Chapter Text
How many months since prime's absence? How many weeks would one have to idle in the cold, unchanging streets of Snezhnaya?
The same scenery with the same pedestrians, the same icy staircase leading to the same palace frozen in time.
Six months since Il Dottore's prime had practically disappeared into thin air, leaving his every project, his main lab in Snezhnaya and the handling of his segments to his Omega build; arguably his most trustworthy, skilled and efficient segment.
One could say that Dottore's segments are generally more than independent to be left to their own devices, but some of them (particularly the younger generation) had this awful habit to be rather childish with their long term goals instead of focusing on what's in front of them right now. Not to mention that most of them had an awful temperament as well.
Thus Omega, as the most refined version of Dottore aside from the original, could easily count as the most down to earth and by tangent the most responsible and efficient, his skills in both combat and general knowledge mirrored that of his prime.
And during these six months Omega found himself having more headaches than Dottore ever had during his Akademiya years; if his genetically acquired memory served him right, of course.
Had his other selves always been that irritating to deal with? At least once per day Omega had to order them to drop their own projects so he could make sense of whatever it is that they're doing because it's certainly not science. Some were too illogical for him to even dwell on, sometimes he had to swap works between the segments to speed up the process, all for the sake of efficiency.
And some other times Omega had to step down from his role as the de facto leader and take a deep breath, for he could already feel his sanity slipping and his patience thining like the ice from the surface of the street.
Taking a walk to clear his mind would help, or that's what humans tend to say. To what extent it could be of any use to someone like him, Omega had no idea but it couldn't hurt to give it a try now that he had all the time in the world.
So he walked across Snezhnaya's frozen alleys, watching the pedestrians cross over the street and the frozen flowerworks that blossomed from deep within the Earth. People gossiping on their way home, the shameless laughter of a few children he may or may not have recognized as tartaglia's siblings, gentlemen on the trading port and the distinct sound of ice cracking under his feet, had Omega been a lesser segment he would have slipped already. For someone with a more human heart, the stillness of Snezhnaya would have brought an odd state of peace to the mind and body alike.
Omega lacked a Human heart, for he felt nothing but boredom.
Then again, what does a heart encrusted in rust like his own would ever see in a still, soundless world?
He never understood the Tsaritsa's ideals of beauty, hell if prime actually understood and double hell if the Tsaritsa ever cared for what they would think about anyways. She doesn't have an human heart to begin with, nor does Omega himself.
Surely going back to the crowded, chaotic expanse of his lab didn't sound so bad right about now.
Or maybe not. The cold walk through the frozen city of the cryo archon froze his own excitement towards the countless projects the lesser segments worked on restlessly. Now he felt nothing but complete and utter apathy towards whatever disaster his other selves were brewing for his return.
Not even the cold air fazed him, Omega could perfectly walk amidst a full blizzard without a coat or a set of special leather boots for the snow, and nobody seemed to question why or how. Efficiency above anything, is something prime would often say and Omega was thankful his genetic engineering allowed him to take cold and hot weather alike. Though sometimes he wondered how would it feel for normal humans to be so scared of the prospect of dying from hypothermia.
As soon as it came the though was discarded as pointless such as his entire journey through the expanse of the city, and Omega would have turned on his heel and returned to his lab, hadn't he noticed the very familiar silhouette of someone he recognized almost immediately.
In a heart-rending, lonesome place he meet the Regrator, his usually Dark robes with their turquoise jewels jingling to and fro amidst the never ending shower of snowflakes; these fell into his raven hair and for a second Omega could swear the snow seemed like a white crown of petals adorning his already delicate features.
Though the reality was far from that beautiful; the usually bespectacled man was furiously cleaning his glasses after they got fogged by the cold, the umbrella he carried for himself and himself alone had been whisked away by a particularly strong gust of wind. Fortunately it wasn't that far from reach, and Omega retrieved it with a bemused chuckle.
For he had no cold in his bones, but could easily recognize that the Regrator's situation was far from ideal; the poor man looked paler than usual, gloved hands trembling slightly like his jaw no matter how many layers of clothing he apparently wore. Omega had half his mind to ask why in the world a man as fragile as Pantalone would chose to actually take a walk out there in the light blizzard when he had zero resilience to cold, unlike proper Snezhnayan citizens that were born under the Tsaritsa's frozen grace.
And he would have asked right away, had it not been for the small, vulnerable stare the slightly shorter man gave him. Silver eyes somehow found Omega's scarlet ones even through his mask, and if he had to convey that glare in a few words, Omega Dottore would have compared it to that of a kitten who suddenly found himself in the arms of his long deceased owner.
