Work Text:
Viktor held his head in his hands and let out a long, deep, shuddering sigh. Rubbing his temples as he shut his eyes tight, hoping for the major headache he has will dissipate. Misty had lead V away someplace where they can talk, leaving Vik alone in his shop. The cacophony of the streets, cars zipping by, horns honking, and the distant sound of overlapping conversations from the crowd outside on the street of Misty’s Esoterica drowning his thoughts. He planned on closing up shop but he can’t help but mull over the conversation he just had with V a few moments ago.
“Order a weaker poison next time,” V says jokingly.
“This ain’t no joke, kid. As I see it, there won’t be a next time.” Vik bluntly says, turning his gaze from the monitor towards her. His brows knitted together as he watches the small upturn of the lips. Her eyes say otherwise. She may be looking at his general direction, but V was seeing past him. They don’t have the same glint of mirth in them like in the past. She can barely can keep them open and she’s breathing hard. Like it takes everything for her to inhale air into her lungs. At the sight of her, his expressions softens. She catches his eyes and immediately looks down, fidgeting a bit. Eyelashes hiding her shy glint as if she was embarrassed to have him see in her this state. Weird, considering how many times V has to come into his clinic, more than he count on his fingers. Comes in with broken and bruised body parts, all cut or shot up, near death for the most of them.
V always had to make light of a situation, no matter how dire or serious the circumstances were. Vik admits to himself that’s one of the things he adores about V; but this wasn’t the time and place for this.
“Try sitting up, carefully.”
“Okay, but don’t expect a miracle.” V groans painfully as she struggles to sit up. He almost wants to leave his spot near the computer to stand closer by her side to help her up. But decides against it, instead opts to check her vitals and readings on the monitor. She sits up, albeit rather unsuccessfully. She chuckles to herself.
“Heh... Another victory... for the history books.”
Another joke, but Vik chooses to ignores it. He hums out loud, deep in thought. The results of the readings looks bad. So bad that he whisks his monitor away and fully turns toward her and scowls, crossing his arms. Then Vik gives it to her straight. An ultimatum, seeing as she is not taking this seriously. He tells her to take matters into her own hands immediately or else.
She nods slightly, “I know Vik, I’ll try soon- “
“No,” he interrupts and bends at the hips, inching his face closer to her. Staring into her eyes when she wasn’t willing to meet his. “You’ll do it now.” He says this matter-of-factly. He’s fed up. Breathing deeply as rage slowly builds up in his chest. His palms are sweaty, he clenches his muscles tighter to himself. Her lack of concern infuriates him. She still doesn’t get it. Stubborn and hardheaded as always. If not making light of situations like this, she either is nonchalant or dismissive of these things. It’s as if she doesn’t understand that her life is literally at stake here.
However, when he looks back at her, his expression falters when he notices that she flinches slightly at his bluntness before she tries to straighten up. Nevertheless, she stares right back at him. With just as much fierceness that she has always been known for. To a stranger, it may seem she’s sizing him up. But he can read in her eyes that she’s silently screaming at him to let it go. And he almost wants to, because it’s V we’re talking here. Vik has always had a soft spot for her. Yet if it were any other case, he would.
Vik offers her the last dose of pseudoendotrizine and boosters. Tells her that if she can make it to the table, she’s able to resolve this on her own. Then he turns to go sit at his usual spot at his desk. Feeling V’s stare burn into his backside.
From the corner of his eye, he can see V limp towards him and asks, “Say… Who won the bout?”
“Oh, so you heard that,” he’s taken aback that she asks this question. He can’t help but internally smile. So typical of V, that in spite of her critical condition, she still worries and asks him about things.
“Did he get up? Walsh, was it?”
“Nope, never does.” Vik glances at her for a second before turning his attention back to the screen. He’s seen this rerun so many times. Seems to unable to look V in the eye.
“Meaning?”
“It’s a rerun, one I’d like to go back to.”
