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Pantalone could remember his last intimate moments with Dottore so clearly. He had been taken into the heart of Irminsul, now Dottore’s domain, for one last moment of physical touch before they set the plan into action. He would have preferred they go somewhere a bit more comfortable and romantic, but unfortunately Dottore’s physical form was tied to this realm. Just for his husband’s sake, Pantalone tried to ignore their barren surroundings and the cold, hard floors.
Dottore’s new form had been startling at first. His body felt cold and unfamiliar, more similar to marble than human skin. However, the intercourse was just as passionate as if they were still at home. It was still Dottore, no matter how much his appearance changed.
It was bittersweet, to be held like precious treasure in his husband’s arms while knowing full well what was to come. Pantalone was so wrapped up in those emotions and new sensations that he’d barely noticed the cold pinch of a device being implanted into his body.
He would have kept going forever if his poor body had more stamina. Anything to make that moment last as long as possible. But Dottore had caught on to his fatigue quickly, settling his hands on his hips to still their movement and encouraging him to finally take the rest his body had been begging for.
Pantalone had struggled to fight off tears as he laid with Dottore afterwards, his energy completely spent from their activity. They discussed deeper matters while they laid on the floor of that unfeeling wasteland. Dottore’s body felt more like an object than a person, yet he held Pantalone with an uncharacteristic tenderness. Perhaps it was a silent apology for the events yet to come.
Pantalone knew once he left this domain, they would never hug or kiss or make love again. Dottore seemed too calm about it when it was mentioned, though Pantalone had chalked it up to him already coming to terms with it. Dottore had given him a gentle kiss and a reminder that he always had a way to return. His lie in an attempt to comfort Pantalone had only hurt even more.
After Irminsul had burned and Pantalone returned to Snezhnaya, life seemed to return to normal as if Dottore’s absence meant nothing to the others. They certainly behaved that way. A funeral was held for every other harbinger, but not him. He knew it as a fact that his husband was not particularly popular amongst anyone he’d interacted with, but it was painful and surreal to see the physical proof of it in the form of the world continuing to turn without him.
Not even one person had thought to ask if Pantalone was alright, even if he knew he would not be honest with them. Pantalone had to pretend everything was fine, returning to his duties with a polite smile on his face, but deep down it still hurt so much.
Pantalone’s physical health worsened over time. He became nauseous often and his energy always felt completely drained. He stayed hard at work despite it, although it increased his misery. For a while he believed his own grief was beginning to affect his body or there was something wrong with his batch of the elixir. However, nothing he tried lessened the symptoms.
An absurd idea came to his mind after a while, something he hadn’t considered in a long time. On a night he believed he would not be spotted in the halls, Pantalone returned to Dottore’s abandoned laboratory in the palace. He had frequented this area more often recently in an attempt to feel Dottore’s presence again. It never worked and he always left feeling more empty, yet he couldn’t stop coming back almost every night. At least his urge to smoke was less urgent here. Just breathing in the cold and sterile smelling air reminded him of how strongly he was reprimanded any time he would even mention cigarettes.
Pantalone was not in the laboratory to grieve or reminisce—he was here for a reason tonight. He knew exactly what drawer to find those small white boxes and exactly what to do with them.
Dottore had been trying to give Pantalone a child for years. It was something he’d said would be proof of his devotion. He particularly did not want to adopt a child nor create one in the lab. He wanted Pantalone to carry that child himself, while Dottore watched after him and witnessed the progression.
Pantalone was not against the idea, though he used to be for many reasons. Having a child meant countless funds poured into their care and wellbeing, time intended for work would have to be redirected to them to encourage development, and having a child at all came with the stigma of becoming a weaker or kinder person. It would mean saying goodbye to the reputation of an unforgiving harbinger that he had spent centuries cultivating.
It was only when Dottore expressed his interest that Pantalone finally wanted to become a father (or mother, in this case). Oh, the things he did for that man. Dottore was so endearingly eager to begin testing. Within the hour that his dear doctor received the signed papers regarding consent and thorough information, Pantalone was whisked away into the laboratory under the guise of “urgent testing.” But unfortunately, no matter what Dottore had tried, no attempt was successful.
Until today. To Pantalone’s surprise, all the tests came out positive.
He couldn’t believe it at first. How could he? After what he and Dottore had just gone through, it felt surreal. His husband’s life was essentially replaced by another. Thinking back on it, Pantalone now understood why Dottore had been so calm during their last moments together. He must have used his newfound power to make this possible. Pantalone quietly laughed to himself as he also remembered Dottore being unusually bothered by the mention of smoking during that final day. There was no getting out of it this time, he would have to stop now.
Pantalone placed a hand over his own stomach. Of course he could not feel the life inside just yet, but soon he would. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought how sweet it was that this child was the last gift his husband gave to him. His grief was able to make way for hope. Hope for this child and every new opportunity that came with it.
