Jayce doesn't look up from his hexphone at first. It's been a while, but sometimes people still yell in delighted surprise to see him; celebrity never dies, even if it gets phased out by the next generation, and it's water off his back anyway. And yet, when he hears startled laughter along with the yell, he looks up from the group chat with both brows raised. He knows that laugh. It's a nice sound, a rare sound.
Caitlyn's laugh.
In front of the fountain, Caitlyn is currently six feet in the air, seated with ramrod-straight spine on the shoulder of a very handsome man. She's laughing, still, but making noises along the lines of 'you can set me down now'. The appeal is being made to - Jayce blinks for a moment, dazzled - Taric du Manteau, the demigod who climbed the mountain. Taric's armour, studded with gemstones, gleams in the winter sunlight.
"I told you!" Vi is pointing and laughing at Caitlyn.
"Yes, yes, very good, now please put me down now, Taric?"
"Not yet, me next! Don't move!"
Taric looks at Vi in amusement, keeping Caitlyn balanced on his pauldron carefully, one hand steadying her legs (and she doesn't even flinch about it). "Beg pardon?"
"You got another shoulder," the former Enforcer nods. "But, like, me at the same time as Cupcake."
Now Caitlyn looks startled. "Vi, gracious, don't be--"
And Taric blinks, speaking at the same time, "Wouldn't it be best if I put--"
"I. Want. Uppies." There's few who can make such a sentence sound intimidating. Vi succeeds. Then she adds, with a challenging smirk, "What, you can't carry both of Piltover's Finest at the same time, pretty boy?"
The man is extremely pretty. And, it seems, not immune to a challenge. "Alright." He chuckles, and hunkers a bit to brace himself and Caitlyn. "Other shoulder for you, dearest tourmaline."
"Taric!" Caitlyn is trying to exert her authority, but she's not the sheriff anymore. "Oh gods preserve me..."
"He's not gonna drop you, Cupcake."
"I am certainly not going to drop you, I swear!"
Jayce wants to see how this pans out. But there's a bigger issue. A fourth figure has loped forward from the fountain and planted himself directly in front of Jayce. A multi-lensed mask peers out from a shawl of purple and black, an obscured face for an unobscured identity.
"Ey, little man!" Jax looms even as he leans forward. "Long time no see!"
"Uh!" Jayce blinks, startled. "Yeah! Hi!" He flinches a little as the Champion slams down his staff - one of Piltover's own star-rods, stolen well over three decades ago - for balance. Jayce remembers being beaten to death by that thing more than once (hm, maybe he still needs to see a therapist about the whole 'death circus' thing after all. You'd think ten-ish years would be enough time to get over it. But. Well. Death circus.)
"You're lookin' good, Jayce-my-man." Jax squats down on his haunches, so he's more eye to eye with the Piltovian. His bare purple didactyl feet don't seem affected by the snow on the cobbles at the slightest. Behind the mask, he sounds like he's grinning. "What you been up to since the Institute collapsed?"
"Oh, well..." Jayce waggles his phone, then decides to put it away. Rude to keep holding it in the middle of conversation. "Started my own company, hired some bright minds, kept working to keep Piltover moving towards the future!" He feels a slight pang in his gut, like he's expecting a governess to smack his hand with a ruler for lying. But that's what he's been doing! ... mostly.
"Oh, nice!" Jax, at least, sounds enthusiastic. "You're a proper businessman, huh?"
"Well... yeah! Yeah, I guess so!" Jayce puts on his most winningest smile, the one that used to be on all the billboards and movie posters. 'Used to', right, the whole thing about the next generation and all that... But he's still been busy!
Jax gestures with his free hand to the lamp-post/staff he's holding, as well as to the star-rods currently lining the streets. "Is it you who's been doin' all the changes to the city and infrastructure? I dig the new designs, though they don't quite look as sturdy as this one, hah!"
