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Contrary to popular belief, the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, is not much of a workaholic as the general consensus amongst the Fatui has pinned him as.
Diligent with it? Obsessed over it? Was it easy for him to get absorbed in some experiment and forget about the world around him?
Yes, yes and another yes.
But was the Doctor able to step away from all responsibilities and work from days to weeks?
Surprisingly yes, and unlike many others the Doctor’s centuries of loyalty and more than stellar results had granted the benefit of being able to take off as many days as he desired and barring emergencies or a direct summon from the Jester or her Majesty he was able to go back when he desired.
A benefit that Pantalone didn’t allow himself to possess. And now here he was, having to leave the commodity of his office in the palace to go and chase after the Doctor, because the paperwork had to be processed as soon as possible if he didn’t want any considerable delays, but it was necessary that the Doctor’s signature decorated the form for it to be accepted.
And so Pantalone found himself steeping inside his personal carriage before dawn. For while luckily still inside the borders of the capital, the Doctor’s abode was hours away from it.
The territory where it was located had been a gift granted to the Second some 3 centuries ago, a dangerous untamed plot of land full of threats of both the monster and natural kind, where for some forsaken reason the Doctor had found it the perfect place to lay down roots.
Fortunately as a benefit of their years old friendship Pantalone possessed the knowledge of both the exact location of the Doctor’s house and the paths that one had to traverse to avoid the dangers that lay waiting for any uninvited guest.
And of course, he had been granted the privilege of a key and permission to drop whenever he needed to.
***
Noon is already well advanced by the time that the Doctor’s house appears in the distance.
Of course calling it simply a house is selling it short, in Pantalone’s personal opinion, seeing as the building actually falls on the definition of being a mansion, but for some reason that was probably an internal joke which he was not in the known of, the Doctor refused to call the building anything but a simple house.
With every second the distance between the carriage and the imposing building became smaller, and as he tended to do he allowed his eyes to travel and take in every detail he could see of the building.
He had no problem admitting that the thing was one of beauty, the building was of Sumerian style and had been built over centuries, every single detail was carefully planned before it was added, and had been built by the hands of master artisans.
And both the inside and outside were things deserving of admiration. The high massive windows of stained glass, crystal chandeliers, intricately woven rugs, paintings hanging on the walls; a grand display of both beauty and wealth.
A beautiful facade that keeps eyes away from the dark things hiding inside of it.
Because here’s the thing, yes his good friend's house, while one worthy of admiration, is nothing more than a cage in which the Doctor can keep all of his most horrible and personal experiments and projects close to him, away from the eyes and reach of anyone else.
Once he had said so directly to the other Harbingers face, in answer the man just laughed in his face.
But there was no need for his friend to either confirm or deny the banker’s words. After all the biggest give away of what really happened in that finely decorated manor was the fact that the only inhabitants where the Doctor and his segments, and aside from the occasional visit, no other soul was to be found in the Second Harbinger’s territory, no attendants, nor assistants, neither cleaning staff nor guards.
So yes, the purpose of the place was easy to see.
Nothing more than a cage where the Doctor could keep his secrets locked away from the world.
***
With no doubt the interior central garden-greenhouse is the brightest star in the constellation of wonders under the Doctor's domain.
In the security of his mind Pantalone considers it even more beautiful than the one to be found back at the palace that her Majesty tends to personally.
Flowers and plants from all over the nations coexist in carefully crafted harmony, some of them he recognizes as purely ornamental, some he has seen on occasions being used by the Doctor in one experiment or another. There are some he is more intimately familiar with and knows exactly what poisons can be made with them.
And some are completely unknown to his eyes, and if they are a breed created by the hands that tend to them he wouldn’t really be surprised.
He had always assumed that the garden is taken care of by the Doctor or his segments, but.
There’s a woman tending to them. She wears a white dress and her hair is a cascade of gold, with firm but gentle hands she tends to the plants all over the garden, she plucks leaves and petals in some,and others she simply observes.
Glued to her a segment follows, he is a rather young version of the Doctor, no longer a teenager but far from looking like the segments on a more advanced state of life, surprisingly he wears no mask. He has a notebook with him and seems to be taking notes of the things the woman says to him.
“Regrator.” A deep voice coming from the other side of the hall takes his attention away from the scene.
“You arrived early.” From the shadows the Master of the house makes his appearance. And with quick steps he positions himself in between the banker and the window that allowed him to peer at the garden.