Omega wondered if this is what prime saw every time he looked into the Regrator's seldom open eyes.
He also wondered, why is it that he felt so compelled to just stare at those beautiful irises endlessly until he could no longer forget their platinum silver color.
Still, Pantalone's expression quickly morphed into his usual smile, eyelids tightly shut as if to make sure Omega wouldn't pry anything from them, hand reaching out for the mini umbrella that was being offered to him.
"Thank you, Doctor"
The Regrator muttered quietly, sweeping his perfectly trimmed hair to one side as he once again adjusted the umbrella to balance on his shoulder, all trace of vulnerability long gone and replaced by the perfect picture of a proper gentleman.
"Though I must ask... Which one are you?"
He pursed his lips, smile never fading but now with a twinge of curiosity.
Omega can't help but grin widely, of course the Regrator would know. If anything, his momentary vulnerability only meant he probably confused Omega with the prime Dottore; whom had vanished without a trace and carelessly left behind his two years lover, no goodbyes exchanged and no explanation given.
Two years of relationship between the doctor and the Regrator surely served him right to memorize every little detail that prime owned but his segments lacked, and after a quick inspection he successfully determined that Omega, like the others was sorely lacking of something that only he knew.
"Omega Build. Surely you remember that I've been in charge of Snezhnaya's lab operations for quite some time by now"
He offered his leather clad hand in a courteous manner while the raven hummed in response, probably ready to return the gesture as a handshake but not quite surprised when Omega instead brought his bejeweled knuckles to his lips, kissing each ring gently.
If Pantalone wanted to play the gentleman, then two could actually enjoy that game.
A greedy capitalist and a mad scientist in the guise of gentlemen doesn't sound quite convincing, though.
"Indeed. You're the one who payed for the doctor's latest expense report"
The Regrator stared at him with hooded eyes, and for a second there Omega felt a sense of pride swelling within him.
"...Which, I must add it's quite the feat itself. I should actually congratulate you, not even in my wildest dreams I imagined anyone getting rid of the doctor's extraordinary amount of debt"
Omega himself had no idea how he managed, either; given that after disappearing his prime left him in charge, all alone and indebted to the point Northland Bank's firm grip on his funding took the shape of a hand that crushed his windpipe and by extension that of his other segments as well.
The clear difference between Il Dottore's prime and Omega, was that prime waved his position as the second harbinger like a flag and refused to pay because for some uncanny, unfathomable reason beyond Pantalone's reach; he rationalized that his status would excuse his spectacular expenditures. As if. Omega on the other hand, is but a segment who can't quite rest in leisure and expect somebody to take care of the doctor's shit other than himself. Come the notification that his funding would be cut within the next forty eight hours, Omega swallowed his pride and asked the Regrator to make him a payment plan for the following four months.
Pantalone had been impressed, but nevertheless complied- basically because it amused him to have a version of the doctor being so submissive, almost begging for his help with a subject Dottore never in a lifetime had any intention to get acquainted with.
It proved to be effective, as Omega carried his payments dutifully and sooner rather than later the mountain of debt was gone.
Thinking about it throughly, it's because of Pantalone that Omega managed these past six months. Not that he would actually admit it right now.
"I have my ways, darling. You expected me to pay and I delivered"
He grinned widely- good thing his teeth wasn't as sharp as that of his younger segments, lest Pantalone may fear of having his fingers biten off one by one. Gently, the raven claimed back his hand.
(Omega relinquished for a moment in how warm Pantalone was in comparison to himself. He wondered how would it feel to have these warm fingers dancing gently along his skin)
"And that's why I can easily tell that you're not the segment in the prime of his life. Il Dottore may be many things, but responsible is most certainly not one of them"
Well, that hurt. Or maybe not, it was accurate and Omega couldn't quite disagree for all it's worth.
"Ah, but I did fool you, didn't I? For a moment there you though I was prime, your expression said it all"
He tried to change the subject, trailing a few steps behind the Regrator as he walked slowly and careful not to slip.
"Don't flatter yourself, it doesn't suit you. Nor does it suit you to play the part of the kind gentleman, at least not as long as you share a face with Dottore"
So he did notice the charade. Omega stifled out a laugh; certainly it reminded him a big time why Pantalone in particular had been capable of prying something as intangible as affection from someone like the prime Dottore. He didn't even need to open his eyes to read people like a testament sealed within his eyelids, which comes in handy when you're prone to dealing with the impudent scum of the Fatui's lower ranks.
