Chapter Text
Pain… Everything was pain.
That was all Kaeya could feel as he lay on the wet grass, rain soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. Each drop that struck his skin felt like punishment, cold, sharp and relentless. The sky above him was dark and heavy, mirroring the storm raging inside. A searing agony radiated from his right eye, burning down the left side of his body like molten glass. Every heartbeat throbbed with pain, but that wasn't what consumed him.
He'd finally told Diluc the truth... about where he came from, about the mission, about the lies that had built his life... everything.
The words had spilt from his mouth like broken glass, cutting with every syllable. Yet, for a fleeting moment, it had felt liberating, like a stone he'd carried for years had finally been lifted, but it hurt... gods, it hurt... not just in flesh, but in his heart. He'd expected it. He'd known it would come to this, and maybe this was his way out of the dark, a release from the weight he'd carried all his life to be killed by his... someone he cared for more than anything. It was selfish, and he hated himself for it. He'd used Diluc's anger and grief as an escape, as if Diluc's fury could swallow up his own pain. It was cruel and wrong, but it was the only way he saw left... at least he didn't need to see his father's face when the truth was finally out.
But the world decided otherwise.
In that final moment, when Diluc's blade should have ended it all, a pulse of cold erupted in his palm. A Cryo Vision... a vision, blazed to life, shielding him from Diluc's killing strike... or most of it.
Khaenri'ahns weren't supposed to receive Visions. So why him? Why did the world choose to spare him... him, of all people? There were so many others who deserved to live another day.
Not some traitor from a dead nation...
He was supposed to die there, in the rain, and let it all be over.
The vision felt like it was mocking him. Now he lay on the wet, cold grass, more in pain than before, abandoned... just like when he was younger. If only he'd died then, from the cold, before Crepus found him.
He kept staring at the night sky as rain fell. He didn't notice someone calling his name until a blurry blonde figure appeared at his right. Jean... Why did she have to find him like this? Gods, he looked horrible, bleeding there.
She was saying something. It looked like she was asking him something, but he couldn't hear it. Just watch as her hands move over his body, and then a small Anemo light blooms with a fleeting sense of relief on his chest.
No. No. No...
Before he knew it, he was clawing at Jean's hands, tearing at them with fading strength, desperate to rip them from his chest, but she was stronger, far stronger, and her Anemo glow pulsed, a cruel light healing his wounds, chaining him to a life he despised. He tried to speak, to beg her to stop, to scream that he deserved this. Only a wet, choking cough tore from his lips, blood-tinged and ragged, as the world dissolved into a haze of endless rain. Dark spots bloomed in his vision, swallowing the edges of reality, while distant yells pierced the fog. All he knew was the cold pulse of that mocking Cryo Vision, tethering him to an endless abyss of regret.
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Kaeya's eye fluttered open, consciousness dragging him back like a cruel tether. The soft bed beneath him, the gentle sunlight warming his face, it felt like any ordinary morning at the winery, a fleeting lie of peace. Then pain seared across his chest and right eye, a brutal reminder of the truth."Don't move so much," a familiar voice murmured, hoarse and frayed at the edges, as if speaking alone drained what little strength she had left.
He blinked his one good eye, the world sharpening into focus. Not the winery but the church. He knew it from the vaulted ceiling, the sterile scent of herbs and stone. "J-Jean...?" His voice scraped out, rough and broken, and his throat felt dry as the desert of Sumeru "Hey... glad you're awake, Kaeya," Jean whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of forced relief. She leaned over him, but her face was a mask of utter devastation, eyes bloodshot and hollow, rimmed with bruises of exhaustion that spoke of endless nights without sleep; dark bags so deep they carved shadows into her pale skin, cheeks streaked with the faint tracks of dried tears.
Her hands trembled as she reached for him. She was wearing regular clothes, not her uniform, and her hair was in a loose ponytail. "How long have I-" he muttered, trying to push himself up. Pain lanced through him, merciless, wrenching a groan from his lips as his wounds screamed in protest. Jean was at his side in an instant, steadying him with gentle hands. She propped pillows behind him. "Careful," Jean chided, her voice a fragile whisper, fracturing under the crushing weight of her exhaustion. "Here, drink." She reached for a glass of water, her movements slightly slow. Noticing the violent tremble in Kaeya's hands, she steadied the glass with her own, guiding it to his lips. "You've been out for two days," she said, setting the glass on the nightstand with a faint clink after he managed a few weak sips. "We didn't expect you to wake so soon after losing so much blood."
Kaeya didn't know how to respond. Oops? A hollow joke to deflect the pain? Jean would probably scold him, maybe even kick him, for daring to jest now. So he only managed a small, "Oh," his gaze sliding away from hers, unable to face the hollowed-out sorrow in her bloodshot eyes.
Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Jean's ragged sigh cut through it. She dragged her chair closer, the scrape against the stone floor making his chest tighten with dread, a noose of anxiety coiling around his heart. "Kaeya, look at me." Her voice sharpened, a commander's edge slicing through her weariness, though it cracked when she called again, higher, desperate. His one good eye met hers, and he saw the devastation carved into her face, eyes sunken, cheeks streaked with the ghosts of tears, hands trembling as if they'd never still again.
"What the hell happened?" Her voice broke, raw and accusing, as her hands gestured wildly, betraying the chaos beneath her crumbling composure. "I went looking for you and Diluc after hearing about… everything. And I found you bleeding to death in the rain, Kaeya. And Diluc is nowhere to be found. He abandoned his post, left his vision, his uniform, everything at headquarters. He's gone."
Her words struck like a blade, each one deepening the void in his chest. Diluc… gone? He didn't blame Jean for her anger; she had every right, carrying the weight of his failure, of Mondstadt's fractures, but Diluc… had he truly left?
"Kaeya? Kaeya!" Jean's voice rose, sharp enough to jolt him from the spiralling abyss of his thoughts. She was angrier now, her face a mask of anguish and fury. "Not only did I find one of my best friends bleeding to death, but you tried to stop me from healing you!" Her shout made him flinch, his battered body recoiling as if struck again. "I-I…" No words came. His gaze dropped to the banded hands, the dull throb of his eye beneath its patch, a permanent brand of his shame.
What could he say? That Diluc attacked him because he'd confessed his Khaenri'ahn lies? That he'd wanted to die, to end the traitor's existence, he loathed? No. He could never tarnish Diluc's name, even if he hated him for carving this agony into his flesh. The truth choked him, locked behind a throat too raw, a heart too broken, leaving him to drown in silence under Jean's desperate, grieving stare.
"I'm sorry…" The words clawed their way out at last, ragged and broken, as his hands began to shake harder, trembling like leaves in a storm he couldn't escape. "I'm so sorry, Jean…" He didn't even know why he was apologising... for surviving when he should've been a corpse in the rain? For dragging her into his abyss, staining her unyielding light with his cursed shadow? Small sobs tore from his throat, hot tears spilling from his one good eye, carving paths down his scarred cheek. Why was he crying? Was he that pathetic... a Khaenri'ahn traitor, reduced to this snivelling wreck, too weak even for death's mercy?
Before another word could escape, Jean pulled him into a crushing hug, fierce yet careful, mindful of his wounds, her arms a desperate anchor in his unravelling world. "W-Why are you apologising, Kae…?" Her voice shattered on his name, barely holding back her own sobs, the sound fracturing her exhaustion into raw, aching grief. It only made him sob harder, his frail arms straining to hug her back, clinging like a drowning man to driftwood. "B-Be… because… everything's going to shit because of me…" he choked out between heaving sobs, burying his face in her shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of Anemo and coffee.
He wanted... to spill it all: his cursed origins, the blood-soaked duel with Diluc, the mocking Cryo Vision that chained him to this hell, but anxiety coiled like icy thorns in his chest, fear paralysing his tongue. Fear of what? Seeing her eyes turn to hatred, her blade drawn like Diluc's, another loved one trying to end him?
He wanted to die… so why was the terror of losing her... her warmth that felt like an older sister.
Jean's arms tightened around him, a desperate anchor pulling him closer, her fingers tracing slow, soothing paths up and down his back as if she could unravel the storm of his sobs. Gods… why was he cursed with such a radiant friend, an older sister in all but blood, even after he'd poisoned everything with his existence?
"Kea…" Jean's voice wavered, frayed by exhaustion and grief. "I'm sure Diluc is just angry, hurt after…" Her words faltered, swallowed by a heavy, shuddering sigh. "None of this is your-"
He couldn't. He couldn't...
"No, it's my fault…!" The words erupted, raw and jagged, as tears streamed down his scarred cheek, scalding the fresh wound beneath his eye. He shoved himself back from her warmth, though every fibre of his broken body screamed to collapse into her arms, to drown in the only kindness he hadn't yet ruined. "Diluc left because of me…" he blurted between choking sobs, the confession spilling before he could choke it back. "We fought because…" A wretched sob cut him off, strangling his voice. Gods, was he this pathetic? Too weak to even speak his shame?
Jean shifted onto the bed beside him, her eyes, bloodshot, shadowed, brimming with confusion and worry, fixed on him as he crumbled before her. One of her closest friends, shattering like glass, struggling to claw some unspeakable truth into the light. "Kaeya…" she whispered, her voice soft as a prayer, reaching out to rest her trembling hand on his, which shook violently in his lap. "You don't need to tell me everything-"
Her words broke as he looked up, his one good eye glistening with tears, raw terror swimming in its depths. A mirror of the frightened boy who once hid behind Diluc all those years ago, small and lost. The sight pierced her heart, dragging her back to those childhood days, now ashes in the wake of this ruin.
