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You ignored it for the first few days. That terrible cough and random hot and cold flashes paired with the sniffly nose.. you couldn't figure out how you didn't notice sooner it was more than just a cold. When the coldness got too much to bear and when the fevers broke- how they made you wake up in pools of sweat. All this led to your downfall when you made the mistake of pushing it a little too far on an expedition. As soon as you got back to Zapolyarny Palace for a meeting, panting with your aching chest, you collapsed on the floor. Concern was definitely earned, especially after La Signora’s passing- another harbinger dead? So soon?
But as Capitano noticed you were still breathing he asked Dottore to take a look. Long story short, you had only collapsed from the fatigue caused by your sudden not-so-sudden illness. Next thing you knew you were laying down on a chair and had been taken to Dottore’s lab out of convenience. You were sick, that was the most sterile place… Even Capitano wouldn't offer so nicely to carry another harbinger but he was one of the least susceptible to illness given his lack of… well… living…
As you awake you felt the feverish chill yet again. The sweat on your head and the feeling of being hit by a train. You went to stand, but immediately gave up at the pang in your head.
“What a pain.”
You grumbled
“What a pain indeed.”
Returned a voice: the voice of Dottore. You deciphered this given his signature drawl that made him sound he was constantly plotting.
“To have you take up my space with your germs. It's a bother.”
You scoffed, glaring up into his beaked mask,
“Well, I was just leaving.”
You spoke softly, your throat on fire.
He took note of your rasp, then held out his hand,
“Ah, ah.. Let's rethink this. You are a walking plague, and you think about to walk the halls, and get your germ all over it?” He sneered,
“I don't care for how inconsiderate you are, but I care if I must be the one to clean up the mess you cause. I would rather treat one patient, not ten, thank you.”
He returned his hand behind his back,
“Despite being no doctor, I'm still tasked with healing the sick. Disappointing. When they want me to use my skills, it's in boring times like these rather than for something truly useful.”
You leaned back in the chair, throat too sore to talk back as much as you'd like.
“Antidotes are useful..”
You whispered, but you knew exactly what he meant.
“Perhaps, but it is not my specialty. I study. Experiment.”
He turned back around, a grin,
“That is why, you can be the first to try this antidote.”
You narrowed your eyes.
Is this what you had to do now? As the twelfth harbinger, the lowest, was your task to become the unwillingly subject to Dottore?
“No.”
You strained, fear filling your eyes as you watched him pull out a few vials paired with syringes.
He peered over his shoulder, then to his vials. He chuckled,
“Oh, it will be one shot.”
“I'm not worried about that???”
You scoffed, baffled.
“Then what?”
He sounded genuinely annoyed, needle tapping on the metal counter as the corners of his mouth formed a large frown that exposed his sharp teeth.
“The fact you're trying this out on me? Experimenting? I know I'm the lowest harbinger but… I mean, I'm not weak. Not the weakest, for sure.”
“Your placement says otherwise.”
He quickly adds, snidely.
“Right, like Pulcinella could beat me in an arm wrestling battle.”
You smirked, laughing at your own joke before it turned into a coughing fit. You felt tears in your throat in which you doubled over, feeling blood spill down your lips. You groaned, looking up with confusion and worry as you held the mass of bloody phlegm in your hand.
Dottore grimaced,
“... I am not arguing with you about my tactics that will save you. Nor am I to judge the Tsaritsa’s placement.”
He turned back around,
“Wash your hands, then sit and remain seated.”
You begrudgingly did as he said, listening to him half-heartedly as you scrubbed your hands, grossed out as the blood oozed off into the sink.
“Besides, I never brought that up. You're simply convenient for this project, so don't flatter yourself.”
He had finished filling the syringe, waiting for you to return to your seat.
“It will still heal me though, right? It's safe?”
You had to ask, unintentionally shrinking back into the chair as he approached. It was fitting for him to look so sinister holding a sharp object, but certainly unsettling.
He nodded, a slight humor in his voice,
“If by "safe" you mean by "heals you," yes."
And as he lowered the needle, you jerked your arm away.
Clearly, he was unhappy, even with the mask that was evident. There was a moment of silence as he stared, then cocked his head with a false smile,
"It does nothing else that is harmful.”
He grabbed the arm closest to him carelessly, rolling up the sleeve before positioning the needle. He hadn't even felt for a spot first.
