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Chapter Text

The dense expanse of forest that shrouds the Beneviento estate is dead silent. It’s thick enough to act like sound insulation, and as is generally the case with quiet areas, seems to amplify whatever tiny noise one could make the mistake of creating. Heisenberg can deal with it for the most part, it’s a change of pace from the factory, but the tinny silence begins to irritate his ears when he realises the bridge beneath his feet isn’t making a single noise. He can feel the rotting slats crunching beneath his boots, but there is nothing to be heard. 

He grumbles unintelligibly beneath his breath, throwing his full weight across the bridge with no fear of toppling into the ravine below. Given the chance, he’d rather go home. A little bit of silence is all well and good, but this feels different. It feels like manufactured silence. Silence that someone else had created and infused into the wood of the trees.

He’s reasonably familiar with Donna’s abilities. He needs to be in order to stay ahead of the game, and whilst she isn’t the most offensive threat out there, she has this uncanny knack for veiling her surroundings with a kind of dread that can’t just be shaken off. Even though he knows damn well he could take her in any fight, a disturbance still manages to worm itself into his mind and infect whatever thoughts are there. 

After putting a little thought into it, because thinking is all you have left to do when you work with your hands, he’s considering the idea that it could boil down to a kind of unpredictability he’s unable to pinpoint. It’s not like how it is with the others. He’s got those guys down to a T. Lady Dimitrescu’s motives are surprisingly simple, and she’s not a woman to act unnecessarily, so he doesn’t have to worry about her making any unexpected moves. Moreau’s motives are even simpler, so it’s much easier to glean information from his poorly hidden desire to latch onto Mother Miranda. What wraps it all up is that all four of them will (to a degree) do Miranda’s bidding, which means Heisenberg normally has a very good scope on what the others are up to.

However, Donna is slightly removed from this equation by the fact she has the lesser role to play in this family than any of them. Heisenberg, naturally the favourite, often ends up having to divvy up the more pressing tasks with Dimitrescu by Miranda’s order. Moreau, somewhat lacking in experience of commendable work, is basically assigned whatever he can be trusted with and whatever falls under his jurisdiction within the reservoir. Donna’s work is a lot more quiet. 

She was never one to come out to the village. The people went to her, not the other way around. What few experiments with the Cadou that she’d done had been performed in the privacy and safety of her own home, and even then nobody had seen any major results. It just seems that, for the most part, she’s left to play at home with whatever toys Miranda can give her under the guise of work. He suspects Miranda hadn’t been pleased by the splitting of Donna’s Cadou, and left her with fewer reasons as to why she would even bother to keep her around anymore. Nonetheless, Donna has some amount of strength to her-- or perhaps strength isn’t the right word here. She was resilient enough to survive the Cadou infection, and her dolls are enough to subdue your average civilian. Then there’s whatever’s going on with the pollen in the forest- it’s enough to trip a person up and gain yourself an advantage, but the weaknesses are clear, and when those weaknesses are exploited, she’ll be reduced to tatters. No, as beneficial as she may be to Mother Miranda, strength is most definitely not her forte.

And this isn’t just because he says so. It’s also because Mother Miranda says so, and if Mother Miranda says so, then it means it’s a problem. So, as always, she does what she does for every problem in her way. She deploys Heisenberg to take care of it. 

From the way the twig-littered forest floor crunches under each heavy footstep, and the way his expression twists with irritation, it’s very evident Heisenberg is not a fan of this procedure. Not when he has a million other things to attend to, and though it would take the better part of a whole day to list them all by priority, it only takes him a second to know this endeavour is right at the very bottom. However, when Mother Miranda demands it, it needs to be done quickly. That’s why, as much as he never would’ve imagined he’d ever do so at any point in his miserable life, he’s paying Donna a visit. 

Well, okay, it wasn’t so much that… It was more like a mission disguised as a visit. One that Donna isn’t to know the intent behind, as per Mother Miranda’s orders. He’d only been half listening, but he remembers something along the lines of ‘solve this problem, but don’t let her know what you’re up to.’ That’s essentially what she’d said. As for the problem in question, well, that was a little more complex. In fact, it gives him very little to work with, which only piles onto the frustration of being dragged out to far reaches of the village. 

Donna Beneviento wasn’t strong enough.

That was it. That was the long and short of it, and for whatever braindead reason, Mother Miranda had somehow decided that Heisenberg would be the one to fix this. He somewhat enjoys basking in the role of a person who is able to reliably fix every problem, but this was fucking ridiculous. So, his goal was-- what, to make Donna stronger? That’s all well and good, overlooking how impossible it sounds, but doing it without her knowing it’s happening is asking too much. Being faced with this task leaves him beyond any words he has to describe how little he could give a fuck. 

He has little to work with in terms of a goal, and even less to work with in terms of personality. Though their disdain for one another is obvious, at least Moreau would offer him a beer. Even Dimitrescu would make a promise not to kill him through gritted teeth, which is about as good as he can get out of her. What is he supposed to expect from Donna? Is Angie just gonna talk at him for half an hour whilst he figures out what the fuck to do?

Though he was somewhat aware of it beforehand, he’s hit with the realisation that he knows absolutely fuck-all about Donna outside of Cadou capabilities and whatever foibles that make themselves known during meetings. This leaves him trudging through the snow, wondering where he’s even going to begin. 

The cigar that protrudes from his lips leaves a thin, wispy trail of smoke billowing over his shoulder as he approaches House Beneviento. The drop over the edge of the cliff is a steep one, with not much to stop someone falling down there, but Heisenberg winces when he sees the house. This place was a fucking shithole, and how Donna had lived here so long without the roof coming down on her is a total mystery to him. 

He momentarily relishes in the symphony of crashing water that comes cascading over the edge of the cliff behind the house. He’s not one to make a habit out of enjoying the little things, but he imagines this will be the one good thing to happen to him all day, so he’s eager to savour whatever sliver of peace he can find.

The grass is dry and dead beneath his feet, despite the snow that covers the surrounding area, and Heisenberg finds himself trudging up the little steps to the front door of the manor. He takes one last long drag of his cigar, before stubbing it out on the front porch and rapping heavily upon the door.

It takes a few minutes for the door to open, and he spends that time having a quick look around the area. Truth be told, he’s probably passed by this area once or twice, but never really stopped to check it out. The house is so out of the way that if Donna didn’t turn up to the family meetings, he probably wouldn’t even know she existed.

Nobody is behind the door when it opens, but he doesn’t hesitate to step right in. After all, why should he? He’s here for a reason, and the quicker he gets it over and done with, the better.

The house is so unbelievably musty, he winces with the first breath. Rolling asbestos into a cigar and smoking it would go down easier than this. Has a window ever been opened in this house? Though, with the way the fragile window frames sit awkwardly, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole pane fell out if you tried to open it. Still, despite the stale air, there is no dust to be found on the furniture. It’s all polished clean and in good condition. The only thing missing is the occupant.

There’s a low crackle in his throat as he begins to speak, “Doors don’t open by themselves, Donna. It’s a bit late to pretend like you’re not home.” He eyes the well-painted though slightly worn portrait that hangs over the staircase- one of Donna and Angie sitting together. Much like the furniture, it’s been kept in fair condition. He’s vaguely aware of Donna’s appearance, but hasn’t had the chance to see her face for himself for a number of years.

“You’re acting pretty rude for a visitor,” a tinny and partially distorted voice calls out, “Most people say hello first. Maybe even bring a bunch of flowers.”

