Chapter Text
A clock ticks consistently upon the white wall of the building. It’s rhythmic, repetitive, and plain.
Everyone had gone home hours ago, yet Jayce sat alone in the lab of the Research and Development unit of Talis Enterprise. The hours he had spent here were supposed to be designing hammers or something to second his most recent development, the collapsable wrench. And while those projects and patents were impressive and they technically did help people. Jayce wanted to do more.
This isn’t where he wanted to be as he neared the end of his twenties, while he was a proud member of the Talis family. No, Jayce was a firm believer, since childhood, that their name was meant to be larger than that. Call it grandeur, but he wanted to do something more than build and modify tools.
Jayce had always been wearing his father’s last name with pride, yet he couldn’t help but feel that all of this had been for nothing. Proud, but also the only son to Ximena Talis, the one who was set to inherit it all, if he could get his act together.
Although he had been born into it, he had earned it nonetheless. Graduating with top ranks in highschool, despite only wanting to pass the classes he liked before moving on to quickly advance through college. Bachelors, Masters, stopping his PhD program because his mother really wanted him to get his foot in the family business.
He never actually wanted to run it, he wanted to create, build.
This feeling of nihility, it was a feeling that he’d get often, one that he hadn’t been able to escape. It was a pendulum, he’d fall engrossed in his work and plans no matter if they succeeded or failed. He’d derail projects in his manic state before falling into the shadows when he fell into a slump. When he couldn’t pull himself out of bed, questioning why the hell it mattered if he changed the shape of a hammer’s head. It wasn’t as bad when he was in college, when he was studying and free to do what he wanted as he pleased.
When his deadlines had more meaning then designing new packaging.
None of this mattered to the people, the companies that they sold to, sure, but what about everyone else? Nothing monumental would happen from a hammer, from a piece of packaging that’d somehow end up in the ocean.
He never wanted to insult his father nor the hard work his family had put into this for years, he knew the story. A ground up business, grit, blood and tears. A true testament of immigrants coming to a new country for a better life, crawling up from the dirt to reign high in a capitalist society. Talis, he was so incredibly proud of that last name but he wanted to forge a different path for it.
When he presented as an Alpha, a different set of expectations fell upon his shoulders. Ximena wanted him to date, to marry, to carry on the family name and produce a child the company could go to. Jayce hadn’t thought about relationships much, he had a few during his life, but they always ended when he fell into a large project. Or when he slumped so deep, that he’d fail to communicate with them fully.
A family would be beautiful, but not until he was able to accomplish his dreams. So he could look at his mate, his children, and tell them with pride that he had done something good for the world.
Dark circles melted into his skin, clinging to it like a fungus in a dank basement. He pushed himself back in his seat, pressing the pads of his fingers so hard against his eyes that he no longer saw the sketches in front of him and instead saw bursts of color.
Bursts of color, so bright.
The world was so much duller now, less saturated.
The rain pattered against the window, the wind brushing the trees against the side of the building. Those were supposed to be cut, no one wanted to deal with the complaints when the siding was torn off the side of their workplace. Jayce would have done it if he was in a better mood, if he didn’t feel so utterly useless.
In the grand scheme of things, a hammer could be used to destroy and build, yet Jayce couldn’t see what in the world he was meant to do. He wanted to help people. Create like he did in his youth, before his mother convinced him to take a real job and abandon his ‘manic prospects’ for realism.
Ximena had always supported him, but as she got older there was only so much she could do for her son. To defend him in front of other employees, to people who held higher positions than him; the only reason he was likely still here was because he was a genius, but also had the birthright to be there.
Yet still, Jayce carried around a few of his personal notebooks, placed in his bag so he could plan whenever his whimsy decided it. The hours he spent sketching designs for mobility aids, transportation devices, and the like meant nothing in the long run at least not to those above him. Turning 23 melted away all of the work he had done in the family garage, the prosthetic fingers he had made for his mother, the cane he had made for his elderly neighbor.
It all fell away to hammers and wrenches.
Tools to build, yet Jayce felt his hands were too clean, too empty.
A life so incredibly unfulfilling.
The amount of coffee he consumed couldn’t shake the depressed fatigue he felt and he knew that tomorrow he’d get an earful for drinking too much. If he had cared, if he hadn’t been in one of his slumps, he would get another bag of coffee. Or, in his highest moments, he’d buy coffee for the entire R&D department.
But it doesn’t matter.