And a trait Omega found himself falling for, given how this was probably the best conversation he's had in months. And maybe the first, because giving daily orders to his dizzying segments is far from what one might call a proper chat.
"If you insist in dropping formalities, there's something I've been meaning to ask. Out of mere curiosity, actually"
Never ceasing his step, Pantalone seemed to perk up at that- or maybe it's because of the fact that Omega stood directly behind him, practically inches apart from whispering into his ear.
"What is it that you see in him?"
Omega leaned in, words hushed and so close that he could listen to the raven's breath. It's almost as if they were sharing a secret as valuable as their lives, far away from any prying ears.
And it was the Regrator's moment to turn around, a hardened stare directed at Omega. Like he just said something that crossed an invisible boundary they had been balancing over for quite a while.
It amused Omega more than anything else.
"What is it that you see in prime but we all lack?"
As quick as it came, Pantalone's glare dissolved into his usual expression; eyelids tightly shut and vacant smile in place.
"Why do you ask? I thought that Dottore's segments had no interest in their creator's personal matters"
"I just told you, it's but mere curiosity"
That and he wanted to hear from Pantalone's mouth whatever it was he particularly noticed in prime. Omega theorized that, like Columbina; most segments looked at least a bit younger than the original, given that DNA samples couldn't possibly imitate the dark circles below his eyes, or the scars marring the upper half of his face. At that, the Regrator shook his head ever so slightly.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know"
"Curiosity is the mother of all science, Regrator. You're avoiding my question"
"But I never said I was in the mood for your petty little questions in the first place"
Omega sighed in exasperation; surely it couldn't hurt to be somewhat cooperative with his cause? Then again, talking about his vanished lover wasn't the most comfortable subject for the raven, but in any case it's been six months already. How long is supposed to take for the human heart to fully heal and move on?
"But..."
Pantalone dragged out, absent-mindedly checking on his bejeweled rings.
"If you really want to know.... It's not very convincing of you to just walk around Snezhnaya, severely under dressed like some abominable creature from the Tundra. As far as I am concerned, the countless body modifications the doctor applied unto himself don't go as far as to completely neutralize his inner temperature regulator. He would freeze to death, were he in your place"
Well, shit. Omega left himself in evidence by not wearing a coat like he did during La Signora's funeral- to his defense said coat was by far too uncomfortable, heavy and difficult to move around with. His grin didn't waver, but Omega surely hoped Pantalone hasn't noticed how he began to bite the inside of his cheek.
"Look who's talking. For some reason I can't fathom, you suddenly came out of your office, wearing the incorrect garments and walking deliberately slowly even when you know how unforgiving Snezhnaya's winter can be. You're an hypothermia waiting to happen"
The Regrator actually chuckled at that- any other day Omega would find it tasteless, today though the sound felt oddly musical to his ears.
"Believe me or not, but at this hour in the morning, the temperature is as bearable as it gets"
Which is not much, was left unsaid; Pantalone's fingers absent-mindedly toying with an stray lock of raven hair, which, in the feeble sunlight shone like a thread of black gold.
"Besides, you said it yourself. I'm always dwelling in my office, taking a walk and breathing some fresh air in the morning can't quite hurt"
Pantalone finished saying, his usual smile somewhat strained. It was subtle, but Omega could notice the doubt dripping from each word, each syllable and within the man's posture as well. As if the words he just uttered weren't his at all, but a mere replay of what somebody had told him out of genuine concern. As if the banker tried to convince himself that it's all true and maybe said fresh air can somehow wipe away his stress and loneliness, his woes, his doubt.
(It can't)
Still, Omega can agree that staying in his office all the time can't possibly be healthy for anyone. Despite his social status the banker has always been an outright reclusive man, finding comfort in the loneliness of his luxury and hedonistic pleasures brought forth by the power of Mora. Whenever he needed to make a quick business trip, it was fleeting and any info regarding his whereabouts was silenced by the Regrator's silver tongue and persuasive methods. Business meetings were always held in the closed four walls of an office, whether it be a relatively modest one at times. In that sense, one could say that he's in fact sensible enough to keep himself incognito given that the powerful presence of a harbinger is a big red flag in the face of other nations. Unimpressive to admit, nobody is always fully content by the Fatui's unorthodox methods.
Good thing Pantalone knows that an office is where he's needed the most and spends at least a quarter of his life span in there. But working all day nonstop can't possibly be good, unless you're seeking to strain your back just enough to morph into a cold water shrimp.
