couch, he would lean against him, intertwining their arms to hold both his own and Jayce’s bowl. And when Ekko was out, Viktor found himself lingering at Jayce’s side constantly; a brush of his knuckles against his cheek, a pat on his knee, small gestures as if to reassure himself that Jayce was still there, even if only physically.

And there was the matter of sleeping. Against his better waking judgement, Viktor kept waking up to find himself wrapped more and more elaborately against Jayce’s still form. He reasoned that it was for the heat; it was a waste of firewood and necessary rest to continue stoking the fire through the night, but it did become quite cold in the hut. And Jayce really did run warm, like his own personal furnace. So, when Viktor awoke the next morning with his arms wrapped around Jayce’s torso and his nose tucked into the crook of his neck, he decided not to think much of it.

And so they continued, Viktor watching as Ekko marked more days into his calendar of notches on the door frame.

“Do you think it is worth trying to seek out a source of chaos, or should we create our own?” Viktor asked one evening, making absent marks with a pencil on a scrap of paper. Ekko was hunched over the desk, sorting through the bits of machinery he had scrounged up over the past few days, and Viktor was sprawled on the couch, practically laying in Jayce’s lap. Because Jayce would hold things that were placed in his hands, they had begun using him as a kind of coffee table, handing him spare writing utensils and half empty coffee mugs.

“Is this yours or mine?” Ekko asked, gesturing at a mug that Jayce held.

“Right hand’s yours, left hand’s mine,” Viktor replied, patting Jayce’s cheek above him as a kind of thank you.

Ekko took a sip of the lukewarm coffee. “I think there’s a chance we’ll come across a naturally chaotic entity, but I can’t imagine how we’d go about seeking it out deliberately,” he answered. “Everything seems to be the same repeating hills in any direction I travel, almost like it’s being regenerated.”

“It would be folly for you to travel in search of it alone in any case,” Viktor rejoined. “And we certainly cannot join you in our state, I’m afraid.”

Ekko sighed. “So creating our own, if we want to leave here anytime soon.”

“Yes,” Viktor agreed. “We do have some experience in that, to be sure, but I am afraid our better halves would be more suited to the task.”

Ekko turned to give Viktor a sad half smile. “It’s true.”

—

One evening, as Viktor had tried to explain how to set up a particularly persnickety proof for the fourth time, he had thrown up his hands in exhasperation.

“To je píčovina!” he hissed, banging his fists on the table.

Ekko jumped. “Jeez, what the hell?” he asked, stepping back.

Viktor huffed. “I cannot explain it right, my words are not correct and you are not getting it.” His accent was thicker than usual in his frustration and exhaustion.

Ekko’s brow furrowed. “I mean, I get some of it,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe we just need to go to sleep and try again tomorrow.”

“No!” Viktor retorted, hitting the table again. “It is not so complex! He could explain it!” He gestured vigorously at Jayce. “Debilní proof, forget I mentioned it.” He stormed out of the hut, slamming the door behind him.

The night was cold and clear, as it had been every night since they had arrived. Viktor stomped over to his little garden and began pulling up errant weeds, though in the dim moonlight it was clear he was ripping up both weeds and deliberately grown plants with abandon. He kept going, though, cold dirt and pebbles rough against his hands, until a coughing fit interrupted him, forcing him to land seated and ride it out, tears on his eyelashes and throat raw.

He put his head on his knees as he caught his breath, chest burning. It wasn’t just the fit; that chasm, that empty ache yawned wide tonight, threatening to overwhelm him. He was tempted to just curl up here, to give up and let the cold of the ground and the night air seep into his bones, let the morning come empty as it always did.

But he felt a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, it reminded him exactly of Jayce, helping him up after a coughing fit sent him to his knees in the lab; the same warmth and pressure pulling him out of his head. But it wasn’t Jayce, and so he stayed where he was, pressing his forehead harder into his kneecaps and squeezing his eyes shut. The hand left after a moment, and Viktor thought he was alone.

“I don’t think either of us can do it quite right without them,” he heard Ekko say. In spite of himself, Viktor turned his head to look at him, curious. Ekko was crouched on the ground in a low squat next to him, gazing at the sky.

