Chapter Text
Childe has a migraine again.
He gets out of bed with an irritated grunt, willing it to go away despite knowing it’s hopeless. It seems all his body is capable of doing is harassing his sleep with fuzzy, familiar dreams until he wakes up from the searing pain slicing his head open.
He can only vaguely remember what this dream was about. He thinks he was holding someone’s hand, or he was back home talking to his family, or he was smiling wide and proud. Maybe it had been all three. It’s confusing. He can’t even attempt to make sense of them, because they’re just oddly familiar enough to send shivers down his spine if he considers them for longer than a few seconds. The migraines certainly don’t make all of it any easier.
The doctors had told him it’s a side effect of continuous Delusion use. He had worn himself thin, being the only person standing between Fontaine and mass destruction, and his troubles were bound to pass once his body recovered from the shock.
Childe’s body has had a hell of a lot of time to recover from the shock. It’s been months , Fontaine has one less abyssal monster to deal with, his health is back on track, yet he’s still scrambling to keep himself in check. He retrieved his Vision weeks ago, and it still lays unused on his bedside table, swirling like the water’s alive and mad at him. He tried using it in combat training once and it had ended with a broken limb and soaking wet clothes. Childe’s going nuts.
He’s even considered mailing a letter to Fontaine just to double check if things were really fine, and maybe ask if they’ve seen any other massive immortal beasts wandering the waters, but then he remembers the incredibly long letter Neuvillette had sent him and decides against it. The other could apologize as much as he wanted and vow to welcome Childe into the nation with open arms, but it’s not like he feels particularly inclined to go there again after the entire shitshow. Even if it seems like said shitshow has ended for everyone but him.
Childe’s trying his hardest not to verbally abuse lower-ranking Fatui as the migraine threatens to crack his skull open. None of it even makes any sense. When he first went to Fontaine, he was in a bad mood because he was uneasy. Danger always loomed over him no matter where he was, every second felt like he was wasting time. He knows now it was the Abyss shifting underneath him, being completely consumed by something stronger than it knew what to do with. Childe had felt just as hopeless as he had felt with every day he spent trapped there with nowhere to go.
Now? Now Childe just feels like he’s missing something. He’s ten steps behind, his brain is remembering things he himself has no recollection of. If he dreams of a field, he knows exactly the way the sun touches his skin. If he dreams of laughter, he can still hear it ringing in his ear by the time he wakes up. What does any of it mean? Why is he in any of it? Why does he dream of love and joy and violet hair?
“…Lord Tartaglia?” The mousy new recruit squeaks by his side until Childe snaps out of it and turns to face him. “A-As I was saying, Il Capitano requested you file a report by tonight.”
Childe’s head pounds at the idea of filing anything . He needs a vacation.
After days of proving himself totally useless in this state, Capitano finally transferred Childe’s ongoing projects to his comrades. It certainly didn’t help that his last vacation had ended in a political nightmare for Snezhnaya, with an imprisoned Harbinger that attacked the Iudex and vanished off the face of the earth, but nobody’s perfect.
His vacation (Childe prefers calling it an investigation, but Capitano wasn’t so agreeing) begins, once more, in Fontaine.
Childe doesn’t have many good memories from when he first visited the nation. He tries not to resent how carefree the civilians are without the threat of a catastrophic flood following them for generations. He helped save every single one of these people, and now they get to move on while he’s left to pick up his own pieces.
He feels he’s owed a favor. He’s never been one to be satisfied by letters of gratitude.
He marches into the Palais Mermonia, taking delight in the way the workers’ faces pale at seeing him once more. Childe has no idea how the narrative was spun after his departure, but in the aforementioned letter of gratitude, Neuvillette had made it explicitly clear he had an honorary Fontainian badge of honor, even if he also made it implicitly clear he wished to never see any Harbinger ever again.
The only individual that doesn’t shrink under his glare is Sedene. Maybe Childe’s a little fond of the Melusines, but not much else. “I need to speak to the Iudex.”
To Sedene’s merit, she denies the desires of a Harbinger outright. “Monsieur Neuvillette’s schedule is very full. You’ll need to submit an application.”
