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The journey back to Snezhaya was awfully long and dull, though the most bizarre and outrageous things could have occurred and Pantalone simply didn't notice. He was deep inside his own head, with his dear Zandik now gone he had been left feeling particularly empty and cold.
He thought briefly to himself whether this was how the Tsarista felt? This all-consuming cold spreading from inside himself. Their relationship had been far from conventional - what sane man partnered with the same man who used him as an experiment - but they had, without a doubt, loved each other dearly.
And now his Doctor is gone, and he is alone on this cold train going back home, a home where his Doctor will never exist again.
'The original Zandik wouldn't be able to cope with this journey' he thought distantly to himself, taking a long drag of his 13th cigarette that day. It had been amusing to him, when he found out that the great all-knowing doctor had such a mundane weakness such as motion sickness. At the time Pantalone had laughed at him, one of the first times he had laughed completely uncontrollably in front of his lover, even though he could picture that incredulous expression he was wearing as he laughed at his doctor.
Archons above he missed Zandik. With a sigh Pantalone stamped out his cigarette onto the comically full ashtray before his deft elegant fingers procured another, lighting it and bringing it to his mouth.
He truly missed him dearly, but he did not cry. He knew this day would come sooner rather than later. Dottore himself knew - hell even the Tsarista herself knew.
So he did not cry, Zandik had told him many times to waste any tears over his death. That did not stop the frigid cold from creeping through his muscles, his blood vessels, his soul and very being.
Arriving at the palace and reporting what had occurred was a blur of voices and reports. He vaguely recalled seeing Arlecchino show a disgustingly pitying expression that he did not care for and didn't want to ponder on for all too long. Next thing he knew he was sat in his office, staring at the mountain of paperwork before him with a glass of his favourite cherry wine in hand, a record playing on the gramophone in the background.
It was an old piece, written back around 200 years ago. It was a piece that an older segment of Dottore-Psi, who was in his 40s - was particularly fond of. When he was feeling rather soft and indulgent the segment would play this music, holding Pantalone close and swaying gently to the music.
Pantalone sipped his wine and brought his fingers to his temple, massaging lightly at them. He could picture the scene now, his dearest beloved looking at him so gently in the dimly lit room, warm large hands on his waist and back. If he thought hard enough he could feel the phantom touch of those hands that held him so close.
He knew others wouldn't believe that Dottore had this side to him, that cruel, vile man having such a soft side to him felt unreal. But he did, his older segments in particular had an awfully lovely romantic side to them, bringing him flowers and wine and trinkets and anything they thought would please him, like a cat delivering a mouse to its owner. It was unbelievably sweet and it would make his heart flutter each time. The younger segments, whilst not as romantic made up for it in their eagerness, they drank up his attention like a man dying from thirst who had finally found an oasis in a desolate world. They would blush and stammer, not having yet grown into that confidence the elder segments had developed. It was cute, another word Pantalone was sure others would never describe Dottore as.
He felt his eyes begin to fill slightly, bringing his lips to his glass once more.
He would not cry, Zandik had told him not to.
A knock on his door snapped him out of his prior stupor. He pressed him fingers to his eyes, willing away that excessive wetness before taking a deep breath and speaking.
"Come in."
A servant - one of Dottore's assistants he recognised - trotted in, a box in hand.
"This is for you My Lord, the Doctor gave us instructions if he were truly to pass to give this to you." She dutifully spoke, placing the box onto his desk.
"Ah, many thanks. You may leave." Pantalone waved her off dismissively, eyes fixated on the box as the girl bowed and left the room.
After hearing the door click shut he brought the box into his hands, caressing the worn wooden edges before slowly opening it.
Inside lay two papers and a key. They were old, he could tell. The key itself was in fine condition but the papers had yellowed with age. He carefully picked up the first of the papers.
'To my dearest banker', it started. Already, Pantalone could feel tears threatening to spill once more.
'I hope you may never have to find this letter, that is however too hopeful a scenario to occur. I hope my passing has not caused you too much grief, and I hope no tears have been spilt over my most likely self-caused demise'
Pantalone chuckled, the Doctor was many things, self-aware being one of them.
'The thought of you on your lonesome in your last years was too much for me to bear, the alternative of someone else in my stead was even worse. And so I have left one final surprise for you my dear, one I must ask you to keep as close to your heart as possible, I do not wish for anyone else to know about this. I have included a map and a key, do go to this location as soon as you can; there, you will find my parting gift to you.
Take care of yourself my love, if there is an afterlife for myself I will be waiting dutifully for your arrival.
May our plan be prosperous,
Your beloved Doctor.'
The tears threatened to spill but Pantalone fought hard to prevent that. He looked over at the map and key, clutching them like a lifeline as he shot up and walked briskly out of his office.
The map brought him to the outskirts of Snezhaya, somewhere warmer than the capital, close to the Fontainian border.
Technically, he should've gone through the administrative process to take a few days off for this excursion, but quite frankly Pantalone did not care all too much for whatever repercussions he would potentially face. The Tsarista herself had offered him a couple of days off to grieve, he was sure she would excuse his unruly behaviour this time.
He arrived at a rather inconspicuous bunker, the key turning and rather heavy door giving way to what could only be described as some sort of emergency shelter.
He closed the door carefully behind him before making his way through the dimly lit hallway, soon entering a room filled with tubes and vats and computers anywhere and everywhere.
He stepped up to the largest computer, the device taking awhile to power on, the previously dim room coming to life as screens fluttered with blues and whites and greens.
A strange compartment rose from the keyboard, looking like a needle with a dish beneath it.
The screen read 'bioinformatics needed.'
Pantalone swiftly pricked his finger on the needle, watching him blood pool onto the dish below as the computer began processing.
'Welcome Feofan' the screen read briefly, one of the vats lighting up. He turned to look at it however due to a mix of his poor eyesight and the now steadily draining dark fluid he could not quite make out what was inside. That was until it of course stepped out.
"Hello, Feofan dearest." It spoke, voice not quite right - more robotic than natural but it was without a doubt him. His darling Doctor was back once more.
"Zandik." Pantalone breathed out, staggering slightly as he stepped towards what remained of the man he loved so dearly. He reached out tentatively, hand cupping his face.
Yes, it was without a doubt modelled after his beloved Doctor but the synthetic skin gave it away for what it was.
A robot.
"So this is your parting gift to me." Pantalone whispered. The robot hummed, nuzzling into the palm resting on his cheek.
"The doctor - I or even we - had uploaded a part of his consciousness into me. As a contingency of course, we could not bare the thought of you moving on from us." The robot - no Zandik spoke, "This way we could ensure your further survival also, you would soon perish without us here to make the Elixir of Immortality for you."
"How thoughtful of you my dear," Pantalone murmured quietly, Zandik proudly puffed out his chest at the statement. Pantalone moved closer to his beloved, hands draping themselves over his shoulder as he rested his head into the crook of Zandik's neck.
The robot was cold, nowhere near the warmth the real thing would've provided but this was something he could bear to miss as long as he had some semblance of his beloved still with him. Zandik's arms encased his waist and back.
He could hear that music piece Psi had loved so dearly begin to play in the background, his Doctor holding him close exactly how we used to, swaying gently to the rhythm.
"Don't worry dearest I won't be leaving you again," Zandik muttered into Pantalone's hair.
This time Pantalone did not try to stop the tears, as the two danced blissfully together once more.