The notebook in front of him has sketches of his newest cane design, one that could collapse but remain sturdy, and have a hidden compartment just in case. Everyone he knew would tell him that he didn’t need to reinvent the wheel. That this was pointless, just like every idea he’d had since he became an adult.
Because who cares about the ideas of someone who’s dreams appear delusional or when their own mother says they are ill?
Tired of being here, staring at the reminders of his life going nowhere fast, Jayce grabs his notebook and tosses it into his bag, packing up quickly with his jaw tight. They had a deadline for product design and he knew that he’d fucked it up, he’d have less than 24 hours to design a different packaging for some stupid product.
Packaging.
If he was fired from his family’s company, how embarrassing would that be?
Jayce haphazardly tossed his stuff in his backpack, wishing that this feeling would vanish while knowing all too well it wouldn’t. He left the building without an umbrella, hoping the cold rain would make him feel anything. Once in the car he peels off his scent patch and sinks into his seat, he closes his eyes and allowed his pheromones to spill into the car.
He drove in silence, his wet clothes sticking to his skin as he nearly fell into autopilot. The call of the void pulled him from his stupor, from falling into the routine of driving into Piltover and back home. Instead it pulled him towards Zaun, towards Progress Bridge.
The rain has lightened up a bit, allowing him to see an open space besides the bridge. Jayce pulls off of the road and onto the grass, putting his car in park as he sits with his hands on the wheel. His chest doesn’t rise and fall quickly like it would if he was panicking, instead it falls in slow rhythmic breaths.
Somehow Jayce feels perfectly calm.
Maybe every sketch in his private notebook would suffice as the letter his family would need. The lost dreams of growing up, the vibrant imagination snuffed out by monotony and expectations from a generation behind him.
I’m so dramatic, Jayce shook his head, grinning to himself.
Out of habit, Jayce locks his car door and slides his keys into his pocket. If the void extends her hand to him and Jayce takes it, they’d find other ways to break into the mysterious abandoned car.
He walks along the bridge, a place where plenty of people cross while some only make it half way. It used to surprise him, to hear about the jumpers. How people would feel so alone and hopeless that they would throw it all away. A few weeks ago, he probably would have still thought that.
But now, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to jump. To free himself from a job he barely likes and a life of mediocrity. He wanted to help people, yet here he is hating his job, the job his mom convinced him to get. The one that has run in the family, the one he was trying to grow out of. The thoughts are repetitive, a cycle, the void sings out to him.
Jayce wonders what it would feel like to jump, his arms splayed out as he felt gravity drag him down, the free fall of wind rushing towards him before he hit the surface of the water. The entry wouldn’t be soft, he knew that. It would feel just as hard as hitting land, bones would break and maybe he’d die on impact. If he was unlucky he’d drown, have a few more seconds to regret his decision.
It was said that a lot of people regretted their choice, but that has only been told by the ones who had survived. The ones who managed to either fight or fuck up. No one ever hears about the ones who wished to die and succeeded, the ones who felt euphoria as life came to a sweet end. The freedom, the return of colors.
The wind was brisk and ushered him forward, the rain cold but not hard enough to make him shut his eyes. Jayce looked out to the horizon, watching as the river below grew wider. He had known the depths once, when he had shown interest in the world around him.
Before it turned grey.
By some act of fate, Jayce turned and looked ahead of him, seeing a figure not too far ahead in the distance on the other side of the railing. Jayce paused, his breath catching as he realized that as he debated his own mortality, his own death and its freedom, that he was about to witness someone else take the plunge.
The figure on the other side of the railing is wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt, a hood pulled over their head but Jayce could still tell their stature. This person was smaller than him, leaning against the railing with a blanket bundled in a tight grasp in their arms.
Jayce’s breath had caught and then his blood ran cold, it dawned on him that the bundle was moving a bit, that there was a gentle cry of a baby coming from it. The wind picks up, pushing the hood backwards on the figure standing on the edge of life and death and Jayce takes a few slow steps forward.
The man is beautiful but frail, his brunette hair wisping violently in his face with the wind. Jayce can tell he’s been crying and his face carries clear signs of violence. One of his eyes is swollen, purple and black, an open cut upon his lips along with marks on his jaw and neck. Red and pink, yellow and splotchy. Jayce can’t see much from here, but he could see just enough.
The colors returned, bright in the darkness and streaks of rain. Something primal wanted to know the color of this man’s eyes, to ask what had happened, to listen to his sorrows and soothe his tears.
