Chapter Text
Viktor didn't even care if he damaged the prosthesis with the force of his steps or if that meant that he had to crawl to his room, he just couldn't retain his anger, disappointment, and self-loathing for believing Jayce could ever see their bond as something more than a mere platonic friendship forged across timelines. But then again, why, just why was Jayce looking at him like he wished to cross that line?
Viktor was a man of logic, his mind capable of untangling the most intricate mysteries, yet Jayce remained an insufferable, captivating, at times full-of-himself enigma. He wasn't difficult to find, he was always there. Where? Viktor couldn't explain, but he was always drawn to locate him, somehow. But reaching him, truly reaching him in the way he wanted to, seemed an impossible task, even for someone as intelligent as him.
The memory of him leaning into Jayce’s touch resurfaced, and Viktor cringed in self-reproach. It wasn’t the first time he’d sought comfort in his touch, but this... this felt different. It had never been like this. Not ever. He could still feel the phantom heat of his thumb rubbing against his cheek. How foolish he had been to think that might mean more. Then, he begged to differ with himself, presenting Jayce’s almost-kiss and look as solid evidence of certain interest from his behalf.
That made him feel even more angry. His feet pounded against the hallway, his cholera noticeable with each step. Bystanders glanced his way, but Viktor paid no mind. He was used to being stared at; he didn’t care.
How dared Jayce touch him like that? How dared he give Viktor hope, only to stop, to pull away? Wasn’t it Jayce who had leaned in first, who had seemed ready to bridge the unbearable gap between them? His heart was foolishly seeking rational explanations, a convincing hypothesis on Jayce's behavior. Could he ever bring himself to love Viktor, despite the flaws he carried with him? Only the Gods knew those flaws represented a baggage so big he could fit inside.
His fuming thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he nearly collided with the possible embodiment of Jayce’s hesitations: Mel Medarda. Her face lit up with her signature charm and natural beauty as she opened her arms.
"Ah, the right-hand man of progress!" she greeted warmly. "Have you seen Mister Talis? I haven’t been able to locate Heimerdinger lately, and I thought—"
Mel Medarda. Of course. That was the reason. That was always the reason. He didn't even bother asking her what she meant by "man of progress" when, without pausing, he pointed back toward the lab, his voice clipped and formal.
“Forgive me, Miss Medarda, but I’m in a hurry. Mister Talis is all yours. Please, ask him yourself.”
The interruption tasted sour as he said it, the dismissive tone quite unfair. Mel didn’t deserve his ire, and yet she had become an unwilling target of his frustration. He made a mental note to apologize later, adding her to the growing list of people he owed one to.
He pushed past her, his pace quickening as though he could outrun the storm brewing inside him. Between the emotional wreckage of his reunion with Sky and the charged almost-kiss with Jayce, Viktor was barely holding himself together. He needed to get to his room.
When he was about to turn the corner, his gaze snagged on a fleeting scene that caused him to freeze on the spot. Jayce came out of the lab.
"Mister Talis! I was just looking for you," Mel approached Jayce, hand brushing his arm slightly, but his expression seemed odd. Lost.
Desperation and repentance that wasn’t directed at her.
No, Jayce was searching for Viktor.
A twisted sense of satisfaction flared at the sight of his afflicted reaction as soon as their eyes met in the distance. He hated himself for this sudden, almost sadistic empowerment and blamed it on the anomaly, although deep down he feared that to be an excuse, and that the truth was much more complex. Maybe there was a side to him he wasn't ready to confront.
He turned the corner, leaving Jayce and Mel behind.
By the time he got to his room, he had calmed down significantly. The first thing he did after he closed the door behind him was sit at the edge of the bed, and sigh. He decided to take off his prosthesis, gently placing it on the floor to later massage the aching muscles of his thigh, giving his stump a good look. His fingers tiptoed around the edge where the knee should be, tingles running through his system at the touch, the phantom of his limb cramping from walking all day.
As he stared at his missing leg, curiosity began to rise. He wondered about this timeline's version of himself. If they ever were to speak, he wished to apologize for taking his body to command an improved version of his life without any sort of consent, he also felt embarrassed for giving it an inappropriate, shameful use.