Still, Omega guessed it was just the man's comfort area, to be reclusive in his office and covetous in nature. Whatever it is that he covets, he locks away within the pearly, frozen glass of his wing of the palace; ready to add it to his collection of taboo extravagance. A need so pathological, so raw and primal in Pantalone as the desire to sleep and eat on a daily basis.
Ambitious and greedy like a mad God. That must be why prime found Pantalone so undoubtedly amusing to play with until he breaks.
(It's been six months, and the Regrator refuses to break. Omega wondered if the man's heart already rusted beyond repair, for there's something so magnifique about stripping someone from their humanity and their moral, leaving them with nothing but their raw impulses bared like a broken saint. As beautiful as Pantalone is, the doctor repeated the same thing to himself over and over again: There's nothing but ugliness and uncertainty within an human heart)
Omega hummed lightly, more to himself than anything else; Pantalone's silver eyes probably following him all the way even behind closed eyelids. At least until the doctor could give a verdict.
"Hmph. Sounds pretty far fetched to me"
The Regrator scoffed at him, quickening his pace ever so slightly. If he was growing annoyed, it's because his carefully placed half-lies fell apart from the seams that Omega ripped apart effortlessly.
"Believe what you must. I'm actually trying to mind my health, since some of us can't simply get a clone to do all the hard work"
"Segment, dear. By now, I thought you had gotten acquainted with why and how a segment and a clone are not strictly the same"
He couldn't hide the exact amount of spite in his voice; neither could the Regrator. Pushing each other's buttons was the every day meal for the raven and prime, but Omega was by far more mature to think they had gotten past petty explanations, such as why every cell of Pantalone's being throbbed with repulsion every time Dottore offered to make a clone of him, and why it infuriated Dottore to think that everything his segments did and feel was true to himself as well. In the end, their minds may have been the same, hold memories of the same life but each had their own inclination towards different (sometimes unexplored) aspects of the doctor's life.
Omega himself could be called efficiency, if anything. Efficiency above anything, is something prime said once in a lifetime but Omega took it as a base for his every movement and decision. Even if the prime is not all efficience per Se, there's always the hidden aspect within himself that could easily be exploited, had he followed a somewhat different way of thinking. That's true to all the other segments as well, instead of being carbon copies of the doctor, Omega could easily identify what is it that makes them stand out.
There's Lambda, who would represent the doctor's rationality. Delta may be his curiosity, and Sigma his disdain.
(There's supposedly one going by the name of innocence, who's nowhere to be seen)
Beside him, the banker sighed, shaking his head.
"I know, I know... Archons, I was foolish enough to think that I could actually relax with you around, of all people"
He sighed again, overly dramatic as ever. Hadn't Omega his mask, he would have raised an eyebrow.
"And why is that? I though we were having a niceeeeeee time together, Regrator"
A sharp grin made its way into Omega's face, purposefully dragging his words all the way and stepping closer; almost invasive towards the Regrator's frozen expression of stillness and serenity.
Credit where credit is due; the man didn't even flinch, he stood his ground in a way only a harbinger would. Albeit even just slightly slouching for what's normal on him; the thought about becoming a shrimp suddenly fresh into Omega's mind. Finally, the raven answered with a firm, almost undoubtedly polite tone.
"Just speaking with you is even more tiring than a week's worth of calculating expenses. You surely know why, doctor"
"If you're tired it's because you haven't eaten anything as of yet, dear. Don't try to blame your self neglecting habits on me"
Now it was time for the Regrator to be raising an eyebrow at him, although not quite impressed. Had Omega been a lesser segment, he wouldn't have noticed the faint, almost perfectly covered dark circles under his eyes or how his slightly sunken cheeks told tales beyond words.
He hasn't slept or eaten properly in days, probably weeks; not even concealer could hide away how tired and wasted the raven looked upon closer inspection.
It annoyed Omega, in a way. Something he couldn't quite name stirred within him like bile, replacing his smirk for a frown.
"It's a bit too early for breakfast, wouldn't you agree?"
The raven crooned in an almost shy manner, as if for some reason he didn't want to be heard even though his overly fake smile didn't waver. Omega could almost physically see Pantalone's exhaustion seeping through the cracks of his carefully crafted outer shell of politeness.
Omega scoffed, shaking his head.
"I couldn't say. I don't really need to eat. It's both a waste of time and resources"
"Yet" this time, Pantalone did turn around to look straight at him.
"You still ask what is it that I see in him but you lack"
And this time, the smile he presented to Omega wasn't that fragile or far fetched, instead... It seemed genuine, full of something that Omega couldn't recognize for the life of him.