The way Heisenberg’s eyes flit from the painting to the table is masked by the dark glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and he doesn’t even bother to try and hide his disdain. His hair brushes over his shoulder as he tilts his head to get a look at Angie, who is peeking out from behind the table. 

“Most people greet their guests at the door, too,” he replies thickly, “but I’m not here to see you. Where’s Donna?”

Angie folds her arms as best she can with her limited mobility, and hacks out a noise of derision, “She’s busy. What do you want?”

This hikes up Heisenberg’s irritation almost immediately. He’s never been fond of Angie or her horrid, screeching tone of voice, and he’s most certainly not here to exchange pleasantries with a porcelain doll. He doesn’t care to be polite, and in all fairness, neither does Angie, so it’s an even playing field.

“I’m not here to fuck around with dolls.” He spits, turning on his heel, “It’s got nothing to do with you.” He figures Angie won’t tell him, and he’s not asking again, so he simply heads off down one of the corridors. The thick wooden boards creak under every footstep, and Angie begins to splutter.

“Hey! You can’t just go wandering off in somebody else’s-- ugh! Are you listening to me, scrap-for-brains?!”

Angie begins to hurriedly waddle after him, and her outbursts are ignored. Heisenberg is too busy entertaining the thought of kicking Angie through a window. Hey, maybe it would let some fresh air in, too. It’s a win-win for him. 

“Don’t ignore me!” Angie shrieks, “Alright, alright, I’ll go and get her!”

He stops, but doesn’t turn around. Angie huffs, and it almost sounds like she’s out of breath. “Just wait in the foyer!”

Though he doesn’t consider Angie anything but a useless doll, he does take some enjoyment out of irritating her. He wonders how much of that is linked to Donna. Angie may have functions of her own due to the Cadou, but she also acts as Donna’s mouthpiece. Guess Angie could get away with saying something Donna wouldn’t. 

“Fine.” He grunts, turning around and pacing back towards the foyer. Angie takes the lead, and skitters off to supposedly call for Donna. He thinks it’s a useless gesture when Donna was the one to open the door for him. As if she didn’t know he was here. Still, playing along with it all would be a lot less hassle for him. It’s a shame it takes such an enormous toll on his patience- and this is a good day for him.

He’s left to wait in the silence of the foyer with nothing to do but look at the wall. Talk about bad hosting- at least he knows how to greet a guest. Sure, most of them are corpses which will become inevitable additions to his secret army, but, hey, it doesn’t hurt to flash a bit of charisma every now and then. Keeps the atmosphere light.

Surely enough, Angie comes back a few moments later. Her footsteps sound like pins dropping upon the wooden flooring, but no sound of Donna following. He’s impatient before Angie even gets in the door, but when he looks up to make a biting remark, Donna is standing in the doorway. 

“There! Now what do you want?” Angie barks at him from the comfortable nest she’s made of Donna’s folded arms. Heisenberg takes one threatening step towards them both, and Angie recoils. Typical.

“Some friendly advice from your favourite big brother to you- don’t ever fucking waste my time like that again.” He glares at Donna from over the rim of his glasses, but senses no fear from her whatsoever. If anything, that just pisses him off more. Angie says nothing, but the way she peers at him would suggest she’s trying to glare right back at him.

“Right, uh… where was I?” He scratches his chin for a moment, “Yeah, alright, so… I guess I’m gonna have to be blunt with you, Donna. Whilst your enormous front garden is pretty good at, uh… snaring people, I figured you could do with a little extra help.”

Donna says nothing, as per usual, but neither does Angie. He wonders if he’s taken them both off-guard with this one. As Mother Miranda said, he’s not supposed to really let her know what he’s up to, and she’s especially not to know that Mother Miranda ordered it, but he reckons he can inch around this one fairly easy. Disguise this mission as concern for her wellbeing, and don’t bring Miranda up. Simple as.

“What with, uh… the village, everything going on- you know what I’m talking about. Can’t afford to make mistakes. Worried you might not be able to keep up with the rest of us, so I figured I’d show you a bit of generosity. Help you with a few upgrades, you might say.”

“We’re not doing it,” Angie replies flatly, “We’re not doing more Cadou stuff.”

Heisenberg raises his hands in a gesture of understanding, “No, no, that’s not what I’m getting at. Of course you don’t. What I mean is something more, uh… an upgrade of your offensive capabilities.”

Angie looks up at Donna, who remains unmoved, before squinting suspiciously at Heisenberg, “Like what?”

“Dolls, Donna, do I gotta spell it out? I can upgrade ‘em- make 'em all… shit-your-pants scary and powerful. If you let me do a few bits here and there, you’ll probably be just as powerful as, uh… Moreau.”

Well, he’s not going to lie to her face like that. Comparing her to himself or Lady Dimitrescu is just unconvincing. However, there’s a nice air of perplexion he’s just created by that comparison alone that leaves Angie leaning over Donna’s arms, peering at Heisenberg at the audacity of his response. He wafts a hand to dismiss the comment.

“Look, just don’t worry about it. Call this a maintenance visit. Just making sure everything’s up to scratch, maybe give a few things a boost here and there. There’s literally no drawbacks here, so I don’t know why you’d refuse.”

At this, Donna tilts her head ever so slightly, but says nothing.

“The drawback is you’d be messing with our stuff!” Angie retorts, “Since when have you ever come to visit? And since when have you been worried about our power? Never.” Angie folds her arms petulantly, but it only lasts about a second as she has a small moment of realisation.

“Hold on… did someone ask you to do this?”

Heisenberg scoffs, but perhaps a little too quickly. “What kind of guy do you think I am? You think I’d waste my afternoon coming over here just because somebody told me to? No, I’m here because I choose to be.” Not really the most convincing argument, but it doesn’t occur to him in the moment, “Look, just… don’t be difficult about this. The bottom line is- I feel you could use a bit of help. I’m offering that to you. It’s as simple as that, so what do you say?”

Angie, once again, looks back up at Donna. It’s as if the two are silently debating what the course of action should be, and Angie finally turns back. “Well… what are you gonna do? You’re not putting any of that metal stuff on me! ”

“I’m offended you would ever suggest such a thing,” he responds, though slightly dry in the tone, “Just give me whatever dolls you have lying around and I’ll work on them. I can even show you what plans I have, is that enough to make you feel better?” This was so not worth the trouble, but he had no other way into this situation that would involve increasing Donna’s offensive capabilities. He can’t come here for a random house call, that’s just far too transparent.

“But you’ve never worked on dolls before.” 

He shrugs. “And that’s an issue… how, exactly?”

Angie throws down her arms, like a small child having a little temper tantrum, “ Because , moron, dollmaking is a very serious and very intricate art! We can’t have you just nailing bits and pieces onto the dolls, you’ll ruin them!”

He puts a hand to his head in exasperation, really reigning in the urge to explode, “The fact you’re sacrificing the offensive capability purely for the state of the doll is exactly why they’re weak, Donna. You can’t be this fucking dense.”

Angie trembles in rage, “Wh--! This is--! You’re coming in here and telling us our dolls are weak?! You’re so disrespectful, I don’t even know how you’re Mother Miranda’s favourite!”

There is nothing he likes about this situation, and that last comment only serves to make him angrier. If these two had more brain cells to rub together, maybe they’d not only understand his point, but also realise that being Mother Miranda’s favourite is most certainly not a favourable position. It’s the last place he wants to be. After all, look where he is. Ruining his own favour with Donna (which, in fairness, he could take it or leave it) in order to protect Mother Miranda’s favour. She’d throw him under the bus any day if it meant she had more control and favour with the other lords. Go figure.

