Chapter Text
There was no region in Teyvat that wasn’t crawling with massive, ancient automatons that gave even modern day adventurers a nasty run for their money, and Liyue was certainly no exception. In fact, most would say that the nation was positively teeming with the things. Dottore supposed it was a matter of the culture in Liyue; these were a people that took great pride in their illustrious history, in their long-lived Archon, and in the eroding structures scattered across the land. Not to say that any other nation was without its history, or pride, but compared to nations as progressive as Fontaine and as industrious as Snezhnaya, the landscape and atmosphere of Liyue seemed utterly untouched. Some areas seemed to be stuck in time, the crumbling stone architecture and rusted sentinels that guarded them the only indication that the nation had entered into a modern era.
It was almost a pity that the people were too ignorant to understand any of it.
But pity did not come easily to Dottore, as very few were deserving of it in the first place. He did not pity the willfully ignorant, nor was it his responsibility to do so. His responsibility was to stamp out their ignorance. By any means necessary.
This goal often intersected with his duties as the Third of the Fatui Harbingers; often, but not always. Truth be told, the research he conducted at the automaton facility in Liyue was probably not worth the expenses required to carve it into the landscape. Any amount of knowledge Dottore could glean from Teyvat’s ancient technology was useful to the Fatui to a certain extent, but he would be the first to admit that their benefit alone was not at the forefront of his mind when he first commissioned for the facility’s creation. Studying and enhancing the automatons was only incidentally beneficial to them, and not as directly so as the Tsaritsa perhaps would have desired.
But Dottore couldn't always bring himself to be concerned with her whims, and he certainly could not be bothered to heed Pantalone's constant griping over his haphazard use of Fatui funding.
Dottore had arranged for the construction of the Liyue facility for his own benefit, really. The research he conducted with the Ruin Guards and Ruin Hunters in the area appealed to his own personal interests more than they did to the interests of the Fatui.
If he had to put it in layman's terms, he supposed he just liked them.
Dottore’s Liyue facility was his sanctum, far removed from the frigid, buzzing atmosphere of Zapolyarny Palace. It did not frustrate him as Haeresys so often did, with its lack of consistent progress. It was not so tedious as feigning diplomacy in foreign lands, when he had neither the desire nor the disposition to practice such a thing to begin with. But save for Dottore himself, and the bare minimum of subordinates required to keep the place from collapsing on itself, there was nothing in the Liyue facility but a handful of beaten-up machines. Working there did not require his tact, or even any significant amount of innovation, for that matter.
Dottore would have his breakthrough one day, had already come closer to it than he ever could have imagine, but for the time being he could not deny the fact that machines were much, much easier to deal with than people. The machines, relatively speaking, were simple. They did not cling to foolish ideals or let themselves be seized by irrational emotions. They did not hinder their own progress at every turn, and place the blame anywhere but on themselves. The machines asked nothing of Dottore nor did he require anything in return. The machines simply existed, each and every one the same, their mechanical cores all imbued with the same singular, common goal in mind. They did what they were designed for - nothing more and nothing less - and they did it as a sum of parts that were delightful to Dottore in their uniformity and intricacy. He had long since memorized every last gear and piston that held them together, the architecture that so perfectly kept their essences operational even after eons of meandering across Teyvat. Dottore had grown so familiar with the machines over the years that he could have disassembled and reassembled them with his eyes closed.
And, unlike humans, the Ruin Guards didn’t make a fuss at the attempt.
So though he was technically making progress for the Fatui, he Dottore paid little mind to that. More often than not, he only chose to retire to the Liyue facility when he required some time to himself. It was a perfect excuse, and tinkering around with the machines - a nearly mindless endeavor, at this point, with how much of it was just muscle memory at work - relaxed him. There was nothing in particular to bother him there. Unless one counted the automatons themselves, or his subordinates that guarded the area, there was no one around for miles.
That was how it had always been before, anyway. Which is why Dottore nearly dropped the chaos core he had been fiddling with at his work desk the day that he suddenly heard a voice behind him.
“Greetings, comrade!”
Dottore’s initial shock quickly shifted into annoyance, recognizing the voice instantly. The bright, eager, loud voice with a playful lilt that always managed to make his temples throb, a precursor to the impending tension headache that would surely follow the interaction.
He whipped around to look at the younger man, but did not stand from his chair. If anything, he hunched in on himself further, suddenly possessive of the notes and spare parts on his desk that he knew the other party would have no interest in or use for. Honestly, Dottore probably didn’t have much use for these things either. But they were his nonetheless, and just seconds before he had grown complacent in thinking they were for his eyes alone.