It certainly wasn't sorrow, neither was it pity, for it would have infuriated the doctor to no end. So, maybe sympathy? For what exactly?
Whatever it was, it certainly became as compelling as the man's silver gaze unto him. Hypnotic like a treasure, sweet as a blessing, vast like a platinum garden of silver and gold.
"Believe me when I say that I mean no offense against your kind in general, Omega. But..."
He seemed to ponder his words for a few seconds that stretched way too far for Omega's liking. Even if he was a bit too busy relinquishing in the way the man actually remembered his title- or what he could vaguely claim as his name. Finally, Pantalone spoke again.
"...It's unsettling, to just be in the presence of somebody who looks human on the outside, yet doesn't need to eat or even sleep. Somebody who cannot feel the cold, or any temperature for the matter"
As the doctor listened, he allowed the Regrator to lightly trace a gloved hand over his chest; Omega always prided himself by how he's more muscular than prime and the other segments- in the end, Il Dottore had his other selves to take care of the most exhaustive tasks. Meanwhile Omega is no stranger to fieldwork, surveying and scouting for research purposes are normal within his regular schedule. Hence he can seize anything on his way with relative ease; Not as brutal as Capitano or Tartaglia, but with a far more clinical accuracy that can or can't be any more messier than his usual experiments.
But he wasn't prime. Omega's still nothing but a segment, and Pantalone's attempt at trying to find a heartbeat within his chest, would inevitably fail.
"Somebody who lacks a heartbeat"
The banker echoed Omega's thoughts, hand coming to a halt exactly where his heart would be, if only he had one.
"You talk as if you don't know prime. Should I remind you that he's not anymore human than I am? He discarded humanity a long time ago for the sake of advance and efficiency. You of all people should be aware of that"
The last part was almost hushed, only meant for pantalone like the man's previous words seemed specifically crafted for either Omega or any other segment. It was infuriating, the fact that their effect was lost on the banker. And so, he simply smiled, somehow even more serene than before.
"Still, he used to be human, once upon a time. That's not something you or any of your lookalikes can claim. Besides..."
Omega would have retaliated then and there; debate every argument and make a clear point on how humanity is overestimated and tends to outlive it's usefulness sooner rather than later. He certainly should have, hadn't he noticed how the Regrator's speech suddenly died in his throat; words gliding off his tongue and leaving him silent, static; his beautiful silver eyes losing their gleam like the ember of a candle finally dying down after being out there in the harsh wind and storm alike.
"Regrator?"
Omega found himself just slightly concerned for a fraction of a second.
And in the next, he realized his body had moved on its own; right on time to open his arms and catch the banker, who fell forwards, almost in a daze and seemed more than ready to pass out then and there. The umbrella that once stood firmly on his grip lost balance and fell, being carried away by the icy wind not long after.
"Regrator"
Omega repeated, his voice like icy steel; commanding, serious even when his hands held unto the raven's bony shoulders with unrelenting firmness.
Now that they were this close, the doctor could easily tell how small and scrawny Pantalone felt in his arms, face pushed against his chest for support. Not only that, he was dreadfully cold like a recently deceased corpse. Omega himself is cold and all due his inhumanity, but Pantalone was barely any better; his lithe frame shook like a black Lilly encased in permafrost. Fragile petals falling apart if pushed lightly by the tiniest drop of morning dew.
It was nauseating in all honesty. As much as Omega and prime himself would be infuriated by this very man, this kind of decay in the human body is concerning at best and lethal at worst. Why, the doctor surely knew how much of a self neglecting mess Pantalone can be at times- but this is borderline ridiculous.
And terrifying. So terrifying like holding a death weight.
"Regrator. Answer me"
He finally barked out, feeling himself growing older by the few seconds that felt like years in that cold wasteland, the dark bundle of ebony silk and raven hair finally making an effort to move from where he lay wrapped in Omega's arms.
"...Mhm...?"
Had this been any other occasion, Omega would have joked about how cute it was when the Regrator seemed to shake himself awake after having been asleep for almost no time at all.
(Like a kitten. Pantalone looked like a kitten and fairly enough, Omega wouldn't mind cradling the shifting weight into his arms)
When Pantalone shifted his gaze to Omega there was that look again.
Glasses pushed way too far to the point they probably digged uncomfortably in the bridge of his nose; raven hair tousled, tangled like actual hair and not the endless sea of threads made of black gold it usually posed as. And of course, that cursed stare of blown pupils, silver irises conveying a vulnerability improper of the man he received it from.