“You wanna fight, then? Is that really where you wanna go with this? You know for a damn fucking fact I could crush every single doll in this house- including you, ” he pokes an offending finger in Angie’s direction, who recoils with indignance, “and I don’t wanna have to do that, but that’s how fucking easy it is. Leave the dolls with me? I’ll make them so strong even I’ll have trouble taking them down.”

Okay, maybe that last bit wasn’t entirely true. It’s definitely not in his best interest to make Donna that powerful. He has to have some control over the situation after all. Still, this may be enough to sway her. Make a threat, and then anti that threat with the promise of work that would leave her powerful enough to supposedly stand up to him (though he doesn’t recommend this idea in the slightest).

Donna pauses. It’s enough time to show she’s really considering this proposal, and before she can make her decision, Heisenberg butts in with one last game-winning argument.

“I mean… think how happy Mother Miranda will be, huh? If you turn up one day looking ready to take on a whole army of lycans, she’ll be thrilled. Shows you’ve got initiative. That’s what she likes.” He swore he wasn’t going to bring Miranda into this for the sake of avoiding a potentially sticky situation, but approaching it from this angle might be the best idea yet. After all, it’s what Mother Miranda wants. If he can convince Donna that it’s her own idea to gain strength, she’ll never figure out that it was Miranda’s will that brought her to that decision. This is perfect.

In the end, what he was trying to avoid was letting Donna know that Mother Miranda thought she was weak. He doesn’t know why Mother Miranda doesn’t just tell it to her outright, and he doesn’t know whether or not it has a different effect coming from him, but there was no arguing. He just had to get this done.

“Do… you really think so?” Angie’s voice is surprisingly humble. Jackpot.

“Sure. You get stronger and stronger, she’ll get real proud of you. Hell, if you get strong enough, maybe you can overtake me as the favourite.” (Not gonna happen.) “In the end, don’t you think this will show Miranda how appreciative you are?” The words that come out of his mouth are starting to make him feel nauseous, and he knows exactly what’s hiding behind the black veil that’s staring back at him. What did either of them have to feel appreciative of? He’d had his life stolen from him by Miranda at a young age, but Donna? Being born in the village meant you practically had your life stolen before you were even alive. There had been no hope for her from the very beginning. 

But he knows deep down, in a really sick and twisted way, that this is all she has. Mother Miranda’s favour keeps her alive, it keeps her in the good books with the other three lords as a safety net. This really is as good as she can get.

“Alright…” Angie says, “but you can do this on one condition. Donna oversees everything that you do, and you have to listen to her.”

“What?” It barely comes out as a question- it’s more like a statement of disbelief. 

“We told you, dollmaking is a very serious art! If you’re going to make our dolls more powerful, you have to listen to us, okay?”

He can’t figure out why they think they have leverage over him in this situation. He’s dealt the trump card of Mother Miranda’s love, and if they decline his offer, then he can easily sow a little seed of guilt into their consciences. Donna’s a compassionate type- or at least he thinks she is, so there’s an even chance they’ll agree to his terms either way. However, now that he thinks about it, they have a point.

If he does go hammering bits and pieces onto the dolls any which way, he’ll probably just succeed in breaking them, or reducing their functionality. Irritatingly enough, dolls were fairly fragile and carefully manufactured. He’d have to take that into account, too. Maybe this would work out for him.

“Alright, alright, I can agree to that much.” He makes it sound like he’s doing them the world’s biggest favour, when in actuality, it’s more for his benefit than theirs. “But don’t start getting under my feet when I’m working, or I’ll ditch the whole lot.”

“Fine.” Angie doesn’t sound too happy, but it appears this is more Donna’s decision than hers. 

“Listen, there’s no need to get like that,” Heisenberg’s tone is light, so as to dissipate the tension hanging in the air, “This works out for all of us. Everyone wins. Mother Miranda is happy. Just,” he sort of gestures vaguely to an empty space, “pick out some dolls or whatever, and I’ll, uh… get to work.”

After a moment, Angie hops down onto the floor, and Donna silently drifts away without another word. Heisenberg is left to watch her leave, unsure of how to really approach it. However, Angie looks up at him with a fiercely impatient posture. He blinks.

“You have to follow me, alright? I’ll take you to the workshop. You’re not spreading all your mechanic muck around this house!”

Heisenberg plucks a cigar from his pocket and puts it between his lips, “It’d be an awful shame if I got oil on that pretty little dress of yours, eh?”

Angie emits a growl like a feral cat, and Heisenberg chuckles as he flicks his lighter open. The flame it sparks is blown out almost immediately when Angie yells, “No smoking in the house!”

Chapter Text

The workshop is… unbelievably bleak. It’s somehow mustier than the foyer, and instead of dust, there’s a thin layer of wood shavings over every surface, which is arguably worse. 

He’s not really a wood kind of guy. Wood is a bit too flimsy for him, and obviously not his natural element, so it leaves him wondering what he’s actually going to do with these dolls. Despite his earlier plan, he’s not put that much thought into it. It’s more of an on-the-fly kind of deal. Due to the aforementioned unpredictability of Donna, he’s having a harder time making a solid plan than usual.

“Don’t touch anything.” Angie hisses. 

“Quit playin' guard dog, you’re not scaring me.” Truth be told, he wasn’t feeling even remotely inclined to touch anything, but he despises being told what to do, and by a doll at that. “Just shut your trap ‘til Donna gets back.”

Angie seethes quietly, but trots off and climbs up onto a wooden chair to sit down. She pats her dress down and arranges it so it’s sitting comfortably. “There’s a medical room next door which is probably better for you to use. We don’t want your metal junk taking up space in here.” 

It’s the first time he’s heard Angie say anything useful, but even then it’s followed up by a bit of a backhanded comment. He can leave the biting commentary, if it’s all the same with Angie, and ignores her in favour of investigating the medical room next door. Angie stays seated.

The room is a little bit bigger, with spaces that are far more suitable for his line of work than dollmaking. He pokes around the desks and the cabinets- not really trying to snoop, but it’s more out of curiosity than anything else. Might as well find out what he can whilst he’s here. He eyes the sink in the corner, greyed from age, wondering if it’s still functional. 

The faucet creaks in protest as he turns the knob on top. It shudders, before releasing a very weak jet of water that pools in the sink below. The waste disposal next to it has been changed with a fresh, bright-red bag.

He scratches his chin. Did Donna still use this room? Her work on Cadou experiments is virtually nonexistent, and he knows she’s clearly not inclined to work any further on them. She’s a bit deterred by her own Cadou implementation, which would logically prevent her from doing experiments of her own (and for the sake of this train of thought, he actively avoids considering Moreau in this equation. The less he thinks of him, the better, actually). But if that was the case, why was this place so… clean? Dusting the place every so often is all well and good, but the sink is about as clean as it can be considering its age, and she’s even put a fresh bag in the bin. What business does Donna have working in a medical room that doesn’t involve Cadou experiments…?

To be fair, he could just be overthinking it, but Donna is a surprisingly hard character to read, especially in this foreign environment. He wants to know everything he can, for both this little mission and his own benefit, especially if he can manage to wangle these dolls for himself for his effort against Miranda later on in the process, but that’s only if he can manage to make something extremely good quality. He’s not holding his breath for that outcome, though. 