“I imagine she’s in those stars sometimes,” he continued. “It doesn’t make any sense. I know the person I’m thinking of is in another place completely, with a different version of me.” Ekko sighed. “But for a little while, I had that. That person, whose brain worked just like yours, except just ever so slightly differently. Same spark, but…”

“Mirrored,” Viktor murmured. “Like the left and right hand.”

Ekko met his eye, and nodded. “And then I was back, and she was different, and now we’re here.” He said it with an air of dull and repeated acceptance, a slight shrug and a forced smile before he looked away.

He is young, Viktor thought suddenly, watching Ekko in profile as he looked back at the stars. It was strange, feeling almost brotherly protectiveness in this moment, his own chest still enflamed.

“I do not think,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “I do not think it is foolish to take someone’s presence as a gift, even when it is only a memory.”

—

“I’m thinking of something like a perpetual motion machine,” Ekko suggested, “except it moves infinitely randomly rather than the same action over and over.”

“That seems a promising start,” Viktor mused, beginning to scribble equations on his paper. “If we start with the integral of x squared over two plus U by x, then we just need to find some variable by which it is still zero.” He stood, tucking the dull pencil into Jayce’s hand and taking a sharper one. He pressed a kiss to Jayce’s temple and hurried over to the desk. “Here,” he offered, thrusting his list of derivatives at Ekko and hunting down an emptier one to begin testing potentialities. He shook the paper, glancing over at Ekko to see why he hadn’t taken it. Ekko was staring at him, head cocked to one side. “Take it,” Viktor repeated, shaking the paper once more. Ekko blinked, then took it, settling into a rhythm next to Viktor as they worked, continuing to speak only to report what they had attempted so far.

It wasn’t until later that night, after Ekko had scattered the coals and they each lie awaiting sleep, that he realized what had happened and why Ekko had stared at him.

Did I kiss him? Victor thought, eyes wide in the dark hut. He had no idea why he had done it, except that it had seemed right in the moment. He put a finger to his lips. Except for an initial red flash of embarrassment, he was surprised to find that it did not feel incorrect now. In fact, he found himself wishing for an excuse to do so again.

And he did, in the coming days as he puttered around the hut, waiting for Ekko to return in the evenings so they could eat and continue their study. He would plant a peck on Jayce’s forehead when he got him up for lunch, a brush of his lips to the crown of his head when they went outside in the afternoons. Never a true kiss, or anything close to it; if anything, it felt like a natural extension of the gentle touches he had been indulging in before.

He did worry if he was overstepping, at times. But each time he did, he was reminded of the many small touches Jayce had been fond of bestowing, back in the lab: a touch to the small of his back, a tap on the back of his hand.

One evening, as they went to retire for the night, Viktor felt Ekko watching him as he gave Jayce an unthinking kiss on the cheek. His own cheeks went flush, and he felt his ears catch flame. He coughed lightly, stymying an instinctual apology.

“I think it’s good that you do that,” Ekko said quietly. Viktor looked at him askew. “People need touch to survive, you know.” Viktor’s brow furrowed. How long had Ekko been here before they arrived, four hundred days? Ekko seemed to realize what he had accidentally implied, and stammered, “It’s not— I’m not— I’m not saying—”

“Ekko,” Viktor interrupted, straightening up. “Would you like a hug?”

Ekko just blinked rapidly at him, still stammering nonsensically.

“Jayce is much better at this than I am,” Viktor admitted, approaching Ekko. “But I do know how painful loneliness is.” He stepped forward, and when Ekko didn’t move away, wrapped his arms stiffly around Ekko’s broad shoulders, trying to project a feeling of calmness, or at least not abject awkwardness.

Ekko laughed, half choked and half baffled. They stood like that for a few seconds, before stepping away in tandem. “Thanks,” Ekko said hastily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I appreciate the thought.”

Viktor laughed aloud at that, shaking his head at Ekko’s grimace. “It’s okay,” he reassured him. “I have no illusions as to the quality of my hugs.”

Ekko gave a stilted laugh and busied himself with the dinner dishes. “Yeah, I have to admit,” he replied blithely, “I’ve had better.”