But now that Childe - Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers - stood behind him, one hand resting casually on his hip and the other throwing the Third an oblivious wave, Dottore’s sanctum had been defiled.
“Who let you in here?” Dottore spat, without hesitation, without even asking why Childe was here in Liyue at all, though that had certainly popped into his mind as well.
Childe had been grinning at Dottore from where he stood, and so he remained grinning, but he seemed a bit wounded as his hand fell to his side listlessly. Dottore heard him sucking at the back of his teeth, as if tutting himself for expecting a warm welcome.
“I let myself in, as a matter of fact,” Childe said, chuckling. “So, there’s no need to go chewing anyone’s heads off after this. None of your men even saw me come in.”
Dottore narrowed his eyes. He didn’t necessarily believe him, knowing that if Childe had chosen to throw his weight around even slightly, his subordinates would not have been able to willingly defy another Harbinger’s will. Though it would have been in their best interest to do so anyway.
Dottore was not an altogether domineering superior, not as much so as the likes of Scaramouche or Sandrone, but his subordinates were no strangers to his temper and how short the fuse required to ignite it was. They knew him well as a man who required self-sufficiency and, most importantly, a wide berth. Most of them were more than happy to comply with this. They did not speak unless spoken to, and only sought him out in situations in which his counsel could not be avoided. So long as they followed these rules, everyone was happy. They rarely ever had a need to disturb Dottore without notice, and in turn Dottore chose not to terrorize them with arbitrary scare tactics.
Dottore felt that he asked very little of his personally appointed soldiers, especially the ones that accompanied him to the Liyue facility, but this was an infringement that could not be ignored. It made his blood boil, thinking of the utter incompetence that had led to Childe standing in the middle of his facility like he owned the place.
But he would have to reprimand his subordinates later. For the time being, it appeared that it had now fallen on him to drive the troublesome Eleventh out of his personal space.
"What are you even doing here, boy?" Dottore snapped indignantly.
Childe blinked at him innocently, as if the answer was obvious. "Well, it's my assignment, of course. I'll be here in Liyue for a while."
"But why are you here?" Dottore repeated, getting impatient. "Was your 'assignment' to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"
"There's no need to get testy. You're the one that shipped me out here, after all," Childe said, a little dryly. "Don't you remember?"
"I did nothing of the sort," Dottore snapped. Although, now that he mentioned it, he did vaguely remember the decision being made to station Childe in Liyue. Though the Tsaritsa had given him an actual reason to be there, both she and his seniors certainly had ulterior motives for keeping him at an generous arm's length. Childe, with his uncanny ability to stir up trouble wherever he went, could often be more trouble than he was worth. He had his usefulness, but the coming months would require a tad more delicacy than the boy was capable of. It was necessary to give him a bit of busy work, for the time being.
Although Dottore, in all honesty, had been paying very little mind at the time the decision was made. He never did, in matters that did not concern him - which, in his opinion, ended up being most matters. Now, of course, he wished he had paid a bit closer attention. If he had known how close in proximity this would put Childe to one of his research facilities, he may have pushed a little harder to pawn him off elsewhere.
Childe laughed in response, then continued as if he had read Dottore's mind. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have, if you knew I'd end up here. That's your own fault, though. You should have known I'd catch wind of this place eventually."
"I don't care if you catch wind of it or not." Dottore scowled, turning back to the scraps and notes on his desk. Not that he would be able to pay any attention to them now, but he didn't want to engage with Childe any more than he had to. "You'd do well to mind your own business, regardless."
"You expect me not to investigate one of the Fatui's very own facilities in the nation I've been ordered to oversee?" Childe asked. To Dottore's annoyance, he walked over to the desk, leaning back against it leisurely and crossing his arms. "That would just be stupid, wouldn't it? I don't even know what you do here. And I feel like I should at least know that much, seeing as the facility is now within my jurisdiction, so to speak. The rest of you are always telling me to take my job more seriously, and now I do and I'm being scolded for it? That's not fair."
"It's above your station, boy," Dottore grumbled. He shifted over a bit in his chair, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. "And besides that, I don't care if you take the job seriously or not. So long as you're not bothering me, you can run off skipping stones with the locals all day, for all I care."
"Oh yeah?" Childe replied, and Dottore could practically hear the smug grin that must have broken out on his face. "What are you gonna do then? Throw me out?"
"I may." Dottore did look up at him then, a severe, cautioning glare. "You should remember your place in all this, boy."
Childe, who had indeed been grinning, almost pouted at that. "Oh, I'm just messing around. If I'm annoying you, just say it. Don't try to scare me with formalities."