Childe’s been raised to be a very polite young man, still remembering the scolding his mother would give him if he forgot to thank the shopkeeper on his way out. He spent his first few weeks as Fatui greeting his colleagues on pure muscle memory before they toughened him out of it. However, his head is still killing him, and his well-mannered smile falters for the slightest second. “It’s urgent. I’m sure you can squeeze me in.”
The Melusine shakes her head. “Most matters are urgent. I’m not allowed to make exceptions.”
A migraine, faulty Vision, bad sleep and the person who’s nation he fucking protected isn’t welcoming visitors. Childe, feeling particularly violent, has half the mind to consider killing everyone here. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that if it hadn’t been for me, half of your people would have been devoured before the flood even took place?”
“Monsieur Neuvillette has already expressed his gratitude.”
He’s going to burn that letter when this is all over. “Then might I remind you that it’s his fault I was wrongly convicted and sent to prison miles away from my home, inconveniencing the Fatui and leaving me at risk?”
“To which Monsieur Neuvillette has apologized for. There’s no reason I should cancel appointments for those in the schedule simply because you asked me to.”
“I believe Fontaine is still in danger.”
This finally, finally gets Sedene to sigh in defeat. “Monsieur Neuvillette has gone to the Fountain of Lucine to discuss matters with the Phantom members there. If he agrees to speak to you, I won’t stop him.”
Like his mother taught him, Childe bows in gratitude. Maybe he’ll send her a letter. “Thank you.”
The closer Childe gets to the Fountain of Lucine, the dizzier he feels. The Melusine running the Aquabus stops her tour three different times to ask him if he’s okay, clearly freaking out, and his voice cracks everytime he reassures her saying it’s just a headache. He’s fading in and out of consciousness, mumbling his way out of the Aquabus, leaning his body on the station walls just to not fall to the floor. He can barely remember where he is. His head spins and his vision blurs, and his unstable feet guide him to the Fountain. By the time he can faintly make it out in the distance, Childe’s not even sure how he’s getting there. He feels a force tug him towards it even as he sinks lower and lower in nausea.
He blinks. He’s leaning on a street lamp, the cold of the metal grounding him back to reality. He blinks. He’s on the ground, not sure when he got there. He blinks. His entire body weight is on a stranger as they both stand next to the Fountain.
“…okay? Sir?” Childe can vaguely feel the stranger’s hands letting go of him for just a second to call for help before he stumbles and falls into the water.
The quaint house looks barely enough to house one person, let alone two, but Childe can’t help the smile growing on his face. It’s far from the Court of Fontaine, the only noise being the singing of birds and the sea that’s just a short walk away, and Childe welcomes the tranquility with open arms.
“What are you smiling at?” The silky voice next to him asks. It’s only then that Childe realizes someone’s there with him. It comes as a surprise, although it shouldn’t have. He had just remarked on the inn being rented for two people. How did he know there was a second person, without knowing?
He shakes the sensation of dread off with a laugh. “If we have to be here we might as well make the most of it.”
Childe wants to turn and face the other, he remembers facing the other, how does he remember- but he can’t. He feels physically stuck in place.
He’s underwater. He remembers he should be looking for something. He definitely isn’t looking. Instead he’s holding someone’s - the same someone - hand as they swim with no apparent destination. He knows it’s the same someone from the way his heart tugs in fondness. He’s never felt so at ease before, even though he feels at ease now, and has definitely felt it in the past. He plucks a shimmering flower from the seabed and watches it glow in his hold.
“Surely you could have looked at it without killing it.” The statement is harsh, but the tone decidedly isn’t. Childe knows what he sounds like when he’s actually mad. He’s never heard him before, but he knows. He knows. He knows?
“Well, I’m not just looking at it.” He knows the flower is a gift to his lover. He knows how said lover will react, scoffing but tucking it into his pocket nonetheless. Childe looks at him, but he can only make out a sliver of violet hair before he falls into darkness.
Childe wakes up with a gasp. There’s a thousand things running through his head, but funnily, the only ones he can focus on are the color violet and the aroma of flowers.
“You’re awake.” Neuvillette speaks, and it’s only then Childe realizes he’s back at the Palais Mermonia, inside the Iudex’s office.
He thanks the Archons he’s lucid again. He wants to appear high and mighty to Sedene once he leaves. And all he had to do was faint into a fountain.
“Iudex,” Childe doesn’t even know where to begin. “…how did I get here?”