While Ekko made no attempts to initiate another hug, Viktor did notice that he was more easygoing with his touch after that, grabbing Viktor’s arm when they made a breakthrough at the desk, or steadying his shoulder when he stumbled on the uneven threshold. More than that, though, Ekko openly interacted with Jayce now, leaning against him during their dinner conversation, giving him a pat on the shoulder when he walked by.

This neither insulted nor surprised Viktor, who was more than used to people prefering Jayce’s presence over his own. What was a surprise, however, was the feeling of intense possessiveness that newly accompanied each time he noticed Ekko’s hand graze against Jayce.

He held the feeling at arms length at first, puzzling over it only rarely and choosing to ignore it otherwise. But then he found it revealing itself uninvited.

“I’ve got it,” Viktor snapped at Ekko, snatching the cup away. Ekko had reached over to help steady Jayce’s hand when some liquid had spilled, and he pulled his hand back, startled.

“Okay, damn,” Ekko retorted defensively, walking away muttering something under his breath.

Viktor gave a slow sigh, a bit shocked at himself. Why did this bother him now, when Ekko had every right to be near Jayce at times too? If the people at the Academy fawning over Jayce’s every move hadn’t bothered him, why this?

—

Brushing flecks of winnow off of Jayce’s collar the next day, one hand protectively holding him in place, Viktor begrugingly began to acknowledge that this was not, in fact, a new feeling.

He had lost many things during his time as part of the Anomaly, feelings and memories that slowly worked their way back during the hours of reflection he had to himself while doing menial tasks for their incidental household.

The first to return had been gratitude and worry, oddly complex pairs for his initial thrust back into the land of the emotional. Curiosity and frustration came too, heralding a rush of the more familiar, determination and bitterness, contentedness and disgust. The only thing he still could not tell, however, was the name for the gap in his chest, a seeming absence that grew wider every time he noticed it.

At first he had assumed it was a result of the Anomaly and their journey to this plane. The more Viktor reflected, however, the more he came to recognize that the same feeling was present in many of his memories from Piltover; the Academy, their lab. It was there in the moments where he watched Jayce present their research on Hextech to a cheering audience, in the moments when Jayce left the lab for the night to go out somewhere else, in the times when he handed Viktor a piece of chalk to add to their calculations on the blackboard, smiling.

Viktor sighed, and touched his forehead to Jayce’s. The sun was brilliant, as per usual, and he saw Jayce’s pupils dilate from tiny pinpricks when his head cast a shade across his face.

“Jayce,” Viktor whispered, closing his eyes. “Do not be gone too long. There is something I must tell you.”

Chapter Text

“Here,” said Ekko, handing him the piece of metal they were using as a screwdriver. Their contraption was coming along, a stopwatch-like handful of gears surroundng a cartridge of water that, when set off, should initiate a random series of twists and turns ad infinitum. They hadn’t tested it yet, unsure what the consequences would be, if any, and how immediately they might affect their surroundings. Viktor scribbled a note on their work page, indicating the increased tension provided by the new screw. Ekko peered over his shoulder to catch the number, and soon handed over a new set of equations tested with the variable. It was close, but the third derivative was still finite— Viktor tapped it with his pencil, frowning.

“I know,” Ekko sighed. “I can’t tell if it’s something wrong with our math or our tools. We just can’t get that precise.”

“Tomorrow,” Viktor said with a groan as he stretched. He could feel a massive headache coming on, pressure building at the base of his skull. “I cannot think any more now.”

“Same,” Ekko agreed, taking the pencils and miniscule screws out of Jayce’s hands and putting them back in a box on the desk. Viktor rubbed his eyes and attempted to sort their papers, shuffling them into uneven stacks. As they tidied the table, fatigue both physical and mental charmed their movements into sluggishness. Viktor reached for an oilcloth across the table at the same time that Ekko went to grab an empty mug and they collided, heads knocking violently into each other with a loud crack.

“Do prdele,” Viktor cursed, sparks ricochetting behind his eyelids. “That will not help my headache.”

“Fuck, me neither,” Ekko agreed, rubbing his forehead.

As Viktor’s vision cleared, he glanced at the desk a final time to check that nothing had gotten knocked over and spilled. “Where’s the device?” he asked hesitantly.