Dottore just sighed, looking back to his work. As much as he realized how egregiously out of turn Childe was acting towards one of his superiors, the truth was, he really didn't care about that. Dottore's status as a high-ranking Harbinger was merely convenient, at times. He didn't think of it as much more than that. He didn't consider it a badge of honor as some of the Harbingers did; it was merely one of many tools Dottore utilized when necessary. So even though he certainly could have gotten Childe more than just a slap on the wrist for his insolence, Dottore really had no desire to follow through on the threat. Childe had a way of sapping him of all his energy as it was, and it wasn't like throwing his weight around would get the Eleventh out of his hair any quicker.
Childe knew this, too, which was a bother. He was capable of being downright saccharine and borderline submissive with his more authoritative superiors, but he had eventually picked up that Dottore did not have the energy to put on such airs. But although his behavior didn't necessarily offend Dottore, it didn't make it any less obnoxious.
"Is it that easy, then?" Dottore asked, not looking up. "Fine. You're annoying me. Now leave."
"Hey, you didn't have to say it that quickly…." Childe actually sounded a little bruised. Then, to Dottore's horror, he picked up a stray page of notes laying on the desk, bringing it up to his face to inspect it. "Besides, I'm being serious. I should know something about this place, if I'm going to be here most of the time. You must have more important things to do than to have to worry about the facility when you're not here, don't you? Wouldn't it put your mind at ease to know I'll be overseeing it?"
"No!" Dottore stood up from his chair, snatching the piece of paper from Childe's hand. "Do not touch that! Don't touch anything. This is why you're not welcome here! You're always touching things!"
Childe let his arms fall to his sides in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on. I'm genuinely interested."
Dottore sincerely doubted that, nor would it have changed his mood even if he was, but he was getting desperate enough to drive the boy off that he finally relented.
"Fine," Dottore sniped. "I study the automatons in the area. That's it. That's all you need to know."
Childe pursed his lips. "I did see a lot of those on my way in. But those old things? Really? That's all? What's so secret about that?"
"Nothing," Dottore said. "But it's still none of your business. But now that I’ve told you, are you pleased, yet?"
The pensive look on Childe's face indicated that he was not. "So, just how many do you have stashed away in here?"
"Several." Dottore responded through gritted teeth.
"You have to be doing something more interesting with them, right? Why come all the way out to Liyue to just watch a bunch of Ruin Guards mill around?"
"It's nothing you would be interested in."
"Huh." Childe did sound like he was quickly becoming disinterested, which was a good thing. Then, after a pause, he asked, "Do you have any I could spar with?"
Dottore pinched his mask where the bridge of his nose lay underneath. He would have been nearly exhausted enough to give into the Eleventh's whims if it meant burning off some of his insufferable energy, but he was familiar enough with the boy's martial prowess to know that there would be nothing left by the time he was through. "No, Childe."
"Oh," Childe said, almost pouting. "What a let down. And here I was, hoping you were getting up to something interesting out here."
"Even if I was, it would be no business of yours." Dottore grumbled.
Childe sighed. "I know, I know. I just can't stand this place. It's too quiet here. It gets me itching for something exciting."
"That isn't my concern," Dottore said, glaring at him. "Now, get out of here. Before you break something."
Childe looked away from Dottore with a huff, crossing his arms indignantly. “What’s the rush, if you’re not doing anything important?”
“I never said I wasn’t doing anything important,” Dottore hissed. “Everything I do is important.”
“Oh?” This made Childe crack a smile, and he suddenly brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle a laugh. It was certainly not Dottore's intention to amuse him, and he wasn’t even entirely sure what could have warranted such a response, but he knew it was sure to be for a reason that would infuriate him. The boy thought very highly of himself, though snickering at those he perceived as lesser was immature even for him.
“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Dottore warned, tapping his fingers against the desk. “I would hate to presume that you’re trying to belittle me.”
“I’m not. Honestly,” Childe said quickly, still poorly obscuring his grin behind his hand. He said it with no sarcasm or deceitfulness that Dottore could detect, but he couldn’t imagine what other reason Childe could have had for laughing.
It didn’t matter. Dottore was growing tired of this, and he had no desire to try picking apart whatever moronic whimsies were rattling around in the Eleventh’s skull.
“Shoo,” Dottore said, reaching up to flick Childe against the temple. To his satisfaction, Childe didn’t seem to be expecting it, and he winced slightly as he brought his hand up to his head.
“Ow.”