"Uh, well, no, I'm mostly responsible for automobiles and aircraft these days." A new model every year, as these once-expensive personalised travel vehicles become more and more common. "Oh, and like... household appliances, hexphones... anything sleek and stylish and with my logo on the side." He grins, but feels... weak. Small. It's great he has work but he's just remaking the same things, over and over. He's not an inventor. He's not making anything new.
"Oh, sweet! Got any car that might fit me?" Jax flexes, and the shawl moves as the furred purple bicep emerges from under his jacket.
Jayce laughs, because he's great at socialising and hiding his insecurities over the fact there's someone here with muscles that big (Jayce knows he's missed two gym sessions this week alone, he really needs to do something about that). "Well, hey, if you wanna come down to the Industries yards, we could whip you up a custom car, no worries."
"Oh, nice... but hey, I got other commitments, sorry, and I don't think I can take a car where we're going. But thanks for that, maybe I'll swing by and take a look at what you've been up to, meet your friends, all that jazz."
'All that jazz'. That's a Piltovian aphorism, even if a little outdated. Jayce just forces himself to nod. "Sounds good to me. Uh. 'Commitments'?"
"Oh, yeah!" Jax nods, and gestures towards the fountain. "Me an' my boy Taric have been doin' a bit of a world tour!" Taric is currently braced, focused, concentrating, while holding both Caitlyn and Vi on his shoulders. Vi is whooping with both arms in the air, and Caitlyn is fretting over how quiet Taric is being. "He's a great guy," Jax continues, "Really love seein' the world from his perspective. He got me this!" Two purple fingers fish in the folds of his shawl, and brings out a stone wrapped in leather twine from around his neck. "Jasper. He said it suited me, and that's just sweet."
"Wow. Nice." Jayce isn't quite able to look away from how Taric is holding Piltover's Finest on his shoulders. Could Jayce have done that, back in the day? He feels like he could have, if they'd let him. "Where've you been travelling to?"
"Oh, everywhere, man. Everywhere." Jax tucks his necklace away. "We just got back from the Freljord. Place is just so chill in winter."
"Isn't it always winter in the Freljord?"
"Ha! Right on, man, right on."
Across the street, Caitlyn has noticed Jayce. Direct eye contact has been made; she gently pats Taric's shoulder, murmurs something, and he bends his knees so that Caitlyn can drop - be caught and be guided - to the ground. Now Taric can focus all his attention to Vi, and he straightens up immediately. Vi issues some kind of challenge, and he nods.
Jax turns his head, seeing Jayce's split focus, and snorts a cheerful sound. "Heya, 'Cupcake'!"
Caitlyn arches a brow. "You know you don't get to call me that."
"I can't call you 'Sheriff' anymore, though." The legendary warrior sounds mournful. "You retired! So what's left?"
Her brow stays where it is. "Ma'am."
Jax guffaws, and slaps his leg. "True, true! Sorry, ma'am, won't happen again. Nice seein' you again, little man. Take care, a'ight?" With a nod, he straightens up - suddenly towering over both Jayce and Caitlyn - then strides towards the fountain, taking his lantern with him.
"Hm." Caitlyn watches him go, then looks back to Jayce.
"Hey," Jayce says, still smiling. "How was uppies?"
Her lips quirk. She refuses to allow herself to smile. Typical.
Before he can stop himself, Jayce adds, "And what's going on?"
Caitlyn frowns slightly, her head cocking to one side a bare increment. "Beg pardon?"
Jayce knows he shouldn't have said anything. But now he has, and he has to own up to it. No-one ignores a question from Caitlyn Huxley. "The lads?" He gestures vaguely in Taric and Jax's direction.
"Oh," Caitlyn smiles politely. "Yes, they're just passing through."
She's lying, Jayce realises. Not entirely, but just enough. It's not something he should know, but he's known this woman since she was in pigtails, and in the last eight years they've been able to make some kind of fragile amends. He knows he shouldn't know how to tell when Caitlyn Huxley is lying, but he knows, and what she's saying isn't totally honest. He hates the way his brain lights up at that, at how he immediately starts overthinking, because the last time this happened, he made a hammer...
"Good of them to visit," Caitlyn adds, looking over at them - and at Vi - with a fondness that is entirely genuine.