“What?” Ekko asked. His eyes searched the table rapidly, then he bent down to look under it. “Oh shit, it fell,” he said, crawling down to grab the machine. When he stood again, his eyes were wide with trepidation.

“It’s running,” he said, holding it out towards Viktor. The vessel of water at the center spun erratically like a tree branch in a hurricane.

Viktor hissed in air between his teeth. “Kurva,” he said softly. The little machine whirred, metal pinging against metal inside. As it did, Viktor noticed another sound rise, seemingly coming from outside. “Is that the wind?” he asked, turning to the window.

“It’s rain,” Ekko replied, awestruck. “It hasn’t rained before.”

Sure enough, droplets of water pooled and ran down the windowpanes, scattering the golden light of the fire and beginning to fog up.

“I’m going outside,” Ekko said breathlessly, hurrying to the door. Viktor went to Jayce, coaxing him to his feet and guiding him over to the threshhold.

Ekko stood in the dark fully exposed to the rain, arms out wide and head thrown back. “It’s raining!” he shouted, spinning around.

“Yes,” Viktor replied, smiling. He held a hand out, feeling the cool droplets tap against his palm. He took Jayce’s hand and held it up as well, hoping he might enjoy the feeling too. They stood there with their palms raised, water pooling in the centers. Ekko whooped, mud splashing as he danced about. Viktor smiled, watching him, watching the rain drive in sheets across the hills, watching his and Jayce’s hands hover next to each other.

Watching Jayce’s hand turn and lace their fingers together.

The water ran in rivulets down their arms. Viktor blinked, stunned, his breathing going shallow. Had Jayce recovered? His chest sparked, a stab of heat. Viktor turned slowly to see Jayce’s face, quivering with effort to keep their hands undisturbed.

Jayce stood silently, still staring ahead blankly. Viktor exhaled shakily, shutting his eyes against the tears that threatened. It was of no use, though; he clasped Jayce’s hand tighter as he felt them run down his cheeks, matching the rain as it fell.

“You okay?” Ekko asked, returning to the hut.

Viktor nodded, biting his lip and blinking his eyes open. Ekko was completely soaked, but he was grinning from ear to ear. “I am fine,” Viktor replied. “Just the rain.”

—

As they dried off in front of the fire, torrents still pounding on the roof, Viktor considered keeping the moment to himself. It was gift-like, the gesture; he guarded it close to his heart, replaying it over and over in his mind.

But eventually he had to admit that it was too much of a coincidence that Jayce’s seeming first independent movement happened right after their device ran, and the rain started.

“Ekko,” he began slowly.

“Hmm?” Ekko looked up from where he was arranging his socks by the fire.

Viktor held up his and Jayce’s hands, still intertwined. “I did not do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were outside, I held Jayce’s hand out to feel the rain, but I didn’t put our hands together like this.” Viktor swallowed. “He did.”

Ekko blinked in astonishment. “With no prompting?” he clarified, coming over to the couch.

“Nothing I am aware of,” Viktor replied. “I must assume it is connected to our device and the rain.”

“Yeah,” Ekko nodded thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure if it was just coincidence, but the randomness from the device must have been enough to disrupt the atmosphere and finally prompt different weather. There’s finally chaos here.” He grinned.

“Though what connection to Jayce’s state?” Viktor mused. “Does his consciousness require chaos as well?”

Ekko laughed. “Some would probably argue that,” he chuckled, going to collect a stack of notes from the desk. “But I think they would say the same for you and I too. I have a different theory.”

“Do tell.”

“You’ve mentioned in your garden and with the plants in general that they always grow the same way, right?”

“Yes, two flowers on every stem, or four seeds in every pod.”

Ekko nodded and gestured to the notes. “And in my traveling, I noticed that the buildings always had the same structure too: two doors, four windows, six chairs. Always multiples of two.”

“And yet there are three of us,” Viktor continued, realization dawning. “Our very presence upset the balance.”

“Exactly,” Ekko replied. “And I would guess that the way this universe decided to reconcile that is by removing one of us from the equation, and Jayce must have been last in line.”

“Only two can be conscious at a time,” Viktor said thoughtfully. “Pairs are its balance, its orderliness.” He looked over at Ekko. “So you need to knock me out.”