Pantalone looked so small and frail. So vulnerable, like Glasswork.
So delightfully human. It was almost pitiful.
"My apologies... I felt a bit dizzy all of the sudden"
But just like before it was gone in a flash, and Omega suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be angered at this pompous idiot, not entranced by the beauty of his humanity! Which, in all honesty shouldn't be beautiful to begin with.
And Pantalone shouldn't be pulling on him that horribly fake smile, as good looking as it was.
"Dizzy? You literally blacked out on me. Does that happen often?"
He tried to bark out his words at the best of his ability, his patience falling apart and revealing his concern through tiny gaps but he couldn't care less right now. Much to his dismay, Pantalone had the gall to try and back away from the iron grip Omega still had on his shoulders; apparently not too comfortable with the question.
"...No. Not really"
Blatant lie. He took way too long to answer; perhaps deliberating if it's or isn't a good idea to actually answer truthfully because the doctor might not like the answer in the slightest.
It was uncomfortable. To think that Pantalone didn't want to confide in Omega what's been hurting or burdening his health. But in the end Omega is but a mere inhuman excuse of a segment. Why would he even care?
The same question was repeated over and over in Omega's head, but he wouldn't pay it any mind, at least until making sure this infuriatingly stupid man is completely safe and sound.
"Though"
Good thing Pantalone seemed to reconsider his words, before trying to lie any further to Omega of all segments. Maybe the others would have been fooled, maybe they wouldn't actually care enough to keep prying.
"I assure you it's nothing to worry about"
Omega wanted to wipe that horribly fake smile from his face, almost offended the banker dared to believe this lame excuse would do.
"Archons" Omega hissed, "You're an idiot"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Regrator. I'm taking you to your goddamn office now, as it seems you can barely stand on your own any longer"
Omega (finally, for Pantalone's sake) loosened the iron grip on his shoulders, instead shifting to take the man's wrist. It was so... Bony. Delicate, if applied enough pressure Omega could easily break each little bone and sinew without any effort.
He didn't. Instead, he was trying to be as gentle as possible even when the banker didn't deserve any of it. Or did he?
"Unhand me" Pantalone hissed, though it was easily noticeable that he lacked strength to put up a real fight.
"I can walk on my own, Omega"
"No, you can't. You're giddy, you're dizzy and you haven't eaten anything. Your sugar is so low I'm almost impressed you hadn't fainted before"
"That doesn't give you the right to manhandle me however you want"
Omega could feel the headache coming back, more unhinged than before. Even when the Regrator had no strength to fight whatsoever (and no will, either. For all his boasting he wasn't even trying to pull his hand away) he still had it on himself to keep tempting his luck, as if he were in an actual posture to demand anything from the doctor.
A part of Omega- a part of Il Dottore himself liked that. He always found it alluring; that never ending fire burning within the banker. He was drawn to it like a moth to the flame and loved to watch it flicker and dance, transient and everlasting with a captivating glow so unique, probably of the same marble dreams are made of. It was honestly captivating, to watch it in full glory- But now this isn't the time or place to be stubborn.
Omega tried to keep his voice steady, commanding.
"I can and I will, if that means keeping you in one piece. Why, what would happen if you fall flat on your face and break something?"
The insinuation seemed to have been enough to actually pick the raven's attention. Always the sensitive one, for his position speaks of brains, not brawn.
"I'll tell you what. If you happen to slip and fall like the sleeping Beauty just now, you either get a broken nose at best and a broken arm at worst. In any case you might not be able to work on your precious accounts for quite some time and that wouldn't be good for anyone, now would it?"
As to emphasize his point, Omega loosened the constricting grip he had on the man's wrist. Damn, that would bruise.
"So, keep your mouth shut, be a good boy And let me handle you for now, dear"
He didn't miss the hardened glare Pantalone fixed him with. All bark and no bite; had Pantalone really wanted to break free from Omega's grip, they both would be drawing blood already.
Then again, the Regrator might not be the strongest Harbinger but in no way he's helpless, either. Even when he knows how indefinitely stupid is to try and pick the doctor's ire, it's unlikely that he'll go down without a fight. That's the beauty of fleeting matters in this life, Omega guessed; the deep musings in the back of his skull told tales beyond words of both beauty and ugliness alike, the link he shared with prime allowed all the segments to remember of the smallest details embedded in Il Dottore's life.
Details like the faint smell of blood, a Scarlett letter testifying assassination in the Holy name of the Tsaritsa, delivered by the hand of the Regrator.