He looks up and Donna is just standing there. Again, with the lack of footsteps. If she’s going to keep appearing behind him without any warning, he’s not going to be responsible for what’ll happen to her. He doesn’t say this aloud, however. Instead, he graces her with a wry smile, and turns the faucet off.

“Surprised these things still work out here. Village plumbing is fucking abysmal, especially all the way out here. Turn the taps and it’s just dirt.” It’s not the most riveting small talk, but it’s really not his forte. He’s trying his best. 

“That’s because I fixed it.”

Angie is lingering by Donna’s ankles, but her voice is surprisingly smoother than he’s heard before. He figures this is Donna talking now, but he blinks in surprise. “You fixed the sink yourself? You don’t strike me as the handy type.” That was definitely unexpected.

“Hey, Donna can do lots of things!” There’s Angie again with the voice from hell’s radio, “We’ve kept this house in good condition, since…” After that indignant rebuttal, Angie doesn’t so much trail off as stop abruptly, as if somebody had taken batteries out of her. Had that been Donna’s doing as well…? 

“It’s your house,” Heisenberg shrugs, “I don’t give a shit. Roof’s a state, though. That’ll probably kill you before anything else can.”

“And those lycans will probably turn on you and rip you to shreds before anything else will.” Angie snarks with venom, “What a shame that day will be.”

He’s not sure what’s funnier. The fact she thinks the lycans could be any match for him, or the fact she thinks she can get away with this without some serious consequence. He’d entertain it further if it wasn’t so utterly aggravating. 

“Alright, new condition. Shut that bitch up and I’ll get to work.”

Donna looks up at him with an alarming amount of expression for a face that’s hidden behind a veil. She says nothing, however, and neither does Angie. That’ll work for him. 

Donna sets several dolls onto the centre table, all varying in size, shape and gender. Each of them, however, are horrifyingly ugly, and if he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t want to touch a single one of them. Vile things. Why the hell do kids like them so much? Scratch that, why does Donna like them so much? He thinks a grown woman needs better hobbies. 

“So you brought me the hideous ones. That’ll do.”

Donna stops for just a second, as if registering the anger his comment provokes, before going back to her business. She picks up Angie once more, rounds the table, and stands there silently. 

Heisenberg wants to shrug. She leaves him so little to work with, and it’s clear this will be mostly initiative on his part. He picks up a doll by the head and begins to inspect what he can see of the joints and hinges. Pretty standard. Pretty flimsy, too. It wouldn’t hold up for what he had in mind.

Though Heisenberg has the face of an old man who’s trying to figure out what kind of pokemon this is, his mind is working remarkably quickly, concocting new ideas for what he could do with these useless scraps of wood. He pulls his glasses down just a fraction to get a closer look with his own eyes. Donna waits patiently.

“It’s pretty much exactly what I expected. They won’t hold up under serious attack. Best bet is to start by reinforcing them and then adding from there. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

Neither of them respond, which is how he prefers it.

“Exactly.” He says, dropping the doll back on the table. They all looked similar in parts, so they were probably all put together in the same fashion. He plants his hands on the table, unlit cigar still hanging from his lips. “Have the wood on any of these been treated or what?”

Angie hops from Donna’s arms and onto the table, extending a stick-thin arm to point, “That one has, the other’s haven’t.”

“Alright. Guess this means you two won’t be useless- you can do those for me. I can start reinforcing this one, uh… probably tomorrow or something. I’ll have a think about what I can do. It won’t be too hard.” Which is an enormous relief for him.

Donna is looking down at the dolls and apparently thinking quite hard. Every now and then, her arms move as if she’s about to do something. Eventually, she settles back into her relaxed position, and Angie turns to Heisenberg.

“Donna doesn’t want you to mess with them as they are.”

Heisenberg’s sigh is monumental, “Look, you’re lucky enough as it is that I’m here, don’t start giving me fucking grief now…”

“No!” Angie interrupts, “What I mean is that… Donna wants to remove all the features. Make them into blank dolls. Then you can do what you need to do.”

Heisenberg shakes his head, visibly confused, “Why… why the hell is that even an issue? I can just make whatever adjustments I need off the bat. I mean… it might come out looking a bit more like Moreau, but that can’t be helped.”

Angie emits a grunt of exasperation, “Because then , idiot, we can redecorate them after you’re done!”

It’s the stupidest request he’s ever heard, but in fairness, having them blank would be beneficial in more ways than one. It would give him more of a blank canvas to start with, and he wouldn’t have to spend his working hours staring at the haunting painted face of a tuberculosis-ridden child. As far as he’s aware, it doesn’t mean more work for him, and if that’s the case then he really doesn’t give a shit. It’s just Donna’s odd lack of priorities that irks him.

“Do whatever, just get at least one doll ready for tomorrow. I’m not wasting more time than I need to on this shit.”

Angie tilts her head to the side, “Is this that ‘generosity’ you were speaking of earlier?”

Heisenberg takes the cigar from his lips and smiles humourlessly, “Let me tell you a little thing- I wouldn’t do this for those other two assholes… and you know that. So I’d take what you can get if I were you, raggedy Angie.”

Angie doesn’t respond to that. Donna simply picks her up, and when Angie is safely nestled in her arms, the little doll quietly says, “Thank you.”

Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Heisenberg gives her a cheeky little tilt of the hat.

“I’d say ‘anytime’ but… that ain’t true.”

He puts the cigar back to his lips, shoves his hands in his pocket and rounds the table, passing Donna and Angie as he heads back into the workshop. He thinks that’s enough work for today, and half the labour was emotional. Who knew it took so much energy to play nice? Still, if he can have some silent time working tomorrow, then this mission is as good as a success. Donna will be stronger than ever with her new dolls, Miranda will be happy, and he will be left alone.

He heads up to the floor above using the elevator, steps out, and makes a solid beeline for the exit. He pulls the lighter out of his pocket preemptively, wondering if he can get away with lighting it before Angie throws a fit at him. However, before he can get to the door, Donna is suddenly standing right in front of him. 

“Jesus, Donna, how the hell did you get there? You weren’t even in the elevator with me.” He snaps the lighter shut, eyeing Angie from behind his glasses. Angie shuffles, probably in a huff over the fact that he was still in their house, but Donna doesn’t move. Heisenberg makes a sweeping gesture with his hands, as if silently asking ‘are you going to let me leave?’

Donna puts a hand to her chin, almost contemplative, before holding it out to the table in the foyer. She quietly drifts over to the table, and peering over his glasses, Heisenberg can see a small tea set sitting in the centre of it. The teapot is polished, painted ceramic, and it’s contents are piping hot, emitting a thin spire of steam. A few teacups sit neatly around the set. Now, he’s no expert, but he’s very sure that wasn’t there when he arrived. 

It suddenly dawns on him, and he’s shaking his head before the words can even come out, “Uh, no.. no.. I don’t do that, Donna. How did you even…? Look, it’s fine, I’m not…”

She’s even got a spare chair out- just how the hell did she have time to set this up? She neatly aligns the chair with the table, and begins to busy with the tea set. Heisenberg deflates where he’s standing. This is exactly what he meant when he said unpredictable.

“Donna... “

Just because she doesn’t talk doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to listen. Knowing her, she’s probably listening to exactly what he’s saying and simply ignoring him as she deftly pours three cups of aromatic tea. Not as flowery as he was expecting for Donna, but it’s still a ridiculous gesture nonetheless. He should just leave, but the way Donna is adjusting all the teacups is… honestly kind of sad, in his opinion. He doesn't feel bad for her, but he doesn't exactly feel happy for her either.