Taking proper care of himself had never felt more crucial, but it would be more of a challenge without Dottore to help keep watch over him as well. Pantalone had to watch his own smoking habits, make sure his cravings were met on his own, and that absolutely no harm came to the child all by himself. He had considered visiting a licensed doctor to ensure no complications arose, however he could not bring himself to. Pantalone still could not differentiate the clinical touch of a medical professional from the affectionate touch of a lover. As absurd as it sounded, visiting a doctor felt too close to cheating.
Refusing a doctor did mean that he would be in the dark about the sex until birth. That was of little concern to Pantalone, though. He did not have any name prepared, instead he had planned to name the child once he saw their appearance and demeanor. In a way, it made him more excited for what was to come.
He bought everything needed for a newborn child and more; blankets and toys and colorful decorations, anything to ensure that their life did not begin like his did: bleak and miserable. Pantalone had even made preparations for workers to build a brand new room in his house just for the child’s toys. He had purchased everything using letters and pseudonyms, all to cover his tracks.
Pantalone refused to tell anyone else about this, even his most loyal subordinates. He stayed indoors more often, and when heading out was absolutely necessary, he never left without his harbinger overcoat to cover the steadily growing bump. He would have rather died than let anyone see him in such a vulnerable state.
He managed his symptoms with medication (which thankfully had been listed in Dottore’s notes on the subject), but whenever they still persisted in public, Pantalone’s perfectly formed facade barely faltered. He only admitted defeat and stayed home for the rest of his pregnancy when he could no longer carry his own weight. Gods, his back ached persistently during those last couple months.
Labor and the act of giving birth was certainly a unique experience. He had decided to overcome his aversion to doctors to have one assist during childbirth. Just one was allowed into his home after he had felt the beginning of labor. As much as he despised it, he knew he would not have felt comfortable or safe all alone.
It was excruciatingly painful, the most pain he had ever felt in his life. Throughout the entire process (when he was not in so much pain he couldn't even think, or was not telling the doctor to never touch him unless absolutely necessary), he thought of the hormone Dottore had told him about that would make the entire experience more pleasant in his memories. He desperately held onto that thought (and his poor bedsheets) to help get him through the pain.
Thank the gods that the doctor did not say anything to him other than instructing him on where to place his legs or how to lay. The last thing Pantalone needed was someone who was not his husband to say reassuring words to him while he was in an embarrassingly vulnerable position.
After what certainly felt like hours, the child was delivered safely. Pantalone did not move from his current position once it was all over. He stayed on his back, catching his breath, feeling dangerously close to falling asleep. But he refused to rest completely. He needed to keep an eye on the doctor as she analyzed his son’s health. He had made it very clear to her that she would not leave the room for this step. That child had stayed with him for nine months, having them taken into another room during their first breaths felt akin to parting with a fraction of his own soul.
Eventually the child was handed back to him along with a report that he was perfectly healthy. The doctor was then unceremoniously shooed out of Pantalone’s home before she could check his own health, but not before being given a hefty payment that was sure to keep her mouth shut about the whole ordeal.
The reality of the situation finally set in once Pantalone finally had a moment alone with his newborn child. This was no longer an idea nor a hypothetical. A human life truly was created by Pantalone and Dottore, the proof of it now right in front of him. Small sprouts of blue hair dotted his head and his crimson red eyes slowly closed as he settled comfortably in Pantalone’s arms. He was beautiful. Peaceful, even. He hadn’t even cried once yet.
It was clear this child shared no physical traits with Pantalone, but he found no reason to care. In fact, he found it quite lovely how much he already looked like Dottore. Perhaps he should have a name similar to his father, something to continue Dottore’s legacy after he was gone.
Pantalone was halfway through coming up with a name when he noticed something wasn’t right. Was the baby getting heavier? Pantalone looked down at him and squinted. He wasn’t that size just a few minutes ago, was he?
The longer Pantalone stared, the more changes he noticed. The child’s hair was now thicker and fuller, and his proportions had evened out to resemble that of an infant rather than a newborn. It happened just slowly enough that the changes were not noticed immediately, but his size had doubled within just a few minutes. That was undeniable. Was Pantalone experiencing some sort of postpartum psychosis?
He watched as his newborn son continued to grow in size, taking on the shape of a toddler then even a young child. Was there something wrong with the experiment after all? No, no, no, no, no. Nine months with no complications or unusual changes in size, everything had been going fine up until now. An outside influence must have happened to initiate this change if that were the case.
Pantalone stopped trying to make sense of it all as the child reached adulthood. He feared that the aging would not stop, and that he would have to watch as a second member of his family died right in front of him. But thankfully, his aging seemed to slow eventually, at what appeared to be his late thirties or early forties.