"You should have told me we were having a meeting of the old gang," Jayce smiles, crookedly. "I could have brought a cheese platter."
"... old gang?" Her eyebrow rises in his direction.
"Former Champs," he says. "A whole party." There's five of them out here right now, by the fountain. It's almost enough to make him feel queasy, just making that comparison.
That same unease crosses Caitlyn's expression for a moment; she must be thinking it too. Her eyes flick back to the trio, and she stands very still. Jayce can see it in his mind's eye, the placement of roles, the assignment of teammates; no doubt Caitlyn is seeing the same thing.
... does she do therapy? He can't imagine Caitlyn letting anyone into her head, not after what the Institute did to her. "Sorry," he whispers. "Didn't mean it like that." He tries to pull his thoughts away from the death circus. "Just... just opened my big dumb mouth, sorry."
Caitlyn clears her throat. No hum, which could be a bad sign; when she looks back at Jayce, her eyes are guarded, which is a very bad sign.
And, also, maybe, a sign that he's right. Which is... oh. Oh shit. What has he just walked in to? Just how big is this? How much trouble is he going to be in if he keeps saying... "Let me help."
Caitlyn hums, finally. "With what?"
"Whatever you're doing. Whatever you're planning." He's an engineer. He knows how to put things together. He's not a detective like Cait or Vi, but he's still a smart cookie. And he's suddenly seized by this fire in his chest, like this is the right thing to do, this is something he needs to do. He can't just be reinventing toasters and automobiles his entire life. He needs this. He needs to help, even if it feels terrifying, even if he might fuck it up again. (Please, gods, please, give him another chance.) "With... anything. Please. I can help, Cait, please."
And this woman, the former sheriff, the daughter of his teacher, his friend, looks at him for a long quiet moment, and the air is cold in Piltover. She puts him on the scales in her mind, and Jayce feels himself holding his breath as he feels himself being measured. Will he be found wanting again? He tries to meet her gaze, even as he feels himself buckling within under the pressure of her consideration...
By the fountain, there's another yelp and a laugh, this time Vi's, as Jax hoists both her and Taric up and onto one of his broad shoulders. Caitlyn's attention is diverted for a second - Jayce feels a mix of relief and anxiety at the same time - then Caitlyn looks back and him and her consideration seems... a little gentler.
"There is, perhaps, something you can help us with."
He wants to say 'anything' but that idea scares him. So he nods, and presses his hands together, and pretends his heart isn't pounding.
Caitlyn's voice drops low, almost a whisper. "We have been planning a springtime ceremony, but..." She hesitates.
Jayce feels everything stop, slide sideways, and something new fills his head. His voice is a whisper too. "Oh my gods. Cait. Are you-- are you getting married?"
"Oh, no no no." Caitlyn smiles, shyly, but with the same glowing fondness that she did before. "We're already married." Her hand rises to her choker, her fingertips brushing the ring sewn into the fabric, the symbol that now replaces her sheriff's badge and -- no-one had noticed, no-one had realised, the design was so subtle and nothing had ever been said and...
"Oh my gods." Jayce shakes out his hands, suddenly breathless, suddenly overwhelmed with love. Caitlyn is married. Caitlyn and Vi are married. They're in love and they got married and now they want to tell everyone and Caitlyn told him about it and he feels giddy, drowning in a tidal wave of sheer joy. "Oh my gods."
Caitlyn looks awkward for a second, never much one for public displays of emotion, but she does smile again. "Hush, please, Jayce, this isn't..." She fidgets with the ring a second longer, then clears her throat and tucks her arm behind her back. "In any case. We were thinking of making a public declaration once the Thaw settles..."
"I know the place," Jayce can't stop himself. He's imagining all the venues, all the floral arrangements, all the people he can call, everything he can do to make this the best dedication ceremony that Piltover's ever seen. He is a man who knows pageantry and showmanship and just how to wow a crowd. He can do this. He can absolutely do this. "Oh my gods. Caitlyn. Congratulations. I want to hug you right now, oh my gods."
