Chapter 51: Anatomy of a Fall (and what comes after)
There appears to be nothing more alarming than a frantic man in questionable health, one bad leg and a cane, hurling himself down a pristine Piltover hospital corridor. Viktor hurtles down the hallway at breakneck speed, his cane a natural projection of himself—a third limb that threatens to sweep away any obstacle in his path, whether that be hospital equipment or hospital staff.
One such obstacle stands before him now, hands raised. “Sir, sir, please, you cannot run in the hospital.”
Viktor’s laugh is like a bite in the face. He glances down at the young man’s name tag, seeing that he’s a resident. “Dr. Hadvani.” The emphasis he puts on the man’s address is a dissection of the title, a silent addendum: You and I both know the ink is barely dry on your credentials. While that doesn’t guarantee you’re an idiot, the possibility is non-trivial. “Do I look like a man capable of running?”
Dr. Hadvani pauses, uncertain of how to navigate this pit trap. Viktor starts forward again, and this time Hadvani throws out an arm bodily, stopping him from advancing. Viktor nearly snarls at him. It takes conscious, monumental effort—a rapid-fire recollection of where he is, who he is supposed to be, the palatable, industrious man from the Undercity, one of the good ones—to keep from cracking the man’s arm with his cane. The delirious, exhausted part of his mind pictures sweeping the resident’s legs out from under him—though in reality, he certainly lacks the strength to do that.
“Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Viktor bristles at this. He’s the very picture of composure. Had he not, after all, refrained from physical assault? A sudden, hot resentment floods him—resentment for this boy exercising authority, for the way it casts him as an outsider, someone who does not belong. Someone whose world is not lying in a room down this very hall, having just defied odds that Viktor himself had calculated at a sixty-two to seventy-four per cent chance of failure.
He is about to unleash a scathing remark honed to a razor’s edge when a familiar voice cuts through the tension.
“Viktor.”
He looks up. His own doctor stands there, her expression as severe and controlled as ever. For a heart-stopping moment, he fears she will side with the resident, her quiet authority finally ejecting him. Instead, she gives a curt nod to her colleague. “He’s with me, Dr. Hadvani,” she assures him. “I’ll see him to his destination.”
Dr. Hadvani looks relieved that someone else is going to handle this irate, snarling cat of a man from the Undercity. “Right then, Dr. Granet,” the resident says and steps aside to let Viktor join his doctor.
The moment the young man is out of sight, Viktor gives Dr. Granet a curt nod and pivots to continue his charge, only to realise he possesses not the faintest idea which way to go. He halts at the junction of two identical hallways, licking lips gone dry with anxiety. The adrenaline that propelled him this far begins to recede, leaving behind the dull ache in his leg and the ragged burn in his lungs.
“I thought I just heard you couldn’t run, Viktor.”
His head snaps toward Dr. Granet. He’s ready with a protest but catches a gleam in her eye that borders on mirth. Her assessing gaze lingers for just a moment on his cane. He recalls their last appointment; he’d been using a crutch then. Since their treatments with the Hexcore began, he’s been sending Jayce in his stead for medical supplies to avoid questions. If she is suspicious—and he is certain she is—she keeps it behind a mask of professionalism.
“Come,” she says, beckoning him down the left corridor. “Mr. Talis was moved from recovery about an hour ago. He’s in this wing.”
The update reignites the frantic energy in Viktor’s chest. “How is he?”
“Resting. The surgery went well. No complications.”
Viktor’s heart pounds. “Good,” he breathes, the single word a testament to the terror he’s been holding at bay. He coughs, clears his throat, and pushes forward, pretending not to notice his doctor’s raised eyebrow as he nearly outpaces her, feigning a confidence in his direction that he does not possess.
Dr. Granet walks with him as promised, giving him a brief, clinical report. She’s not Jayce’s doctor nor a surgeon, but several broken ribs had prompted a respiratory consultation. Jayce’s lungs are intact, a small mercy in a litany of violence told by the rest of his body.
As they enter the recovery wing, the air grows still, thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low, electronic hum of monitoring equipment. It feels like stepping into a vacuum, a pocket of suspended time. Dr. Granet leads him to the final room on the far end of the hall, a location that feels blessedly private. She gestures him toward a chair at the bedside, her expression softening almost imperceptibly.
“Now, Viktor,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I will be back. You are to stay here. If you move from that chair, I can’t help you. Understood?”
“Understood,” he murmurs, his gaze already fixed on the still form in the bed. She gives Viktor a nod of confirmation and exits, leaving him to the strange quiet.
(Read the rest on AO3!)(Or start from the beginning!)
I have a confession to make. When I started watching Arcane I was a Jayce hater. Mostly due to the stupid fucking permanent five o'clock shadow, but generally because he seemed to me very superficial and performative as a character within the story.
But then. But then. S2 came out. And he's frantically carrying Viktor out of the wreckage. He is spending his days and nights by Viktor's side. He goes full 🎵 aaalll by myyyyself🎵 in the lab after Viktor leaves and then also strikes THIS smokeshow of a pose
He is in - in my opinion - best scene of the entire show, one that still gives me chills in combination with the music:
I can finally show you this little thing I painted for @shai-san (on insta), for a gift exchange on the French Jayvik Discord^^ I finished it more than a month ago, and I'm still quite proud if it! It's a Gouache technic I used for the first time (I covered my paper with a vibrant pink and tried to cover it with touches of colors, and it was quite difficult to find a way to keep a harmony, and to be able to see both of the bodies distinctly)
