Archive of Our Own ^beta

The moment her feet were on solid ground again, Lumine was running. Searching. Eyes wide and strained to detect the slightest hint of elemental remnants; where is he?

A trail of electro here and there proved that she was in the right place, that Neuvillette had landed her close to him, but where was he? Thick storm clouds bubbled over her, rain falling heavy on and around her. Water pooled at her feet — she had to find him, before the flooding set in. Frankly she was lucky it hadn’t already. What if she wasn’t fast enough? If he was hidden? He could survive being underwater, but if he was injured…? Desperate, she sprinted through muddied terrain like a madman, chasing sparks while the rain drenched her skin.

When she saw him, he was worse than she imagined.

Childe lay with his back propped up against a tree trunk, hand over his chest and head slumped to the side. Rain soaked his hair, his skin, his clothes. His mask sat discarded at his side, practically falling apart. “Childe!” she shouted, running towards him so quickly her feet kept slipping. 

He barely turned his head to see her. Lazy eyes tracking her movement until she was knelt in front of him, grabbing his arm. Checking him. “Traveler?” he mumbled, seeming to only process her presence when she was touching him. His voice was raspy from lack of use, strained. Just speaking pushed him over the edge and he broke into a coughing fit, doubling over while he heaved for breath.

“Don't talk, just stay awake,” she ordered. His Foul Legacy form had worn off, but its marks on him were evident — his arms stained purple and black, hands sharpened like talons. Scars like lightning trailed up his chest to his face, marring his features in the remnants of electricity. Almost like corruption. She held her fingers to his pulse point against his wrist — his pulse was erratic, strange, but more than that it was weak. Barely perceptible under her fingertips. Her expression darkened. “We need to go.”

“Not exactly in moving shape,” he rasped. “Barely made it here. High ground. Flood won't —”

“Flood will,” she interrupted. “And you're dying. You need treatment. We’re going to my teapot.” 

“I’m not dying —”

“Childe, stop talking.” Every time he forced himself to speak, his heart seemed to fight through the action. She squeezed his hand before crawling to his side, slipping her arm under his and around his shoulders, forcing herself to bear some of his weight. Curse him for being so much taller than her; she couldn't hope to carry him. But she didn't need to, not yet. He slumped against her, clearly unable to support himself, and with her free arm she pulled her teapot from its home between realms. Opening the lid, she let it pull them both into her adeptal realm. 

The both of them found themself in the clearing in front of her mansion within the serenitea pot. As soon as they landed, Childe fully collapsed, what little control he had over his movements gone in an instant. Lumine’s hold on him the only thing keeping him up. She pulled him towards her, shuffling in front of him so that he could fall forward, head on her shoulder. Breathing heavily, he still found it in him to quip, “Could've — could've warned me we were warping.”

“What did I just say about talking?” Despite herself, despite the apparent annoyance in her words, she couldn't help herself from hugging him as tight as she could. Holding him upright was the same as clinging to him. He was here, he was alive, she just — she just needed to get him help. With a trembling deep breath, she pointed out, “Besides, I did warn you. Said we were coming to the teapot.”

“Did you?” He sounded genuinely confused, and Lumine felt her heart sink. How out of it was he…?

“You need healing, now. Can you sit up on your own?”

He didn't answer her verbally, but she felt him move his hands slowly to her shoulders. His claw-like fingers digging into her skin when he used her for balance — she fought not to cringe at the dull pain. Static electricity danced on his hands even still. How long had he been maintaining Foul Legacy? She pushed the thought down; it would only upset her. Childe slowly forced himself off of her, but he still relied on her heavily for balance — his hands on her shoulders were the only thing keeping him from toppling forward again, she could tell. 

She could see his face again now. In the more neutral daylight of her adaptal abode, she could glean more of his appearance; namely, how terrible he looked. Purple and grey streaked his hair, messy and sticking to his face from lingering rainwater. His skin so pale he looked practically grey, veins prominent under his skin, circles under his dark eyes. Eyes that looked lifeless, even more than normal. He squeezed her shoulders and shook his head. “Not without you. I am — I am more than willing to collapse on the ground, though?” he offered unhelpfully, somehow still managing humor in his tone despite how much it obviously pained him to speak.

She sighed, said, “How about we lay down instead of collapsing, that sound agreeable?”

“You and your — your pretty words,” he grumbled. He loosened his grip on her shoulders and almost immediately began to sway backwards, grabbing her reflexively to stay up. His claws dug into her skin nearly to the point of drawing blood, pain spiking through her nerves. 

She ignored it, raised her hands to his shoulders and ignored the static coursing through her body at the contact. She held him steady by his own shoulders and promised, “I’ve got you. You won't fall.” His eyes met hers, and below the dull, lifeless glaze over his eyes, he looked almost relieved. Nodding, he let go of her shoulders entirely. Letting Lumine support him on her own, completely pliant as she slowly laid him down onto his back. 

He groaned when he was finally on the ground, head flopping to the side, like he couldn’t even hold it up. “You might've been onto something,” he mumbled. “About the ‘dying’ thing.”

“Do not say that to me right now,” she scolded, but his words sent a chill over her. For Childe himself to be admitting he was in bad shape… “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll go find a healer, just… just stay here.”

“Didn't plan on moving.” 

“And stop talking.” He raised his hand and weakly made a dismissive gesture, miming zipping his lips, before his arm fell back onto his chest. She watched him for a moment, making sure he was still breathing steadily, before slowly rising to her feet. Hesitating another moment before she raced towards her mansion. 

For once in her life, luck seemed to favor Lumine; speaking with Tubby revealed to her that Kokomi was currently there. She raced up to the library where she knew she would find her friend. As expected, the high priestess was tucked away into her favorite reading nook, curled up and enjoying a book. Normally Lumine would hate to bother Kokomi during her ‘recharging’ time, but this was an emergency. Kokomi could clearly tell by the way she flew into the library and the panic written over expression. Launching into action without any real explanation from the traveler, Kokomi followed her to the courtyard to find Childe. 