“Why’d you get so mad, then, if you already knew who won?”
“I don’t know, really. Guess I like to think about where Walsh might of tripped up.”
“Any theories?”
“Entering the ring against a stronger opponent, feels a little strange to call that a mistake.” His eyes still glued to the monitor beside him. Maybe he must’ve imagined it, but he thought he saw V’s mouth open for a moment and then close, as if she was going to say something but decided against it.
“Can’t thank ya enough for all you’ve done, Vik.”
“Only wish I could’ve done more… Go on, now. I wanna close up. Take the meds… and do what you gotta do, V.”
“Thanks, Vik, I will. An’ you hang in there, too.”
He simply nods once, leans forward, resting his elbows on top of his knees, “G’luck, kid.”
She turns to leave but Misty stops her to talk. He couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Heard V’s response to Misty’s offer to go someplace else, “Sure. Got a feelin’ Vik’s had enough of me as is.” She jokes but the tone to his ears sounds defeated, a hint of truth behind it that only she believe. V couldn’t be any more wrong.
---
Vik stands up and stumbles a bit, lightheaded. Makes his way towards the gate to close up shop. Mind still occupied with invading thoughts of V. Mindlessly pulling the gates together to a close when all of a sudden, a huge bang rings out throughout the whole neighborhood. His heart completely stops, his breathing halted. Everything is silent except the ringing in his ears from the gunshot. “No, no, no, no,” he whispers to himself. His mind racing through a million thoughts but his body has a mind of its own. He rips the gate open and races up the stairs as fast as his legs can take him. Into the alley only to see Misty with her hands over her mouth, they share shocked looks with one another. Misty looks like her knees were gonna buckle from underneath her. Unsure if she was about to fall to the floor or make a dash towards the elevator with him.
Vik punches the dials on the elevator repeatedly, as if pressing it multiple times will make the elevator close any faster. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Last push an open handed smack, so hard he almost breaks it. “Piece of fucking shit!” The door finally closes and the elevator jolts as it goes up. Pacing back and forth in the small space, wringing his hands muttering to himself quiet excuses, somehow in his mind thinking “It could have been anyone’s gun, it could have been some other sorry fucker who took the easy way out,” What was 20 seconds felt like several minutes as the lift ascended to the roof. Vik screams for her name as the elevator doors finally open till his lungs are sore, sprinting up the stairs.
Bursting through the doorway, Vik sees V slumped in the deck chair. The whole floor splattered in red with a gun on the ground. Barrel still smoking. He catches the door frame before he collapses and a suppressed sob escapes him. He can’t pry his eyes off V. He calls out her nickname. Then her first name. Out of the pathetic hope that she’ll sit up and turn to face him, that she’ll make some sort of stupid joke that she usually do. That she’ll laugh and give him crooked smile greeting him.
He slowly goes over to her and just brings V into his arms. Checking her pulse out of false hope again and his own heart stops when he can’t feel a beat. He removes his fingers from her neck and just cradles her head into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Damn it, V!” And he lets all of his emotion wash over him, finally gives into the tears. He’s shaking too much, vision blurry, and his chest hurts. Like someone is performing heart surgery on him without any anesthesia. And he’s having problems swallowing, not enough saliva to push the lump down his throat. He grabs a hold of her hand with his left, limp but still warm. He pulls her closer to him, dips his face into her hair. For some reason he hopes to be able to smell her shampoo that he catches whenever he’s near her in the past. His stupid imagination wishing the circumstances were different, that they were cuddling together after him admitting how he felt about her. Or... or... anything, anything but this. Instead, the overwhelming stench of metallic and gunpowder is what he inhales instead. The thought makes him sob even harder.
He rocks her back and forth in his embrace, showering her forehead and temple with light kisses, whispering, “Sweetheart... Don’t do this to me baby, don’t do this to me baby, come on.” Another sob and sniffle. He adjusts his grip and brings her closer to him, close as he possibly can. His head now on her chest. “Please, no, no, please, don’t do this, please.” Trying to ignore that the only beating he hears is the one from inside his head.