Then, Viktor would casually ask him how did he lose the leg. Was it, perhaps, that every Viktor out there was destined to have some kind of trouble with it? Was pain so intrinsic to his existence?
Apparently, and following the assumptions that Sky made earlier, his heart seemed to belong to a man, presumably Jayce. He couldn't help but ask himself what was the nature of their relationship. What pushed each other to meet, if Hextech was out of the question?
His body recoiled when his back touched the matress, eyes scanning the ceiling and thinking, contemplating. The more questions he had, the less answers he could conjure.
What did Mel mean by man of progress? Surely, he couldn't be. He couldn't.
But why couldn't he? He was aware he was Reveck's partner now, so maybe it wasn't so far-fetched to consider the possibility of the two of them being commemorated men of progress following their work with shimmer. Could this timeline be so different that this version of himself was not even terrified of public speaking and spotlight? The idea seemed ridiculously hilarious. Or maybe this Viktor was simply proud of himself. The idea wasn't funny anymore. It pained him.
He quickly returned to shimmer. If his own illness was being treated with it, could it actually be a medicine that combated abnormal cells? Or was it, perhaps, an opioid of some sort? At least he was aware that his leg operated with a derivative from it, but how?
His brain was suddenly filled with wonder. The research, he wanted to read the papers published about the discovery, he craved answers, he longed for knowledge. Since Jayce was out of the question to feed him information, there was only one person left to find that could potentially reveal the details he seeked to obtain. But first, he needed to put his leg back on.
The Academy's library was quiet, as was expected, save for the soft rustle of pages, the creak of wooden chairs and some occasional distant coughs. Viktor ventured himself, his gait measured as he made his way toward the librarian's desk, peering the immense bookshelves all around, mesmerized. He was there for a purpose, get the papers on shimmer authored by Reveck and himself. The thought alone sounded strange. To imagine his name tied to the substance that had caused so much suffering was bizarre, and oddly fascinating.
His eyes scanned the catalog desk when a figure suddenly popped up from behind it.
"Goodness, you startled me!" whispered the librarian, with glasses too large for her face. Her voice in a hushed, excited murmur. "Mister Viktor! It’s not everyday we get such an esteemed guest in the library! Scientists often forget about this place once they struck gold with their discoveries."
Viktor blinked, caught off guard by her enthusiasm. He managed a polite smile. "Yes, I... this might sound strange, but I'm here to find the published research on shimmer by Si– sir Reveck and I," he caught himself on the name correction as he spoke.
"One would think you'd have it hanging on your wall, that research was groundbreaking! Or so I’ve heard. I tried to read it but I couldn't understand it. I remember it caused quite the commotion around here, or, well, everywhere! You know, the Noxian students... oh, nevermind. It isn't important. Come this way."
Without waiting for a response, she darted out from behind the desk and began weaving through the aisles. Viktor stumbled before he followed, her whispered chatter filling the air. He slightly crouched as they walked to shorten the distance between them so he could understand what she was saying.
"You know, this library contains centuries of history, just imagine all the knowledge stored within these walls. Isn’t it marvelous? And the work you two have done... well, not just on shimmer but the limbs fueled by it too. Remarkable! Revolutionary!"
Viktor hummed in acknowledgment as he followed the woman, unsure of how to respond to the flood of words. She glanced back at him, her expression earnest.
"You must get asked this all the time, but... do you ever feel like your work could be used for evil? People are so quick to do that, aren’t they? It must be exhausting for creators to see their discoveries ending up in the wrong hands. My niece, Ewan, he's a doctor, you know? And he was telling me that shimmer can get pretty addictive if taken in high dos– oh, here we are!"
She stopped abruptly in front of a shelf, pulling out a stack of neatly bound papers. "These are the ones you’re looking for, dear. You kno–"
"Could you please stop talking? We're trying to read!" someone hissed from a nearby table, followed by a chorus of agreeing sounds. The librarian’s cheeks turned crimson red, and she lowered her head, clutching the book to her chest.
"Sorry," she whispered, her enthusiasm now tempered with embarrassment.
Viktor softened at the sight. He stepped closer, gently taking the book from her hands. "No need to apologize. You have been most helpful," he spoke with tenderness in his voice. “Thank you. Tell your niece I'll look into it."