The pendulum swings, the void’s calls give way to the sound of rain, the sound of tears melting with it. His feet start moving faster than his mind does, the void pulls her hands back and watches in apprehension, with curiosity. Jayce is close enough to hear the man whispering to the baby, to hear the way his voice hitches with a sob. There are apologies there, a pleading of forgiveness for the actions that he’s about to commit.
Jayce watches as the man tightens his hold on the bundle in his arms, leans forward to kiss it before he pushes himself away from the railing. He leans forward awkwardly, his weight unsteady on one side as he tilts, a cane that had been resting beside him tips with this movement and plummets into the water below.
The stranger pauses, looking down as his body leans forward, his hips shifting in an attempt to adjust the weight of himself and the baby. There’s a moment of consideration, Jayce can see it, this would be the moment to speak, to stop whatever is about to happen from happening.
The man had gotten farther than Jayce and showed hesitation. That hesitation was just enough for Jayce to see that there was something in there. Something for the hopeless to cling too.
“Am I interrupting?” Jayce speaks up, he’s only a few feet away, his elbows resting on the railing as he looks over to the man, hoping he didn’t startle him into the fall.
The young man flinches, his weight shifting backwards as he hits the railing again, he shrinks in upon himself. The shame on his face is blatant, the fear mixed with a silent resolution. This man, Viktor, is stuck now. His cane decided to jump first and now if he wanted to run back, he’d have to limp or drag himself and his newborn back.
Back to a living hell, jumping would be easier.
But jumping wasn’t fair, not to him, not to his unnamed daughter.
Viktor wanted to live, to thrive.
He didn’t want to die, he surely didn’t want his daughter, his very own flesh to die either.
But Viktor was so incredibly tired, but as it appeared, so was the man who had called out to him. Viktor examined the man whose arms leaned over the railing, he appeared to be an alpha but he was too far away and drenched to be able to smell the difference.
The baby in his arms cries louder, shaking him from his silent examination as he looks back down to her. Her face is red, but she doesn’t shiver. Viktor had done a good job at bundling her up, of making sure the rain kept out of her face.
Only a few days old, nameless.
She’d die nameless. Unknown to the world. Met only by him and the void.
Tears stung his eyes once more, he didn’t know what colors her eyes would settle to be. Would they become amber like his or would they reflect the terrible thing that was her father? Father wasn’t the correct name for that beast.
“I can take the baby,” Jayce’s hand is on the railing, bringing Viktor back. His eyes are on Viktor as he steps slowly towards him, “If you wanna go…they don’t need to join you too.”
Usually he’s hyper vigilant, but he didn’t notice this stranger approach.
It feels like he’d been shot, Viktor stands up a little straighter, he wants to throw up. A sick acceptance that he was destined to die, that this baby could have purpose and dreams and be free from the cursed life he lived. That he could jump in solitude. It hurt him but he agreed with this stranger, he didn’t want her to die like this. One of the things that Viktor was afraid of, was her dying second to him, dying afraid and not in his arms, drifting away.
If the impact didn’t kill her, her little lungs would fill with water.
Viktor looks from his baby to Jayce, he’s silent at first, noticing how he creeps closer. This man looks at him with sincerity, his eyes wide and calm. His shoulders are broad and he’s well dressed yet oddly placed on this bridge at this hour.
“If…” Viktor swallows hard, this was his chance to be a good parent. To relinquish her, the little thing he grew and protected despite every kick, every punch. He loved her, yet he hated the noose her birth had tied around his neck.
But it hadn’t been her fault, she didn’t know that Viktor stood on a chair with a shadow preparing to kick it from under him. This little girl, gentle and perfect, didn’t know. She only knew her instincts, that he had birthed her, fed her, and scented her since she entered this cruel world.
If this baby lives, she can’t go back to her biological father, their abuser. Viktor would have to trust this possible alpha, this strange man, would take her somewhere safe and not hurt her himself. But, wasn’t he himself about to kill her?
Perhaps Viktor was being hypocritical, but he was nearly ready to take that risk. If she could be free from everything, from them.
Viktor couldn’t lie, he loved her. Fallen in love with her between the waves of uncertainty and fear. Half of his heart went to her after he labored with her for nearly a day on his own.
This sweet little seedling, a little star.
The only reason he kept going until now.