Pantalone had become absolutely speechless. His lips were slightly parted and he swore he could feel his own heartbeat in his throat. Pantalone held onto the naked man sitting on his lap with as minimal an amount of touch as possible, as if he were a complete stranger. His hair had grown out to his shoulders, and Pantalone couldn’t shake the thought that it heavily resembled Dottore. In fact, everything about him resembled Dottore now, down to the face shape and even the smallest imperfections in the skin.
The man, who Pantalone didn’t even know if it was his own son anymore, finally opened his eyes. Those same eyes that had struck fear into the hearts of countless men before. He smiled a wide and mischievous, almost giddy smile that belonged to none other than Il Dottore himself.
“Surprise. Did you miss me?” he asked, in that unmistakable voice.
Oh, great heavens.
It felt as if every emotion possible fell onto Pantalone’s body all at once. He had just witnessed what he thought was his own son morph into his husband right before his eyes. He was absolutely horrified by the realization that he had essentially carried his own husband in an artificial womb without ever knowing. Gods, his son most likely never even existed in the first place. Did this thing on his lap have any of Dottore’s memories? Why didn’t he tell Pantalone about any of this in the first place?
Urgh, he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Too much was happening too soon after Pantalone had just given birth. He was too old and tired for this.
The man who looked like Dottore slowly dropped his smile after he had gone a minute with no response. “...Pantalone?”
“I…” Pantalone stopped his sentence just as it started. He could not remember the last time he’d truly been at a loss for words. Where would he even begin with his questions? With a soft breath, he attempted to speak again. “You’re.. my Dottore?”
The man nodded. “But of course, my dear. I had gathered all of my memories from Irminsul to implant into you as a form of rebirth. Everything should be back with me as if I’d never lef-”
Pantalone didn’t allow him to finish, he had heard enough. He pulled Dottore, his Dottore, into a hug with his face buried into the other man’s bare chest. The tears began to flow almost immediately.
“I hate you,” he muttered through sobs. “Don’t ever leave me again, you asshole.”
Dottore laughed quietly and wrapped his arms around Pantalone with one hand resting on his head. Pantalone squeezed him as tight as he could, not worrying if it would hurt his husband at all. His whole body shook as he sobbed, irritating his already aching body further. He continued to mutter “I hate you” over and over, though both knew the words were not genuine.
Dottore did seem like an asshole, however. He had tricked Pantalone into believing he was gone and that he had finally found a way to impregnate him, only for Pantalone to be horrified just minutes after giving birth. He still grieved a son who did not exist. He had so much hope for that child. Gods, everything hurt, inside and out.
Pantalone’s sobbing did not last long. His poor body had gone through enough strain already, and just the act of crying was enough to exhaust him all over again. He remained with his face buried in his husband’s chest, now slick with tears. Dottore’s hand slowly stroked his hair in an attempt to soothe him. Although Pantalone verbally expressed his dislike for the gesture, he made no motions to push him off.
“Out of every experiment I have witnessed you do,” Pantalone started, his voice quiet and broken, “this one was the most cruel.”
Dottore’s laugh sounded like a deep rumble through his chest. Was he really still laughing at a time like this? “I missed you too, love.”
A sharp knuckle pressing unforgivingly between the Doctor’s vertebrae helped to drive Pantalone’s point home. He winced and instinctively arched his back to get away from the pressure, but Pantalone’s hand followed, giving him no moment of reprieve. His tone changed from upset to stern as he lifted his head from his husband’s chest to glare at him. “I am serious. Did you honestly think that you could put my body through so much pain and trauma, have me go through what had to have been the most embarrassing moment of my life, and get away with it unpunished?”
Dottore began to form some sort of excuse or justification, but Pantalone spoke over him. “I had so much hope for that child, you know. You will never understand what it was like to spend almost an entire year carrying a child while under the narrative that my dead husband had finally achieved the impossible, only for everything to come crashing down as I watched my newborn son morph into my husband before my own eyes. Do you have any idea how devastating that is? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Dottore’s confident smile had diminished into a disappointed frown. He squirmed in Pantalone’s hold as he attempted to escape the uncomfortable pressure on his spine. “It was intended to be a surprise. I got you pregnant and I returned to you in the end. You were supposed to react positively. I admit this was not the reaction I had predicted in the slightest..”
Pantalone scoffed through his nose as if to say, ‘Oh, was it now?’ He raised one eyebrow as he waited for Dottore’s next words. With a sigh and a tone that implied it was taking him a great effort to say, he muttered, “I apologize.” The pressure on his spine released and Dottore immediately reached behind him to cover the new bruise with a tender touch. “Shit, that hurt.”
“Then it did its job.” Although he was still very much infuriated with Dottore, Pantalone placed a gentle kiss on his husband’s cheek. He refused to admit aloud that he truly had missed him. “You owe me a real child this time. I do not want to have made those preparations for nothing.”
“Yes, yes. I suppose the project can be top priority from now on.”