“What?!”

“Knock me unconscious. It is not hard. Then, I believe Jayce will be able to wake up.”

“And YOU will be out, which leaves us no better off!” Ekko exclaimed. “What is even the point of that?”

Viktor stared at him like it was obvious. “Jayce will be here.”

Ekko shook his head, eyes wide. “Y’all are fucking insane.” He went to the window and looked out, still shaking his head. Viktor watched him. “There’s no need for your weird self-sacrificing bullshit,” Ekko admonished. “We’ve introduced an imbalance. Look— the storm is getting stronger.”

Indeed it was; the windowpanes rattled with the wind as if to emphasize Ekko’s point.

“Very well,” Viktor conceded. “We must watch carefully for signs of change, then.”

Ekko agreed, though he also noted that they were not practically prepared for waiting out a long storm. They would need firewood and game eventually, and the door would need to be sealed against the cold drafts that made the fire sputter in protest.

And it wasn’t only the drafts from the door that needed fixing; that night, the wind howled down the chimney and filled the hut with smoke, casting Viktor and Ekko into painful wakefulness with heaving coughs and burning eyes.

Jayce coughed too, shaking the bed violently. It was a horrifying sight, his body flat and stiff as a sheet of ice but quaking with the choking that wracked all of them.

“A cloth, and some water,” Viktor croaked at Ekko, who was helplessly waving his arms at the smoke. He stumbled over with the requested items, nodding with understanding and fetching his own when he saw Viktor douse the cloth and place it gently over Jayce’s mouth and nose.

His own face protected, Ekko handed Viktor a third damp cloth. Viktor held it over his nose, but the smoke was aggravating his lungs too viciously— his hands and shoulders shook, preventing the cloth from laying flat and protecting him. Through watery eyes Viktor could see that Jayce had calmed, but it was a bare comfort when his own body couldn’t even begin to recover. His coughs turned to wheezes, and he doubled over.

He felt the bed shift and groan, and then a hand on his back. Ekko held the cloth in place until the smoke settled and the coughing slowly began to subside. A gentle hand rubbing between his shoulderblades helped him straighten up painfully, blinking away charcoal tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Ekko nodded, his own eyes rimmed red. “You’d do the same,” he replied simply.

Viktor appreciated the sentiment, as unearned as it was. Ekko was unequivocably more magnanimous and determined than Viktor on several fronts, and Viktor felt that to be quite obvious. But there was something very pleasant about being given the benefit of good will, of fair assumptions, that made the jagged edges of his breathing less painful.

“You are an exceptional caretaker,” he told Ekko, moved to impress upon him the same feeling of appreciation.

Ekko leaned back thoughtfully. “I’ve helped a lot of sick people.”

Viktor felt a hand on his knee and looked down, wondering why Ekko would feel the need to comfort him, when what he said seemed to hint as his own melancholy. But there, resting deliberately over his kneecap, was instead Jayce’s hand, heavy and warm. Viktor blinked, disbelieving at first, then glanced at Ekko. He was also staring at Jayce’s hand, and when he looked up to meet Viktor’s eye, he raised a brow.

“Did you do that?” Ekko asked.

“No,” Viktor breathed. Tentatively, he placed his own hand on top of Jayce’s, hoping to comfort him in turn, in whatever way he was aware.

Where the relentless sun had been dull, the rain was invigorating at first. But after three days, Ekko began to grow restless, pacing about the small hut, aimlessly picking up and putting down empty containers and papers.

“We’re nearly out of jerky,” he noted peevishly.

“Yes,” Viktor replied, continuing to carve at the stick on his lap. “We have more than plenty grains though, we can manage at least a few more days.”

“Until what, the sky clears?” Ekko replied. “For all we know it’s going to rain forever now. Equilibrium but in the opposite direction.”

“I doubt that,” Viktor said gently. “There is still much randomness in the wind and intensity hour to hour.”

Ekko sighed. “I know,” he said, going to the desk and shuffling their notes. “But how are we even taking advantage of that? It seems like a breakthrough, but we haven’t done anything with it.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I don’t know!” Ekko exclaimed in exhasperation. “But I can’t just keep sitting around waiting for inspiration to strike.” He went to the door and began to pull on his boots. “I’m going out to see if I can find any game while the rain is still pretty light. I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, he took his bag and left.