The healer’s expression shifted into one of obvious disapproval at the sight of him. “He's Fatui?” she whispered.

Lumine hesitated. “He's my friend first,” she replied. “Please. Please, I know it's a tall ask, but —”

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her, paired with a soft smile from Kokomi. “It's okay,” she said. “I trust you.” She stepped closer to Childe and knelt at his side, pulling his arm into her hands to assess the damage. He groaned with the movement and turned his head to see who was handling him, but it hardly seemed like he processed the sight of her. Blue light emanated under her fingertips, and Lumine watched as Childe’s hands began to shift into a more human appearance.

Lumine slowly stepped closer and sat next to Kokomi, closer to Childe’s head. He angled his face to see her better, dull blue eyes fixed on her. She tried to smile. Tried. Didn't know if she succeeded. “You'll be okay,” she promised softly. “Can you stay awake for me?”

“Only because you — ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“If I knew it was that easy to get you to listen to me, I would've tried that sooner.”

“Nah, only works now ‘cause I — gh…” Interrupted by a pained groan when Kokomi’s hand moved towards his chest, over his heart. He turned his head to look at the healer, almost frantic. “What are — what are you doing?”

“Healing you,” Kokomi replied bluntly. 

He hissed, clenching his jaw and protesting, “It — it hurts —”

“Your heart is fried, of course it hurts.” 

But the fact that Childe was admitting pain just made Lumine feel a sickly sense of dread. She moved closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek to angle his head towards her. “How bad?”

“Wh — what?”

“The pain, how bad is it?”

“I — I… It feels like transforming,” he managed. “Using Foul Legacy too much, it — it feels like that.”

“... That's probably because you did use it too much,” Lumine murmured. 

The pulsing light under Kokomi’s hand grew more intense, her expression stony with concentration, and Childe groaned, slamming his head back against the ground. Kokomi glanced up and saw the movement and looked at Lumine, said, “Don't let him concuss himself.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lumine nodded. Shuffling closer to Childe, she framed his head in her hands and pulled it up slightly, moving so that she could lay his head in her lap instead of the ground. His eyes were so screwed shut in pain he didn't seem to notice for a minute. But when he tried to slam his head back again and didn't feel ground, he forced his eyes open and looked up at Lumine. “What are you…?”

“Making sure you don't concuss yourself,” Lumine answered. Hands framing his face, she teased his fringe between her fingers. “Focus on me. I know it hurts, just try to bear it.”

“I’ve — I’ve been through worse,” he strained, though when Kokomi moved her hand to over his lungs he hissed out in pain. “Can't say I've ever — gh… Can't say I've been healed like this before, though.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” Kokomi murmured. “I won't be able to heal all of it, the corruption is too deep. You'll need to rest for a few weeks. But I can get you stable.” 

“Stable?”

“Your heart would've stopped if I wasn't here.” 

Childe fell quiet, frowning, as though confused by this. He looked up at Lumine again, asked, “How long was I…?”

“... A few weeks,” she murmured. “Almost a month.” 

What little blood he had in his face drained, skin impossibly paler. “Oh.” He turned his head back to watch Kokomi work — she seemed temporarily satisfied with the state of his internal organs and had returned to his arms. “That — that explains some.”

“Were you…? The whole time?”

Even without her finishing the question, Childe knew what she was asking. His answer soft, “Yeah. Guess we — guess we found my limit, huh?”

“... I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I should've…” 

A silence fell over the group, save for Childe’s pained noises as Kokomi tended to him. All Lumine could do was hold his head in her lap and keep him from hurting himself further. At some point, his hand flew up and grabbed for her wrist, desperate. Without hesitation, she took his hand into hers and let him squeeze her hand as he fought through the pain of being healed. Saying nothing, still. Nothing she could say would matter, not when he was this hurt. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Kokomi sighed and pulled away. Turning towards Lumine, she said, “I’ve done what I can. He'll need rest, there's only so much I can do against corruption like that.” 

“I understand,” Lumine rushed. “Thank you, for everything.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, eyes returning to Childe, who had his head turned and face hidden in Lumine’s lap. “Do you need help moving him?”

“... No, I’ll be alright. Thank you, though. Sorry to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Kokomi stood up with a quiet sigh. Hand brushing against Lumine’s shoulder, she instructed, “You know where to find me if you need anything. I’m always willing to help you, you know that.”

Lumine managed a small, soft smile. “I know,” she agreed. “Thank you, really. I’ll treat you to something later to make up for it.” 

“Lumine, this whole place is a treat for me, I’m basically going to spend the rest of my life repaying you.” Kokomi patted her shoulder and said, “Take it easy, both of you.”

“We will,” Lumine promised. “Thank you.” Kokomi hummed but didn't say anything else before stepping away, leaving Lumine and Childe alone. She watched the healer leave for a moment, quiet. Sighing, she turned her head towards him and studied him. Squeezing his hand almost reflexively, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve… I’ve been better,” he admitted. He turned his head to look up at her. If nothing else, he looked a little better, a little more human. Some color back in his skin, the webs of electrical corruption faded from his face. His eyes just as dull, but at least he looked aware of her now. Small steps, she supposed. “She was — she was nice, who was…?”

“Sangonomiya Kokomi,” she explained. “Head Priestess of Watatsumi.” 

“Wow. Friends in high places, I see.”

“That shouldn't really surprise you at this point.” 

“It doesn't, but it does impress me.” He paused, turned his head to the side again, avoiding her eye. “Got the feeling she wasn't very fond of me.”

“... She has personal experience with the Fatui. Signora and —...” She stopped herself from mentioning the Balladeer. “Signora provided delusions to her people, during the war.”