“‘Ow’?" Dottore echoed, mocking Childe's whiny, indignant tone. He then sat back in his chair with a grunt, looking back to his things. “Don't act like a child. The fact that I’ll be here in Liyue doesn’t mean I’m obligated to entertain you. Do whatever you want. Do your job, slack off, start a war for all I care; it makes no difference to me. But do not, under any circumstances, bother me again.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Besides,” Dottore punched the word out, purposefully cutting off Childe before he could have a chance to argue. “This ‘quiet’ you detest so much could only be good for you. Maybe the Tsaritsa wouldn’t have had to ship you off to live amongst the uncultured masses if you allowed a thought to pass through that thick head of yours every now and again.”
Childe opened his mouth to protest again, but seemed to think better of it, only taking a step away from Dottore’s desk with an exasperated groan.
“I get it, I get it, geez,” Childe said. He put a hand on his hip, looking put out. “Now that I know what this place is here for, I guess there’s nothing more for me to do anyway.”
“You are correct,” Dottore said dully. He heard Childe sigh behind him.
“You know, I wouldn’t have had to pester you in the first place if you all didn’t make such a conscious effort to keep me out of the loop.”
Dottore rolled his eyes at that. “You haven’t given us the slightest reason to include you. Not least in my own personal affairs. If anything, go bother someone else about it. I'm not here to solve your problems for you.”
Childe didn’t respond at first, and Dottore assumed he had succeeded in bruising his ego.
Then, Childe chuckled softly.
“Oh, so this place is a personal matter to you, then?” Childe asked, a devilish lilt to his voice. It was too familiar, and too boastful, as if he had been intending to pounce on such a slip of the tongue from the moment he stepped into the room.
Dottore froze.
It was not out of shame for misspeaking and getting caught, or anger at the Eleventh’s audacity, or even shock from having expected anything but that sort of insolence to come out of his mouth.
Dottore's first thought was that it was rather curious. He kept still because the Eleventh's tone had immediately intrigued him, as if one of his own specimens had just done something mildly unexpected mid-experiment. Something just unusual enough that it had the potential to alter the trajectory of his initial projections. It was these little deviations, the most miniscule flashes of the unknown, that always led to invaluable breakthroughs. He was frozen because he dared not disturb it; to disturb might mean not witnessing how far it could go.
But this was not one of his specimens, or one of his experiments, and would lead to no breakthrough. It was only Childe, and he was only acting out of turn. His curiosity rapidly dissolved, leaving him tired and disenchanted. He couldn’t even entertain the idea of dignifying Childe’s comment with an answer, even though it was now starting to make him angry.
“Get out. Now.” Dottore’s tone was icy and severe. He did not look back at Childe as he spoke, knowing that he would not need to. Childe was stubborn, but he was not dense. He could at least identify a line once it had already been crossed.
The silence that preceded Childe’s exit was stifling. He left without another word.
Dottore did not expect him to return anytime soon.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Childe did return, the very next day no less, Dottore found that he was more surprised than he was angry.
It could not be said that the Third and the Eleventh Harbingers got along well, not by any means. They were perhaps, at the very least, better suited to working together than some of the others were, though that wasn't saying much - there were some pairs of them that could scarcely find themselves in the same room together without flying at one another's throats, and he knew this because he had been a party to those pairs on several occasions. Dottore did not care much for Childe, but the younger man did not often cause the bile to rise in his throat or his skin to prickle in loathsome repulsion as the likes of some of the Harbingers did. Dottore did not regard him as a trusted colleague, nor as anyone particularly abhorrent; he barely regarded him as anything at all.
He would have suspected that Childe had felt the same, especially given that he tended to keep a generous distance between himself and all of his seniors when possible. Dottore had assumed the exchange from the day before had occurred because Childe really had felt an obligation to visit the site, for the sake of his new position in Liyue. To sate his own curiosity as well, no doubt, but nothing more than that.
But Dottore had made the facility's intentions and his own intentions should the Eleventh decide to darken his door again painfully clear, or so he thought he had. And yet he had come again, knowing full well there would be nothing here for him but Dottore's ire.
It was more bewildering, than anything else.
Though that was not to say that Dottore wasn't angry at his presence. Oh, he was positively seething.
“Morning, comrade!” That was the cheerful call that had grated at Dottore’s nerves like nails being scraped down a chalkboard, his neck and shoulders tensing painfully at the sudden departure of silence.
He hadn't allowed himself to be caught quite as off guard as the day before, now that he at least was aware Childe was in Liyue. But it was enough of a shock to make him flinch, which was not ideal, seeing as he had been elbow deep in the chest plate of a dormant Ruin Guard at that moment. Dottore could hear delicate machinery inside become displaced before clattering around somewhere within the depths of the hulking machine sitting before him. He slowly brought his hands out of the machine, tersely contemplating ramming Childe’s head into the cavity in their stead, but quickly realized that it would not be worth the trouble if he ended spilling the Eleventh’s blood or spit over the already rusted components.