She gives him a wry look, then glances over her shoulder. Somehow, she makes eye contact with Vi, and Vi extricates herself from the travelling duo and jogs over.
"Sup?"
"Jayce has offered to help us with the springtime ceremony."
Vi looks sceptically at Caitlyn, then narrows her eyes at Jayce, doing the same internal weighing-up that Caitlyn had done. Jayce tries to stop shaking his hands, he wants to look professional and dependable, but holy gods, they're married.
"Congratulations," he says, very quietly, because this is still a secret, isn't it? They haven't told the world yet. "Oh my gods, Vi. Caitlyn. You both. I knew you two were living together at Bannerstone but I didn't know it-- oh, wow. Wow! Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."
Vi flashes a quick smile, and wiggles the fingers on her prosthetic hand. An identical ring is built into one of her fingers, partially-shielded by plating. They're both wearing rings, identical rings.
"Oh my gods," Jayce almost squeals. He's going to start crying any second now. This is so beautiful. He loves them so much.
"Don't tell anyone what it's for," Vi says, warningly. "You know places like to charge, like, double for confirmations and shit. Worse for weddings. We're on a retiree's budget, my dude."
"I won't say a thing, this isn't my first rodeo, I can totally set this up for you and oh my gods." He takes a deep breath, pulls himself together. "I can do this. Please let me do this?"
Caitlyn inclines a small nod. Vi gives a slight smirk.
"Okay. Okay okay okay." Jayce reaches for his hexphone, and closes the Industries group chat. Design meeting can wait. He needs to find the right locales. Short notice, Thaw is only a week away. He can do this. He's cobbled together projects on tighter deadlines. This is important, he can do this. He'll need prices for location, and catering, and flowers, and --
His hexphone pings. Caitlyn, her own hexphone out, has just added him and Vi to a group chat. "Keep us informed."
"Oh my gods. Yes. Yes, absolutely. I'll get you everything you both need, I promise. Thank you, thank you and congratulations and..."
He stops so suddenly that both women look at him with mild concern.
Jayce looks over by the fountain. Taric and Jax haven't wandered off. They're waiting. Watching. They're still here. They're in Piltover for a reason.
Jayce slides his thumb down the edge of his hexphone, and looks at both Caitlyn and Vi. Retired, the both of them. Married, too. They got married in secret. There's more they're not sharing. More they're not saying.
And Jayce, even in the giddy whirlwind of feelings, is able to pull himself together enough to say, "And when that's done, I still want to help. Okay? I want to be a part of... whatever you're doing. Please?"
Caitlyn presses her lips together, and glances at Vi. Vi, for once, is the steady and unblinking one. She's the one who says: "We'll keep it in mind, Jayce. But let's just take this one step at a time, yeah?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Oh my gods, congrats again." He smiles, and nods, and smiles even wider than before.
Caitlyn and Vi watch him go, seeing him move with a bounce in his step all the way down the block.
"Was it really a good idea to get him involved?" Vi raises an eyebrow at Caitlyn.
Caitlyn sighs slightly. "It will keep him distracted, at least for a bit."
"Man. And here I wanted to plan our little reveal," Vi nudges Caitlyn, teasingly. "And you delegated it?"
Caitlyn brings her hand to her lips, a brief press of her index finger. A look in her eyes, a silent exchange.
Vi watches that digit with a keen affection, then sighs and rolls her shoulders. "Okay. I guess so. Surprised you let him get to you like that, though."
"He's sharper than I give him credit, sometimes," Caitlyn admits, quietly. "Mea culpa."
"You think he's gonna keep askin'?"
"Without a doubt."
"... and?"
"... I don't know," she says, listlessly.
Vi shrugs. "Why not? It's not like he's useless. And you said it, he's smart, so maybe he could... join in?"
Caitlyn looks pained. "Vi. I've already buried Viktor. I have no desire to bury any more friends or family."
The former Enforcer sighs, lets her shoulders slump, nods. A moment of silence can hang, for the statue on Heroes' Walk and the ash blown off the cliffs. "We gotta tell him about that, too."