“Ah, right, that whole debacle. I heard about that.” He sighed. Squeezing her hand, he took to fidgeting with her fingers, as though restless. Not a surprising habit from him, really. Lumine couldn't recall a time where Childe was ever fully still; normally bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers, something. Always restless, always moving. “Never really understood her goal in Inazuma. Guess it worked out, we got the gnosis, but…” 

“... Cost her her life,” Lumine finished.

“No, her ego cost her her life. She had no reason to — to fight you. She got cocky, end of story.”

“And what does that make you?”

“Oh, no, I've always known you were stronger than me.” Returning his gaze to hers, he managed a grin. “That's what makes you so charming, you could easily kill me if you wanted.” 

“Very bold words to say when you have your head in my lap.” 

“I did not really get a say in this positioning.”

“You're welcome to change it,” she offered. “Since you're no longer at risk of concussion.” 

His smile faltered, something almost like hurt replacing it. “Do you want me to move?”

“I don't care,” she assured quickly. “Just making fun of you.” She did look away from him to glance back at the mansion, though. Sighing softly. “That said, we do need to get you inside so you can rest. Think you can walk?”

“... Give me a few minutes,” he asked. “Still a little…” 

“... Right.” With her free hand, she traced the side of his face, almost idle in her movements. “Don't think I've ever heard you admit to being hurt,” she mused, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, well. First for everything.” His eyes drifted away from hers and towards the sky. His expression soft, thoughtful, not one she had ever seen from him. “I never thought I’d see that place again,” he murmured. “I was really there for a month?”

“Give or take.” 

“Time passes strangely there. Felt like I was there for years. And that whale, wow…” 

“... Neuvillette and I defeated it,” Lumine said carefully.

Childe snapped upright, leaving her lap in a blink of an eye to face her properly. His eyes wide and glittering, he grabbed her hand, “Really?! What was it like?” 

She blinked at him, startled. “It was like nothing I've ever fought before,” she murmured. “It was incredible.” 

His grin grew wider, nodding eagerly. “I remember the first time I saw it.” His grip on her hand grew tighter while he babbled, “It was so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off of it, even though it nearly killed me. I've spent my entire life dreaming about it, hoping I'd get to fight it again. And I did!” Seemingly giddy, “I couldn't defeat it, but you could! That's amazing!”

“I’m more impressed you survived against it so long,” Lumine said. She adjusted his hand in hers, holding onto him. Worried, vaguely. “I don't think I would've lasted that long.”

“I’m sure you could've handled it.”

“Maybe, but…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. You're up, let's go inside so you can rest.”

“I’m really fine, you know.” 

“Yeah? Wanna prove it?” Letting go of his hand, she stood up, crossing her arms. Looking down at Childe expectantly. “Stand up without me helping.”

He looked up at her, frowning, his expression almost pouty. He planted his palms at his sides and pushed himself to his feet, though he promptly staggered forward. Would've collapsed, if Lumine hadn't caught him. She came to his side and slipped an arm under his to bear some of his weight while he muttered, “Okay, point taken.” 

“I’m just glad you didn't faint.”

“I wouldn't faint.” Exclaiming the word with complete and utter offense.

“Uh-huh. And were you conscious when Skirk tossed you out of the primordial sea?”

“She what?!” 

“Didn't think so. Come on, let's get you inside.” She began the process of half-carrying him towards the mansion. Slow progress, on account of the clear difficulty he was having with moving his legs. Seemed fine motor control was still a bit beyond him.

Even as he fought to walk, Childe forced himself to speak, “You — you met my master?”

“Vaguely. She's… interesting.” 

“She talked to you?”

“A little.”

“Wow,” he murmured. “You must've really impressed her. She doesn't talk much to me.”

“She said something like that.” Having reached her mansion, Lumine opened the front door and guided Childe inside. Scanning the doors around the common area for any sign of occupation — one of the downstairs bedrooms had no mark on the door, left slightly ajar. Perfect. She didn't think she could get him upstairs in this condition. “She seems to care about you, though,” Lumine remarked, supporting Childe through the living room towards the hall. 

“Enough to go easy on me. Wonder if I impressed her, holding back the whale for so long.” 

“Guess you'll find out.” She pushed the door of the bedroom open and guided Childe to bed. He more or less collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy groan, rolling onto his front and burying his head in the bedding. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He waved dismissively, “Just… Just a little tired. Didn't realise I missed beds so much.” 

“Want me to leave you alone so you can rest?” 

He made a contemplative noise and turned his head to see her. Staring for a moment before he mumbled, “I don't want to take any more of your time. You're probably busy.”

“I think keeping my friend alive is a good use of my time.” Truthfully, she didn't want to leave him alone. Even after Kokomi’s healing, he still… She grabbed a chair from the desk by the window and pulled it closer to the bed before sitting down, leaning over the bed, arms folded across the mattress. “I’ll stay, keep an eye on you.”

“What, don't trust me?” he teased. He grabbed for one of the pillows and pulled it closer to him. She watched as exhaustion seemed to near-instantly settle onto him, eyes already falling shut.

“Not to die? No, not really.” She reached down for one of the light blankets folded at the foot of the bed and grabbed it. Pulling it up, she draped it haphazardly over his body. She would've liked to get him into a bath — he was still damp from the rain in Fontaine — but she doubted he would have stayed conscious for that. This would have to do. “Get some rest,” she instructed softly. “No dying, okay?”

“Yes ma'am,” he mumbled. “No dying, got it. Can I sleep for a year?”

“If you can pull it off? Sure.”

“Mm…” He turned his head back into the pillow with a soft sigh, finally settling down. She almost thought he was already asleep before he murmured, barely audible, “Thank you.”