What to do, then?
“Childe.” Dottore didn’t turn around to face him, still just staring blankly at the Ruin Guard in front of him. His voice was level, stoically calm for the time being. He was still mulling over just how much of his wrath Childe was deserving of, and he was afraid if he turned around to see whatever oblivious grin the boy had plastered across his face, he would lose his temper too quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah, sorry to bother you again so soon. Hopefully I’m not interrupting anything.” Dottore could have throttled him right there on the spot, but before he could make up his mind about it, Childe quickly continued speaking again. “I was thinking about something you said yesterday, actually.”
Dottore took pause. He scrambled in his own mind for some sort of recognition, for anything at all significant that Childe could have clung to aside from the insistence that he shouldn't return to the facility, and found nothing. His presence here again was only growing curiouser still. Curious enough for Dottore to momentarily shelve his anger.
Dottore looked back at him, raising an eyebrow that Childe wouldn't have been able to see. "Something… I said?"
"Yeah," Childe replied, shifting his weight around a bit awkwardly. He nodded vaguely to the empty space at Dottore's right side. "Can I sit?"
Dottore narrowed his eyes. Clearly, the boy had mistaken his reservation for familiarity. "No."
Childe didn't seem to know how to react to the blatant denial, only blinking at him vacantly before clearing his throat.
"Okay. Anyway,” Childe began, remaining where he stood. “Yeah, it was what you said yesterday. About the quiet being good for me.”
Dottore scrunched up his face, trying to recall. Yes, he had said something along those lines. Not with any genuine intent; he didn’t really mean it, didn’t care enough to mean it, and he certainly wouldn't have expected it to be something that Childe would dwell on.
Childe did not continue, his posture making it clear he was waiting for a response. That annoyed Dottore, but he was just interested enough for the time being to begrudgingly play along.
“And?” Dottore snapped impatiently.
“And-” Childe cut himself off suddenly, looking oddly thoughtful, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Do you really like it out here that much?”
Again, Dottore was caught off guard. As much as he detested the Eleventh clearly dancing around whatever subject he was attempting to breach, his inquisitive nature continued to get the better of him.
“Why would you assume that I do?” Dottore asked, turning just a bit more towards Childe. Only a bit.
“Well, to go to all the trouble of keeping this place running, and coming here yourself, no less; that can’t all be for nothing.” Childe crossed his arms, looking at Dottore pointedly. “And quite frankly, I’ve seen you throw away far more impressive things for much less.”
Dottore didn't like how astute these observations were, even for as interesting as it all was. Childe's skills in battle were an undeniable and well-known asset to the Harbingers, but more easily forgotten was just how cunning the young man could be. Dottore began to wonder if he hadn't kept his guard up high enough around the Eleventh.
Feeling defensive, Dottore only partially conceded. "It's work, Childe. There's no liking or disliking it. It's only a matter of getting it done. But… no, I wouldn't say I dislike my work here."
Childe grimaced slightly. He wasn't buying into Dottore's apathy. That was fine. He didn't have to. "It's just surprising, is all. You wouldn't have struck me as someone to stand a place as boring as this."
"Quiet isn't a bore, Childe," Dottore sighed. "It's just quiet. And I prefer not to be disturbed when I'm working."
Childe didn't seem to catch the hint, or was just blatantly ignoring it. He just shook his head emphatically. "No, no, I understand. I really do. I just found it interesting. But, on that note, that is why I came here."
"Out with it, then." Dottore's patience had worn thin, and he gave Childe a hard scowl.
Childe looked apprehensive. It was an expression Dottore almost couldn't place at first, as he had never seen anything even close to it so evident on the Eleventh's face before this point. But that soon faded, and Childe gave him a friendly smile.
"I was thinking I could watch you work for a while," Childe said.
It was a statement, not a question. He was not explicitly asking for permission, but the suggestion was not nearly as bold as Dottore would have otherwise expected it to be, coming from Childe.
Dottore was immediately perplexed by his words, but something had shifted suddenly in his mood. He was no longer listlessly exasperated by this encounter, but nearly engaged by it. While he had previously thought of nothing more than getting to the end of the exchange, he was now more curious as to why the exchange was happening to begin with.
"I have no need for an assistant, if that's what you want," Dottore answered quickly. "Much less you. You'd just find some way to level the whole facility."