Her eyes darted up to meet his, surprise flickering across her face.
"And," he added, "it is comforting to meet someone other than myself that is so passionate about knowledge."
Her lips curved into a shy smile, and she nodded, her earlier excitement returning in a quieter form. “Oh, what a sweetheart you are.”
He gently smiled back, then remembered a pending matter. "Before I go," he began, tucking the book under his arm, "do you happen to know where I might find Doctor Reveck?"
She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Corin? If I had to guess, at this hour he’s likely at the greenhouse."
That made sense. He nodded in understanding. "That should be everything then. Thank you once again for your help," Viktor replied doing a bow of sorts.
The librarian smiled, returning the nod. "Anytime, dear."
Viktor had forgotten how magnificent and wonderful the gardens of the Academy were, the afternoon lighting made everything look like a painting, from the green pastures of grass contrasting against the clouds that adornated the blue sky, to the scattered flowers that attracted all types of insects, even the birds washing themselves inside the occasional ornamental fountains added to the product of nature's magic strokes.
Trees formed arched walkways whose canopies covered the trail to the greenhouse. Statues of scientists and inventors were looking at Viktor, most of them covered in creeping ivy. Lampposts, some smaller than others, enlightened the main paths, their faint azure glow refracting off meticulously pruned hedges and still ponds as the afternoon began to wave its goodbye for the day. The sporadic wind that danced with the leaves and clothes of the passersbys seemed to acknowledge the sophistication in a place such as this.
The greenhouse flourished at the end of the tree trail, a castle of glass and iron. From a distance, it looked as though it had been swallowed by the lush vegetation it contained. Giant ferns pressed against the glass. Delicate vines hung from the rafters, cascading downward in an emerald waterfall.
Viktor walked the path that lead to it, his steps steady but his thoughts unquiet. The research book tucked under his arm felt heavier than it should, as though the knowledge it contained carried the weight of every version of his and his mentor’s selves.
Last time they interacted Viktor turned into a monster. Or perhaps that transformation process occurred the minute he began playing with fire, his obsession for perfection blinding the results of his cause. Singed had guided Viktor to heights that should have been impossible otherwise. But nothing was impossible. Together, they had punctured the fabric of existence, stepping beyond to reach the ineffable. Viktor had ascended, transcended, to become something incomprehensible. Jayce had brought him back, he had managed to save Viktor from himself.
Here, they were anchored to shimmer not to revive, or to reach the ineffable, but to cure, to treat, to heal, to improve. But wasn't Hextech first created with that purpose too?
The door to the greenhouse stood before him, an ivy curtain hiding what was inside. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, the man-machine. Taking a deep breath, Viktor stepped inside.
The atmosphere was heavy with humidity, the air fragrant with the mingling scent of damp earth and flowers. Viktor stood. The dim evening light filtering through the dense foliage painted the room in gradients of green, casting shifting patterns on the floor. There, amidst the verdant, was Reveck, his posture unhurried, his movements precise as he trimmed. His presence was intriguing, then and now.
"I reckon you wish to discuss something related to shimmer," Reveck said, not bothering to look at him, his voice calm, almost disinterested.
Viktor stepped forward cautiously, opening the worn book. "Yes. There’s some criteria I would like to discuss…" His voice was steady, though his thoughts were anything but.
Reveck snipped a flower, his eyes focused on the plant. "I thought we covered what needed to be already. I can’t stay long, so I hope you make it worth your time. If not, we can discuss it tomorrow at the lab."
When Reveck finally turned, Viktor’s breath ceased. It was outstanding. The man looked eerily like the time they had met, except for the sharper lines of age and the familiar baldness. No scars, no skin falling off.
He needed to think of a reason to stay in this room where time seemed to echo. Viktor was certain he couldn't actually ask a lot of questions about his own research without raising suspicions, so, he remembered the librarian's niece, flashes of Huck and other shimmer addicts began falling inside his head like dominoes. His heart ached at the memory.
“I thought we could perhaps discuss the addictive characteristics of shimmer,” Viktor offered, watching Reveck’s expression carefully.
His brows furrowed as he clipped another flower. “Shimmer is addictive. What else is there to discuss?”