“... Sure,” she said. Laying her head in her arms while she kept her eyes trained on him, watching as he fell still. There was some comfort in seeing him fall asleep, after how worried she had been for the past several weeks. Her own adrenaline from the last day — hells, the last week — fading away. Rare for her to sleep these days. At least she had company in Childe, though she fully expected him to sleep like the dead. Bad metaphor, don't think like that. With a soft sigh, she let her eyes fall shut, curling her arms around her head. Just a little nap, she reasoned. Then she'd go check on the situation in Fontaine, try to help… Try to… 

… Try. All she ever did was try, didn't she…?

Childe woke with a start, snapping upright and immediately groaning in pain. Archons, he was in bad shape. He collapsed back down into the bed, head falling into the mound of pillows behind him, eyes fixed at the ceiling. Where was he…? This wasn't home. This wasn't his hotel in Fontaine, or even his quarters in Meropide. Where…? 

He turned his head to the side and saw Lumine, positioned on a chair at his bedside, fast asleep with her upper body hunched over the bed for cushioning. He blinked at her for a moment, startled by the sight of her, by her presence. Okay. So he was with Lumine, evidently. He scanned the room again — Inazuma architecture… Why would he be in Inazuma? That couldn't be right. Think. He returned his gaze to Lumine, soft frown crossing his face as he tried to piece his memories back together. 

Right, her teapot — her adeptal abode. She'd taken him there because of the flooding in Fontaine, gotten him healing. Right. He sighed, rolling onto his side to face her. Gritting his teeth through the change in position — every inch of his body seemed to disagree with moving. Staring at the traveler. He couldn't recall a time he had ever seen her asleep. They'd camped together before, but she always went to bed after him and woke up first — or perhaps never sleeping at all in his company, he was never sure. Her face hidden behind her arms, he couldn't glean much. But she looked… calm. Peaceful. 

Odd of her to fall asleep next to him. Was she that concerned about him? It was unnecessary, though… Well, he wasn't exactly unhappy to see her. Quite the opposite. Smiling a little as he stared at her, his eyes half-closed, lingering drowsiness inviting him to sleep a little longer.

And he would, probably. Just… Not yet. Carefully, he forced himself onto his back and then into an upright position, blanket falling to his lap. He hissed in pain through the motion. Bringing a hand up to support his head, he squeezed his eyes shut, massaging his temples. Yeah. Definitely hit a limit of some sort. He'd be down for a while. Fascinating, that he had such a limit to begin with. How could he overcome it without killing himself? Hm… 

He glanced at Lumine and all at once realised he couldn't let himself do that. If she was sleeping at his bedside, he'd caused her enough worry that she didn't want him out of sight. How long did she say he'd been missing? A month, give or take? He'd worried her for that long. An odd feeling settled over him; slowly, he processed that it was guilt. He felt guilty. For making her worry for that long, for causing her so much distress.

He watched her for a moment, gaze heavy, before sighing to himself. Moving slowly, he shrugged off his jacket. Still a little damp from water, but more than that, simply uncomfortable to sleep in. He folded it carefully, set it at his other side from Lumine. Shivering in just his shirt. Fascinating, when was the last time he felt cold? He gathered the blanket on his lap and pulled it around his shoulders, nestling into the soft fabric.

This seemed a nice room. Simple and sparsely furnished, but comfortable. Occupied primarily by the bed he was laying on, with a desk underneath a window, and a bookshelf on the opposite wall. Whose room was this usually? Childe was, shamefully, rather unfamiliar with Lumine’s Serenitea Pot; although he held an invitation to it and the right to come and go as he pleased, it was not a privilege he indulged in often. Not wanting to trouble Lumine’s other friends with his presence, considering his… notoriety. People accepting of his position as a harbinger were few and far between. Lumine was a rare — and frankly strange — exception. Especially considering their history. Stirring up drama in what was supposed to be her sanctuary space was the last thing he wanted, so he rarely occupied it. This was possibly his first time staying there for an extended time.

It didn't seem like Lumine’s personal room, though he guessed he wouldn't know. It didn't look like a room he expected her to occupy. He expected something more… decorated, than this. This was probably someone else’s room, then. Or perhaps a spare? He wasn't quite sure how rooming worked in her mansion.

At his side, Lumine shifted, murmuring quietly as she stirred. He turned his head towards her as she woke up. Turning her head slightly in his arms to stare up at him through her lashes, not quite sitting up yet, only observing him. Quiet for a moment. Then murmuring, “Thought you were sleeping for a year.”

“Who knows? Maybe I did.”

“Mm… Barely an hour.” She sat up with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “You okay?” she checked, dropping her hands and studying him with a frown. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” He paired his assurances with a bright grin, “Good as new.”

She frowned, eyes slowly scanning his appearance, examining him. “You're shivering,” she noticed. She stood up only to sit on the mattress, leaning into Childe’s space to press the back of her hand to his forehead, all while he stared at her with wide eyes. “... You feel warm.”

“Nothing I can't handle,” he quickly assured. “I just run hot.”

“Mm.” No proper response to that when she pulled away. Still studying him, the look she got when she was puzzling something out; brow slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed the slightest degree, oddly calculating in how she examined him. “I’ll get you more blankets,” she decided. Shuffling off of the bed in a fluid moment, like she hadn't been asleep two minutes ago. “And some tea. You were in the rain too long, I guess.”

“A little water can't hurt me,” Childe replied. “I’m blessed by hydro, remember? I won't catch a cold from a little bit of rain.”

She stared at him, deadpan and unamused. “Uh-huh. And who currently has that blessing of yours?”

“... I suppose I may have misplaced it.”

Shocking Childe, a briefly hurt look entered her expression, her eyes widening and her mouth curving ever so slightly downwards, but she looked away just as quickly. “... Misplaced, huh?”

