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“Goodbye, Zandik.”
Those were Pantalone’s last words to his long-time partner.
While his voice did not waver back then, his hands most definitely did. If he did not resent the gods so much, he would have most definitely prayed so that Dottore wouldn't see his shaking hands.
Though, knowing that man, he probably already knew. He could always see right through him.
The trip back home to Snezhnaya was a long one—one that The Doctor would most definitely call dull while he ranted to Pantalone about things that he found interesting that day, most likely to keep himself out of boredom.
The Regrator has heard many comments about Dottore. Most would call him a monster, an outcast, a heretic.
For some odd reason, hearing those words be used to describe Dottore left a bitter taste in his mouth. He would often hear it come from the subordinates of his colleagues, including even Dottore’s own subordinates.
Alas, Pantalone did not like getting his hands dirty as he was a businessman, after all. He didn't dare lay a hand on the subordinates of the other harbingers—but what of his own?
He did not tolerate it.
Any subordinates he had that dared to say such things about The Doctor were silenced in more ways than one.
Now, why would he do such a thing? He couldn't answer that question himself, or rather, he does not want to.
If confronted, he would just claim that it was a way of repaying the man who extended his lifespan by hundreds of years.
Dottore never bothered to ask him anything about it, though. Why would he? That man was far more perceptive than anyone he had ever met. He must've noticed what Pantalone had done for him from the moment he walked into his office, noticing the lack of whispers from his subordinates.
Yet he didn't utter a single word about his observation. The only tell Pantalone had was the fact that Dottore’s smirk was a centimeter wider—something that he would've never been able to notice if he hadn't spent years being by that man’s side.
Aside from the insulting comments that Dottore was often called by, most people would also agree on the fact that he was reserved. He kept to himself and would only talk when it came to the experiments that fascinated him.
How he wished to see that side of Dottore. The Dottore he knew was nothing short of a chatterbox.
When he found himself bored because the train ride back to Snezhnaya lacked the stimulation he needed, he would always opt to talk to Pantalone instead. He would talk about anything that he deemed to be a worthy subject, whether it be a raven’s dead body that had been mutilated by crows or an experiment that yielded good results.
The raven and the crows aren't all that different from Dottore, Pantalone thought, but he didn't comment on it.
Crows would often team up to mob a larger raven—the same could be said about Dottore and his segments. Pantalone had once arrived to the sight of his segments dissecting what seemed to be The Doctor’s original body and he found it rather unsettling, but he did not want to admit such a thing.
He listened to Dottore’s chatter back then with his cigarette in hand.
There he was again in the present, sitting in the same spot and holding the same brand of cigarettes... Only this time, there was no blabbering doctor in front of him.
It did not ever occur to Pantalone that he would ever find silence unbearable, especially since he often found solace in such silence.
He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply.
Perhaps he had gone senile already, because he could've sworn he could still hear Dottore’s voice talking to him. That man’s voice rang in his ears, and he could imagine perfectly what he would look like if he truly was still there talking to him.
The slight curve of his lips when he was amused by a topic, the sight of his sharp teeth when he opened his mouth, and the hand gestures that he often did subconsciously while talking.
Pantalone could imagine all of that, and while he could, he would rather not.
He sighed, releasing all of the smoke that he inhaled into the air. He chuckled as The Doctor’s voice rang in his ears again.
“Why are you so eager to ruin your lungs after I went to the trouble of replacing them for you?”
To tell the truth, he was already on his 25th stick that day. It was already more than what he smoked on a daily basis, but did it really matter?
Dottore was gone.
He won't be there to create elixirs of immortality for Pantalone anymore, and it'll only take a few more years until Pantalone himself perishes.
What was the point of trying to preserve his life if he'd die in the near future either way?
Pantalone got so lost in his own thoughts that he failed to realize his arrival in Snezhnaya.
He only realized that he had arrived once the train had come to a complete stop.
He put out his 30th cigarette that day, finally stepping out of the train and walking into his office.