Neuvillette is sat on the couch in front of him, sipping his tea like he doesn’t know what else to do. “The Marechaussee Phantom and I carried you to guarantee your safety. You were unconscious.”
Obviously, he wants to say. “I apologize. I was hoping I could speak to you, but I wasn’t expecting to fall ill once I got there.”
“Sedene informed me you believe Fontaine is in danger.”
Childe chooses not to mention he’s more concerned about his wellbeing than Fontaine’s. He sits up from his position on the couch hesitantly, expecting his dizziness to come back, but he feels completely fine. That’s…odd. It seems the fountain was the only thing responsible for his nausea. “It might just be a coincidence, but when the Narwhal started targeting Fontaine, I displayed symptoms of it. My Vision stopped responding correctly. I felt uneasy. They were supposed to stop once I confronted it.”
Neuvillette’s eyes widen. “I’m assuming they didn’t?”
“They didn’t.” Childe decides he might as well be truthful. The Iudex of Fontaine is easily less intimidating than Sedene. “But I’m not really here to discuss Fontaine. I’m here to ask for help.”
Neuvillette nods, seemingly not surprised. “Of course.” He speaks more to himself, already attempting to connect the dots by himself. “Your Hydro Vision is behaving erratically and the Fountain of Lucine affected you physically. What you must be experiencing is an issue with your memories.”
Childe’s breath catches in his throat. He suddenly feels trapped. “…Memories?”
Neuvillette nods. “Yes. Fontaine’s waters are ancient, they have existed for longer than either of us, and will remain millenia after we are gone. They carry years and years of emotions, guarding things you yourself may have let go of.”
He thinks of his dreams, of what he saw inside the fountain, of a hand holding his, of a trip to the countryside- “That doesn’t make sense. It showed me taking a trip to Fontaine, but I only came here once. The-“ Childe can’t bring himself to say memories. “ dreams never happened.”
Neuvillette isn’t helping with Childe’s complete mental collapse at all. “The Fountain is a harbor of memories, Tartaglia. I assure you whatever you saw there did happen, whether you remember it or not.”
Childe’s head spins just at the idea of him having forgotten months, years of his life spent with someone by his side. Someone he loved. Someone he can’t even look at without waking up in a cold sweat. “But I have these dreams in Snezhnaya, too. Not like there’s any Fountain of Lucine there.”
He thinks it’s a good argument, but Neuvillette doesn’t even flinch. “After the Calamity, many Oceanids fled Fontaine and wandered throughout Teyvat. They spent many years wandering the land aimlessly, struggling to maintain their physical forms. As their bodies grew weaker and so too did their will to continue, they dissolved into nothing. The spring is here in Fontaine, but every body of water in this world carries emotions held through time.”
Childe must visibly pale, because the Iudex offers him enough treats to feed a family of five. Neither are in the mood for small talk, and the room falls completely silent as Childe halfheartedly eats strawberry cake, coercing himself out of a psychotic break.
His life has had entire chunks forcibly ripped out before he could even realize what was happening. Just how much has he lost? How can he know he will ever get them back again?
He thinks back to what he saw while he was unconscious. The hand he was so tightly holding onto as if it was his lifeline. The warmth blooming in his chest. How his smile came easy, with nothing to prove and nowhere to go. Childe decides immediately that even if he can’t do anything to get them back, he has to at least try. He’s never met someone he’s loved so patiently, someone he’d dream of even having never known them. He wants to meet this someone. He has to.
As Neuvillette walks him to the door and insists he contact him for any further assistance, just loud enough for Sedene to huff behind him, Childe realizes he doesn’t have a migraine.
He spends most of his afternoon inside the Palais de Mermonia, leafing through every inn listing in Fontaine. Childe convinced a second squeaky subordinate to help him, but all they’re doing is insisting he just take one of the Fatui-owned inns they usually stay at for missions.
Most of them are lavish, spacious apartments right at the center of Fontaine’s court, minutes away from the Northland Bank. Childe’s always found the luxurious inns a bit excessive. He knows it’s an effective way for the Fatui to make their wealth and power explicitly clear, but he had felt completely out of place when he was in Liyue. They had given him the most expensive room in the entire harbor, most of the furniture probably costing more than everything he owned back in Morepesok, and he’s fairly certain the entire building had been haunted. It makes sense that Past Childe, who’s choices are still a bit of a mystery to Current Childe, had preferred the tiny house by the sea.
