Welp, itâs been a long time since I last posted anything or even set foot on this app. I saw the leaks for the new quest, and as an old player who stopped playing way too long ago, it reminded me of all the hours I âlostâ watching x Dottore readings. So with his death, I got the idea to write something about him. I hope you enjoy it ;)
He had always been afraid of dying alone.
It was ironic, for a man who had spent his entire life splitting himself into countless segments just to avoid truly disappearing.
You had known him long before all of that. Before the forbidden experiments. Before the horrified looks from the Akademiya. Before he even became the name people whispered with fear: Il Dottore.
And despite everything⌠you stayed.
When the Akademiya banished him, you walked beside him without hesitation. When the world called him a monster, you continued to see the man hidden beneath the madness. You stood by him through every triumph, every discovery, every magnificent creation of his beloved segments, which he admired almost like children.
You had been all of those things at once.
But loving Dottore never meant agreeing with every single one of his ideas. Some experiments were too cruel, too absurd, even for you. And yet, despite the arguments and the years, the two of you always found your way back to each other.
Until time finally caught up with both of you.
Even he could not escape it forever.
On the day of his eighty-fifth birthday, his heart finally gave out. Not during some grand experiment. Not in the middle of a groundbreaking discovery. Just in the cold silence of his quarters, surrounded by segments watching the scene with unsettling patience.
You sat beside him, his head resting on your lap while your fingers slowly traced the lines of his aged face. For the first time in years, he looked tired. Truly tired.
âItâs time,â you whispered softly.
His eyes widened with confusion. Then betrayal.
The man who had always believed he could surpass death was finally realizing that even his own segments had been waiting for this moment. And so had you.
You were simply exhausted.
After decades spent chasing his genius, his obsessions, his unfinished immortality⌠you no longer had the strength to keep going. At eighty-four years old, your own body was begging for rest.
An immortal man was nothing if he continued to age anyway.
So you stayed with him until the very end.
When he drew his final breath, the laboratory fell eerily silent, as if even the machines understood what had happened.
You pressed one final kiss against his cold lips before gently closing his eyes.
âGoodbye, Zandik,â you whispered.
Then you allowed the segments to carry away the body of the man you had loved your entire life. You did not ask what they planned to do with him next. Dissect him, study him, continue his research⌠perhaps.
But it was no longer your concern.
For the first time in decades, you no longer wanted to be a scientist, an assistant, or a partner.
You only wanted to grieve.