“It’s a darker blend. Donna didn’t think you would like the sweeter tastes.” Angie says, rather matter-of-factly. Awfully presumptuous of her to think he’d stay for empty pleasantries, but something must be piquing his attention because he’s still fucking standing there. 

Donna sits down and puts Angie on her lap before picking up her teacup. However, she doesn’t drink. She waits. She pointedly waits for Heisenberg to sit down. There’s a steaming cup of tea sitting right in front of the unoccupied chair, and the supposed occupier is still standing by the front door. 

He grits his teeth for a moment before putting the lighter back into his pocket with a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay for one, but I’m drinking it quickly and then I’m leaving.” He pulls out the chair roughly and plonks himself down on it. He doesn’t want to give Donna the wrong idea, and he especially doesn’t want to give her the idea that this would be a regular occurence. He picks up the teacup by the actual cup, not the handle, and swills it around a bit. There’s bits floating in the bottom which momentarily takes him aback, but what the hell does he know about tea? 

He looks over the table at Donna, who is politely sipping her tea from under her mask. There’s a second teacup on the table in front of her. Heisenberg quirks a brow, “Who’s the other one for?”

“It’s for me! Duh!” Angie snips, but makes absolutely no movements to drink the liquid herself. Heisenberg is left with more questions than answers, but doesn’t press further. He really cannot be bothered. He takes a hasty gulp of the tea, letting the scalding water numb his tongue. 

“Tastes like tree bark.” He comments.

“It’s good tree bark. From a good tree.” Angie retorts in a manner most childish. Again, leaves him with more questions than answers, but it’s more trouble than it’s worth. He takes another gulp.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if you poisoned it, to be honest.” Listen, he’s not the best at dinner parties. This is the environment he is most out of his depth in, and he’s not about to start getting better. The lack of immediate response is slightly worrying, but he’s already drunk it so it’s a bit late to care now.

“Almost did…” Angie mumbles, almost escaping Heisenberg’s ears. He snorts, but whether it’s out of indignance or amusement is a mystery.

What little of the conversation remains dies after that point, and leaves Donna, Angie and Heisenberg all silently drinking tea in the foyer of the Beneviento manor. He’d expected to be surprised when he came here, but this was really not what he’d been anticipating at all. The air of the room is just awkward now. Was Donna even enjoying this? Or was she just finding fun in pulling him as far out of his element as she can? Now that wouldn’t surprise him. 

He necks the rest of the cup in one and loudly plonks it back onto the saucer. “Well, thanks for that or whatever. I’m going.”

He gets out of the chair, doesn’t bother to tuck it back in behind him, and stomps off towards the front door. Donna makes no move to stop him, and Angie remains silent, which is nothing but relief for him. The bitter wind outside nips at his cheeks when he opens the door as he fishes around in his pocket for his lighter. He pauses in the doorway to light up the cigar, feeling the hot and calming sensation of smoke in his mouth. He savours it, and exhales it in an enormous cloud of relieved tension. 

However, as he goes to shut the door behind him, just before the door hits the frame, he swears he can hear a very small voice in the form of Angie whisper, “Thank you for staying.”

He walks all the way back to the factory trying to forget it.

Chapter Text

Heisenberg spends the next day hunched over a table in the medical room of House Beneviento. His regular subjects are usually a lot bigger than this, but the countless hours spent fiddling with intricate parts and connecting tiny wires provides him with a familiarity with the work that makes it feel a lot less tedious. 

The doll he’s working on today is a pure blank slate of light brown wood, expertly carved into connecting pieces in the shape of something vaguely humanoid. Heisenberg is pleased to see the doll’s hideous face gone, but that was about it. 

The first thing he had planned right from the beginning was the strengthening of joints and the replacement of frail hinges. He reckons if the doll gets hit badly, the pieces will simply break apart, rather than the structural integrity of the doll being damaged. However, with the Cadou nesting inside the doll, it probably wouldn’t survive a heavy blow. 

He flips open the doll’s mouth. The Cadou inside pulses like a heartbeat. 

He removes the Cadou with very little fear of touching the fleshy mass himself, and puts the parasite into a nearby jar to keep it out of the way. After that, he disassembles the doll into separate pieces, locating each point of the doll that needs reinforcing. He goes through the repetitive process of removing each hinge and joint with relative ease.

As he works, his mind begins to drift off as ever it does when he’s being productive. Watching the Cadou shudder in the jar out of the corner of his eye makes him contemplate the functions of these Cadou dolls. It’s definitely not something he would’ve considered himself, and the outcome of the parasites being implemented into them is an unexpected one.

Angie has a strangely alarming amount of sapience for a Cadou doll, especially when she’s not actively speaking for Donna. However, he has yet to see similar traits in these dolls. They didn’t move nor speak when Donna set them down on the table, and they have yet to protest being torn apart by Heisenberg. However, Angie is a very special doll, and even he knows this, so whilst the reasoning is solid, he’s left wondering how the functions of each doll differ with the Cadou parasite. He wonders if Donna even knows. She was never enthralled by the idea of Cadou experiments, so the less she partakes in it, the better- at least, that’s how it seems to him. This leads to a lack of in depth understanding of Cadou functions, hence why her experiments are virtually nonexistent, and her findings are unhelpful. It’s not a stretch to assume Donna has little idea of what she’s doing regarding the Cadou, and this actually impedes his current ability to work. 

Now, if he was doing something with the Cadou, the fountain of creativity would be gushing with ideas of improving these dingy little dolls. He would have a great deal to work with, and it would function as an experiment of his own as well, as he explores how far he can push the limits of the Cadou. Unfortunately, he has a feeling that Donna would decline this idea if he offered. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not an idiot. He’s considered going behind her back to try it himself, but it’s somewhat difficult, what with Donna working in the next room. 

Every now and then she’ll lurk in the doorway to watch Heisenberg at work before returning to her own workbench. Every time she does this, Heisenberg flat out ignores her, but it’s beginning to get on his nerves a little. She’s like a nosy little ghost. He doesn’t enjoy being under such a hawkish gaze. 

He’s more into observing people himself, not the other way around, but Donna really is the biggest sideline observer in their family. She rarely makes moves of her own, and tends to lurk in the shadows for the most part. Getting her to make a verbal contribution is like drawing blood from stone, so she’s generally left alone during meetings. That is, until Angie starts making a nuisance of herself, and he has to kindly and obscenely tell her to get her fucking doll under control.

How lucky he is that Angie has been very quiet today. 

In fact, it’s been a very quiet morning all around. He’s not one for small talk, so he doesn’t talk unless he needs something, and Donna is pretty much the same. Anything she needs to say comes out of the mouth of Angie, but it seems she has nothing important on her mind at the moment. That leaves them both in their respective workshops, the door between them wide open, with nothing for them to listen to other than the soft, ambient scratches of scraping wood and the tinny ring of his screwdriver at work. 

He’s quickly figured out an alternate method of predicting when Donna will poke her head into the room. Her footsteps don’t echo in this house for whatever reason, but whenever the somniferous sounds of wood carving stops, he anticipates her figure standing in the doorway.

So, when the faint scraping ceases, he pauses for a moment, glancing out of the corner of his eye. True enough, she’s standing right there. She could be staring at him, she could be staring at the work, he’ll never know. His glasses are fairly useful in masking what he’s looking at, but Donna’s veil blows that right out of the water. As deeply unsettling as it is, he can appreciate the perks of it- the mystery it exudes. It could prove a worthy investment for him if he ever fancied walking around dressed like a nun caught in the throes of seasonal depression. 

