Look Me in the Eyes (and tell me that it's me) [Zhongchili]

Chapter 41 - Epilogue

Ajax stands beneath a twinkling night sky. However, the ground below him is not formed from proud blades of grass or a solid support of earth, but a glittering, blueish-purple quasi-liquid. Ripples emerge from beneath him as he taps the ball of his foot against it, and it sticks as he lifts his foot, a long, stringy line connecting the sole of his trainer to the ground. Although he should be scared, wondering how he ended up in such a place when only a few hours ago he was falling asleep in Zhongli's arms, a quiet peace coats him instead, and he stands, breathing in the crisp, quiet air surrounding him.

He recognises this place.

"Hey," says a voice from behind him.

Ajax recognises this voice, too. He should be surprised, but he isn't. It feels natural, like the final piece of a puzzle at last being pressed into place, but even so he decides to voice the stand out logical discrepancy of the situation.

"You can't be here," he says. "You're dead."

The voice laughs and Ajax turns slowly to meet the dull, blue eyes of his companion, who continues his approach.

"True, but that's no fun, is it? And you know how I'm here, anyway. Don't act so surprised, comrade."

"Because you are me," Ajax says. "Tartaglia."

"Ah, so now we're finally in agreement. Excellent." Pressing a hand to his chest, Tartaglia sighs dramatically. "Took you a while. I thought you were going to deny being the big bad Harbinger forever."

Although Tartaglia wears his signature Fatui uniform, and Ajax is still in his travelling clothes—comfy socks included—there's an unshakable feeling that he's looking into a mirror: the slight sway of Tartaglia's arms, the twitch of his fingers, and the absentminded way he transfers his weight between each hip—they're all Ajax's own, and it's equal part creepy and comforting.

"So did I. I'm not going to deny the truth that's set out before me though," says Ajax. "And I guess right now if you're here right next to me, I must be dreaming."

"Close enough." Tartaglia grins, summoning a single hydro blade to toss between his palms. "We're technically the same person, remember? There's no reason I shouldn't be here. Zhongli will probably have a better explanation, if you ask him, but if you can understand it—well, that's another story."

"He'll probably start talking about adeptal dream magic and how my own consciousness can jump into my dreams or something."

"Funny you should say that." Tartaglia stops throwing his blade to ponder a moment, tapping his index finger to his chin. "You know, I wonder if he... Actually, nevermind. You should tell him about this little meeting when you get the chance. I'll be interested to see what his reaction is."

"I'll probably be something where I can't make heads or tails of it, and then he'll look at me in that way where it's obvious that he's finding confusing me the most entertaining thing he's done all week."

Tartaglia barks a laugh. "Ah, some things never change." He steps forward, placing a heavy hand on Ajax's shoulder. "You take care of that old dragon for me. That's an order, comrade. There's a lot more I should've done for him, but that makes it your job now."

There's no need to ask. It's a stupid thing to ask, in fact. Tartaglia is him. He is Tartaglia. They both want the same thing. It goes without saying that that's exactly what Ajax intends to do. But when it comes to Zhongli, Ajax also knows the threads of concern that weave through his own thoughts, and he understands Tartaglia's intent intuitively.

"Hey, relax, I've got this." He nudges Tartaglia (himself?) playfully. "Zhongli is going to be rethinking exactly what the word 'spoiled' means by the time I'm done with him."