Chapter Text
It was late by the time the fever finally broke.
Xemena had stayed with him the whole time, pressing cloths to his forehead, murmuring soft things as he drifted in and out. He would wake gasping, half-apologizing, insisting he wasn’t sick, that he didn’t mean to be a burden. His hands batted at hers weakly when she checked his temperature or moved hair from his clammy forehead.
He looked more than sick. He looked worn down to the core. Fragile. Defeated.
She’d sent Jayce to the forge with Inez, needing to give him something solid to focus on—something he could help with. She’d promised to call for him if anything changed, but really, she just didn’t want him watching helplessly anymore. He didn’t need to see this.
By the time Jayce returned, just in time for dinner, Viktor was asleep on the couch, curled small under a blanket. Peaceful, finally.
“How is he, Mama?” Jayce asked quietly, stepping up beside her at the sink to wash his hands.
“He’s okay, mijo. The fever’s down. He’s just tired.”
“Is he gonna eat with us?” Jayce chewed on his lip.
“I don’t know, baby. Go give him a nudge. See if he’s hungry.”
Jayce padded over to the couch and crouched beside it, taking in Viktor’s face. The flush was gone, replaced by a pale stillness that felt almost unfamiliar. He looked softer somehow. Lighter.
Jayce glanced at his mom for reassurance before reaching out, taking Viktor’s hand gently in his own.
“Viktor?” he murmured.
A small frown pulled at Viktor’s brow.
“Viktor… there’s dinner. You gotta eat something.”
A groan, unimpressed, and Viktor turned away, curling into the back of the couch. Jayce let go of his hand—but that made Viktor pause. He blinked up at the shape leaning over him.
“Jayce?”
“Hey, sleepyhead. You’re gonna miss dinner.”
“Dinner?” Viktor echoed, like the word didn’t quite make sense.
“I was… I fixed my shirt,” he said slowly. “I-I was leaving?”
“No, Vik. You got sick,” Jayce said gently.
The colour Viktor had regained drained from his face once more. His eyes went wide, shoulders tense.
“It’s okay, though,” Jayce said quickly. “We got you better. You just need to eat something and rest a bit more.”
Viktor didn’t respond. Just looked away, fists tightening in the blanket.
“I… I feel better now,” he tried. “I should g—”
“Viktor,” Xemena interrupted, her tone quiet but firm. “You’re staying here tonight, mijo. I need to make sure you take your medicine through the night. Otherwise, you might not get better.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but one glance at Jayce’s face made him stop. He gave a small nod. Didn’t meet their eyes.
Viktor didn’t know what to do with their concern. Couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t understand it.
Xemena didn’t say anything when all he managed for dinner was a glass of sweet milk.
She didn’t say anything when she saw how he paled at the sight of a clean bed.
She just turned down the covers, set a glass of water on the nightstand, and left the door open a crack.
Jayce hovered in the hallway, unsure, until his mother nudged him forward.
“He doesn’t need a nurse right now Jayce,” she whispered. “He needs a friend.”
Jayce treated it like a sleepover. He whispered about blueprints and the prank he and Milo pulled last week, keeping his voice soft until Viktor’s breathing deepened. Then he curled up on the floor beside the bed, bundled in a blanket.
That night passed in pieces. Viktor stirred often, murmuring apologies into the dark.
Once, when Xemena came to give him his next dose, she found him curled in the corner between the desk and the wall.
He blinked up at her like a startled animal.
“Didn’t want to get the sheets dirty,” he mumbled.
Like he couldn't help but see himself as a stain.
His fever was rising again. She gave him the medicine and coaxed him back into bed.
By morning, the shadows under his eyes had faded only slightly. But he didn’t flinch when Jayce woke him. Didn’t fight when they guided him to the kitchen.
They sat at the table. Xemena busied herself at the stove while Jayce filled the silence with talk—plans for toy engines and questions about science. Viktor sat still, fingers twitching against the table, eyes downcast.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Xemena said gently, setting a bowl of porridge in front of him. “Take your time.”
Viktor blinked at it. Slowly, like he was handling a bomb, he picked up the spoon. Took a small bite.
He chewed. He swallowed. He paused.
Jayce was mid-sentence when Viktor lurched forward, dropping the spoon. He pushed back from the table and staggered toward the sink, gagging.