She watches him for quite a while, much to his irritation, and he’s about to politely tell her to fuck off before he hears the faint tapping sounds of Angie walking across the floor. Angie clutches onto the hem of Donna’s dress, peering into the medical room.

“Don’t you think you would be able to see better without those glasses? They’re rather dark.” The flat tone of Angie’s voice suggests to him that this isn’t a poor attempt to get under his skin, but a genuine question from Donna. He clears his throat, pushing the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. 

“Can’t work in bright lights. Too much strain. Gives me a headache. It’s why I keep the factory dark.” He mutters, screwing in a strengthened hinge he’d brought with him specially for this task. He picks up a few screws, putting them between his lips to hold as he attaches the new hinge. The sour tinge of metal that coats the tip of his tongue is relaxing.

“And here I thought you were just too poor to have the lights on.”

That one was definitely Angie. As his temper flares, his teeth come down upon the heads of the screws in his mouth, but all it really does is serve as a reminder that he really, really wants to smoke. He might have to take a break soon…

“If you saw the kind of machines that my factory powers, you wouldn’t be worried about the fucking lights…” He grits out, spitting the last screw and securing it in place. It’s a solid hinge. It’ll do well to prevent the doll being blown apart, but it doesn’t do much to reinforce the actual parts themselves. No matter though, because he has a plan for that, too. 

There’s a long pause, in which Heisenberg inspects his work and Donna silently watches. When Heisenberg sets down the doll and sits back in his chair, Angie tilts her head to the side.

“Donna wants to know if you want some tea.”

“I’ll give it a miss.”

“Coffee?”

“No. It’ll just… give me a fucking headache.”

Angie taps a perfectly sculpted hand to her chin, “Huh. Didn’t think you were so sensitive. You seem like a coffee guy to me.”

Heisenberg considers Angie very lucky he wasn’t holding the doll at the moment or it would be splinters in his hands right now. He turns on the chair, folding his legs as he wraps an arm around the back. He removes his hat and places it on the table next to the jar with the Cadou in it.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says plainly, “Too much caffeine sends my insides into overdrive. Gives me headaches like TV static, not to mention it really fucks up the intensity of my abilities-- and trust me, you don't wanna be in a room with me when that happens. Not unless you want your head taken off- or be stuck to a wall for half a day." He rests his chin on his hand, leaning into the back of the chair, and he offers Donna an odd little smile that shows no humour whatsoever. “But tearing this place apart might actually be worth the headache if you wanna be that insistent. I could do with less of the shit commentary, though. That is, unless you want these dolls...?"

Donna looks down at Angie. A small, silent exchange plays out, but for the life of him, Heisenberg can’t figure out what’s going on between the two of them. Donna slowly clasps her hands in front of her, turning back to him. Angie sighs.

“You want a water or something?”

“I said I'm fine,” he sighs through gritted teeth, wondering how such a point could so lost on a person. He makes a vague gesture to the other side of the room, “There’s a sink in here, I doubt I’ll run out.” He says in jest, as he begins to rummage through the pockets of his jacket for a cigar and a lighter. Angie folds her arms with a huff.

“You’re not drinking straight from the sink! That’s disgusting!”

He doesn’t respond until he finds the cigar and the lighter. He hoists himself out of the chair, placing the cigar between his lips with a grin, and says, “Then I’ll just rip your head off and use it like a glass. How about that?”

Needless to say, Angie is appalled by this idea, and makes it very clear by the enraged sputtering that escapes her little wooden mouth. Heisenberg can only laugh as he walks away.

Despite having only done a small amount of work so far, Heisenberg is sitting on the front porch of House Beneviento, enjoying a peaceful smoke without the ear-splitting chattering from Angie. The cold, mountain air nips pleasantly at his forearms, exposed to the elements without the sleeves of his thick brown coat to protect them. Without his hat, his head is starting to feel a little cold, too.

He stares down at the very last of his cigar, appreciating one last puff before stubbing it out on the porch and flicking the butt into the snow. 

So far, it wasn’t the worst experience in the world. He could do without the presence of both Donna and Angie, but it seems that was a little too much to ask of them in their own house. Either way, the work wasn’t hard, the conditions were bearable, so he didn’t have much to complain about. Other than… everything else, that is. Putting it into perspective is important, and something that’s very hard to do with these freaks running around. 

After a moment, he gets up and heads back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. The house now feels uncomfortably warm compared to the refreshing chill of outside, and he tugs at the neck of his shirt a little to cool himself down as he makes a beeline for the elevator.

The doll is sitting untouched on the desk when he comes back to sit down. He eyes the empty workshop as he passes through. Donna isn’t anywhere to be found, and that’s never a good thing. He’s not being strong-armed into another tea party, despite what Donna may or may not say. 

He picks up the doll in one hand, and the screwdriver in another, giving the doll another once over as he thinks about the next step. His next plan involves reinforcing the wooden material of the doll, and he has several ways of doing this. One is installing a thin inner layer of metal to all the separate pieces, but he’s been considering the idea of creating a kind of armature to put inside it. That way, even if the wood breaks, there will be something within that could withstand a real blow. He picks out a small, flat square of metal. It can’t be too heavy or it’ll weigh the doll down, and it can’t be too thin or it won’t do shit for defense. There’s a thin line between the two which is the sweet spot he’s trying to find.

He holds up the square in front of him, and the metal slowly begins to bend on its own. The corners fold inwards, beginning to create a hollow cylinder. 

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected voice doesn’t make him visibly jump out of his seat, but he does slam the screwdriver onto the desk with great force, “Fucking quit that! It’s a pain in the ass when you just fucking appear out of nowhere like that.” He glares up at Donna who has drifted to stand behind him, and Angie who sits in her arms. “You’ll get a screwdriver through the other eye if you do that again.” He brandishes the screwdriver threateningly at Donna, who takes one fearful step back. He tucks his chair further under the desk and, with a face like serious thunder, gets back to work.

“What the fuck do you even want, anyway? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Donna wants to know what you’re doing.”

The irritation subsides for a moment, as Heisenberg waves the little piece of metal in their faces, “I'm making an interior lining out of metal. That way, it’ll be harder to destroy the individual pieces. Kind of like a suit of armour- just on the inside.”

“What, so you can control our dolls for us?” Angie snarks. 

“I wouldn’t even bother wasting the energy it would take to do that. I’ve got better things to play with than these pieces of shit.” He replies, adjusting the shape of the cylinder. This particular piece is going to fit in one of the doll’s hollow leg pieces, but it does occur to Heisenberg that not all the dolls are made the same, and some will have solid limbs, or even cloth limbs, which will be a real pain in the ass later on. Looks like the armature idea will come in handy after all.

“Donna wants to know why you’re putting the screws in by hand.”

Heisenberg shakes his head, brows creased in perplexion, “Well I’m not gonna fucking do ‘em with my feet, am I?”

“No,” Angie sighs, extending an arm to point at him, “You have like… you control metal, don’t you? Can’t you just use that to put them in instead of a screwdriver?”

“Is it even fucking important? I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

Angie folds her arms, visibly sulking. He rolls his eyes, searching the desk for the leg piece he’s going to use. After a moment, he begins to speak.

