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The fight was long over, the Abyss Mage long since dead, and yet Diluc couldn't move an inch if he tried. And he had tried. Diluc had raged and screamed and pushed himself to his limit, and then tried to push himself further. Nothing had worked.
Nothing had fucking worked.
Diluc could see the Dawn Winery and could practically smell the grapes in the air, and he couldn’t get to it. Diluc was still stuck in the same position he'd fallen, if a little shifted from his attempt at moving. Stuck on his stomach with a steadily bleeding wound sapping his strength a little further with every breath he took. It had taken one faltered movement, just one, and the bastard had got him. Of all the things he'd come up against, of all he'd lived through, and it was a damn Abyss Mage that put him here. It would almost be laughable if Diluc wasn't so damn angry.
His fingers dug into the dirt, but only created deeper gouges in the ground. The wound wasn't his biggest problem, though it had been the most likely to kill him at one point - the footsteps coming closer and closer might be the newest contender for that role.
Fuck.
His shaking hand reached out to grab his claymore, not willing to go down without a fight. Even if this was where his life ended, Diluc refused to make it easier for whoever it was. Diluc would drag them straight down to the abyss with him first.
"This is becoming a habit, Mr. Diluc!" Diluc's eye widened in recognition of the voice before quickly twisting up in annoyed reflex. Of course, of all the damn Fatui in the world it could have been, it had to be the bane of his existence.
Memories of their last encounter, the surreal quality of it notwithstanding, and the words 'next time' still lingered in Diluc's mind. Diluc had idly wondered when the next time they saw each other would be. Now it was here, and he was in the worst state he could be. The unfairness of it all made Diluc grit his teeth.
Tartaglia's boot pressed into his side before forcibly pushing Diluc over onto his back. The rush of pain caught Diluc off guard and he gasped, letting go of his claymore to press against his stomach, face twisted in pain. Through his tear-filled eyes, Tartaglia came into view, a blur of orange hair and the red of that stupid mask.
Diluc let out a grunt when Tartaglia pressed a foot into his arm, leaning onto it and digging it in. Any words of rage Diluc could have snarled were stuck at the whisper of something light against his neck. Tartaglia's Hydro dagger was weightless, barely pressing in, and would have brought no sense of danger to a stupider man. Diluc was no such man, and knew it would merely take a sudden jerk for the dagger to pierce his flesh and end his life. Diluc bared his teeth at Tartaglia, not looking away from the unflinching stare.
"Though it was under different circumstances before, this is more preferable, don't you think?" Tartaglia didn't move the dagger an inch. Any wrong move, even a stumble, could split open his neck. And Tartaglia thought it would be fun to have a little chat.
Asshole.
"There's a lot of us that would like to see you like this, you know! You've managed to be a thorn in our side enough to be noticed, I think congratulations should be had for that achievement! Not that it's very hard, to be fair," Tartaglia said, his lips twisting in amusement. He'dapparently decided to torture Diluc with more of his inane small talk before letting Diluc blissfully be free of dealing with him ever again. That might be the only pro about this entire situation. "To piss the other Harbingers off. Not that that diminishes your work, but it has to be said."
There was silence for a moment, then another, and when Diluc finally thought Tartaglia had got a clue and learned the value of not talking, Tartaglia ruined it.
"You owe me a fight, you know." Tartaglia said, the pleasant smile on his face marred by the coldness of his eyes. "You promised me a 'next time'. You're supposed to keep your promises, Mr. Diluc."
"I'm sorry," Diluc said, low and thick, but injecting as much sarcasm as he could anyway. "Next time I'll ask the fucking monster very nicely to not stab me, I have an appointment with a Harbinger that wants to do that instead. Happy?"
"You may not believe me, but I don't actually want you dead, Diluc." There was something soft there, in Tartaglia's tone, something that made Diluc want to flinch.
"Oh, really? The… the dagger could have fooled me." Diluc snapped, weaker than he'd wanted to, the words sticking together. Diluc wished he could grab his claymore and return it in kind, but even the thought of moving brought a wave of pain with it.
Tartaglia laughed, losing that sense of wrongness for a moment. His grin was wide and unashamed and so him that it brought the most annoying sense of relief to Diluc. Familiar Tartaglia he could handle; whatever mood Tartaglia had just been in had set him on edge. "What's a little blood between friends?"
We're not friends, you moron, Diluc tried to say, as he always did. It was routine at this point. A mumble that barely sounded like words was the best he could do, a grunt of pain coming out instead as Diluc shifted and instantly regretted it.