When he opened the door to what was supposed to be an empty office, he was met with the sight of a coat on his table and a small note:
I do hope this doesn't cause you too much trouble again, Feofan. I just simply had no one else to give my belongings to, and I did not want such a fine coat gifted by Her Majesty to perish along with me. Feel free to wear it if you'd like. Think of it as a parting gift to end our centuries-long partnership, my dear friend.
Sincerely,
your dearest partner
…
Pantalone could only laugh at this absurdity.
“A parting gift? What an amusing joke, Zandik.” Nevertheless, he folded the coat neatly and put it in one of his drawers. He left the small note in there, too.
Pantalone had only seen Dottore wear that coat a few times—one of those times was during Signora’s funeral.
Another time was when he was still Dottore’s subordinate.
He can vaguely recall the details of what happened that day, but he knew that they were caught in a blizzard storm.
Dottore was unaffected, but his subordinates couldn't say the same. Since Pantalone was much weaker back then, he ended up shivering, too.
Suddenly, he felt a sudden warmth take over his entire body before he heard The Doctor say a few words to him:
“Now, Feofan, don't tell me you plan to overthrow the gods when you can't even deal with a mere blizzard? How pathetic, don't make me ashamed to have you as my subordinate. You hold great potential, don't waste it—it’d be a shame if I ended up experimenting on you, too.”
Not only had The Doctor granted him the privilege of wearing his coat, but he offered him a few words of encouragement too.
Looking back on it multiple times, Pantalone has become greatly aware that those words were only meant to mock him.
If it were not for those words, though, he would have never made it this far.
In fact, the only reason he's made it this far in the first place is all because of Dottore. Had he never recommended him, Pantalone wouldn't have risen to such heights.
Perhaps that is why he still refuses to believe that Dottore had lost all of his humanity.
Pantalone would like to think that underneath that man’s mask is a single semblance of humanity that hasn't left him yet, even if Dottore himself thinks that he's turned into a monster from the moment he lost all of his compassion at 8 years old.
Otherwise, if he were truly the monster that everyone spoke of, how else would he explain the side of Dottore that no one else saw because they didn't want to give him a chance?
How else would he explain that the monster they spoke of was the same person that would sit beside him in his office while they both did their own things in each other's company?
At the very least, the young, hopeful, and naive Zandik who only wanted to be accepted would've been glad to know that he died as a human in someone else's eyes.
Dottore would say that he’s pleased he got to die as a villain and a monster, but Pantalone knows better than to believe the words of a man who has given up on himself because the world gave up on him first—he knows very well that no one hates Dottore more than Dottore himself.
Dottore may be able to convince even himself that he's nothing more than a monster, but he will never be able to convince Pantalone.
He knows that Dottore was once human, too. Even if Dottore has forgotten his own humanity, Pantalone never will.
Deep down, Pantalone believes that Dottore feared the idea of dying a wretched end in this world, the same way he did.
“Even so, don't I deserve an interesting ending?”
“If nothing else, I expect my funeral will be a grand one indeed.”
Pantalone’s memories of Dottore refused to stop haunting him. Though, knowing Dottore, that fact would probably make him amused.
“Rest assured, Zandik. I will give you the funeral that you want.” He promised before closing the drawer.
When he went to bed that night, sleep came easily for his tired body. Considering the work he had done that day, it wasn't surprising.
Though, something unexpected happened that night. Nightmares weren't unusual for him, but his nightmares usually took the form of what he fears most.
His dreams would usually replay situations that he felt the most helpless in, like the day his business failed or the day he were framed by a gang and sold off to a medical lab as a test subject. Those moments only deepened resentment for the gods—no matter how many times he prayed to the countless gods in Teyvat, not a singular one came to answer his calls.
In the end, only one person saved him, and that was Dottore. The same man who was labelled as a cruel monster.
Perhaps that was why he did not mind it too much when Dottore tried turning himself into a god, because in his eyes, no one was more worthy to be a god than a man who gained godlike levels of power by virtue of his own hard work.
In his entire life, the only thing he had feared the most was feeling powerless and weak.
He thought it would stay that way forever, but this time, his nightmares took on a different form.
…
“I can see it... The experiment in blasphemy that I've been performing all this time… It has been a long process. And I do not care about the results as much as people might imagine.” Dottore raised his arms, embracing the heat of the flames.