“Installing small screws, things like that,” he begins, gesticulating with the screwdriver, “is kind of fiddly work. You need real precise control to be able to do it, and it’s not worth the effort. The metal is controlled by magnetism, so I’m actually manipulating the force that moves it, not the composition of the metal itself, but I am… somewhat able to bend the metal how I want if I focus on a specific spot.” He ends up waving a dismissive hand at his own explanation, murmuring, ”Either way, It’s easier by hand.” He pushes the metal piece into the leg, carefully expanding the sheet into the shape of the wood. “With screws you actually have to turn them, not just hammer them in. Use just a little too much force and it’ll split the wood. Fixing it would be an even bigger pain in the ass.”

“I see…”

Once the wood is firmly affixed to the interior of the doll leg, Heisenberg emits a noise of satisfaction, setting it aside to work on the other parts.

“So what are you going to do after that…?”

“After it’s fully reinforced,” Heisenberg picks out a few other squares of metal, “I’m gonna start making more offensive adjustments. Add a few sharp bits here and there…” He finishes this statement with a sly grin, picking up the other leg to work on. “It’s gotta be light enough to do decent damage, but not too heavy that it’ll weigh the doll down. I’m thinking blades.”

“Like… knives?”

“Call ‘em whatever you want, but they’ll be sharp. I think I have materials from the factory I can use that'll work well.” As he gets into the rhythm of working, his pace becomes quicker, and Donna watches the doll become exponentially stronger before her very eyes. He’s almost like a human conveyor belt. Donna momentarily wonders what the process of work inside his factory is like.

“How many are you going to make?”

Heisenberg stops, looking up at her. “How many do you want? And don’t tell me ‘all of them’ because that’s out of the damn question. You’ve got too many as it is already. Ugly ass freaks...”

Angie plants her hands on Donna’s arm and leans over to him, “We’ll pick out just the right ones. They’ll be strong, right?”

“They will be when I’m done with them.”

“And Mother Miranda will be happy?”

“I should expect so…” 

Donna remains silent, and so does Angie. There’s a long pause in the conversation, occupied only by the soft noises of Heisenberg’s fingertips tapping against the wooden limb, and the fizz of the overhead lights.

Heisenberg silently wonders why she won’t move. Damn it, he knew he agreed for Donna to oversee his work, but this was ridiculous. How bad of a job did she really think he was gonna do? He’s almost about to say something, but he’s beaten to it by Angie.

“...do you want a sandwich or something?”

Does Donna's insistence on hosting know no bounds? This actually takes him off-guard, even more so than the drink offer. After all, a drink offer is just a basic pleasantry. It’s pretty much accepted and expected during the course of a house visit, but the offer of food is just… too intimate. It’s more of a homely gesture than just a social expectation, and he’s genuinely unsure of how to react. He sort of mumbles to himself before actually answering.

“Um… maybe later…”

He can’t bring himself to shut her down too harshly. Despite how utterly irritating this woman is, she’s at least trying to be nice, and she’s doing it far better than Lady Dimitrescu or Moreau. He just doesn’t understand why. What’s the point of going out of your way for something so meaningless? He can feed himself. He doesn’t need Donna acting like she’s going to take care of him. He's not about to start playing happy families now, and he never will. This is one of the main reasons he finds Donna so unbearable to be around.

But it’s kind of hard to hate in it’s own way, which is why he’s willing to act indifferent at most, rather than outright rude. Call that civility.

Donna offers a silent nod, and slowly drifts away back into the next room. Heisenberg is enormously relieved, as he finishes adjusting the last limb of the doll. All that’s left is to reinforce the torso and head, and then he can put the Cadou back in. He’s already making a mental checklist of things littered around the factory that he’ll be able to use for the improvements tomorrow. After that, it’s just a matter of seeing how well the doll would hold up. 

He didn’t think it were possible, but he’s looking forward to seeing the results.

Chapter Text

Donna works hard that night, hunched over the workbench and squinting down upon the doll she’s working on, dimly illuminated by the flickering lights overhead. Angie sits motionless in the chair beside her. 

Her work earlier that day had not been great. Her productivity was even worse, having been distracted by Heisenberg sitting in the room next door. The veil she wears is also mildly obstructive, especially when attempting to complete tasks of an intricately tricky nature. Now that he was gone, she could remove the veil and get to work without the fear of another person lurking in her home. 

She’d selected another fresh batch of dolls, all ripe for reinforcement, and is currently busy removing their clothes, hair and layers of paint. It’s not exactly hard work, but there is a lot of it, and she needs to get it done if Heisenberg was going to cooperate. 

Though she agreed to it, she’s still a little unsure of the circumstances. Truly, she wished nothing more than to keep herself in Mother Miranda’s good books, and showing off a newly developed strength would definitely make her proud. Not that she’s eager to throw herself into the limelight- the arena where Heisenberg and Lady Dimitrescu fight incessantly over Miranda’s orders. She doesn’t feel she can match up to them, nor does she want to, but the strength has other benefits too, such as keeping herself protected should danger ever come her way. Though she’s never stated it aloud, it is something she worries about. The village was nothing like it was when she was a child. The lycans may be on their side, but she can’t bring herself to like them. All it would take was one order, and they would turn against her. 

That’s why keeping herself in Heisenberg’s favour was also a good idea. After all, he was the one in charge of those ghastly beasts, as well as being a major playing piece in Miranda’s plan. If she was somehow able to worm her way under his wing, not only would she be provided with a bit of protection from Dimitrescu, but Heisenberg himself as well.

But the bigger problem with this lay in the fact that Heisenberg was an exceptionally tricky character. He’s never stuck around longer than he’s needed to, and she sees less of him out of all the lords. Every offer of kindness is met with scepticism and mockery, and though this isn’t much of a surprise to her, she’s struggling with it a little bit. After all, what more could she provide? 

This is what she refers to, in her head, as her own special little plan. If Heisenberg had gone out of his way to help her, even if his intentions weren’t influenced by her safety, but rather an obligation to drag her onto a level playing field, then there must be something behind the gesture that showed he cared to some degree, right? If she could just latch onto that, she may very well find an opportunity to make a solid connection with the most fearsome of her family. 

It’s not like she dislikes being kind to Heisenberg. If she could have her way, she’d have him over every day for tea. The company is nice, but she longs for a deeper connection with her so-called siblings… or anyone for that matter. Her social reputation is not a good one, and she has a feeling that the expectations set for her by her siblings are the lowest out of the four. It’s a very bitter thought. Did they feel she was weak? That she was unworthy to sit with them? Their families' histories are long ones, but as the youngest of them all, she’s having a hard time grasping onto her predecessor's legacy.

Her eyes begin to sting, and the shape of the doll’s half-painted head in her hand soon becomes nothing but a watery blur. 

She roughly wipes at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. She can’t help it. Being a failed experiment with nothing to show for it but a facial deformity she can’t bear to live with- and weak, to top it all off. The other lords don’t speak much of her, if at all. Angie will fight with Moreau at any chance she gets, but Moreau never speaks to Donna directly. At most, all Heisenberg can throw her way is disdain, and perhaps a mild insult to complement it. Lady Dimitrescu barely registers her existence, and will only seem to acknowledge her if it was absolutely necessary. At least Moreau gets some kind of reaction from her, whether it’s a scoff, or a scrunch of the nose, as if she were looking at something particularly foul. Donna gets nothing. It’s not like she longs to be insulted, but when it’s all that’s available, she can’t exactly be picky about the attention she gets. 