Xemena was already there. She held his shoulders, rubbed gentle circles on his back as he retched. There wasn’t much—barely anything—but the shame on his face was unmistakable.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped between breaths. “I’m so sorry—I’ll clean it, I didn’t mean to—please don’t—don’t tell him, I didn’t mean to be sick—”
“Hey, no,” she whispered, crouching beside him. “You’re not in trouble, baby. Your body just isn’t ready for food yet. That’s not your fault.”
But Viktor had started shaking, tears sliding down his cheeks as he clutched the counter like it might disappear. “No, no, he’ll know. He always knows. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just—just making mess, I'm in your way—”
“You’re not,” she said, firmer now. “You’re not in anyone’s way. You’re a child. And you’re allowed to be taken care of.”
Viktor was breathing hitched denial, each one breaking Xemena's heart a little more.
Behind them, Jayce stood frozen.
“He thinks he’s gonna get punished for throwing up?” he whispered, stunned.
“Not right now, Jayce,” Xemena said quietly, her hand never leaving Viktor’s back.
Jayce thought of the times he’d been sick. How his mom made soup, let him sleep on the couch. How Viktor had flinched at a clean bed and apologized for seemingly existing.
Was he sick a lot?
And was he always... punished for it?
---
They cleaned him up. Xemena ran a warm bath and waited just outside the door as he soaked in stilted silence. When he emerged, small and wrinkled, she wrapped him in a towel.
“No one is mad at you Viktor,” she whispered, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Let us help you feel a little more like yourself before you have to go.”
He looked at her like he wasn’t sure who that was anymore.
---
Viktor was listening to Jayce read out loud, the sound of his voice calming in a way he was growing familiar with.
He had never known any lullabies growing up but he imagined this must be what they felt like. He was floating in a contented Daze when he heard the knock.
Not gentle.
Hard. Sharp. Demanding.
The kind that made the doorframe shudder and Viktor flinch before it came a second time.
Jayce looked up from his book as Xemena froze at the stove. The third knock landed like a punch.
Viktor had gone pale. He knew that knock.
He was on his feet before Jayce could say anything. He braced himself against the kitchen door frame, face imploring.
“Vik?” Jayce asked, rising too. “Who—”
“Don’t answer it,” Viktor pleaded, too late. Xemena brushed past Him, stone faced and ice in her veins.
Xemena stood tall in the doorway as she opened the door. The man who filled the threshold barely looked at her. His eyes scanned past her, past Jayce.
They landed on Viktor.
“There you are,” the man barked, learning into the cramped hall, voice low and hard. “Heard the brat was hiding out here” he said finally acknowledging xemena.
“Can I help you?” Xemena says in a calm and calculated tone.
He eyes her for a second before he raises a hand into his hair with a dangerous smile.
“you can start by getting the fuck out my way”
Viktor moved before anyone else could. He stepped in front of Jayce. Slipped around Xemena like a ghost.
“Wait—Vik—” Jayce reached out, but Viktor shook his head.
Xemena's hand twitched toward him, but she didn’t stop him.
Viktor crossed the threshold of the door, bare feet scraping against the mat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I just-”
His father grabbed him by the arm and yanked him from the threshold to the ground outside.
Viktor hit the ground with a yelp.
Jayce surged forward, fury in his chest. “Hey!” he shouted. “He’s sick! You can’t just—!”
“Sick?” the man repeated with a harsh laugh. He stepped over his son, looming.
“Sick, is he? Figures.” His boot toeing at Viktor's bad leg. “What's he whining about this time?”
He rounds on Jayce, eyes alight with something dangerous.
“His stomach? His leg? Can’t eat, can't sleep, can’t work, can’t get better, can't do fuck all.”
Xemena stepped between the man and Jayce without a word, her stance a warning.
The man sneered at her, then turned back to the crumpled boy on the ground.
“You think I’m paying for that medicine, you piece of shit?” he spat. “You think I got money to waste on a useless sack of bones?”
Viktor didn’t look up.
“I told you—if you’re well enough to be out scraping for coin, I get my half. You’ve been hiding. Running off. Spending what you owe me—my beer money.”
“I don’t have it,” Viktor mumbled. “I don’t—I didn’t take anything—”
The kick came fast. Sharp. Right to the ribs.