“If you take her,” He spoke with an accent, gentle in the wind, “Drop her off at the fire station…”
Relinquish her to the system. Keep her away from the bastard who had part in creating her. Viktor knew, though, that if he had died and the baby lived, the beast would not go hunting her. Her only use to him was a tool, a way to keep Viktor in place to continue to hurt him again and again.
“Okay?” his voice cracked.
“Okay,” Jayce’s eyes were filled with sincerity, but he had already planned his next move.
“Promise me,” Viktor felt stupid, asking a stranger to make such a large promise.
“I promise,” Jayce responds, stepping behind Viktor with his arms out.
Viktor doesn’t know why he trusts this stranger, but he turns slightly, leaning against the railing with his better hip as he hands his daughter over. There isn’t a final kiss goodbye, nothing else that would make it any harder for him to jump. The lack of weight in his arms doesn’t feel like relief, it just feels like less of a reason to wait any longer.
She could be saved, he would be hunted.
But Viktor shouldn’t have trusted this stranger, because the man carefully takes his daughter into his hold before he quickly wraps an arm around him. The man cradles his daughter to his chest and neck, supporting her head while his entire arm manages to fight around Viktor and pulls him back over the railing. With such a close proximity, Jayce is able to confirm the person’s was pulling over the railing was an omega.
Viktor screams, he puts his hands against the muscular arm around him and kicks. He kicks and screams, he just wanted to go, he just wanted to jump. He was ready to jump, he had made up his mind, gotten over his fear and made the resolution.
But even when Viktor screams, it’s gentle, it’s not much of a scream but a gasp of agony. He hadn’t been loud before, but the volume of his opinion had been beaten out of him. It’s muffled by a sob, his body shaking as he is pulled over and pulled into a tight hug.
One that didn’t feel as suffocating as it should have.
“You don’t understand,” Viktor cries, his legs going numb as they buckle, “you don’t understand.”
“Maybe I can,” Jayce whispers, pulling the now screaming newborn closer back into Viktor’s arms, “give me a chance?”
Viktor doesn’t remember the last time someone held him gently or whispered encouraging words. Even when he had given birth alone, in a one bedroom apartment in Zaun. The only thing that had encouraged him, was knowing that if he gave up, the baby would die. Ironic that just a few days later, he would be so set on killing them both. He felt guilty, endlessly for making the choice and now he felt foolish for trusting this man. Viktor’s life had been a string of disappointments from men, alphas, he had no reason to trust this one. But something inside him was drawn to him.
“She’s cold,” Viktor shivers, looking down to his unnamed daughter, “she’s cold.” He repeated.
Jayce stood up, his hand hooked around Viktor’s waist and hip to stand him up, feeling as his body grew weak upon standing. From pulling Viktor over the railing and holding him close, Jayce can feel the swell of his abdomen along with a general idea of how old the baby was. He tastes iron as he bites down in his cheek, this omega had recently given birth.
It was disgusting how people acted, blaming instinct or just because.
Viktor clings to his daughter and without his cane, the only thing he can rely on is Jayce. He hates it but has been so used to relinquishing his power to his abuser that he lets himself be moved. The only difference here is the man doesn’t push him, instead lending him support to move on his own. So against his better judgement he leans on him and limps wherever he leads them.
The walk is short, Viktor hadn’t made it to the middle of the bridge and neither had Jayce. At Jayce’s car he opens the door to help Viktor inside, before he closes the door and goes to the driver's side. He gets in and sits down, there is silence as Vitkor calms the crying baby in a language he doesn’t recognize.
She’s cold, Jayce remembers as he pulls his keys from his pocket and thrusts them into the ignition.
The rain patters against the car’s exterior and the heat kicks on. The two are drenched but as Viktor reveals the baby's face from the blanket, she’s dry. Viktor presses his nose against the baby’s before doing the same with his forehead. He’s apologizing and begging for forgiveness.
Jayce knows that he can’t ask Viktor where he lives, it’s clear that would lead to a continuation of whatever cycle he found himself in. So he sits in silence, waiting as the baby’s cries stop and Viktor’s speaking comes to a halt. Only then, does Jayce look towards Viktor and his lips part to speak.
But Viktor cuts him off, speaking before a sound can leave his throat, “You were going to jump,” He looks through his eye lashes, turning barely to look in Jayce’s direction, “weren’t you?”
Jayce hadn’t expected to be so easy to read, he never had been. His mother and an old therapist said he was a tough nut to crack, but apparently not at this moment. He sighs, one hand is on the wheel and the other is now pressing to his temple.