“People appear to become dependent on it, and I thought there could be something to stop this from happening.”
“No. Some people become dependent on it. You cannot save everybody, Viktor,” Reveck replied flatly, his tone as sharp as the shears in his hand. “That is one of the sacrifices one must make for progress. You knew that already when our project began, so it would be wise to not forget it now.”
Viktor glanced down at the open pages of his book. He ran with the disadvantage of not having read the study beforehand. Before he could say anything else, Reveck spoke once more.
“Two weeks. That’s how long it takes for the body to eliminate shimmer. You would know, you wrote that segment.”
“But what happens if one craves... more?” Viktor pressed.
“The subject dies, naturally,” Reveck answered, his voice calm yet unyielding. “Shimmer was not created to be abused.”
"No," Viktor’s grip tightened on the book. "It was created for Orianna."
For the first time, Reveck paused, his gaze meeting Viktor’s fully. There was something behind his eyes, an unspoken weight Viktor couldn't read. "You’re correct," Reveck admitted after a moment, his tone softer but no less resolute. "And for your condition, I remind you. We both got what we wanted. If that is everything, I must get going, she's expecting me," he explained, leaving the gardening apron on the table next to the plant he was attending to.
So, in this timeline, Orianna was alive. That would explain why Reveck's experiments never strayed far enough from the norm to warrant expulsion. He had kept his work ethical, or as ethical as innovation allowed, avoiding the questionable territories that had once defined him. He didn't need to seek further because he found what he needed before resorting to the extreme.
Her health must have been affected. Perhaps her condition was severe, but not terminal, or comatose as she once was, a product of prolonged exposure to the toxicity that polluted his own Zaun. Things had changed. The undercity had changed, and it all seemed to stem from the incident Jayce had cryptically mentioned when Viktor had first awakened. He even began to wonder how said change had affected his own upbringing.
Reveck, who had lingered at the door as if undecided, finally turned. His expression unreadable, his presence sharp and commanding, even in silence.
"Be careful, Viktor," he began, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "The consequences for curiosity are a cautionary tale. The spark that often ignites creation can also burn the fingers that fanned the flame."
The phrase weighted with a truth Viktor could not ignore, but one he certainly wished to defy. Reveck’s gaze remained analyzing for a moment longer, caring in his own distant way, before he finally stepped out into the gardens, the door closing behind him.
Viktor was rooted in place, his fingers absently brushing against the edges of the book in his hand, his index tracing his complete name engraved on the first page. Was the act of creation inherently destructive? Did progress truly demand a sacrifice of varying magnitude each time, not as an exception, but as a rule?
The addictive element to shimmer was not a surprise, Viktor himself had testified firsthand the horrid impact it had on many people's lives. Lives he tried to save, people he had deceived, lives he had failed, people he had killed.
Had his intent truly been selfless? Were his so-called acts of charity motivated by a genuine desire to help, or was Viktor merely an ego-driven altruist, trying to feed his own weak self-esteem by convincing himself and others he was capable of goodness through unaffiliated suffering? Was he a mere naive puppet being controlled by something greater, complying to spread the germ of "evolution", or had it simply been just him all along? Maybe the anomaly was so bound to him there was no way of knowing if there was even a difference anymore. Maybe it didn't even matter. Maybe he had gotten rid of it, self-destructed in the implosion, but why did Viktor feel like he wasn't fully himself? Maybe it was the fact that he had gone through a lot lately, or that he was inhabiting a different body in a different timeline. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The only undeniable truth, as simple as it appeared, was that he wished to improve people's lives, when he couldn’t even save himself. He had tried time, and time, and time again to better himself, to enhance himself, to upgrade himself, and it was worthless, everytime. Even dying seemed to be forbidden, an exit that was not quite permitted to him. Yet Jayce had done what Viktor never could. He had killed him once, and he had also saved him.
And now, here he was, with a million questions and almost no answers, in a perfect timeline, being given a second chance to do things right. He didn't even need to do anything, the equation had already been solved for him. Perhaps Reveck was right, he couldn't save everybody. Perhaps curiosity was better left at that, a flicker of wonder never fully pursued, a spark never stoked into a fire.
Or perhaps, maybe not. Viktor closed the book with a decisive snap.