“If the very goal of your experiment was to explore infinite possibilities, then there was never any reason for it to end.” Pantalone said while walking closer to Dottore.
He knew deep down that he didn't want Dottore’s experiment to end because the idea of Dottore not being there with him anymore in the future scared him more than he'd like to admit, but he could not bring himself to admit it directly. Perhaps Dottore was aware of this, too, but chose not to say anything.
“Indeed. Yet now... the experiment has officially drawn to a close.” Dottore agrees with his words, but it's clear that he had already made up his mind from the start.
Pantalone closes his eyes and turns away. Unsure if he would be able to handle the sight of Dottore dying right in front of him, he starts walking away.
“What should I call you? Zandik? Or do you prefer Dottore?” He hides his trembling hands from Dottore, masking his inner turmoil perfectly. If Dottore did not know him any better, he would think that Pantalone truly didn't care.
Unfortunately, they both were aware of the fact that they knew each other far too well at this point.
“Suit yourself. Goodbye, Feofan. This time, that's what it truly is.” Dottore says his last words, and after that, Pantalone hears the sound of ashes flying away.
He opens his eyes, but he does not turn around.
He's scared that if he does, he'll have to accept the fact that Dottore truly is gone this time.
“And don't I know it. Goodbye, Zandik.” He keeps walking, not daring to stop. If he stops for even a second, he will be tempted to turn around, and he's not sure if he's ready to accept that yet.
Somewhere deep in his heart and brain, he's convinced that this isn't their last goodbye. He wants to believe that Dottore has another plan yet again and that he'll stand beside him once more as his partner.
…
Pantalone wakes up in a cold sweat, his hands trembling yet again.
“Why is it that this man continues to take over my entire life?” He mused, his heart beating erratically out of fear..
“He already owns my life, considering the fact that I'm only alive right now because of him, yet that isn't enough for him? Why must he take over my nightmares as well?” He let out a forced laugh. Somehow, his heart has never felt heavier than this.
He pushes himself out of his bed, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and smoking one to calm himself down.
The sun had not even risen yet. Unfortunately, Pantalone found himself unable to go back to sleep. Since he had nothing better to do, he went back to his office to work as it was better than wasting time.
He sat on his chair and started writing down his plans on a paper. He had promised to give Dottore a grand funeral, so he'll make sure he stays true to his word. After all, he's nothing short of a reputable partner.
As weeks pass, he finally finishes preparing Dottore’s funeral. The irony isn't lost on him as he comes to realize that two harbingers’ caskets did not even have a corpse inside.
Unlike Signora’s funeral, Dottore’s was much more public. Pantalone had made it that way, and besides, with the shortage of harbingers, there was no point in making it private.
“We are gathered here today to attend the funeral of the former Second Fatui Harbinger.” He said to all of the Fatuus gathered in the area.
“We are not here today to mourn him. Instead, we are here to shame him for going against the Tsaritsa’s will. Dottore is nothing short of a traitor.” He said with a smile, his eyes remaining closed throughout everything. He was wearing the coat that he wore when attending Signora’s funeral, though it seemed a little smaller than before.
The moment he finished saying that, screams erupted from the crowd. Everyone was finally saying what they wanted to say.
“Monster!”
“Burn him!”
“He deserves to pay for going against the Tsaritsa!”
Pantalone had half a mind to burn everyone there along with Dottore’s casket, but he knew better than to go against his wishes.
The casket erupted into flames, similar to the flames that Dottore had looked at before he died.
Everyone was cheering loudly, all except for Pantalone. He wondered, Is this how everyone saw Dottore?
He understood even more why Dottore was the way that he was. If this was the way everyone around him treated him, why would he want to be a human?
The screams and cheers slowly died out as the flame grew weaker, and eventually, the crowd disappeared, leaving Pantalone alone with Dottore’s burning casket.
“How's that for a grand funeral, Zandik? This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?” He finally opened his eyes as he spoke to the casket, his hand on his cigarette.
“I even went through the trouble of wearing your coat instead of my own. I hope this has amused you.” He said with a smile.
“You've always wanted to die as a monster, so I'm just simply helping you grant your wish. I know this makes you pleased, my dear friend.” The flame continued to grow even smaller.