"P-Please…" His voice was a broken shard, barely audible, each syllable a wound. "I need to tell you…" His grip on her hand tightened, desperate, as if her touch was the only thing tethering him to this wretched life.
Jean nodded, her throat tight with unspoken grief, squeezing his hand back with all the strength her fractured resolve could muster. "Okay… go on," she said, her voice calm yet trembling, a lighthouse in his storm.
Silence fell, heavy as the church's stone walls. She could see the terror in his eye, the way his shaking hands clung to hers like a lifeline, as if the truth he carried was a blade poised to sever the last threads of who he was.
"I-I… I-" Kaeya's voice splintered, each syllable a shard of glass caught in his throat, as he teetered on the edge of spilling his cursed truth, but before he could choke out another word, the heavy creak of the church door shattered the silence, followed by the soft, hurried patter of footsteps drawing closer. His heart lurched. Instinctively, he turned away, hiding his tear-streaked face, his trembling hand swiping at his scarred cheek as if he could erase the evidence of his pathetic collapse.
Barbara and another Sister of Favonius stepped into the room, their soft footfalls echoing off the stone walls before they noticed he was awake. "Kaeya, thank Barbatos, you're awake!" Barbara's voice rang with her cheer. She hurried to his bedside, her Hydro Vision glowing faintly at her hip, but her smile faltered as she caught the unease hanging between him and Jean. She said nothing of it, only nodding to Jean before gently resting her hand on Kaeya's arm. The touch made him flinch, but he forced his one good eye to meet her briefly, avoiding her gaze like a guilty child. "How are you feeling?" Barbara asked, her voice calm but laced with practised concern, the kind honed by countless hours tending Mondstadt's wounded.
Kaeya summoned a ghost of his usual smirk, though it trembled at the edges. “Feels like I tumbled down every stair in the cathedral… not that I haven’t done that before,” he muttered, forcing a chuckle that twisted into a groan as he shifted, pain lancing through his chest and eye. Barbara's blue eyes narrowed, her annoyed expression an uncanny echo of Jean's when he played the fool, a look that cut deeper than he'd admit. "Okay, okay…" He raised his shaking hands in mock surrender, the tremor betraying his fragility. "My head's killing me, and breathing… it hurts like hell." His voice dropped, barely a whisper, as he averted his gaze from both sisters, their knowing stares piercing through his flimsy mask. "And… my right eye's burning," he added, quieter still, the admission like ash on his tongue, a nod to the scar that branded him a traitor.
"Thank you, Kaeya, for being honest," Barbara said, her tone calm yet firm, satisfied with his reluctant truth. She turned to the other Sister, her ponytail swaying with purpose. "Let's fetch painkillers for Sir Kaeya and some food-he needs to eat before taking them." The Sister nodded and glided toward the door. Barbara glanced back at Kaeya and Jean. "I'll be right back," she said, her voice softening as she stepped away.
"I'll stay with him until you return," Jean replied, her voice steady but strained, the weight of her exhaustion seeping through. Kaeya glanced at her, sheepish, his heart sinking under her unwavering presence. "Jean… you don't have to. I'm sure you're busy-"
"Don't worry, Kea. It's fine," she said, her reassuring tone belied by the tremor in her hand as it rested on his, her bloodshot eyes betraying nights spent at his side. "Good. I'll see you both soon," Barbara said, her cheer a faint echo as she slipped out, leaving the room heavy with silence.
Jean broke it first. "Do you want to tell me now…?" Her voice was a soft plea, her gentle smile a fragile mask over her crumbling resolve, her fingers tightening slightly on his.
Kaeya hesitated, his thoughts a snarled abyss of fear and shame, each one a thorn piercing deeper into his fractured soul. He shook his head, conjuring a weak smirk, a brittle mask of his usual charm that cracked under the weight of his lies. “Nah… I’ll spill when I’m off this deathbed,” he muttered, his voice low, threaded with that hollow, playful lilt that felt like a betrayal of itself.
Jean’s bloodshot eyes narrowed, a flicker of exasperation breaking through her exhausted grief. “Stop that,” she muttered, her voice calm but slightly annoyed, as she leaned closer and gave his shoulder a gentle but firm nudge, a plea wrapped in frustration.
“Yeah, yeah… sorry,” Kaeya murmured, forcing a slight chuckle that twisted into a pained rasp, the sound dying in his throat as his wounds throbbed, a cruel reminder of the life he couldn’t escape.