"You might not be wrong," Childe said, chuckling. He seemed pleased. "I don't think I'd have the patience for anything so meticulous. That's not what I had in mind, though."
"What do you want, then?"
"Well," Childe started, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly. "You said so yourself; a little quiet would probably do me some good. And after I thought about it, I thought it didn't seem like such a bad idea. I could stand to remember how to meditate again. And you seem to keep this place pretty quiet."
Dottore grimaced. "If I had known you would take that to heart and use it as an excuse to nose around in my business, I would have cut out my tongue before saying anything. Besides, why would you want to come here of all places? You have all of Liyue to 'meditate' in. Just go watch the grass growing outside, if you're so eager to do nothing."
"But why not kill two birds with one stone?" Childe asked. "Wouldn't it benefit everyone if I could get a better feel for what goes on behind the front lines? And I've always been so interested in the work you do, you know. Getting a chance to watch you first hand sounds like quite the enlightening experience. You wouldn't hold my curiosity against me, would you?"
Dottore scoffed loudly. He knew exactly what Childe was doing, as the younger man didn't seem to be hiding the fact that he was just attempting to stroke Dottore's ego. Though he was laying it on just a bit too thick, for Dottore's taste.
Annoyingly enough, though, it was kind of working. Dottore couldn't be sure if Childe was being completely facetious, for he at least partially was, but the fact that he was going this far to get on the Third's good side at all suggested that there was something that interested him here.
Something was certainly catching Dottore's interest, as well.
Still, Dottore did value his personal space. Sacrificing that for something that merely seemed intriguing hardly seemed worth it.
"So, you just expect me to give you permission to shirk your responsibilities in my workspace?" Dottore asked, crossing his arms. "If you had any bit of sense, you'd think twice before asking your superior to encourage your bad behavior."
"Oh, come on," Childe groaned. He placed a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow incredulously at Dottore. "You said just yesterday that you don't care what I do. If I'm such a bother to have around, just say it; don't talk to me like I'm a kid."
That actually made Dottore burst out laughing, and he turned to the Eleventh with a crooked grin. "Oh, you shouldn't make it so easy for me to insult you, boy. It takes all the sport out of doing it on my own."
Childe pursed his lips in annoyance. "Let's just be straight with each other, shall we? Don't act like you're responsible for me. You're not."
Dottore’s grin fell into a thoughtful expression as he studied Childe, drumming his fingers against his own arm. Whatever was driving the boy to make such a ludicrous request of him, he was treating it seriously. Dottore couldn’t recall ever seeing him with such a serious look on his face, save for the very few times he had witnessed him in the heat of combat. When he really thought about it, he realized just how infrequently they ever had a need to work directly with one another, and how little he knew about the Eleventh in general. Up until that point, Dottore had never had any real reason to know Childe.
No reason except one.
Perhaps this could end up being even more interesting than Dottore had first imagined.
Besides, the worst that could happen was that Childe would stir up trouble for him, and Dottore would simply have to throw the boy out on his ass for good. But he would have to do that if he turned him down, as well.
“If you’re expecting an apprenticeship, I’m happy to quash the thought right here and now,” Dottore said sternly. It still was not ideal that he would be giving up his personal space, after all. Laying out some ground rules would be necessary. “You will not ask me any questions. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you. If I so much as hear you sigh, I’ll stuff you into one of these things myself and send it down the river.”
Childe briefly looked taken aback, like he hadn’t been expecting Dottore’s concession. Dottore wouldn’t have, either. But then he gave Dottore an odd little half-smile, chuckling nervously.
“I’ll do my best to not… breathe, I guess,” Childe laughed. Then he brought a finger up to his lips, lightly pressing it against them to mimic a hush. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. You have my word.”
Dottore only narrowed his eyes at him. “And do not touch anything. Not a single thing. Sit on your hands if you need to. If I even seen one piece of scrap metal out of place-”
“Hey, hey, I get it,” Childe held up his hands in yield, looking dismayed suddenly. “Man, you must really think I’m some kind of kid. I am capable of behaving myself.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Ah, loosen up just a little, comrade,” Childe urged, trying his best to look passive. “I definitely didn’t come here to ruin the atmosphere. Just forget I’m even here. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even start to grow on you.”
Dottore gave a scowl of disgust before turning back to the Ruin Guard in front of him with a terse sigh.
“I sincerely doubt that, boy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was difficult getting used to someone else's presence in a space that had previously been devoid of any soul other than Dottore himself. Even for as far away as he made Childe sit - and the gap was comically large, at first, even by Dottore's own standards - he couldn't shake the feeling that it was like someone was breathing down his neck, and it made it difficult to focus.