Pantalone held up the cigarette to his lips and inhaled again right before releasing the smoke, letting it linger with the smoke created by the fire.
“Still… I can't say it does not upset me in some way. You were never entirely a monster in my eyes, Dottore, not when you came into my office to be in my company while doing your work, and most certainly not when you and I were chatting for hours on that train.” The tone of his voice had become slightly softer as he inhaled yet again.
“You've never looked more human before, Zandik. It's a shame that no one will ever get to see that part of you now. You might say that you've lost all of your humanity, but I won't and can’t believe that, because I've seen just how human you can be.” Pantalone sighed, releasing more smoke.
The fire had completely disappeared now, and all that was left was Dottore's burnt casket. Pantalone did not hesitate to put his hand on it.
“You were born a human, Zandik, yet everyone rejected your humanity and deemed you as an outcast, a monster. Because of that, you rejected your own humanity as well and decided to embody those titles. You may take pride in being a monster now, but there was once a point in time where you had hoped that someone would see you for who you truly were.” Pantalone took out another cigarette and lit it up—that was his 30th that day.
“In the end, deciding to embrace those titles was just another way of hiding your self-loathing, wasn't it?” He laughed, taking another drag, “Though, I won't deny that your actions have ruined many lives. Perhaps the only reason I don't see you as a monster is because I'm no better than you, but I don't care either way. Whether or not you were truly a monster isn't something I'll contemplate, because you'll always be a human to me.”
“If we had met earlier on, perhaps we wouldn't have ended up like this. I don't say this often, but I enjoyed standing beside you as an equal. Despite our gap in power, you did not treat me as anything less.”
He finds it pathetic that he's only saying this when Dottore is gone, but he's relieved at the same time. He knows that if he had decided to say that to him while he was still alive, Dottore must definitely would've either pushed Pantalone away or distanced himself by running experiments from all the way to the other side of Teyvat.
He had grown aware of Dottore’s tendencies. Not only was he suicidal, but he was also self-sabotaging. He held no regard for his own life, and he avoided close relationships because he knew he would not be a good partner and he believed that he didn't deserve them.
The closest Dottore would allow Pantalone was as a close friend.
Pantalone was the same in that aspect. He avoided close relationships because he's aware that he'd be a useless lover, and he knows that it can be used as a weapon against him, so the closest he let Dottore get was as a close friend, too.
Despite that, things went well. They both enjoyed being in each other's company and everything was enjoyable while it lasted.
Until the both of them formed a partnership, the idea of enjoying someone else's presence was beyond them. They even found it foolish.
With due time, though, they had become each other's exception. Dottore would usually get bored of people easily, but his banter with Pantalone never dulled despite all of the years they've spent together, and the same goes for Pantalone.
They were both aware that they had definitely crossed the line of mere friendship a long time ago.
For Dottore, it was when he realized that he wasn't making the elixirs of immortality anymore just for the money that Pantalone gave him for his experiments, but because he just genuinely wanted Pantalone to stay alive so that his time with him wouldn't be cut short.
As for Pantalone, he realized it when he felt an immense amount of fear just from seeing even one segment disappear.
Even after their realizations, they did not speak up about their mutual care for each other, partly because they were both unwilling to be vulnerable, and partly because they were already fulfilled with the arrangement that they had.
Looking back on it now, Pantalone wishes he had more time with Dottore. Whether it was just them sitting in comfortable silence together or if it was just them again back on that train, holding hour-long conversations that they would never be able to do with other people, it did not matter to him.
“I guess it's not something I should dwell on too much. I will join you soon, after all. My lungs will give up on me again with how much I'm smoking, and this time, no one will be there to replace them.” Pantalone let out a hearty laugh.
He placed his cigarette on Dottore’s casket, caressing the casket yet again.
“I almost can't wait for that to happen. That's the entire reason I've been smoking this much, after all.” He finally admitted, “We will see each other again soon. I must say, the idea of getting to stand beside you once more makes me glad.”
He finally put his hands off of Dottore’s casket.
“Goodbye for now, Zandik. Let's see each other soon.” He closed his eyes yet again.