---
When there’s no more tears left to cry, Vik settles her head on his lap. Running his fingers through her hair, feeling the soft locks fall through his fingertips. His left hand still holding hers, has never let go since. Absent-mindedly rubbing circles on the back of her hand. Using his other hand to trace his fingers down her face. Trying to memorize every freckle, blemish, scar, every single minute detail. Not like he’ll ever forget.
He stops and simply cradles her face in his hand and gets a good look at her, she looks so small and innocent in his arms. She looks angelic with her eyes are closed and her hair pooled around her head, and just... she’s so beautiful. It pains him to think that she will never get to know how beautiful he thinks she is – was.
An hour has passed, or so he thinks. He lost track of time. Too preoccupied with recounting memories about V, telling her exactly how he felt, anything to comes to his mind. Especially tells her what he regrets. Wishes he could’ve told her sooner, done more to help her. Keeps talking until it pains him to speak, nearly losing his voice.
Vik comes back to his senses when a water droplet lands on her cheek. It couldn’t have been from him, he cried his last tear what felt like years ago. He drags his puffy, red eyes to look up at the sky. Light rain begins to fall and splatter on V and him, soaking them both. His old muscles ache but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even want to move from the position he’s in. Knowing that he’s not ready to face whatever is to come if he leaves.
“Vik...” Misty’s voice quiet, barely audible through the downpour of rain.
Vik doesn’t bother lifting his head to look at her, still gazing down at V.
“I think it’s time to bring her in,” Misty says as she kneels down beside Vik, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
Vik stares at V silently for a second longer, then eventually nods his head. He leans down to kiss her forehead again, now cold to the touch. Pulling her close and tight as he possibly can, whispering into her hair that he loves her. And in that moment, his heart feels lighter. But only for a brief second.
Whether Misty heard him or not, she doesn’t give any indication. Only offers a small somber smile when Viktor turns his head to look at her.
He sighs shakily one last time and winces when he gets up. Lifting V along with him in a bridal style. She’s lighter than he remembers, all the times he’s had to carry her into the clinic after a dangerous mission. His steps however, are heavy. Now more aware of his sore muscles after sitting in one position for too long. Yet he trudges on, following Misty down the stairs to the elevator. Going back down to his clinic, leaving the pool of blood and the gun behind him.
---
Setting V down gently as possible onto the chair she was sitting on an hour ago, alive and breathing. Vik tried to make sure she’s comfortable, pushing the stray strands of hair behind her hair. Then he realizes what he’s doing and silently scolds himself. He pulls the stool to sit beside V, holding onto her hand. Can’t stand the thought of being away from her, not even for a second.
Meanwhile, Misty is simply leaning against the wall watching all this transpire. She hugs herself, quietly crying. Wiping away tears with the sleeve of her sweater. She sniffles and clears her throat, “I-I think we need to get the news to her friends.” When Vik doesn’t give a response, Misty makes her exit. Leaving him in the basement alone once more.
Vik lets go of her hand and makes a frustrated noise, clenches his teeth and fists. Nails digging into skin, nearly causing himself to bleed. Abruptly standing up from the stool, he picks it up and throws it to the side of the room in a fit of rage. Not caring about the loud crash or what breaks. He turns around and stomps to his desk and slams both hands on the desk, cursing to himself. Leaning all his weight into them. He glances back up at the monitor which is playing a rerun of a fight he always seems to come back to. He had forgotten that he left it on, video playing on repeat. He blindly stares at it.
Vik goes back to stand next to V and takes her hand in his once more. The rerun is still playing in the background, filling the silent void. But not enough to drown the question and answer that kept echoing in the back of his mind.
‘Did he get up? Walsh, was it?’
‘Nope, never does,’ Vik thinks to himself. Staring at V with a frown on his face, really wishing that Walsh will finally get up.