An obvious attempt to keep the woman away from his view, unfortunately for the masked man the few centimeters that the banker has on him allow him to still see the scene unfolding in the gardens.
It seems like the other segment finally took note of his presence, and in a move probably ordered by the Prime segment, he quickly starts to usher the woman away from the place.
“Stop wasting time.” The man in front of him says, “We have much to discuss.”
And allowing him no time to answer back he starts walking down the hallway towards one of the many offices to be found in the place, one that Pantalone remembers clearly has no windows that allow a view towards the middle courtyard.
“Regrator!”
An amused sigh leaves his lips but finally he starts to walk beside Dottore.
For some reason he decides to throw one last look back, the woman seems to have finally noticed them and is ignoring the segment trying to take her away.
Pantalone meets her eyes, their color is of a gold more intense that even all of his mora combined, and yet they look so hollow, so empty.
Quickly he turns away and in silence trails behind the Doctor, the weight of that nothingness in her eyes was far more than he could handle.
***
Hours later the conversation still freely flows, and yet the tension that refuses to leave the Doctor’s shoulder is so easy for the Banker to see. He can see minuscule moments in which the masked man’s attention briefly falters. No doubt using the mental link between him and his segments to send orders.
But this dance around the topic that they are going to discuss is starting to grate on his nerves.
“All right, out with it.” Dottore says.
“She is not one of your subordinates.” It's not a question, after all, as the person who oversees the payment of every one of the people who are part of the Fatui forces he’s familiar even to some minor degree with every single member.
“No.” Dottore still answers, probably just to annoy him.
“I have also not seen her before anywhere. Nor have I heard something about someone like her.” Not as part of Snezhnaya court, or any of the Fatui’s associates, and while blonde hair is common all over the nations, gold eyes like her aren't. But most importantly, someone who would be seen in company of the Doctor would have been the talk of the court for months.
“No, but neither has anyone else.”
O yes, Dottore is just doing it to get a reaction out of him. The implications of his words are.
“Did you.” He remembers the empty eyes, the almost urgency shown by the segment to keep her away from his presence. “Please tell me she isn’t here as your captive.”
Why does he even bother with stupid questions to the ones he already has answers to?
“I fail to see why that would be of your concern.”
Oh, this man!
“Because any person interesting enough to catch your attention isn’t someone who vanishes quietly. I swear Dottore if she has anyone out there looking for her! One person rampaging through the nation in a revenge fueled killing spree was more than enough.”
Especially when that was also caused thanks to Dottore’s actions. Segment or not.
“There’s no need to worry about that. Nobody will. And even if there was somebody that is of no matter, she is where she is meant to be.”
“You are impossible.” Why does he insist on being friends with this man?
A dismissive hum is his answer.
“It’s getting late, Regrator, you should start making your return before it gets any more dangerous out there.”
“I shall.”
The last rays of sun are there to illuminate the building as his carriage takes him away.
The light reflects over the glass and metal of the mansion, the gilded cage looks so beautiful at this hour.
For so long Pantalone had wrongly assumed that simply dark secrets were kept under lock and key on it. But somehow the Doctor also managed to capture such a pure and delicate dove.
***
Months pass before Pantalone steps foot inside his colleague’s home once again. This is not born from avoidance but simple mere coincidence.
Today is meant to be a social call, but when he arrives he can immediately feel something off, there is no one to meet him at the door, not an impossible occurrence but nowhere near close to a normal one.
Still, as many times before he enters and makes his way towards the drawing room where his gatherings with the Doctor tended to transcur.
He arrives and there are more abnormalities to be found. The windows of the room are open, the fireplace is out. The room is freezing, and there are no signs of anyone else having been here recently.
Still he enters the rooms.
“Is it uncomfortable?"
Pantalone will deny it to the end of his time, but at that moment he felt a fear so deep unlike anything else, as fast as his body managed to he jumped back putting distance between the unknown voice and turned to face its origin. His hand gripping the concealed dagger in his coat.
The woman stands at the door. Those empty eyes silently observe him.
“Excuse me?” He says back, his heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm.
“The windows. They are open. And the fire is out. Isn’t it cold?”
Cold doesn't even begin to encompass it! How does she not feel it?
But now that he finally calmed down from his previous scare he finally observes her well. It’s a different one but just like last time she wore a white dress. A sleeveless, knee high dress.
“Ah. It's a little bit cold.” He settles to say.
“I see.” And then with a swatting movement anemo energy follows her order and the windows are pushed close.