Even the words themselves didn’t bring the same sense of urgency as they would have before. Usually Diluc would demand that Tartaglia get to the point already and stop messing around, but Diluc was just too numb to pay the words much attention, to even really take them in properly and try to process them. Diluc just couldn't feel much of anything else but the pain of his wound, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on anything else.
To even do anything else.
There was silence then, for what felt like eons. Tartaglia stared at nothing in particular; Diluc tried to fight the growing need to sleep, to finally let his body rest, but it was a losing battle. Not even Tartaglia being there - one of the Fatui! An enemy! - made his body cooperate. It really was the end of the line, and he had the pleasure of spending it with Tartaglia of all people.
Barbatos himself must be laughing at him.
"You're really not alright, are you?" It was mumbled and soft, Tartaglia talking to himself more than anything.
Diluc couldn't muster the expected response through the slow dawning of something he didn’t care to witness. Shutting his eyes didn’t do anything; if anything, it added an unpleasant burn to match the pulsing headache and sharp pain from his stab wound. A symphony of pain. There was a part of him that was trying to push through, that screamed at Diluc to get up and get home. He could do it if he just tried a little harder, pushed himself that little bit further.
But another part wanted to sleep and escape the pain, and as much as Diluc hated to say it, that part was winning. Diluc had wasted too much time talking to Tartaglia. Any window he might have had to push himself had diminished to nothing.
Diluc didn’t notice when Tartaglia recalled his dagger, and didn’t react when Tartaglia finally moved away only to sit right next to him. What was the point? Nothing he would say would get Tartaglia to fuck off, and it wouldn’t come out right if he tried to say anything anyway. Diluc could ignore him when Tartaglia was like this, quiet and stuck in his own head. It would have been concerning at any other time, Tartaglia thinking was never a good thing, but whatever. Not his problem now.
Diluc just wanted to rest - and yet even that was denied to him.
Tartaglia didn't take any notice of Diluc’s attempt to stop him, his hand clenched around Diluc's Vision and holding it aloft and out of Diluc’s reach.
"What're you-?" Diluc hissed, or tried to, the sudden burst of adrenaline only going so far. Most of it had gone towards grabbing Tartaglia's arm, trying to drag him back. Leaving Tartaglia to his own devices was a mistake in hindsight. He couldn't even be trusted to let someone die in peace.
"There you are," Tartaglia said, relieved and delighted in equal measure. "And here I thought you'd left me alone. How cruel!"
"Give … it back."
"You mean this?" Tartaglia showed off his prize, taking it further out of reach when Diluc made another attempt in taking it back. "I was just looking at it, Diluc! I'll give it back soon, don't worry."
Tartaglia didn't make any move to destroy it or pocket it. He merely looked at it. Studied it contemplatively. It made Diluc's stomach turn.
"Isn't it funny? These can hold so many things. They're the very essence of people's hopes and dreams. Their ambitions and resolve." Tartaglia spoke suddenly, stroking a thumb over Diluc's vision, ignoring Diluc's continued and increasingly weak attempts to retrieve it. "And a dream… a dream, I think, should be defended to the end, don't you?"
Whatever Tartaglia had been contemplating he quickly came to a decision. Tartaglia didn't let go of his vision; if anything he held it tighter. He didn’t even stop to tell Diluc what it was. Tartaglia didn’t give Diluc a chance to reject whatever he was about to do, just put his hand under Diluc's head and lifted him up slightly, ignoring Diluc's wince of pain.
"You can call me selfish all you'd like after, I won't mind," Tartaglia laughed, the sound ringing in the air for a moment, the only thing Diluc could focus on. It trailed off slowly, the humour fading bit by bit until the only thing left was a strangely serious expression upon Tartaglia's face. It didn't fit him. "I can't think of anything else to do and I just… want you to live, isn't that strange?"
Tartaglia kissed Diluc's forehead. It was cool to the touch. Diluc was too out of it, and uncaring of any protestations he would have normally had, to even call it unwelcome.
"Follow my lead, okay?" There was a buzzing in the back of his head, overshadowed by pain but quickly pushing its way to the front of his focus. There was something about it that niggled at him, something that pulled Diluc up short. There was something about this that he would regret later.
And, unfortunately, Diluc couldn't think of why that was.
Tartaglia's lip twitched in amusement. Whether from Diluc's confused expression, or whatever stupid thought went through his fucked up head, Diluc didn't know.