“By which I mean placed with my most trusted comrade,” he quickly corrected.

“... Right.” She still wouldn't look at him. “Don't get up.” And with that, she slipped out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her. 

He really messed that one up, didn't he? He sighed and flopped backwards into the bed. He'd meant his words as a joke, not as an insult. The fact that Lumine was currently caring for his vision hadn't left his mind even once since he'd trusted it to her. Did she think he would trust it to anyone? He had chosen her, because he knew she would take care of it. Trusting someone with your vision was the same as trusting someone with your life; Lumine had proven countless times to be worthy of both. Not once, even when he had been trapped in the primordial sea, had he regretted giving it to her. He knew she would protect it.

Lumine returned a few minutes later with several blankets draped over her arms. She set them on her chair and then spread them all over Childe without acknowledging him, even when he spoke, “I didn't mean it about my vision.”

“Mm.” She draped another blanket over him. 

“Really, I —”

“Kettle’s ready.” Slipping out of the room as quickly as she'd entered. How she could know that, he didn't know. Was she just avoiding him? Likely. 

When she came back, it was with a tray set with a teapot and a mug, alongside a little container of sugar. She set it down at his bedside table and sat down. Childe sat up, watching as she poured him a cup. Without asking, she added a half-spoon of sugar — his usual preference. Surprised and without thinking, he asked, “You remembered that?”

“Sure.” She stirred the sugar in before turning towards him and holding the cup for him to take. He accepted it and took a slow sip. She was staring at him again. He felt a little uncomfortable in how she observed him, but she didn't seem to be studying, not like before. No, the look in her eyes implied she was more lost in thought than anything. Quiet, for a long moment, before she asked, “Can I hold onto your vision for a little longer?”

He met her eyes, puzzled by the question. “Sure,” he decided. “Not like I’m using it. That your insurance to make sure I don't leave before I recover?”

Her expression softened. Not quite smiling, but amusement glimmered in her eyes. “Something like that,” she agreed. 

“There's no one else in the world I’d trust it with.” Pausing to sip his tea, though the brief look of surprise from the traveler wasn't lost on him. “I mean that. The fact that you've kept it safe this long is testament to that, isn't it?”

She slowly nodded, looking down at her hands. “... I need to… I need to head back to Fontaine, soon,” she murmured. “Help with the recovery efforts. Will you be okay?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“... Promise me you won't do anything stupid?”

“What qualifies as ‘stupid’? Just so we're on the same page, you know.”

“Leaving the mansion. Leaving the teapot, actually,” she listed. “Anything that'll make you faint.”

“I thought we established that I don't faint.”

“No, I’m pretty sure we established that you were unconscious already when you left the sea.”

“Barring that.”

“Nope.” She stood up, grabbing her chair by the back of it and carrying it back to the desk. “I mean it, just take it easy, get some sleep. I’ll make you something to eat the moment I get back, okay?”

“You're doing too much for me.” His tea finished, he set it back on the bedside table. “You don't need to serve me, I’m fine. A little more sleep and I’ll be right as rain.”

“If you're not in this bed when I get back, I will kick your ass.”

“Is that a promise?” He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes back with an exasperated sigh.

“Nope, changed my mind. If you're not in bed, I will never spar with you again.”

His grin dropped in an instant. “You're bluffing.”

“Try me,” she challenged.

She wasn't bluffing, he could tell by the warning in her eyes. He quickly threw his hands up in surrender before flopping backwards into the bed. “Yes ma’am,” he agreed hastily. “I will stay here and sleep.”

“Good.” She hummed in satisfaction and moved towards the door. Hesitating before opening it, long enough for Childe to turn his head towards her in curiosity. “I’ll be back soon. If you need anything —”

“I’ll be fine, really,” he assured. “Trust me, I won't even wake up while you're gone.”

“... Okay, okay,” she finally relented. Opening the door, she said, “Be back soon,” and then slipped away, shutting it behind her.

Now alone with his thoughts, Childe turned his head towards the ceiling with a sigh. He was tired, and had every intention of going back to sleep, but… Why did she want to keep my vision? There was more to it than just insurance, wasn't there? Something else. Something more serious than that. Unless this was just her proving a point after his joke landed poorly, but Lumine wasn't really the type to do something that petty. No, there had to be a deeper reason. Could he ask? Would she tell? Maybe, but… 

He didn't have the energy to keep thinking about it; the longer he was laying down, the drowsier he got. Eyes falling shut before he even realised he was falling asleep.

Even as exhausted as he was, Childe was always a light sleeper. He didn't know how long he was asleep before he was stirred by the sound of movement in the room, by feeling the bed shift ever-so-slightly to accommodate the weight of another. He blinked his eyes open, greeted by the low, dim light of the overheard lantern — sun had gone down. He turned his head to the side.

Lumine sat at the bedside, more or less collapsed over the mattress. He startled at the sight — not of her, but at the state of her. Visibly soaked to the bone, a damp spot forming around her on the blanket. He shot upright, “Lumine?”

She grumbled, raising her head enough to see him. Her eyes dull, skin pale, looking almost dazed when she met his eye. “I didn't mean to wake you, sorry… You should lay back down…”

“You're soaked.”

“... Fontaine’s underwater,” she mumbled. She turned her head back into her arms with a groan, as though she couldn't keep it upright. “All of it. Just water. Had to help…” 

“You're going to get sick if you stay like this,” he chided. Shuffling closer to her so that he could frame her head in his hands and angle her face towards him, studying her. Her skin dripping with rain and ocean water, soaking into his gloves, her hair utterly drenched. “You need to go dry off and get warmed up, you don't need to be here with me.”

“Just… Just needed to check on you,” she murmured. “I’m fine, really, I don't need to…” 

Her voice was weak, rasped, like she'd been shouting too much. Beyond that, she just… She sounded distant. Like she wasn't quite processing him. Her eyes looked just as absent; everything about her scanned that she was exhausted and fading. “You're not fine.”