Viktor stared at the door for a moment before returning to stripping the roughness off of his cane. He was fairly certain that Ekko wasn’t annoyed at him personally, but the outburst was uncomfortable nonetheless. He reasoned that Ekko was not so used to being stuck in any place for an extended period of time; Viktor, on the other hand, was well acquainted with many days forced to languish indoors with only himself for company.

In fact, having anyone with him during those times had been a recent luxury. All through his childhood and adolescence he had convalesced largely alone, silently staring at the ceiling and entertaining himself mostly by sleeping. Once he met Jayce, though, the slow and lonely evenings began to pass by almost too quickly, with Jayce sitting at his desk yammering away while Viktor lay in bed, pretending to read their course papers. Even now Ekko took up the mantle, his occasional chatter distracting Viktor from the way his bones settled unevenly into sharpness as the night drew on.

He looked wistfully at Jayce, reminiscing on long days and nights in the lab, ridiculing Jayce for the drool he left on their instruments when he fell asleep at the lab table, dozing off himself to the soft sound of chalk scribbling equations.

He hadn’t noticed how much time had passed in reflection until his stomach grumbled loudly in protest of its abandonment. His brow furrowed in consternation as he shuffled over to begin cooking supper, tossing a handful of millet in the pot once the water began to boil. Ekko had been gone a while, but Viktor tried to reassure himself that this was their usual routine, and surely he would come in the door any moment, a rabbit or lizard in his hands.

Viktor stirred the grains until they were completely mush, giving up on waiting and ladling out two servings only when he smelled them begin to singe on the bottom of the pot.

“Here,” he said quietly, shoving the nervousness down and turning to tend to the arduous task of feeding Jayce. It was darker than usual in the hut, though, clouds and evening and their rationing of firewood casting long and thick shadows, causing Viktor to jam his toe violently on the side of the bed. He cursed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut against the sharp pain.

As if in agreement, a deafening crack of thunder rang out at the same time. Viktor’s eyes shot open, startled, to see Jayce sitting bolt upright in the bed. For a moment Viktor thought he must have forgotten helping him up, distracted by Ekko’s continued absence, but he knew that was not true.

“Jayce?” he asked, approaching slowly.

Jayce’s head turned, his eyes casting about wildly in terrified confusion.

Viktor rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders. “Jayce!” he cried. “It’s alright. I am here.” He cradled Jayce’s cheek, turning his face so he would look at him. While he was much more present than he had been for the past weeks, his meandering gaze made Viktor’s heart sink in fear. But, when his eyes fell on Viktor, finally, the bewilderment melted away, recognition and relief in its place.

“Viktor,” Jayce said hoarsely, and they fell into each other’s arms.

Viktor would have stayed there forever if he had his selfish way, feeling Jayce’s pulse race where their shoulders touched, trying to quell his own shaking so as not to dampen Jayce’s long hair with his tears. But far too quickly he heard Jayce whisper into his neck, “Where are we?” and the spell was broken.

Viktor sat back suddenly, grimmacing. “Ekko’s cabin,” he replied, knowing how little that explained but suddenly too frantic to give more detail.

“He must be in danger.” Viktor sprung up, casting about for where his shoes had gone, but the lack of food and burst of emotion were too much for that movement. His vision narrowed and darkened, sudden blindness stopping him in his tracks. As his head pounded and his mouth began to water, he felt a hand tugging him back to the bed. He sat down hastily, breathing hard.

“Take a moment,” Jayce said gently, rubbing his shoulder. Viktor’s vision began to clear, spots dancing over his gaze.

“Did you say Ekko?” Jayce asked. “Heimerdinger’s student?”

“Yes,” Viktor replied, taking a deep breath. “He did say you two had met.” In fact, now that Jayce was awake, Viktor recalled he had several questions on the subject, but now was hardly the time. “We seem to have been sent to another universe, yet again for the both of you. This one is marked by extreme orderliness, until three days ago, when we accidentally ran our untested device intended to introduce chaos and this storm began.” Jayce nodded haltingly, appearing to follow, so Viktor continued rapidly. “Part of our observations were that everything here existed in multiples of two, except for the three of us, which we hypothesized was the cause of your unconsciousness.”