Pale like Snow White fresh out of the gutter, raven hair like the wings of a messenger crow and white fur stained with Crimson. Body as fluent as Teyvat's highest waterfall.
Omega recalled that ever since that day, Pantalone stopped wearing white garments unless strictly required. Yet the everlasting impression remained printed in the doctor's eyelids. Amidst snow and death bodies, Dottore had irrevocably fallen in love with the Regrator's carnage.
Ah, the beauty of fleeting matters of this life. It was indeed fleeting, almost dragged away by the sand of time but so fresh in Omega's shared memory. It seemed almost crazy, to compare the man from back then and the one here, right now.
(The detestable asshole would change the masquerade so quickly and flawlessly, sometimes Dottore wasn't even sure what of him is real anymore. If this man- if this muse is even real to begin with)
Certainly, the scowl this banker regarded him with is as real as it gets.
"If you're so fixated in accompanying me, then so be it. But I'll have you known that I can take care of myself"
"You just proved yourself wrong. I almost had to deal with your death weight all the way back to the palace"
And as they walked, for the better or worse the sense of normalcy seemed to creep back rather quickly. That's it, when you consider how normal is for a segment and a banker to jab at each other restlessly. Omega didn't miss the way the Regrator smirked at him; genuine amusement on his features which contrasted the vacant expression from before.
"That's awfully considerate of you, doctor. I had no idea you cared so much"
Omega visibly grimaced, adding to the raven's amusement.
"Now who's flattering himself? We both know I still need you alive and kicking, even when you're nothing but a miserable capitalist. If anything, I can use that to my advantage"
Pantalone, delightful as ever chuckled at his expense; not really paying any mind to Omega's far fetched insults. And the doctor should have been infuriated all over again hadn't he been entranced by the genuinely pleasing sound of the raven's melodic laughter.
"Oh, come on. You were like "Regrator, answer meeeeee! " all the way"
Pantalone's impression of the doctor's voice was so awfully exaggerated and horribly overly dramatic that Omega was sure they both cringed at it. Though the banker's amusement was pretty clear even from afar.
"You were worried about me. Which, in retrospective is unnecessary but I appreciate the sentiment"
With that, he winked and Omega found his face growing uncomfortably warm- not because of the Regrator, obviously not! He's just, uh, flustered since there's no way in Teyvat his voice would have sounded that cringy and desperate. He hadn't been worried. Like, at all.
Surely Omega shared a lot of things with the prime, but they had to draw a line somewhere. He knows prime actually loved the man- in a very horrible, twisted sense of the word that had too much possessiveness mixed in to be unconditional; but Omega had none of it aside from the deep fascination towards this snow white ravenette. It was petty, and therefore unnecessary given that whatever the Regrator and the doctor could have had withered away slowly over the course of six months of absence.
Or rather, it was a fire that extinguished due lack of fuel. Dumbfolk say that distance only makes the heart grow fonder but that's just a childish tale for sweetening departure. There's no love nor hate that can survive distance and time, and as much as Omega would enjoy to see the Regrator shattered like a broken chandelier, that, too; is rather petty. He probably got bored of idle wait and continued with his life as if Dottore- as if Zandik had never been part of it in the first place.
Easier said than done, given Omega noticed the mild enthusiasm in those silver irises of his the moment he confounded Omega with Zandik. Mild, so mild. Like his love dulled away into nothing short of apathy.
Still Pantalone would manage to put all his spite into each jab at Omega, basically trying to insult him for being a segment. Now, that's petty. And for all its worth, distaste or plain hatred is far better than apathy. Guess the doctor's presence left a ghosting shadow in the banker's life after all.
Pantalone was surely frustrated by it, and in return; he frustrated Omega.
Eventually, the doctor groaned in exasperation.
"I liked you better when you were passed out. It was a lot less noisy around here"
"You wound me, doctor. Weren't you the one who said we were having a nice time together?"
"I'm just saying you should watch your tongue, dear Pantalone. One of these days I shall cut it off and put it on a exhibition for everyone to see"
It was only half true. His tongue was too valuable to consider putting it into a mundane exhibition for idiotic people to parade around. But if the Regrator's narcissism is anything to go by, he would probably enjoy the whole deal and stand proudly. He surely knows how to ruffle his feathers proudly like a peacock even when he basically fainted just a few minutes ago.
Ah, but that would be no fun at all. If Pantalone can't speak then Omega can't humiliate him by having his own lame words redirected at himself.