“I am.”

“You're about as ‘fine’ as I am right now,” he stated, watching her frown with the comment. “You're worse off. Go dry off and get some sleep.”

She shook her head. Straightening her posture, she pulled her head of his hands and brought her hands up to her face. Wiping some of the water away from her eyes, but considering her gloves were just as soaked… “I’m alright,” she disagreed.

“Lumine.” He deadpanned at her, “If you get sick, you're not going to be able to take care of me. I could easily just waltz out of here while you're too weak to notice.”

Her frown deepened. “You wouldn't do that.”

“You sure?”

“... Yes,” she said, but uncertainty edged on her voice. “You wouldn't.”

“Maybe I wouldn't. But I could certainly do something else you'd consider stupid and reckless.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. Trying to figure out if he was bluffing, he was sure, crossing his arms and staring back at her. An unspoken battle in their little game of silent treatment, watching the other for any sign of backing down. Childe was nothing if not stubborn — the problem was, Lumine was just as bad. This was not their first time playing this game. Seeing who would give in first. But things must've been truly bad for the traveler, because she sighed, giving up within only a minute. “Fine,” she announced, standing up. The fabric of her clothes clung to her awkwardly, and he frowned when she tried to straighten out her appearance to no success. “If you need me —”

“I won't,” he said.

“If,” she stressed. “My rooms upstairs.” She pulled a small bottle out from seemingly nowhere and placed it down at the bedside table — within it, he could see a sleeping Seelie, the one he often saw floating at her side. “You can send my Seelie to come get me if you can't get up.” Pausing, she corrected herself, “Don't try to get up at all, actually.”

“Good advice and all, but it doesn't matter, because I won't need you for anything,” Childe dismissed. “Go dry off and get some sleep. Seriously, you're basically making a puddle.” 

She grumbled under her breath and marched to the door, her irritation drowned out by the slow, heavy weight to her movements, fueled by exhaustion. Sliding the door open before she hesitated. She turned her head over her shoulder and met Childe’s eye from across the room, soft frown on her face. Quiet, for a moment. Then, “Goodnight. Sorry to wake you up.”

He softened slightly. Managing a small smile at Lumine, he said, “Don't worry about that, I’m fine. Go sleep; sweet dreams, yeah?”

“... Mhm.” Staring for another moment before she slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Childe kept his eyes fixed on the spot where Lumine had stood for a long moment before his eyes drifted down to the floor. He'd mostly been joking, but there was a visible trail of water through the room left behind from Lumine. Surely she was uncomfortable — why had she come here first? He didn't understand her.

Well, no matter. He settled back into bed with a sigh and rolled onto his side, staring at the chair at the bedside. A spot on the covers by the chair was still damp from where Lumine had been laying. Reckless. Not a word he often assigned to her; she was always very… calculated, with most everything she did. Rarely did she ever act in a way he could consider rash. But coming to see him before taking care of herself certainly fit the bill. If he hadn't woken up, would she have slept like that? Soaked to the bone with frigid water, hunched uncomfortably over his bedside? She would have gotten sick like that… 

… He stared at the spot until his eyes fell shut again, too tired to keep them open any longer. He resented sleeping so much, but he guessed fighting nonstop for so long without pause would do that to anyone. Worry for Lumine occupied his mind until his consciousness slipped away from him completely, falling back into a dreamless sleep.

Lumine didn't realise she was crying until she was getting undressed for a bath. Frustrated by the way the fabric of her clothes clung to her body, frustrated by the way her hands trembled, by how she was shivering, by all of it. When liquid rolled down her cheek and she realised it was warm rather than the freezing rain she was drenched in, she connected the dots. Crying. Now, of all times. Was she that frustrated? She gritted her teeth and peeled off her gloves and sleeves, hanging them up alongside the rest of her clothes.

She had her own, private bath, separate from the bathhouse behind the mansion: this was her only saving grace, really. At least no one would have to see her like this. Naked, scarred, and crying. She took a deep breath to steady herself as well as she could before crossing to the shower to rinse herself off. Not bothering to wash her hair, really. She didn't have the energy for proper washing. She just wanted to be warm. When she was rinsed to a satisfactory degree, she stepped into the bath and lowered herself in the hot water, sinking up to her shoulders. Letting out a soft sigh as she did. The hot water immediately soothing her sore body, inviting warmth back into her bones. She took a deep breath before submerging herself fully, letting heat soak into her hair and face. She stayed underwater until she needed to breathe. A moment past that, even. Popping her head up, she reclined into the bath and let herself relax.

‘Relax’ was a word she hadn't even gotten to consider in the past several weeks. Fatigue weighed heavy on her body, worsened by the rainstorm in Fontaine. Guilt nabbed at her, too. She should be helping, not taking a hot bath. She could still try to help. She could still… 

Wriothesley’s words echoed in her brain, “You're no use to anyone exhausted. We can handle this.” Exhausted. She supposed that was true, but she resented that. There was so much to do. And yet…

The longer she relaxed for, the more she cried. Raising her hands to cover her face, she wept quietly for what seemed like no reason. She was just… tired. And sore. And frustrated. She made it a point to only cry when she was alone, and now was the first moment she'd had to herself in… how long? Everything she had gone through in Fontaine played in her mind. But throughout it all she kept going back to Childe; his trial, the dream she had of him stuck in the primordial sea, seeing him against the narwhal. The uncertainty, not knowing if he was alive or dead. And the only measure against that uncertainty was… 

She pulled her hands from her face and willed his vision into her hands, gripping it tightly when it took shape. She could feel it, still; a dull power within the darkened stone. Proof that somewhere, Childe was alive. She'd felt the vision of someone who was no longer living before, and it felt only like stone. Cold, lifeless. Childe's still buzzed with a distant power. Seeking its owner, tugging towards him. That was the real reason she hadn't wanted to return it yet. She needed that proof that he was alive, that small, distant connection to him present via his vision. Even if she knew, logically, that he was asleep in her mansion, that extra reassurance was priceless to her.