“It’s been like a dream,” Jayce said slowly. “I’ve barely noticed anything.” Viktor felt his neck flush red, but he tried to ignore it. “But then if I’m awake—” Jayce looked around. “Where’s Ekko?”

“Exactly,” Viktor said, getting up more carefully this time with his cane. “He left to try and find food. We must go after him.”

“Do you have a lantern?”

“No, we have not had to protect from rain until now, so we used only torches.” Viktor went to the worktable and inspected the scrap pieces they still had, including the dented casing of the device that had begun the storm. “We’ll have to fashion something from these.”

“Um, Viktor?”

Viktor whipped around anxiously. Jayce was half seated at the edge of the bed, leaning heavily on the bedpost. “Will you help me up?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Viktor said, hurrying over. He wedged his cane beneath one arm and tucked his other underneath Jayce’s, together hoisting him upright. Jayce breathed heavily.

“Sorry,” he wheezed.

“No need,” Viktor reassured him. Together they hobbled to the desk and, leaning into each other, they cobbled together a makeshift storm lantern.

It was astoundingly easy to fall back into their old rhythms, a nudge of the elbow to request what the other was holding, a tap of the pinky to remind them to loosen their grip with a delicate wire. The only difference was how they leaned on each other, practically melting into the other’s shoulder, side, and hip.

Viktor tried at first to rationalize it as necessary for their sore and weakened joints, but as they finished the machine and went to the fire to light it, he had to admit that they clung to each other in a way that was more detrimental to efficious movement than practical. But they stayed attached as they hustled around the hut, gathering a blanket and water pouch before steeling themselves at the door.

“Are you sure you okay?” Viktor asked Jayce, looking at his pinched expression in askance. “I could go by myself.”

“No you couldn’t,” Jayce countered simply. “We’ll go together.”

It sent a little shiver down Viktor’s spine to hear that, said with such plain surety. “Yes,” he breathed. “Together.”

The rain was torrential, an absolute deluge that soaked them to the skin almost immediately. Their lantern sputtered for a moment but held, casting light on a foreboding wall of glittering raindrops.

“Ekko!” Viktor shouted, his voice catching.

“Ekko!” Jayce joined in, roughness fading from his disused voice with each repeated call. “Where are you?”

They had no option but to pick a direction and begin walking. In such abject darkness and with hardly a landmark to move by on the desolate hills, it struck Viktor quickly that they could just as easily get lost out here themselves. Their staggering gait didn’t inspire confidence either, but they forged onward, shouting hoarsely in turn and listening vigilantly for any reply.

Only when Viktor had begun to truly fear the impending collapse that the quivering developing in his knee foretold did he finally turn to Jayce and start to suggest that they turn back. But as he did, Jayce’s hand went to his chest, stopping him.

“What’s that?” he whispered, pointing at something ahead.

Viktor couldn’t see anything, straining his eyes ineffectually at the fog. They crept forward, shuffling, until finally the lantern lit up the hilltop enough for Viktor to see what had caught Jayce’s eye.

Laying on the ground in a crumpled heap was Ekko, a stout deer cradled against his chest like a sleeping child, its neck snapped.

Viktor fell to his knees next to them, pulling Jayce down with him. “What did you just say to me about insanity and self-sacrificing bullshit?” he hissed, scrabbling to feel for Ekko’s pulse. He pulled back his collar, willing his fingers to stop shaking.

“Is he…?” Jayce trailed off, unwilling to say it.

“He is not dead,” Viktor replied sharply. After a soul-crushing second he had found a faint beat, weak but present. “Help me lift him.”

“Wait,” Jayce said, placing a hand on Viktor’s arm. “Are we supposed to carry him all the way back to the cabin?”

“What else?” Viktor asked. He looked at Jayce helplessly. “He would, he has come for you and I. He cannot rescue himself.”

Jayce looked back for a moment, then nodded once, decisive. Together they painstakingly wrangled Ekko’s arms over their shoulders, staggering to their feet. But as they stood, it became immediately obvious that this would not work: with Ekko’s unconcious form slumped between them they listed dangerously to the side, spinning in a blundering pirrouette before gracelessly sitting back on the ground.