“Ah, yeah…I was,” Jayce could have lied, but it appeared the evidence proved otherwise.
Viktor wonders if Jayce would have stopped him if he hadn’t had the baby in his arms, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s thankful that his daughter is given a chance, but he himself doesn’t feel any better about it. He was a bonded omega and postpartum, the separation sickness would begin and he would wither away regardless.
“What’s your name?”
“It’s Viktor,” now he turns to look at the man fully, examining his features up close without the hindrance of the rain, “Yours?”
He looked like a man who hadn’t known hunger, someone whose shirt must have been pressed before he decided to make an attempt on his own life. Viktor knew he couldn’t judge, they each had their own struggles, but it was interesting to see how different their lives could appear while they both headed the call of the void.
The pendulum slows.
“Jayce, what about your baby?”
“She…doesn’t have a name,” the answer makes him feel a great deal of shame.
“How old is she?”
Viktor blinks, “Two or three days….” his head is starting to hurt, “Depends on the time…”
“10:45pm.”
“Three days,” It shouldn’t have taken Viktor that long to realize it, the baby was born when the sun was out and that had long since set. After being in fight or flight for so long, the comfort of the seat and warm air was forcing his body to relax, to become present to how he was feeling, to what he was experiencing.
A sharp pain was behind his eye and his womb, he grit his teeth together in an attempt to breath through it. Each pain separate yet equally as demoralizing. His entire body was wet, his chest swollen and sore. She would need to eat soon, he needed a place to feed her.
Viktor hadn’t expected to need to do this again.
“Viktor?” Jayce spoke with concern, he had been speaking but Viktor had been focused on the pains in his body to register it.
He jumps slightly, flinches at the sound of his words before he looks over to him sheepishly. Viktor wants to scream, to cry when he looks at the sincerity in the man’s eyes. How he indirectly stopped him from killing himself as well.
“Y-yes?”
“I…I have a guest room,” Jayce looks at the steering wheel, “Or I can take you home.”
“Ha, going back…you might as well let me jump,” Viktor scoffed, his lip lifting slightly as he felt his own fang against his lips. A home wouldn’t force an omega to grow milk fangs, the word was foreign and felt bitter on his tongue. He hadn’t known the word in tears.
“My place it is then, unless there is someone else I can take you to?”
“No,” Viktor’s voice is small. “No where else.”
They drive in silence, Viktor holds his newborn carefully, examining her face and looking for any sign of her shivering. She’d need to be bathed, to be fed and changed. She’d need a lot of things that he currently didn’t have nor have access too. Tears well in his eyes once more, he was a failure of a parent the moment he chose to keep her.
There hadn’t been any doubts that Jayce lived within Piltover, not when his car was nice and clean and his clothing was new. Viktor wasn’t surprised when they pulled up to a small house nestled just on the outskirts of the business of the city.
Jayce got out of the car while Viktor unbuckled himself and cradled his daughter close, right as he was about to open the door himself, it swung open. The rain continued to fall but Jayce stood there holding an umbrella for him.
Viktor looks up at him slowly, seeing a goofy little smile on the suicidal man’s face. It appeared that one was intending to jump into an icy river, one doesn’t need to carry an umbrella to the scene. Slowly he puts his legs out of the car, pursing his lips now as he places the smallest bit of weight onto his legs.
Without saying a word, Jayce places an arm around Viktor’s back and leans him into him. Viktor doesn’t need to remind him or ask for assistance for Jayce to remember that he didn’t have his cane.
As silent as the car ride went, Jayce helps Viktor into his home before seating him in a chair in the entryway. Viktor sits ridged in the chair, the smell of cedarwood and amber encapsulates him. This place is saturated with the smell of an alpha he doesn’t know, it should worry him or sicken him; but it hasn't happened yet.
The pendulum swings, but not fully, stopping in the middle before being ricocheted back to one side. It ticks at a shortened pace, but for now it’s consistent. Viktor listens to it as he stares down at his daughter, her soft cheeks, her long eyelashes. He wonders if she looks more like himself or Hector, he isn’t sure what he’d prefer.
“Hold on,” Jayce kicks his shoes off before running out of the foyer and down a hall, coming back quickly with a slight look of excitement, in his hand is a cane, its main body silver with a burnt red handle, “All yours!”
“Thank you,” Viktor takes the cane, placing it on the ground before he places a little bit of weight on it. The height isn’t quite right for him, but it will do for now. Slowly he stands and takes a tentative step, his eyes searching around the foyer for a place to put his shoes.