After plenty of searching, he finds a description that matches exactly what he saw in his memories. Cozy home for two by the beach. Tired of the hustle and bustle of everyday Fontainian living? Let yourself relax hours away from the city with someone you love.
Childe can only assume he was attempting to turn a work trip into a romantic getaway. No Harbinger in their right mind would willingly take the Aquabus everyday just to get to the main city, he intended to do little to no work at all.
Childe spares a moment to imagine how he had even behaved when lovesick. Was he irrational? Was he romantic, or flirty, or dense, or all of the above? Was he someone who would go on an useless expedition just to spend time with someone he was in love with? But then he realizes he forgot who the person he was supposedly head over heels for even was, and the whole train of thought becomes a bit bleak.
He follows the directions given to him by his subordinate, and it becomes increasingly clear that the house is incredibly poorly located. It’s closer to Romaritime Harbor than it is to the Court, and it takes Childe two hours of walking to find it in the first place.
Despite the trek, he smiles in disbelief when he realizes it’s really there. This is the house. It’s in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a small garden and a fence, and Childe knows he’s been here before. He knows the stove is faulty and he knows just the right way to shake it to get a flame. He knows the bed is big enough for two people if they’re holding each other close, which had been his plan in the first place. He knows how the sand from the beach nearby feels under his feet.
It quickly becomes overwhelming. He can’t even begin to understand how he lived all this, how he loved this place and left this place and then forgot all about it. Childe is almost too afraid to walk inside, knowing that the moment he does, he’ll never be able to move on until he has every bit and piece of his life back.
He does anyway. The key in his pocket fits perfectly in the lock. The door opens with a creak, and he has tears in his eyes by the time he’s inside. His chest pounds so hard he can feel it against his ears, and Childe feels like a lunatic crying alone because his heart misses something he never even did.
The sun is still shining in from the window with a full day ahead, but Childe feels bone tired. There are untold years weighing him down until he’s on the bed, curling into himself as the sea lures him into sleep.
His eyes are closed, he’ll be falling asleep soon. There are arms wrapped around him and a face tucked into his neck, hair brushing his chin and legs intertwined with his. He’s been in this same position countless times before, but it never stops making him giddy. It’s a little ridiculous. He’s lazily running a hand through the other’s hair because he doesn’t want to sleep just yet. He wants to savor every second of this, for as long as he can, for as long as the other will allow-
“Childe.” Childe feels the words against his skin more than he actually hears them out loud. “Stop it and go to sleep.”
He has to hold back a whine. Maybe he should be going to sleep. “You’re never here when I wake up.”
“I have no need for sleep. Do you honestly think you’re important enough that I’ll stay still for hours just so you wake up in a better mood?”
It should sting, but it just makes Childe feel cocky. I’m the only one you let hold you like this. The only one to make you act irrational. How much more important could I possibly be? “Would it help if I asked nicely?”
He yawns and prepares to sleep anyway, knowing even if the other isn’t by his side in the morning, he certainly won’t be far.
When he does wake up, his arm is numb from the weight on top of it. He bites back a smile. “You stayed?”
“What else was I supposed to do all night in the middle of nowhere?”
The giddiness is back with full force. He places a kiss on the familiar head of hair tucked under him. “Right. Good morning Sc-”
Childe jolts awake. Shit. Childe feels like he’s fighting against his own head. Why can he never remember enough to get a name? At least it would be something to go by. He shuts his eyes in hopes of sleeping again, but he’s already too wired to do anything useful. He wants to scream.
He hears a knock on the door. Which is definitely what caused him to wake up just as he was about to get his first and only lead. He marches up to the entrance still in his clothes from yesterday and opens the door with a vengeance.
His anger simmers down when he’s faced with the sweetest, littlest old lady he’s ever seen. She’s carrying a basket full of fruits and vegetables, and has to tilt her neck all the way up just to look at him. It’s only then that Childe realizes it’s sunny out. He has no idea if he slept a full day or just a few hours.