But, much to his surprise, Childe did stay quiet. Quieter than Dottore ever would have thought him capable of. He had mentioned "meditation" before, which the Third had initially brushed off as a rather weighty exaggeration to make his case seem more compelling than it was, but there really was something meditative about Childe's silence once he got settled in.
At the very least, it made him easy to tune out. Dottore was able to find his focus soon enough.
It went on like that for some time. Dottore would have to retire from the facility eventually, return to Zapolyarny Palace or elsewhere for a spell, then return to Liyue some time later. Every time he did, only a day or two would pass before Childe showed up at the facility as well. Dottore never notified him upon his return, nor did he follow any sort of schedule that could have been picked up on, and yet Childe always seemed to know when he arrived. Dottore suspected there was either a leak amongst his subordinates, or that Childe had secretly dispatched one of his own to stake out the facility. But Dottore found that the issue never bothered him enough to warrant investigation.
Dottore wasn't sure how much time had passed before the excessive gap he himself had established between them gradually began to close. He wasn't even sure who had started closing it in the first place.
After a while, he couldn't even quite recall when exactly Childe had gotten bold enough to break their agreement on staying silent. He remembered it had irked him at first, but not as much as it would have starting out. Childe still did not frequently attempt to strike up a conversation with him, and when he did, Dottore found that if he simply disregarded it, the Eleventh would quiet down on his own. But Dottore did not always find the need to disregard it.
Childe would often ask him questions about the automatons, wondering if there were any more efficient ways to cut the machines down than what he already knew. Dottore chose not to enlighten him, for fear that he would go on a gleeful killing spree with all his newfound knowledge and leave Dottore with no parts left to salvage. He would simply tell him his method of slaughter was fine as it was, and left it at that.
Childe would sometimes ask about how his work elsewhere was going. When it was going well, Dottore was more than pleased to tell him so. When there was nothing to brag about, he would tell him to mind his own business. When the latter response became more the norm than the former, the younger man eventually stopped asking.
Childe also once told Dottore that he found watching him work on the machines to be relaxing. He said that it reminded him of when he was a child, and his father would take him out to go ice fishing. He recalled the feeling of peace and security that came with it, with a look on his face that was so wistful that Dottore had thought that the boy must have momentarily forgotten he was still sitting beside him.
Dottore did not know how to respond to that, so he did not.
But it wasn't until several months had passed that Childe said something that truly piqued Dottore's interest.
"What does the Abyss have to do with your work, anyway?"
The question stopped Dottore dead in his tracks. He had been standing before a dormant Ruin Hunter, tinkering with one of the mechanical limbs that had gone dead somewhere in the course of its life. Repairing it was no small chore, but it was a relatively simple matter. Much too simple to hold his attention after the question Childe had posed.
Dottore broke into a grin, turning around to face the Eleventh. Childe was sitting not far off, perched atop one of the large cylindrical pipes that ran throughout the entire facility. He appeared to have been watching Dottore intently, propping up his elbow on his knee, chin resting against his hand. He looked at Dottore expectantly, awaiting his response.
"Oho, so you've finally noticed, have you?" Dottore asked, sneering slightly. "And here I thought you'd barely been paying attention. What a good boy you are, being so observant."
Dottore saw Childe's eyes widen fractionally before he averted his gaze from the older man, shifting his palm over his mouth sheepishly.
"Don't do that. I've noticed for longer than I've been coming here," Childe muttered.
"Oh? Please, do enlighten me."
Childe was flustered. Perhaps he felt he had painted himself into a corner with his words? Dottore couldn't imagine what other reason there would be for the reaction. But whatever it was, Childe quickly recovered from it.
"It doesn't take a master engineer to put two and two together, Dottore," the Eleventh remarked snidely, looking back at him. "The Abyss Order always seems to be nosing around wherever you've set up shop. Sometimes I think they may just be nosing around you in particular."
Dottore snickered. "Perhaps those silly little mages just enjoy my company."
Childe scrunched his face up in distaste, but his tone was playful when he quipped, "Who would?"
Dottore was tempted to shoot back that Childe himself did, but he wasn't sure why the thought even crossed his mind to begin with. He felt his skin prickling with discomfort, and he decided to redirect the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Well, Childe, if you're so certain you have it all figured out, why haven't I heard anything about it until now?" Dottore asked. "Not curious enough to go digging?"
"It's not that," Childe replied, sighing. "I've brought it up before, with some of the others. It seems that either quite a few of us have been left in the dark, or nobody is too eager to let me in on the secret."