She set the vision to the side and sunk further into the bathwater, letting her eyes fall shut. Throughout her bath, she probably dozed off several times, startling awake each time. Finally sick of that, she stepped out of her bath and dried herself off. Enjoying being fully warm and dry for probably the first time in the last day. She dressed in comfortable clothes for sleep, resigning herself to washing her main clothes on the following day; she didn't have that kind of energy right now.

Warm and dressed, she crossed through the mansion towards the spare room Childe occupied, gripping his vision tightly in one of her hands. Silent when she slid the door open and peeked inside. She could barely see him in the low light; sprawled out on his side, breathing evenly. Fast asleep. She let herself smile, a nearly-silent sigh of relief slipping from her lips. Closing the door just as quietly, she padded through the house and upstairs.

Some of the rooms in the mansion were occupied, she could tell, but mercifully no one bothered her today. Perhaps her friends could sense her poor mood and her exhaustion, or perhaps they were just busy with their own things. Regardless, Lumine slipped into her personal bedroom upstairs without interruption, locking the door behind her. She practically collapsed into bed. Shuffling under the blankets and curling up amid her bedding, still clutching Childe’s vision like a lifeline.

She fell asleep quickly on account of her overwhelming exhaustion, but she startled awake just as fast. Shooting upright while she panted for breath, her heart pounding in her ears, grabbing Childe’s vision so tightly the metal framing it dug into her palms. She couldn't tell you what her dream was of that night. Too many options. She clutched at her chest and fought to breathe. Tears streamed down her face, boiling hot on her skin. It felt like she couldn't breathe; no amount of air in her lungs satisfied her desperate need for oxygen. Whimpering, she shuffled out of bed, practically collapsing the moment she was on her own feet. Damn it, get it together. Sitting on her knees, she doubled over, gasping for air. Come on. Come on. Come on. 

No, this wasn't working. She crawled across the floor of her room to the closest wall and forced herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support. She held Childe’s vision to her heart, feeling the distant power within the stone. It wasn't enough. She could barely feel it; not with how hard her heart was pounding. Moving slowly and breathing heavily, she moved through her room, following the wall to the door. Then down the hall. Clinging to the railing, sitting on the stairs as she went down, one step at a time. Shambling towards Childe’s room. 

She forced her breathing to be quieter as she slid the door open. Childe hadn't moved since she last checked on him, but… Moving as quietly as possible, she padded through the room and took her seat at his bedside. With her free hand, she reached onto the bed for Childe’s arm, lightly grabbing his wrist. His pulse thudded against her fingertips. Steady, consistent. Stronger than before. She sighed and folded her other arm on the bed, leaning forward to rest her head against it.

Movement from Childe went ignored by Lumine while she recovered her breathing. That is, until he spoke aloud into the dim room, “Lumine?” She raised her head and saw him staring at her, frown on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I —...” She turned her head away, breaking the eye contact between them. “Sorry, I didn't mean to — to make you uncomfortable,” she murmured, releasing her hold on his wrist to pull her hand away.

Before she could move too far, he grabbed her hand. Squeezing it before lowering it slowly back to the bed. “I didn't say that,” he said. “I asked why you were here. I thought you were sleeping.”

She clenched her jaw without thought. Sighing, she rested her head against her arm again, clutching his vision with her other hand. “I was sleeping,” she muttered. “I got enough, I’m fine.”

“You look terrible,” he disagreed. He pulled her hand towards him a little and took to running his thumb over her knuckles, the idle movement soft and soothing. “You're not fooling anyone.”

“Rude,” she grumbled. “I look fine.” 

“Have you seen yourself lately?”

“Insult my appearance all you want.”

“I’m not insulting you, I’m telling you that you don't look well.” She ignored him with a pouty huff, turning her head down into the bedding. He sighed. “You can at least tell me what you're doing here.” 

“... Wanted to check on you,” she murmured.

He chuckled softly, teasing, “Aw, you worried about me?”

“Yes.” Adjusting her head just enough to see him over her arm, glaring at him from across the bed. “Is that so shocking to you? Yes, I’m worried. You were stuck in the primordial sea for almost a month , do you have any idea how much abyssal energy you got exposed to? Not to mention maintaining Foul Legacy that long —”

He interrupted her by squeezing her hand, shuffling slightly in the bed to make better eye contact. Soft frown on his face and regret in his voice, “I’m sorry, I didn't realise —”

“I've spent the last month thinking I would never see you again.” Emotion welled in her throat, her words coming out strained and squeaky. Whimpering, she squeezed his hand back, desperate. “And the only reason I knew you were alive was your vision, and I just…” Her voice trailed off into a whimper. Turning her head downward again, wrapping her arm around herself, hiding from him. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't want to cry right now. Crying was reserved for times she was alone. She wasn't alone, so she wasn't supposed to be crying.

He shuffled closer to her, and she felt his other hand on her head, carefully petting her. “... It'll take a lot more than that to kill me,” he murmured. “After all, you and I haven't taken over the world yet. Can't die before that happens, you know?”

“You say that, but…” 

“I’m okay, Lumine, I promise. I lived. And I’ll keep living.”

“If Kokomi wasn't here —”

“Stop it,” he interrupted, voice firmer than before. She tipped her head enough to look at him, his hand coming to the side of her head, tucking her hair away from her face. “Stop with the ‘if.’ This version of the present, I’m here. I’m alive. Your friend fixed my heart, and I’ll be back to normal after a little rest. It's all set in stone. You don't need to worry about ‘what if,’ I’m fine. It's not like you're going to wake up tomorrow and the past will have suddenly changed, and I’ll be dead in the abyss.” 