“Good morning!” A full day then. Great. The elderly lady shoves the basket into his chest before he can protest, or even process, what’s happening to him. “It’s so exciting to have people using the inn! My grandson insists on maintaining this place, but really no one ever rents it. I tell him he should sell the property but he refuses! Talking about how it’s an investment, and how the flood was scaring people into avoiding the seaside, but it’s been months and still nothing!”
Childe’s so grateful for the food he could cry, and he misses his family so bad he could cry just by hearing the way she speaks of her grandkid. “Thank you for the welcome gift. I’m sure if more people knew they’d get fresh fruit, this inn would be packed all year.”
She smiles, clearly flattered. “What a nice young man! I live in that house down the path, in case you want to stop by for tea.”
She leaves, humming a tune to herself as she goes, and Childe is at least glad to know he’s not totally alone in Fontaine. He places the basket on the kitchen table and inspects the goods. The fruits are ripe and are already making the place smell like strawberries. Childe can’t help but smile. She’s clearly good at tending to her plants. Sure, her memory is definitely not as good as it used to be, since she knew him already and was acting if she had just met him-
His blood goes cold. She acted as if she had just met him. She’s lived here for years. She was surprised anyone had rented this place at all. And she was greeting Childe as if she'd never seen him before.
He’s lucky she has small legs and little stamina, because he catches up to her in seconds. She looks at him as if he’s a little insane, which Childe realizes he kind of is. “I didn’t mean now, sweetheart. It’s almost time for lunch.”
“You- I’ve rented this inn before. With a friend.”
She tilts her head, looking at him up and down as if looking for an open wound. “Of course not. I wasn’t exaggerating before. No one has contacted the inn listing before. You’re the first.”
Is he going insane? Is he actually losing his fucking mind? His so-called memories never even happened? He knows about the broken stove of a house he, according to history itself, has never even seen before?
“Are you alright? You’ve gone pale.”
He doesn’t doubt it. He feels like a light breeze could rip him off his feet. “I’ve been here before. With a friend. The… the stove…” He’s suddenly out of breath, and his vision is spinning the same way it did when he was near the fountain. “ Shit.”
Childe almost feels bad for frightening this nice old lady, and he realizes she’s having to hold him up. What is happening to him? Her voice sounds like fuzz and the clouds above him are blending into each other.
“Oh, dear. I think I’ll make that tea.”
He’s at her house washing dishes, and the smell of herbs makes it clear tea is being made. He’s sure he offered to wash them himself, and he’s sure he’s embarrassed by something, if the warmth of his cheeks are any indication.
Elaine — that’s her name, he notes — is moving around the place preparing her fancy teacup set as she rambles on. He can hear the clinking of her shoes on the floor. He desperately wants to turn around and soak in every detail, but he’s bound to his memory. All he can do is scrub the plate until it’s shiny and listen to her.
“…such a nice young couple. You’re not too bad on the eyes either! My suggestion? Hat off. It’s just too gaudy.” She chirps at Childe’s partner who, he notices, is also there. He feels a surge of possessiveness, immediately followed by a moment of clarity, because does he really think an elderly woman is romantic competition? She just criticized his hat.
“Thank you, Elaine.” He replies in that polished tone that he only uses when he’s trying very hard to be nice. It brings a smile to Childe’s lips. He’ll never admit he has a soft spot for kids and for the elderly, but it might as well be written on his face. “But I have no desire to attract any new people.”
For his standards, it’s the most beautiful declaration of love Childe has ever received. He turns to face him with an arrogant little smirk, and is surprised when the memory continues as if nothing happened.
His breath catches in his throat. His partner, the love of his life as his brain quickly supplies, is sat on the table facing the other way, but he’s real and Childe can see him and it almost brings him to tears.
His hair is violet except for the dash of lilac. Multiple memories of Childe caressing it slam into him at once. He almost loses his footing. His voice still does things to his heart. His hat is certainly gaudy. Childe is fond of it nonetheless, accustomed to tossing it aside just to kiss him better, longer, harder. Childe speaks. “Enough people in your life already?”
He turns to Childe so easily, like it’s nothing at all, that Childe doubts he ever had difficulty seeing him to begin with. He’s… beautiful. He’s all long lashes and piercing eyes and soft lips, and Childe can’t tell if he’s already in love or if he’s falling in love all over again.
He takes a sip of the tea Elaine’s already poured him before answering. “Just the one.”