You couldn't help but jerk away again as you felt the syringe’s head just above your skin. You'd be damned if you let that thing stick you, actually. Not in a million years. The fear which you had thought you had gotten over suddenly remerging at the close proximity and reality of it.
You glanced up towards the doctor, who had frozen and stared at you blankly.
“Are you intentionally being difficult? I can choose not to give you an antidote, too.”
He finally spoke after an excruciatingly long, awkward pause. Hateful and annoyed toward your refusal.
You shook your head, pushing your sleeve back down.. to which he jerked right back up.
“No.. just- Do you have anything else? A pill, maybe?”
“No.”
“Could you not make some really quickly?”
“No.”
“Ple-”
As he inched forward and began his prep again he grew more aggravated with your nervous inquiries, pulling back the syringe once more,
"No, twelfth, I do not and will not be using an alternative. This is your final chance. Do you want to die from a stupidly simple virus, or will you hold still and let me finish this?”
He paused, finally looking up at your petrified face. He knew he was described to as “scary”, but he did not believe himself to be that “scary-” ok, maybe that scary.. but this was not a typical reaction. What had gotten into you?
Then he realized: letting the needle get closer to your skin made your hair stand up, body tense. His agitated frown soon turned into a large, sinister grin. He spoke slow, letting his words draw out,
“Is the twelfth harbinger afraid of needles? ”
You gasped, appalled,
“Being handled by you? Yes! I also don't know exactly what this will do to me!”
You noticed he held a firmer grip on your arm, so you didn't dare pull away. You froze there as the color drained from your face, your escaping of the needle now impossible.
“Ah, but I think it had nothing to do with me. I think it has everything to do with this sharp point.”
He tapped your skin again with the needle, chuckling as he saw you flinch.
“Pitiful.”
He cooed, and continued on in a lighter, almost doting tone,
“Look away and relax. Tensing makes it more likely I'll miss- not that I would, anyway. However, it does make it more painful, which I believe you want to avoid.”
You could feel your face flush, and couldn't decide if it was the mocking, babying tone from Dottore or your fever. You only did as he said, turning away and shutting your eyes, trying to relax as much as possible. Soon enough you felt the needle stick to you, the cold metal making you shudder as it entered your arm. You hated it. You immediately become hyper aware as soon as you get shots. The pain, the soreness, the feeling of metal penetration your skin. An unwelcome guest you wished to reject. You hated it so bad.
“ All done.”
Your eyes fluttered open and you didn't dare look at your arm. Or move it. You only remained still. He peered over at your face, waving his hand rudely in front of it,
“You can move now. Did you need my permission to do that?”
He mocked again, causing you to whip around and kick him in his legs. He scoffed, hardly affected by your small outburst,
“How childish.”
“Stop mocking me.”
“It seems I hit a nerve?”
He chuckled,
“It just amuses me that a… harbinger.. can have such an irrational fear. In fact, anyone.”
You ignored him, beginning to move your arm slowly. You decided to stand, which earned a grunt of amusement from him. He clicked his tongue,
“So eager to leave. You know, it is recommended heavily to remain seated a few minutes after the shot. You may feel-”
“Lightheaded?”
You interrupted, then shook your head,
“Whatever. I can deal with a little dizziness.”
He watched as you struggled, taking enjoyment in your suffering in order to get away from him. Being a nuisance was one of his greatest pleasures. Besides, he had done his job-
-or so he thought. Dottore turned once he heard you hit one of his counters, turning back around to see you holding onto it for dear life with half lidded eyes. This wasn't like what you experienced before.
Dottore scoffed and took his time to reach your hunched over form, feeling your pulse.
“It’s rather high. Sit. Don't be stubborn.”
He guided you back down to the chair, but then realized it would be better to lay you down in order for your heart to cool. He looked you over before positioning hands just below your hips and pressing you back towards the table, using the leverage as well as his own strength to lift you and set you gently down onto it. Your head had been hung, resting on his shoulder as he had lifted you. He made a small frown before holding the back your head, then guided you to fully lay down. He brought your wrist up, keeping his fingers on it as he kept track of your pulse.
“Mm’ earrs.. ‘re ringin’...”
You grumbled, your body heavy and limp.
He sighed,
“Yes, yes. It's the medicine. Hush.”