Xemena gasped but anticipating Jayce's lunge she instinctively braced to keep him safe inside the house.
Viktor crumpled further, one arm thrown over his stomach, the other desperately trying to lift himself, he needs to get up.
Jayce cried out. “Stop it!”
But the man wasn’t finished.
He knocks Viktor's supporting arm out from under him and the boy lands heavily once more on the side of his face.
He leans down and spits, landing in the dirt inches from Viktor’s cheek.
“That's quite enough,” xemena barks. “you're not welcome here. Be gone before I fetch my brother”
He levels his gaze to her briefly, assessing her. Xemena is not a tall woman but her tone brokers no argument. She is a mama bear right now and she wants her cubs left in peace.
“You’ve got two days,” he hisses down at Viktor. “Two days to crawl back home with what you owe. Or I’m going to the Enforcers. Say these people kidnapped you.”
He jerked back upright, glaring past Xemena now. “Let’s see how long your new friends last when the law comes sniffing around. Bet they’ll throw you out on your bony ass quick enough then, fuckin brat.” he skuffs his foot sending dust over the boys face before turning to leave.
Viktor didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
Jayce was shaking now. Xemena hadn’t moved either, but her eyes were sharp, her mouth tight.
“keep him for all I care, may he bring you the same luck as he bought his mother” the man snarled,
Jayce’s fists are clenched so tight his nails leave crescents in his palms.
“Home, two days, with the money. Or don’t come back at all.”
He says stomping down the path like he’d just claimed a victory.
Silence.
Only when the man disappeared beyond the corner of the street did Xemena rush to kneel beside Viktor.
He was still curled tight, breathing shallow with one arm protecting his ribs, the other shielding his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t think he’d— he raised his hand, and I knew he was going to-”
His breath hitched, Viktor felt such a fool, he'd puropsly stepped in the way of his father winding up to hit Xemena but she couldn't have known that was what Viktor had seen - to them he must look like an idiot jumping into harm's way
“I just didn’t want him to hurt you—”
“oh, my sweet boy” Xemena croons.
Jayce drops to the ground beside Viktor, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t looked up. Dust clings to his cheek. His hands tremble faintly against the earth.
“You’re not going back there,” he said fiercely. “You’re not.”
Viktor couldn’t answer.
Couldn't disappoint them when they'd risked themselves for him just moments before.
He would find the money.
He would go back.
He always did.
He didn't have a choice.
Xemena laid a hand over his, warm and steady.
“We have two days,” she said softly.
“Let's make it count Viktor.”
Slow and sure, her hands gentle as she checked his ribs, his breathing, his pulse, the bruises beginning to bloom ugly and glaring. Her voice was quiet when she spoke.
“Okay, let’s get you inside.”
He didn’t argue. He never did. But Jayce noticed the way Viktor dragged his heels as they helped him to his feet, the way he wouldn’t meet their eyes.
Back in the warmth of the house, Xemena pressed a warm cloth to the bruise at his side and whispered, “This is not your fault.”
Viktor didn't answer. Just stared at the floor, eyes red like he wanted to cry but had long since forgotten how.
They settled him back on the couch. A hot water bottle tucked under one arm. A thick blanket pulled around him like armor. Xemena fetched a cup of warm broth and set it within reach but said nothing when he looked but didn’t touch it.
Jayce sat beside him, unsure, the words in his mouth too clumsy to offer any real comfort.
Eventually, Xemena stood. “I need to speak with Inez,” she said, giving Jayce a meaningful look. “I’ll be in the Forge for a while.”
The moment the door clicked shut, Jayce turned to Viktor.
“Come on,” he said softly. “come to the garden with me. You need some air.”
“I’m fine here.”
Jayce gave him a look. “You just got kicked in the ribs and spit on, and your version of fine is lying in a lump like wet laundry?”
Viktor almost smiled at that, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“Five minutes,” Jayce said. “No one’s out there. No shouting. No worrying. Just me and you. That’s all.”
Viktor hesitated. Considered the possibility of Jayce leaving him on his own, Then gave a tiny nod.
---
The garden was quiet.
The late afternoon sun spilled over the hedges in soft gold. Distant birds chirped somewhere in the trees, but otherwise, the space was still. Peaceful.