“My apologies then.” She says while she starts to walk away from the door, she slightly turns and now he can also see that her garment is backless.
“I tend to forget how you humans react to the temperature around you.”
And then with a snap of her fingers the wood in the fireplace is set ablaze.
How? His eyes frantically analyse her but he can see no signs of either a vision or a delusion on her person.
“Zandik is the one who makes sure things are set to human standards, but today he’s running late.”
She keeps on walking through the room, he’s way too transfixed on analyzing her that he too late realizes that she had been circling around him. It is reminiscent of a predator playing around with her prey.
It’s been years since he had been someone who could be considered prey, he wants to be enraged, and yet instead of that the only thing that he manages to conjure is a feeling of growing dread.
The sunlight entering through the windows, the fire in the fireplace, both of them generate more than enough light to keep the room illuminated, and yet he swears than thought the corners of his vision the shadows grow and grow.
Her heeled boots hit against the mosaic floor and just now does he realize that every single one of her steps is completely soundless. No, it’s not only her steps that are devoid of sound, but almost her existence itself. No matter how focused he is he hears no breathing coming from her, and the fall and rise of her chest is far too irregular, a bad act at pretending to be something that needed to partake in the action of breathing.
“Won’t you take a seat?”
She says it as one, but it isn’t a question. It’s an order, and yet something so simply falls with the weight of a royal decree over him. The shadows keep growing, and he swears that they are now starting to whisper.
Even once he’s seated she doesn’t stop circling around him.
“Regrator, right?”
Finally she stops her stalk around him and instead opts to stand in front of one of the windows.
“That 's right. Lady?” The chances are low but maybe with his prompting she will give him her name.
She doesn’t move, she is perfectly still. Like a statue, an unbendable mountain.
“Zandik sometimes mentions you.”
There is that name again, Zandik. He’s well aware of who she refers to, but that raises questions about how she knows that name, and how is it that he has allowed her to call him that. After all, in the Doctor’s own words Zandik had died centuries ago, and from that the famed Il Dottore was able to take place.
An experience he’s rather familiar with, after all the Regrator was born to this world in a similar matter.
“Of all the colleagues that he has since the beginning you are the one he has come to respect the most.”
It’s not his imagination, there are whispers coming from the shifting shadows.
Wait, since the beginning?
“For how long have you and the Doctor been acquaintanced? If I’m allowed to know, of course.”
The shadows shift faster, the whispers become louder, is that Natlanese or Sumerian? He can't really tell. There’s an ache behind his eyes and a growing headache that makes them hard to tell apart.
“In this time? Not that long actually. We first met a little while after he was named a Harbinger. In total? I guess all the loops add up now around to the total of some thousands already.”
She hasn't moved away from the window, from his angle he can see that she looks straight ahead, and yet somehow in her reflection her eyes have moved to look at him.
The shadows are over him now, if he wasn't sitting already then he would have already fallen to the floor. He wants to look away from her.
He needs to look away.
He can’t.
His body refuses to obey him, it’s far too busy freezing in fear.
The whispers are louder, they speak in tongues he has never heard.
The shadows come closer.
The door to the room slams open.
The shadows retreat, the whispers grow quiet. Her reflection in the windows aligns correctly to her body. He can look away from her.
“Zandik.” She says softly.
Pantalone turns to look at the door, both segment Prime and the same one who was with the woman that day in the garden are here.
Prime makes way towards the woman but soon Pantalone is unable to follow what happens, the headache is gone and the pain is subsiding but some after effects are appearing, there’s a ringing in his ears that make him unable to hear the world around him, and some flashes of the pain behind his eyes make occasionally appearance.
At some point the younger segment reached his side and without saying anything offered him a piece of cloth. Unable to comprehend, the banker simply stares in silence at the offered item for some seconds.
And then there's the taste of metal in his mouth, slowly his tongue starts to take more notice of it and finally his brain registers it as blood.
His blood.
He’s bleeding.
A nosebleed that he had no idea of, until the blood was more than enough to pool on his lips and enter his mouth.
He takes the offered piece of cloth and starts to clean his face.
At some point Prime had left the room alongside the woman.
Pantalone catches no sight of her, but still, he can still feel empty golden eyes staring right at him.
***
The young segment is the one who sees him to the door, as the carriage slowly puts distance between him and the woman’s house Pantalone grows sure of one thing only.
She voluntarily stays in this cage of hers, currently she is happy and comfortable in it.
And for the sake of every single life and the world itself the Doctor better keep it that way for a long long time.