You opened your mouth again, but let it close once again as you struggled and jerked. Body making awkward movements that seemed to startled him at first, but soon realized it was the reaction to your body settling, and adjusting to pain. You were half trying to move, half letting the sickness take you. It wasn't as dramatic as that, though, simply the high adrenaline of a shot and the high fever, and now the antidote, was crashing down on you all at once. A few minutes later- you didn't know how many- you began to come back to, color filling your face again as your eyes lazily blinked open.
By this point Dottore had realized your pulse was steadying, and let your arm flop back down onto your chest. He peered over your face, staring directly into your eye to study your consciousness. When getting a response, he grinned,
“Ah, congratulations. You passed.”
He complimented sarcastically.
You could hardly move, body still too heavy and throat still aching too bad to speak for long periods. You watched him with narrowed eyes as he scooped up the empty vials, the used syringe, cleaned the area… then prepared a small drink. You internally scoffed at his actions, but next thing you knew he had brought it right next to your face. You hesitated at first, but you were really thirsty. You made a great assumption it wasn't going to be poison given, again, the lack of motive.. luckily it was just water.
Minutes later you began to sit up, you seemed to have regained your basic strength. Still being cautious of the wound in your arm, you lifted yourself up and dragged your legs off the table. You felt your head grow heavy and nod off, but you didn't pass out again.
“I'll need to tone down the..”
You could hear him mutter over paper and pen,
“Subject seems to …”
“Subject?”
“Oh, you can speak now.”
He looked over his shoulder once more, eyeing the legs that hung over the table. It didn't seem you had gained back the strength to walk yet.
“Yes, don't take so much offense. I call all those who are subject to my experiments, subjects. It is far easier to remember than names.”
You scowled, yet couldn't hold much of a grudge. He did make you feel better.
“Thank you.”
You coughed, steadily beginning to stand.
He turned around, an evil grin,
“Not a problem. You did very well.”
He noticed the twinge in your expression, and headed over to ensure you could stand on your own two feet. He held both your hands, helping you steady yourself. Once relatively balanced he leaned down next to your ear,
“But of course, you didn't think this came free, did you?”
You let his words float in the air for a moment, before your brows furrowed and you gripped his gloved hands tighter,
“Of course not.. Do you need mora?”
You huffed, smug,
“Pantalone not keeping you satisfied?”
He frowned, standing straight and abruptly letting go of your hands.
“No. Simply your body again.”
You cocked a brow, then ran a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh,
“You should work on your phrasing of words, Dottore.”
“Why? I will speak however I like.”
He seemed genuinely offended,
“Especially to someone so beneath me.”
You didn't bother to explain further, a small side of you figured he knew what you were hinting at, anyway, but was pulling your leg. You shook your head dismissively,
“Whatever… My body. Sure. I am assuming you mean like a “check-up?””
“Precisely.”
He held up his finger, other hand behind his back,
“After all, there may be long term effects. In that case, I have another version being prepared already.. it should be less harsh.”
You began to walk towards the door, stumbling only slightly before catching yourself.
“I thought you weren't a doctor?”
You smirked.
He returned both his hands behind his back,
“Oh, yes, that still stands. Very much so.”
He tilted his head,
“Come back soon. If you're interested, I could tell you more about what this relates to. After all, it is much bigger than just you.”
You held the doorframe as you listened, seemingly unimpressed until he mentioned it was bigger than you. Was your sickness, or rather the treatment for it, used for something else, too? Was that why he mentioned the long term side effects?
You hated how you felt in the dark, but all you could think about was rest. You waved your hand, not wanting to think about what he was holding over your head.
"See you, Dottore.”
“Goodbye.”
You heard the click of his heels grow quieter as you both walked away, then heard the sound of your lonely steps down the hall.
You were feeling stronger by the minute, yet also a strange sensation in your head that wasn't there before. If it were to persist, you definitely bring it up.. but unless it turned into a bigger issue you'd ignore it. Just like last time. You had no time for small bodily issues.
You came into your office, immediately crashing onto your small cot decorated with various blankets and pillows. You hadn't even bothered to shut the door. Your last thought before you fell asleep for the evening was how strange that harbinger was, and how you couldn't help but hate the feeling of being indebted to someone so high above you.
A whole ten ranks above you.. how exhausting.
You just hoped that whatever he'd ask of you, it wouldn't be too taxing.