The baby in his arms starts to cry, she’s hungry. Viktor feels the milk seeping from his nipples, stuck against the wet inside of his clothing. He almost feels helpless in this situation, he’s fed her a few times but he has no idea if he’s doing it well, going only on instinct and hoping for the best.
There had been little joy in feeding her on the floor of their dirty apartment, her father cursing him out from the other room. A cup had been thrown at them, Viktor had lifted his arm just in time to swipe it out of the way.
“I need to feed her,” Viktor states, his voice is raw and fragile.
Jayce nods and starts back down the hall, “Don’t worry about your shoes, follow me.”
Viktor does so, hoping that her crying won’t trigger Jayce into a rage. Fearful of him raising his voice or even his hand, Viktor stays a few healthy steps behind him. One door down, Jayce opens the door and turns the light on, pushing the door open.
The room is a basic guestroom, yet so much larger than the main bedroom in Viktor’s apartment. This room held a queen size bed with blankets and pillows, a dresser and a desk. There are two doors, one leading to a closet and the other leading to an attached bathroom.
“There are towels in the bathroom, I’ll grab some dry clothing for you…” Jayce then thinks about the baby, lifting his finger to his nose as he considers the options for her, “I’ll think of something for her, okay?”
“Thank you,” Viktor stepped into the room, not caring to close the door as he placed the baby on the bed.
The door closed anyway, Viktor turns to see it closed. A man who respected privacy may not be a man who respected freedom, swallowing hard Viktor goes to the door and gently turns the handle, ensuring that he could still leave. Clothes sit outside the room as promised, Viktor grabs them with one hand and returns into the room.
His baby cries a little louder now and Viktor sniffs hard, the hormones are leaving him a sobbing mess. The kindness of a stranger wasn’t making it any better either.
“I’m here,” Viktor whispers, he doesn’t want to wet the bed with his clothes, so he places a hand upon her chest, “One moment, I’m here.”
Tears are streaming down his face, his entire body aches. Stripping down he changes into the new clothing, despite his swollen belly the pants are still large. Even when he was full term, his body didn’t fill out as it should have during his pregnancy. He could get past the swelling of his stomach, the slight widening of his hips. Those had never been things that made him feel any less of a man. But his small breasts, usually flat and easy to hide, swelling with milk made him feel more dysphoria than puberty.
The body that grew his precious seedling, gave birth to this lovely shining star, was one that he couldn’t bear to look at. Not when the echo of Hector berates him even now. He’s sobbing now, crawling onto the bed as he takes his daughter out of the wet blanket, she’s still dry underneath and her body is warm, how he isn’t sure.
“I’m sorry,” Viktor holds her close, pressing their skin against one another as his shoulders heave with sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
Carefully he secures her to his chest, her lips latch onto his nipple with ease and he lays against the pillows and headboard. His head is pounding, his lower body in utter agony. There had been blood in his pants and there likely would be blood in these pants as well. It was humiliating to bleed in the clothes of a stranger, in his guest bed.
Had Viktor known that he’d end up here, he would have gathered supplies to make himself a suitable guest. But there hadn’t been a single consideration that he wouldn’t have jumped, that he would end up anywhere other than in the river.
What made it worse, was knowing that Viktor had to plan for tomorrow. Decisions would have to be made, whether he would keep or relinquish his daughter and no matter how much he thought giving her up was the best… the idea killed him. It made his chest tighten.
Jayce’s kindness would be for the night, nothing more. After this, Viktor would be on his own. The best case scenario: Viktor leaves her at a fire department, returns to the bridge and jumps. The worst case scenario: he leaves her at the fire department and returns to his abusive mate, gets beaten for having their daughter go missing, and dies a painful death.
Separation sickness would come for Viktor, he knew that from the last time he tried to leave. It was a miserable way to die and Viktor felt that at some point in his life, he needed something kind. A death at his own hand would have been kind, yet a stranger whose actions were kinder, sent him deeper into emotional turmoil.
Viktor has to admit though, the bed he sits in is warm and soft and the sound of the rain sounds so much nicer through the walls of a well insulated home. The day had been stressful for himself along with his daughter. Once she has her fill and burps her, he scents her the best he can, hoping that he doesn’t smell sour or bitter. That what he feels, what others might smell, doesn’t transfer to his own flesh and blood.
Pleading with himself that he smells like comfort, love, and home.