"You don't have to do anything. Just reach back, okay?" The words hung in the air like the world was waiting for his answer. Tartaglia's thumb tapped the side of his face, the only tell of nerves as he waited for Diluc to respond.
No, Diluc knew he should say. There was no request from Tartaglia that shouldn't be answered with a vehement denial, especially this. Whatever this was should definitely be a no. This was something important, something not decided on a whim. Diluc couldn't remember exactly what it was, but he knew that much. It was on the tip of his tongue.
But it was so cool, and Diluc was in pain. Before he could help himself, Diluc reached back. Something clicked into place all at once, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. Bird song quieted, the whistle of the wind nowhere to be found. Only Tartaglia still lived in that moment, and he had broken into a wide smile, relief bright in his eyes
"Thank the Archons," Diluc thought he heard Tartaglia say, but it was so soft that he might have imagined it.
"Sleep now, Diluc. You'll feel better later, hm? We can fight all you'd like later!" Tartaglia paused before snickering. "I seem to be saying that a lot lately, don't I? Don't forget, you owe me a fight twice over now! And next time I'll definitely collect what I'm owed!"
Diluc fell asleep before he could see if the world ever unfroze.
–
When Diluc came to, he was alone, a long and fluffy coat draped over him and keeping him warm. The sky was blue and the sun had long since risen. It was another beautiful day in Mondstadt. For a few seconds, Diluc stared into the air, his breath easy, and he felt good. Better than good, even.
And then Diluc remembered everything.
Sitting up in a rush, Diluc winced in expected pain. A pain that never came. Diluc pressed along his stomach, baffled when he didn't feel an open wound; there was something there still, but it was scarred over already and well on its way to healing. The horrific pain that he'd experienced just last night had dampened, only the slight ache of a newly healed wound remained.
What the fuck?
Something at the edge of his field of vision caught his attention. It brought to mind the last thing he remembered Tartaglia doing, something Diluc refused to believe in until he saw proof. It had to have been some stupid, messed up dream. The fucking idiot Fatui couldn't have. There was no way Tartaglia would go that far.
Could he?
(How else could Diluc be healed so quickly after suffering such a serious injury? How was Diluc even alive?)
Biting the bullet and refusing to let himself stall any longer, Diluc grabbed his Vision. The only thing he could feel, upon taking in his Vision, was disbelief. Where once a healthy red shone bright and full of life, there was now a cool blue just along the edges. Like a cage trapping the Pyro within.
Tartaglia had actually done it - and then he'd left like a ghost. Or, Diluc thought with a quickly growing anger, a fucking coward. Of course Tartaglia had chosen then, when Diluc was all but passed out, to do this shit. When Diluc couldn't snap at him, to ask him what the fuck are you doing?
Only a single thought came through the blanket of rage that had overtaken Diluc.
How dare he.
Diluc could already feel it at the back of his head, an awareness of that fucking Harbinger. Already there was bleed through, a mix of relief, amusement and laughter that only grew when Diluc shoved annoyance and rage Tartaglia's way. It was incredibly easy to do so, as if the bond has been there for years. In a panic Diluc tried to build a bond, a block, to shut him out but no matter how he went about it nothing happened. Diluc could still feel him at the back of his head, a cheerful and unrepentant invader. It took longer than Diluc cared to admit before he gave up and accepted the facts.
Diluc could use the bond in its infancy, but at the same time it was too new to block it. It made Diluc grit his teeth, and his rage only grew to further heights, until he felt he might set fire to the grass from rage alone. It would have been preferable for the cowardly Harbinger to still be there, ready to take all the Pyro Diluc was ready to throw at him, but all Diluc had was the grass. Diluc wasn't far enough gone to set fire to the grass no matter how much he wanted to rage and scream, so he bit back the impulse and contented himself with thoughts of what he would do as soon as he got hold of Tartaglia again.
As if in response to those thoughts, Tartaglia sent even more of that amusement.
Fucking asshole.
Diluc’s lips thinned and his hand tightened on his vision. It would be so easy, Diluc could find the Harbinger and enact vengeance, but…
Diluc let out a harsh breath, slowly relaxing his fingers and looking away, back towards the Dawn Winery. What Diluc really wanted was to go home, and the knowledge that he could still go home was enough to break the well of rage a little. Dampen it so he could think a little clearer.
There were other days he could find Tartaglia and beat answers out of him, but for now Diluc picked up his Claymore and headed home.