The pain still shows on her face, despite her efforts to restrain it. "I don't think I can."
Vi's hand flexes, turns, the gears grinding as her fingers ripple and close. Her own gesture of affection, for when she cannot hold Caitlyn's hand in public. "I'll do it."
"... thank you."
"We can think about it. Figure things out."
"Yes." Caitlyn inhales, exhales, slowly. "One step at a time."
Vi nods, then squeezes Caitlyn's shoulder and jerks a thumb back towards the fountain. "Party time?"
Party. As in, a gathering, not a celebration. And yet, hopefully, Taric and Jax are back with a good report. Caitlyn nods. "Lead on, partner."
Taric stood at the edge of the dock outside Booty Bay, just after sunrise. The Great Sea stretched wide before him, its surface shifting in slow bands of light and shadow. The port town was only beginning to stir for the evening, but out here the noise thinned into a distant murmur.
He rolled his shoulders once, drew in a long, steady breath, and dove. The water swallowed him without hesitation. One moment, there was air, sound, and warmth; the next, there was cool pressure and the muted hush of the sea. He slipped beneath the surface cleanly, cutting down through the blue with practiced ease, arms folding in and powerful legs guiding him lower. The world above fractured into a wavering shimmer overhead before smoothing into a pale ceiling of light.
Taric didn’t fight the descent. He let gravity and momentum carry him, body streamlined, and heartbeat already beginning to slow. Freediving wasn’t about force, it was about surrender and about trusting the rhythm of lungs, muscle, and mind to hold steady long enough to explore, then to return.
The sound changed first. The constant hum of the world dissolved into a low, encompassing silence broken only by the faint rush of water past his ears. His own thoughts grew quieter in response. Whatever had pressed at him earlier, the lingering weight of memory, the restless static that sometimes lived under his skin, had lost its urgency.
Pressure built gradually as he descended toward a greater depth. He pressed a hand firmly to his ribs, as a reminder of limits. He equalized without thinking, the motion second nature by now. His body mastered this language years ago, and the sea had taught him patience.
A school of silver fish veered around him in one fluid motion, reorganizing in a tight arc before continuing on. He moved slowly, so as to not startle them. He was a visitor here, not a conqueror. A shadow passed below and Taric angled his body slightly to observe without intruding. A reef shark traced a quiet path along the sand, uninterested in him. He watched with curiosity, wondering what these creatures thought of his own presence in their world.
His lungs began to tighten. He acknowledged it, but did not answer it yet. He drifted closer to a rocky outcrop where coral and sea fans clung stubbornly to stone. Tiny creatures retreated into crevices at his approach. A curious octopus extended one arm cautiously, brushing his forearm before retracting again, as if confirming that he was neither threat nor food.
The urge to breathe sharpened. This was the threshold, where discipline replaced comfort. He had learned long ago not to challenge this moment recklessly. The sea rewarded respect and punished arrogance.
Taric tilted upward. The ascent was always different from the descent. Gravity loosened its hold, but urgency crept in. His chest burned now, a familiar and intense, but controlled, fire. He kicked with measured strength, conserving what little oxygen remained, eyes fixed on the growing brightness above.
The surface expanded, light breaking into rippling patterns as he approached. His pulse quickened in response, instinct overriding calm. Then…air. He broke through in a clean surge, inhaling sharply as sound and heat and wind rushed back into him. The world returned in full at that moment. He floated on his back, lungs pulling in deep, grateful breaths, heart pounding hard against his ribs.
The sky looked incredibly immense from here. He let himself drift, arms spread, ears half-submerged so the sea could muffle the world’s sharp edges. Each dive stripped something from him, whether it be tension, noise, or the constant vigilance he carried on land. Down there, he was only a body moving through water. No one watched, no one asked anything of him, and nothing tried to claim him.
Eventually, he rolled forward and began the steady swim back toward the dock. There would be work waiting, along with conversations and responsibilities. Normal life above water. But at least for a little while, he had belonged to the sea.