Dottore knew for a fact that both statements were true. The Tsaritsa always insisted upon her respect toward her Harbingers, but she was choosy about who knew what, for reasons that she often did not divulge. Seniority played a certain part in it, but not entirely; Dottore didn't doubt that there were matters even he was not privy to.
This was a matter that Childe had not yet been included in, and possibly never would be, and Dottore would not go against the Tsaritsa's will. But not for her sake. In fact, if that had been all that was at stake, Dottore would have enthusiastically told Childe everything right then and there. But not telling him had the potential to be much more interesting. Perhaps this would offer him just the leverage he needed.
"What a pity that is," Dottore tittered. "I think I'm not very eager to tell, either. Your intuition isn't wrong though. These machines are as much products of the Abyss as the Order is. But, as you said, that's hardly any secret at all. You've got me curious now, though; what exactly do you think about all this?"
Dottore kept his eyes focused on Childe, watching for any changes in his expression with an almost wild intrigue. But Childe's face was unreadable, and he only looked vaguely thoughtful as he considered the question.
"I think the Abyss is a dangerous force for man to reckon with," Childe said finally, voice level. "I would be careful, if I were you."
The response was disappointing. Dottore's smile nearly faltered, but he decided to dig in his heels and goad Childe a bit further.
"Oh? Interesting, that you would say that," Dottore said, tilting his head to the side in mock bemusement. "I wonder what experience you would have with such a thing, to speak so familiarly of it."
They simply studied each other for a moment, expressions unchanging and stances unyielding. Nothing but the sounds of whirring machinery and the hiss of steam echoed through the chambers.
Finally, Childe simply smiled. "I guess I wouldn't really know, would I?"
The frustration that clawed its way through Dottore was difficult to subdue, twisting his features into a dour scowl before he could even think to push just a bit further. But he supposed the end result would have been the same. He shouldn't have expected it to be that easy.
It seemed they both had their own secrets.
"Bah, you! Always saying asinine things for no reason at all," Dottore grumbled, looking back to the Ruin Hunter in a huff. "If all you can do is point out the obvious, then don't bother trying to tell me anything else. I don't have the patience to listen to you prattle on today."
"Aw, come on, don't be like that," Childe said, giving a light-hearted chuckle. "I was only curious."
"So should I assume you're only here to extort information from me, then?" Dottore snapped. "That's an awfully long game to play for such an unsatisfying conclusion. It was hardly worth it, don't you think?"
Childe didn't respond at first, for long enough that Dottore assumed he wouldn't at all. Then, he spoke up again, sounding a little distant.
"No," Childe said. "That's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you?" Dottore posed it as a hypothetical question, not looking up from his work, because he certainly did not expect an answer.
There was another long stretch of silence before Childe answered him anyway.
"I just like you."
Dottore stopped what he was doing. He could feel his blood suddenly running cold, though he couldn't place why.
What an odd thing to say.
Dottore glanced back over at Childe then, just in time to catch him looking back. But no, Childe was not looking at him, exactly.
The boy's eyes were trained on Dottore's hands, where they had suddenly stilled on the sleek, bronze-plated outer casing that housed the sleeping sentinel. A mechanical marvel by Teyvat's standards, a hulking, sophisticated war machine that few eyes had ever even seen in this modern age, and fewer still that had seen it and lived to tell the tale.
This was the power that Dottore held in his grasp, and all Childe was looking at were the hands which held it.
Dottore had caught him like this a few times before now. Watching just a bit too closely, following his movements just a bit too intently.
Dottore found this odd, as well.
Childe's line of sight suddenly jerked upwards to meet Dottore's, and he immediately averted his gaze. He looked flustered again.
Dottore turned away from him as well, to the work in front of him, to his own hands, trying to figure out just what was so damn interesting about the things, when he realized that he couldn't remember where he had left off. The machine's parts suddenly all appeared so dull to him, each piece of metal indistinguishable from the next, and he couldn't remember what step of the process he had been in the midst of when Childe had first spoken up.
All at once, Dottore realized that this Ruin Hunter no longer held his interest. It had been too easy to lose focus, and he began to realize that his focus had been slipping for quite some time now. He had been leaving projects unfinished, stopped taking notes, retiring to his quarters earlier than he ought to have.
When had this happened? When did his interest in this facility start to wane? The last two visits? The last three? More?
There was not much that could hold Dottore's interest for long, and this was no surprise. He had commissioned and decommissioned his own personal research sites more times than he could even recall. But never had his own disinterest snuck up on him like this. And now, the realization was hitting him like a slap to the face.
Dottore didn't know why he was still here.
At any rate, it was no longer for the sake of the machines.