Jayce picked his spot under a tree and flopped onto the grass first, arms behind his head against the tree, staring up at the sky.
Viktor followed slower.
He didn’t lie down, just sat with his knees pulled tight to his chest, like he didn’t quite trust the earth not to shift beneath him.
For a while, they just breathed.
Then Jayce spoke.
“I used to think there were monsters in our basement. Real ones." "I’d make my mom keep the light on all night because I thought they’d sneak upstairs and get me.”
Viktor blinked, glancing sideways.
Jayce went on. “Turns out the monster was just an old boiler with noisy pipes.”
Viktor let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.
Jayce grinned. “Scariest noise I ever heard in my life. Sounded like a demon trying to play the tuba.”
Another breath. An acknowledgement.
Jayce considered his words for a moment wondering if he was approaching this the right way.
“I thought I was stupid for being afraid,” Jayce added.
“But Mama told me being scared didn’t mean I was wrong. Just meant I was paying attention to the world around me.”
Viktor didn’t say anything, but his shoulders relaxed, just a little.
Jayce picked a leaf from the grass and twirled it between his fingers.
“I think what your dad said? The things he says and does? That's something worth being scared of, he's a real monster.”
Viktor’s breath caught. His eyes stayed fixed on his knees.
“And I think,” Jayce said carefully, “that you’ve been fighting a monster for a really long time. That's not weakness, Vik. That’s real strength.”
Silence settled between them again.
“My mother…” Viktor paused. Words sticking in his throat.
“She died giving birth to me, Jayce.” He swallowed, trying his best to keep the wobble from his voice.
“When he said I would bring you the same luck I brought her, he was threatening you.”
Jayce says nothing, just holds his gaze steady and safe.
Viktor huffed a breath—half a laugh, half a tremble. “He thinks that I am the monster Jayce, that I killed her. He’s always thought that.”
Jayce’s brow furrowed, but he still didn’t speak. Just listened.
That kind of quiet meant more than anything.
“Whatever I do, it is never going to be enough to make up for her being gone,” Viktor said, voice small now.
“And when I started getting sick, it just… confirmed it. In his mind. That I was a mistake.”
Jayce shifted, leaning in so their shoulders brushed. “He’s wrong.”
“I know,” Viktor said, too quickly. Then again, quieter. “I know.”
A silence passed.
Jayce picked at the grass beside his knee.
Viktor blinked down at his hands.
“I used to think maybe if I got better fast enough, or worked harder, or didn’t cry when it hurt…worked when I was sick” He trailed off.
“Maybe he’d stop looking at me like I was a problem he couldn't fix.”
Jayce looked over. “You’re not a problem Viktor.”
“I know,” Viktor said again—but this time, the word cracked a little in the middle.
Jayce could hear that Viktor didn't believe what he was saying.
Jayce leaned his head briefly against Viktor’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill your mom Viktor.”
Viktor’s jaw clenched. His eyes shimmered in the late light. “You don’t know that.”
“I don’t need to,” Jayce said.
“If he treated her anything like he treats you, he didn't deserve either of you. I know you Viktor, you haven't killed anyone.”
And that was what Viktor hadn’t expected—not comfort, or logic, or even defense.
Just that quiet certainty, simple and solid.
Something in him eased. Not completely.
But enough.
He didn’t say thank you. Just let the silence stretch again. Safe. Unhurried.
Jayce plucked a clover from the grass and held it out. “For luck,” he said.
Viktor stared at it for a long time before taking it.
And then, like something inside him gave up or gave in, Viktor leaned sideways.
Tentative at first. Then fully. His head resting against Jayce’s shoulder. His whole frame folding in like a sigh.
Jayce went very still. His face warming at the rare show of trust.
“...Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, you can do that.”
Viktor didn’t respond. But ever so slowly convinced his muscles to relax, his breathing deepening. Evening out. Like the garden air was medicine, too.
Jayce shifted just enough to take some of the boy’s weight more comfortably, and didn’t move after that.
Not when the sun dipped lower. Not when a bee drifted lazily past. Not when Xemena came to the back step, saw them and said nothing—just watched with something like relief softening her face.
Not even when the sky turned gold to lavender.
He just stayed. Warm, steady, quiet.
Letting Viktor rest.
Letting him breathe.