"Actually, forget what I just said. I'd rather sew your lips shut, watching you struggle would paint quite the picture"
Omega grinned mostly to himself and his self proclaimed brilliant ideas, but didn't miss the glare his raven snow white fixed him with.
"I share the sentiment, dear doctor. I'm not into sewing, but if that's what it takes to hide these crooked teeth of yours, I'd actually give it a try"
"Leave my teeth out of this"
Omega tried to hiss as a warning but the result was quite the opposite as the Regrator actually laughed, unhinged; shaking his head as he did so. It suddenly dawned on the doctor that if this was a battle to infuriate each other, then he just faced a rather spectacular defeat. Tsaritsa forbid that wretched banker and his uncanny skills to push Dottore's buttons so easily.
Well, sometimes you have to lose a battle in order to win the war; it's something Pierro told him a lifetime ago and it clearly stands. In the end, he was still dragging the Regrator back to his office and the imbecile hasn't even tried to release himself from Omega's grip. Basically because he's too busy bickering to actually pay that any mind.
It might have to do something with how the banker completely misunderstood Omega's intentions and mistook them for worry or actual care. Let him live his own thing; whatever your enemies believe in can be used against them later on.
Though Omega had to remind himself that Pantalone is not an enemy. A nuisance, yes; but not a foe considering that, for all this little quarrel and dumb boasting he is still taking the Regrator to the comfort of Zapolyarny in order to make sure he's safe from any further mishap.
And if Omega had the chance to put him into a gilded cage to make sure he stays that way, then so be it.
(In spite of the unforgivable cold of Snezhnaya's alleys, Omega's mind was far too busy with the warm weight of the Regrator's delicate wrist in his grasp. He could feel his heartbeat from there, and the motion seemed almost soothing)
The trek back to the palace was rather quick. Suddenly the the same scenery with the same pedestrians, and the same icy staircase leading to the same palace frozen in time felt unimportant in comparison to the task at hand; any sound demoted to background noise and the eternal whiteness of the snowy avenues nothing more than a background painting. Not that Omega ever cared for those anyways. While neither Dottore or any of his segments were particularly interested in this icy wasteland of a city, they all know their way around it like the back of their hands.
So, reaching Zapolyarny with the Regrator in tow seemed like following a familiar trail they've been walking through dozens of times before in another life.
(They probably have)
If someone ever noticed the feared and infamous doctor, second of the Fatui harbingers holding hands with the remarkable Pantalone, nobody dared say a thing. Omega wouldn't deny that the motion was bizarre at best and surreal at worst, and for a split second reconsidered his life choices: it could have been far more amusing to carry the Regrator on his back like a bag of potatoes. Oh well, next time it'll be.
As if. There won't be a next time. The banker's ego and pride would surely get in the way, given they can easily topple over a mountain and amass an amount higher than all the mora in Northland's bank vaults. And in all honestly Omega had better things to occupy his lifespan with. There's no way in hell they'll be reliving this- whatever this is, anywhere near the future. Making time for small talk is leisure, entertaining the other with his presence is loitering around.
Still, Omega would actually burn into his mind all the delightful expressions of this unfairly beautiful man. His rage is entertaining, his vulnerability compelling, his amusement infuriating and bitter like a particularly strong wine. Undoubtedly, Pantalone's presence in the doctor's life holds much more impact than it has any right to and likewise. Dottore- any version of Il Dottore could presume as much, it only takes a pair of eyes to realize why. But that's as far as it goes, Omega wouldn't deny how breathtakingly stunning Pantalone could be but he wouldn't admit to it, either. Fueling his already swelling pride seemed like a disaster waiting to happen; one of which the doctor had no intention to take part in.
But it's alright. This is alright, just watching from afar is more than enough. The experience akin to studying a poisonous, ripe fruit; so sugary and tempting like a lust sin delivered by Eve. The Regrator tempted Omega with nothing but his sole existence, but as a segment he might not yield. It's not his place to, not now nor ever.
Omega could be easily pleased by just getting the man to safety. His own cravings and wishes never went too far from the task at hand, and he settled in being overly efficient with it, like he would with anything else.
Efficiency above anything, is something Omega would always say and prime would often scoff at. Oh well, it's not like he's expecting anyone to understand his track of thoughts. Not even prime himself, and it seemed fair enough given how Omega would never understand why Il Dottore covets someone as poisonous as the Regrator. If Omega had to describe him in any way, he would compare the man to both Snow white and her poisoned apple. Ever thorny, ever beautiful and infuriatingly dreadful.
(And if Omega's breath hitched every time his shoulder bumped against the Regrator's, then that's a secret between you and I)