“Damn!” Viktor cursed, smacking the earth in frustration, mud splattering up his arm. Across Ekko’s fallen form he saw Jayce hunched over, his shoulders heaving. When he looked over, meeting his eye, he realized that Jayce was furious, his face as dark as the stormclouds above.

“This shouldn’t be hard,” Jayce growled. “I should be able to lift him and carry him back myself!”

Viktor winced, guilt piercing his gut. “Together, right?” he said gently, grabbing Jayce’s shoulder. Jayce closed his eyes, pressing down his anger. “Yes,” he replied. “Together.”

In the end they were able to use the blanket to create a kind of hackneyed sledge, tying its ends around their waists and trudging slowly through the murk back the way they came. Silent and with their heads bowed they walked, minds numbing to the steps and the pain as they went on. They paused only to attach the lantern to the blanket at Ekko’s feet, freeing their hands to hold the whole faulty construction together as the knots kept falling apart in the rain.

The light was veritably useless anyways with the rain as thick as it was, but as the pinpricks of light coming from the hut’s windows grew closer, it seemed to grow in effect, wider swaths of the hillside coming into focus before them as they slogged forward.

Perhaps it is dawn, Viktor thought deliriously as they finally, blessedly, reached the edge of his sprawling little garden. They paused, chests heaving with exertion, and looked back at Ekko.

He was unchanged, still cradling the little deer and unresponsive atop the now absolutely mud-caked blanket. But behind him, trailing delicately over the hills and valleys, was a lithe strip of miniscule flames, dancing in defiance of the rain.

“Oh no,” Viktor breathed. He tugged at Jayce’s shoulder to get him to look as well.

“Fuck,” Jayce said quietly, and the sky exploded.

A jagged bolt of lightning split the sky in two, illuminating everything in blinding black and white. It struck the end of their accidental trail of lantern oil, sending meter high flames racing down the hillside toward them.

“Fuck!” Jayce repeated, much more loudly this time as he frantically began to untie the blanket from their waists.

“Ekko!” Viktor cried, kneeling down and shaking him fiercely. “Get up!”

The flames were close enough to be heard crackling over the downpour when Ekko’s eyes snapped open, meeting Viktor’s. Never had he been so happy to see them, but he quickly supressed any urge towards an ill-advised hug and they scrambled to their feet together, slipping and stumbling with Jayce to the hut, slamming the door behind them and falling in a heap to the floor.

This tangle of limbs, collapsed and shaking from exhaustion and terror, was more heart filling than any hug, in a twisted way. Viktor lay there with Ekko and Jayce, every inch of his body screaming like it was the fire outside, but at the center of his chest that emptiness, that gaping hole, was quiet. Feeling their shivering and disgustingly muddy arms and legs up against his, alive, Viktor began to laugh. It started as a silent wheeze but soon became a full chested guffaw, wracking his entire body. They were alive, thank every drop of rancid water that dripped into and stung his eyes, every sore and protesting bone, every sour breath.

“What the hell,” he heard Ekko’s bewildered voice next to him, at the same time that Jayce’s chest began to shake under his shoulder, laughter bubbling up to join Viktor’s nonsensicality. After a moment Ekko began to chuckle too, until all three of them were howling with laughter, fear and fatigue and desperation seeping out and crystalizing into something pure. Love.

Viktor realized what it was, that feeling he couldn’t name or find after his return, that absence in his chest. The absurdity of it, that it could be so simple and yet so easily lost, sobered him. The laughter left, replaced with somber quietude.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, sitting up. Jayce and Ekko quieted too, looking over at him each in turn.

“For what?” Ekko asked. “If I’m following anything, I think you just saved me.”

“For all of it,” Viktor said solemnly.

Ekko scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he put a hand on Viktor’s knee. “It’s just forward now,” he said. “You’ll do what you can.”

Jayce laid his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “We all have our parts,” he said quietly.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, lost in reverie and exhaustion. It was Jayce who eventually broke the quiet: “We’re disgusting.”

Ekko huffed a short laugh. “Let’s do what we can to clean off.”

They helped each other to their feet and began the arduous task of moving forward together.