Ekaterina meets Zhongli at his door, shouldering Childe, grunting at his weight. "Mr. Zhongli." Her greeting is brusque, but her words waver. Childe is slumped across her, breaths wet and raspy. Blood drips from his side painting Zhongli's porch vermillion.
Despite the way that she shakes, Ekaterina is nothing but business. "He told me to come here if he was ever in trouble. He told me that if we couldn't trust—" She pauses, picking her next words carefully. "There are some things better left out of my reports, and so, I've come to you."
Zhongli has not seen Childe since he gave away his gnosis. It's been bitter-sweet, his nights haunted by the hurt look on Childe's face. The way that he yelled at him, angry, distraught. Zhongli is still learning about what makes a man mortal but he's found that these are the feelings that hurt the most.
And now, Childe bleeding out at his door awakens a pain that lances through his chest. Zhongli so rarely worries about others, but here, right now, this man—
"Mr. Zhongli?" Ekaterina hisses it more urgently, shuffling about underneath Childe.
Childe rouses slightly groaning as he pushes against her. "Katya," he murmurs. "Katya, what is—wait, wait—"
Zhongli crosses the distance, pulling Childe from her grasp. Childe kicks against him. "I don't, where is—" A pause. "Zhongli?" A whisper uttered in duress. Zhongli smells the fear that sets in. "No, no—"
It is no matter to knock Childe back out; just a simple press of Zhongli's hand across his face and sturdy Geo pushed into his prone form. Childe slumps against him.
"Miss Ekaterina, I will need your help."
"Anything." She follows him into his home, her toes clipping his heels.
"If this is… as sensitive as you make it out to be, it would paint you in a bad light—"
"Anything," she repeats. Zhongli pauses in his den to glance at her. She stares back, lips set into a determined line. "I serve Master Tartaglia, not the Fatui."
Childe trusted Ekaterina enough to tell her to come here when there was no other option. So, Zhongli chooses to trust her as well.
#
Childe is paler than the white silk of Zhongli's sheets. He writhes, groaning in his sleep, his sweat-slicked brow shiny in the soft candleglow. Ekaterina watches from the opposite chair, half-dozing as she rests her chin against the arm rest.
Zhongli watches from the other side of the bed, sweeping cold fingers across Childe's hot forehead. Childe shakes with the shivers. Infection. He has a good chance of fighting it. Ekaterina was swift in getting him there and Zhongli isn't a slouch when it comes to healing.
But Childe is mortal, despite the godhood that he thinks he possesses, and he pushes himself too far.
"Idiot," murmurs Zhongli.
Ekaterina snickers from her chair. "I don't think I've ever heard you call someone that. You're too polite."
"Ajax is a special case." Ekaterina starts at that, pulling her chin from her knuckles, and Zhongli realizes just what he called him. He swallows, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Miss Ekaterina, I—"
"I'm not stupid. I have eyes. I've known since he told me to trust you, months ago." She snorts softly, rubbing her eyes. Zhongli has never seen her without her mask. She looks young, exhausted, worn and ragged.
"We have not spoken since…" Words fail him, something strange for a man usually so verbose. Zhongli looks at Ekaterina. "Has he told you who I am?"
She watches him back as if he's just a man, not a former Archon. "There was a night where he cried about how much he loves you. It was after your contract was fulfilled."
"Ah." Zhongli sighs softly, turning back to Childe. "I am thick-headed at times. I didn't realize that he—"
Ekaterina laughs. She laughs and laughs, a snorting thing that crackles in her chest and makes her cough. "Sorry, it's just like watching a bad romance novel unfold in real-life."
Zhongli is quiet for a long moment. He just watches Childe rest in his bed fitfully, petting his hair as he sorts out his thoughts.
"I didn't mean to offend—"
"No, nothing like that Miss Ekaterina. I just find myself at a loss. Ajax and I, we—" Things went sour before they ever started. And now Childe lays in his bed pale and clinging on. "I am not a being who knows fear, and yet, I am afraid."
Ekaterina's expression softens as she gives him a knowing glance. Her presence is comforting despite the fact that Zhongli barely knows her. He should rectify that—but not now. Later, when Childe isn't—
"That's normal, isn't it? To fear losing someone?"
"I have already lost him, in a way."
Ekaterina looks amused. "What, because you had an argument? Don't be ridiculous. That idiot is gone for you. You're never going to shake him off." She stands and stretches on tired feet, yawning widely. Then she crosses the room and presses a gentle hand on Zhongli's shoulder. "I'm going to go rest on the couch. Keep watch on him?"
Her hand is a solid, comforting weight. Zhongli lets himself sink into it. "Always," he says. She squeezes his shoulder and then he is left alone with Childe.
Zhongli sighs, brushing his bangs back. "I do not want to lose you and so I will make it right. Come back to me, Ajax."
The next morning, Childe's eyelids flutter open long enough for him to give a scathing remark about Zhongli's terrible bedside manner. Zhongli just smiles and kisses his knuckles.