Childe’s cheeks are wet with tears when he wakes. He was expecting to see the familiar pale yellow walls of Elaine’s kitchen, but instead is faced with the sea. It’s soothing him already despite being, he figures, the root of all his problems. The breeze is blowing his hair out of his face. When he blinks a tear away, he can see him , flirting with Childe from a kitchen table like they have all the time in the world.
He breathes in, breathes out. No headache.
Elaine notices he’s awake and instantly offers him a glass of water. “I decided against the tea. Fresh air is the cure to any ailment!”
Embarrassingly, this is the second time in a week Childe’s had to be carried around from one place to the other. He accepts the drink. It’s the least he can do to calm her down after having probably given her the fright of her life. “I’m sorry. I was probably just dehydrated.”
“Dehydrated in Fontaine? Archons, it’s like this is your first day being alive. How do you forget to drink water? You shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere on your own if this is how you’ll end up.”
Childe laughs. She sounds an awful lot like his mother. He smiles a little too much for her to believe the scolding got to him, and she’s grumbling about disrespect as Childe stands up, already completely recovered.
She walks him to the inn, clearly not believing he’s completely recovered. He only vaguely pays attention to what she’s talking about now. He’s kind of, a little bit, totally thinking about the man he was apparently in a relationship with. Those eyes? That smirk? The way he looked like a lost prince inside Elaine’s humble home, drinking tea in a way much more elegant than Childe could ever hope to achieve? He sure hopes he isn’t losing his mind. If it turns out this is all a figment of Childe’s imagination and that beautiful stranger doesn’t exist in the real world, Childe might succumb to depression.
She scoffs next to him. “I’ll tell you what. My grandson keeps a stock of medicine in the kitchen cupboard, in case the visitors fall ill. Obviously, they’ve never been touched. If you feel sick again, I guarantee there’ll be enough to last you your entire stay.”
The mention of a cupboard rings in Childe’s head like a bell. He feels awfully inclined to rummage through it immediately, despite having no reason to.
“It’s a waste. I tell him, why pay for something that’s going to be left untouched? Since no one’s ever here! But he doesn’t listen. And he doesn’t even make time in his schedule to visit his grandmother anymore!”
Cupboard, cupboard, saying bye to Elaine before she can start up again, cupboard, cupboard. Childe finds it, along with a ludicrous amount of flu medicine that’s most definitely expired, but he also sees something else. Right in the corner, hidden in the shadows, is a letter.
It’s crumpled. Clearly one Childe hoped would never see the light of day again, and he thanks his past self for being some sort of romance coward. This letter is only here for him to find because he had gone through great effort to make sure no one ever found it.
He unravels it. The handwriting is decidedly his. He tenses up.
Hi. I’m writing this to you but I have no intention of ever handing it over. You’d definitely find it stupid, but you’re not here right now, and I need the courage.
When I first joined the Fatui, I started keeping a journal. Being back at home felt wrong because I was still traumatized by the Abyss, but none of my comrades felt too keen on taking me under their wing either. All in all, I didn’t have much else to say to anybody.
Before you mock me for it, I’m well past needing a journal to stop feeling lonely, But old habits die hard, and this is the easiest way for me to get my thoughts in order. It’s ridiculous how difficult it is to get them in order when they’re about you.
I convinced you to ditch work and spend two months walking on the beach and wasting time. You kiss the freckle behind my ear even when you’re clearly trying to be irritated at something I say, and I pretend to believe it. You bared your hands to me because you knew I’d always view you as human, even with the joints, even with everything. It’s safe to say I’ve convinced myself I’m kind of a big deal in your life. Correct me if I’m wrong.
It’s been a while since I’ve gone home. Teucer keeps asking about me. The toys I sent Anthon are already wearing out. I would like it if you were there with me. I can already guess everything you’re going to complain about, but you’re never going to be pissed off enough to actually leave. You’ll just want me to listen, and I will, for as long as you’ll have me. My family will love you. They’re a lot like me, in a lot of ways.
I’ll ask you properly once we’re back in Snezhnaya. I’m hoping you say yes.
(My mom’s letters always ask me if I’ve met anyone important, anyone that makes me want to survive a battle just to get home to them. And I have met someone like that. Just the one.)
Ajax