More tears welled in her eyes. He was right, mostly. But the past could be changed. For everyone except Lumine, the past could be changed. Whimpering, she shook her head, protesting his words without being able to form any of her own. Instead she managed, “What if it happens again?”

He scoffed. “What, exactly, are you asking me?”

“What if… What if you…”

“The series of events that led me to the primordial sea were so insanely specific, I couldn't recreate those conditions if I tried.” He sighed. Still petting her, running his fingers through her short hair, almost absentmindedly. “I know you're worried, and I’m flattered, but really, I’m okay. I’m not just going to die the moment you stop looking at me.”

“... Even if that's true, I still…” 

“It is true,” he asserted. Voice firm enough that Lumine shut her mouth, biting down any further protests. Still, a tiny, pathetic whine slipped out of her. Another soft sigh from Childe, “What can I do to convince you?”

“... Nothing,” she whimpered. “Just… Just let me stay here. Please.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep here, it’s fine.”

Childe stared at her for a moment. Even though she'd hidden her face again, she could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing. Then he pulled his hand from her hair, squeezing her hand in his other. “Okay,” he agreed. “But at least come onto the bed. There's room for both of us.”

She tilted her head to see him, frowning. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Do you really think I care?”

“... Kinda…”

“Well, I don't, so.” He scooted backwards and patted the bed in front of him. “Come on. You'll kill your back trying to sleep hunched over like that.”

She muttered under her breath. Letting go of Childe’s hand, she stood slowly from the chair, blinking away the tears lingering in her eyes and hoping he didn't notice them. She still clutched his vision with her other hand — another thing she hoped he didn't notice as she carefully picked up the chair and put it back at the desk. Hesitating again at his bedside before she sighed and carefully crawled in, keeping as much space between her and Childe as she could. 

Childe watched her settle into the bed, so far apart from him she was one accidental movement from falling out of bed. He sighed, asked, “Are you uncomfortable sharing a bed with me?” 

“N — no, I just —”

“Then lay down properly, come here. I’m not going to bite.” 

Still hesitating, she shuffled a bit further into the bed. Childe pulled a blanket over her before settling back into his own spot, one of his hands laying in the center of the bed between them both. After a long moment, Lumine reached and carefully took his hand. He smiled and chuckled softly, said, “There we go. Bit better now?”

“I feel like you're making fun of me,” she mumbled. She pulled his vision to her chest with her other hand and felt the coolness of the crystal through her clothes. After a long moment of consideration, she loosened her grip on it, letting it fade out of the physical realm.

“I would never make fun of you.”

“Well that's just not true.”

“... Okay, I would never make fun of you over this,” he corrected. Lumine managed a single dry chuckle, rolling her eyes as she nestled into the bedding. Childe took to fidgeting with her fingers as he had before, playing with her hand idly. “I really am sorry.”

“... For what?”

“Worrying you so much.”

“Not like you did it on purpose,” Lumine dismissed. “You're right, the events leading up to everything were just… specific. Surreal.”

“... Is Fontaine really just… water?”

She tensed without realising it, something that didn't go unnoticed, based on the way Childe squeezed her hand back. “... Yeah,” she confirmed, voice soft, tinged with some sort of pain she hadn't had the time or energy to process yet. “It's already going down, but… Yeah. I was… I was helping the rescue efforts. Diving, saving as many people as I could. They weren't drowning, but…” 

“... I’m sorry. If I was there, I could've helped.”

“You were a little busy dying,” she reminded. “Besides, Wrio won't let me help anymore. Said I’m ‘too tired.’”

“I’m inclined to agree. When's the last time you got some rest?”

“... I don't think you'll like the answer to that question. You’re just as bad.”

“Need I remind you I was on vacation before I was unjustly accused?” Childe chimed, smug grin plastered over his face. “I’ve been doing my due diligence in taking care of myself. Or, trying to, anyway. Getting tossed into Meropide threw a wrench in that.” 

She sighed, both expasperated and defeated. “Whatever,” she muttered. “I’m resting now, aren’t I?”

“Doing a pretty bad job of it.” 

“Maybe if you stop talking…” 

“Aw, but you like it when I talk,” he mock-pouted. Rolling her eyes, she pulled his hand closer to her. “Want me to be quiet?” he offered, more genuine this time. “Let you sleep?” 

“... I don’t know,” she murmured. “Sleeping feels a bit… beyond me, right now.”

“What, nightmares?” When she didn’t answer, he sighed softly. He let go of her hand, but the moment of alarm she felt was brief, interrupted by his shuffling closer to pet the side of her hair instead. The feeling of his fingers through her hair… soothing, somehow. She met his eye, confused by the soft physical touch. Childe smiled at her, said, “This calms down my siblings when they’re scared. Is it working?”

“... Maybe a little,” she admitted. The contact was making her drowsy, much to her chagrin. She turned her head a bit downwards to hide her face in her pillow, thereby giving Childe better access to her hair. He chuckled, softly, moving a bit closer to pet her more easily. “How are your siblings…?”

“They’re doing well. Teucer talks about you a lot, you know.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. Every time I see him, and in all his letters, he wants more stories about you. Calls you ‘Miss Cool Outlander.’” 

“He’s sweet,” she mumbled. “Might be the only one in Snezhnaya who likes me…”

“I like you plenty,” Childe dismissed.

“Mm…” 

Another soft, fond chuckle from Childe, but he didn’t speak again. Neither did Lumine, drowsiness quickly claiming her. Only barely awake when his hand left her hair to take her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. She murmured softly, no words, only drowsy noises, her mind slipping from her. He softly squeezed her hand and whispered, “Sleep well,” the last thing she heard before she drifted completely.