But, as stated previously, that comes with it’s own drawbacks, and that comes in the form of being a perceived member of the family, rather than just the doll that sits in the chair in the corner. She can’t have the best of both worlds here, but it doesn’t help that both worlds are astoundingly shit, which leaves her with even less desire to choose. 

This situation, however, could be perfect, if only she could play it just right. Heisenberg, being at the forefront of most operations, would be the perfect spotlight for her to hide behind. If she could show him some compassion, find a way to gain his trust, then she may very well find the company she is looking for. Plus, since Heisenberg will not readily push her into any role of importance, often claiming that spot for himself, she doesn’t have to worry about getting in deep with family matters. This would work! If… only Heisenberg could be just a little more receptive. 

But the tea had been a success, even if he was very reluctant to do so, and he hadn’t yelled at her yet, which was also a good sign. It meant she wasn’t wearing his patience too thin. However, she’s desperate to make a real move to kickstart some kind of relationship. Whether that was striking up a decent conversation, discovering a mutual interest, or proving herself helpful and beneficial to him, it would be the catalyst to push things in the direction that she wanted. 

She’s always suspected the others don’t expect much of her, and whilst that generally weighs down on her, she’s found a good advantage hiding within it. It’s enough to almost surprise her, having come up with it herself. Who knows? Even if Heisenberg did find out her true motivation, he might even be impressed she could be so sneaky. Perhaps that much was wishful thinking, stemming from a desire to impress somebody.

She sets aside the doll, now totally devoid of its body paint. It looks like a sad little husk, having its previous appearance and personality wiped totally clean by a greater power, but she promises it’s for the best. 

Or at least she hopes.

Heisenberg doesn’t come back the next day, but he does the following day. Donna assumes he’s been preparing extra materials for her dolls, as well as taking care of business at his factory. She actually admires how much work he puts into maintaining such a large building. It can’t be easy. For her, it would be far too much.

She wakes up that morning extra early, clearing the leftover mess from her work from the night before, and spends time deciding what tea to prepare for the day. It’s a serious decision for her, and she takes Heisenberg’s reluctance to drink tea into account. So, whilst she’s mulling it over in her kitchen, she finally settles on ginger tea. 

Then comes the next part of the serious decision-making process. What kind of tea set to use.

She has many. In fact, she collects them where possible. She appreciates the artistry of them, and the work that goes into painting them. She’d even consider making one of her own if she had the right materials. Of course, they’re not all too fancy. They’re nothing like the elegant sets Lady Dimitrescu keeps in her castle, but they bring her pleasure all the same. She’d chosen her finest set for Heisenberg’s first arrival, but she wouldn’t tell him that; nor would she tell him that the fact she didn’t initially appear at the door was because she had rushed off to prepare it for them later on. 

She’s a little saddened by his clear disdain for drinking tea with her, but she won’t relent. It’s a pastime she greatly enjoys, and would enjoy more if he would set aside the time to join her. Of course, she can’t force him… not if she was being moral about the whole thing, anyway. She’ll do her best to accommodate regardless.

For today, she selects her simplest tea set, reaching up to grab a small, white teapot from the top shelf. It’s covered in little paintings of strawberries, with cups to match. No saucers, but she thinks Heisenberg would prefer it. As she lovingly holds the teapot in her hands, she can already smell the sweet aroma of ginger-infused tea. 

She makes it herself, too. Most ingredients come from the Duke, when she’s able to catch him in his cart. He’s even taken it upon himself to procure some special ingredients for her, much to her delight. Of course, it keeps the business relationship between them strong, and the grip on her purse decent. She doesn’t mind, though. It’s worth it.

By the time she’s finished neatly slicing the ginger and preparing the leaves, she can hear the front door opening, slamming shut shortly after. The noise makes her jump, and the teacup in her hand almost slips and falls to the ground. She manages to make an awkward reach for it, and Angie watches her, frozen in place. The two of them then share an amused sigh of relief. That could’ve been disastrous. 

Without having to tell her to do so, Donna watches Angie leave the kitchen in order to greet Heisenberg in the foyer. Angie wobbles away, muttering something about Heisenberg barging into their home without knocking. 

Adjusting the tea set, Donna grabs her veil and puts it on, making sure it fits properly in the reflection of one of the pans. With her face obscured, she drifts out of the kitchen to seek out her guest.

They hadn’t been in the foyer, as she’d suspected. Heisenberg had actually already headed downstairs to the workshop, with Angie regrettably in tow. By the time Donna arrives at the scene, Angie is ranting and raving at him, and Heisenberg is making some incredibly obscene retorts in response. Donna’s appearance barely interrupts them.

“At least knock before you come in! This is still our house! We have a right to our privacy, you know!” Angie shrieks, throwing her arms up and down. Heisenberg grits his teeth, before spitting, “Would you shut the fuck up? Like I give a shit what happens here. I’m only here to work, it’s not a damn house call. I didn’t come to see you !”

Angie seethes, and Donna finds herself stepping silently between the two. Angie immediately backs down, gripping onto the hem of Donna’s dress, and Heisenberg takes a step back, dismissing the argument with a nonchalant wave of the hand.

“Forget it, forget it. I brought a few things from my factory for the dolls. Should work a treat if I can get them on there.” Donna is always perturbed by Heisenberg’s strange fluctuation of moods. He could be yelling in your face in one second, and then cool as a cucumber the next. It makes it a tad hard for her to figure out where the lines are drawn, and what and what not to do. The last thing she wants is this man screaming in her face.

Heisenberg strides off to his little space next door and sits down, muttering to himself under his breath. Donna leans down to allow Angie to climb into her arms, and promptly follows him. She can’t deny she’s eager to see what he has planned. Given the opportunity, she’d rather not weaponise her dolls, but if it helped to defend herself and made the dolls a little more resilient, what was the harm?

She watches as Heisenberg sets a bag down onto the table and procures a selection of sharp blades from within. The manic grin on his face when he holds up the shining metal is… only slightly concerning.

“I had a pretty good idea yesterday whilst I was working. It’ll make the weapon mechanics of your doll much more interesting.”

Well… at least he’s enjoying himself? She can’t fault him for that. If she can keep him in a good mood, then it’s a win for her. Angie tilts her head in intrigue, leaning forward to get a better look.

“I think it’ll be easier for you to, uh… wait and see ‘til it’s done.” He finishes with a snicker, setting the blades down upon the table and rooting around his bag for a few more parts.

“Donna found some more dolls for you to work on,” Angie tells him, “We were working on them last night. They’re mostly ready to go.”

“Well, that’s good. If this one turns out to be a success, I’ll get through them in no time.” He replies, not looking up at them in favour of pulling a long screwdriver from inside the bag. The doll he had been working on the other day is still on the desk, though Donna had moved it into a polite sitting position, propped up against the wall.

Heisenberg is about to start working, but he pauses for a moment and chews his lip before eyeing Donna. 

“You just gonna stand there?”

Donna swallows. She bows her head awkwardly, and turns to go back into the workshop. Angie plants her hands on Donna’s shoulder and watches Heisenberg as they leave. Heisenberg spins the screwdriver expertly between his fingers.

“Not a fan of being watched whilst I work, you know. Not unless you’re that curious.”

That’s fine by Donna. She has some things she can attend to, so before she leaves to go upstairs, she sets Angie down onto the chair by the desk, leaving her in charge of the workshop. 

Donna has some tea to brew.

Heisenberg is able to work peacefully for a short while. There’s something therapeutic about repetitive actions, such as fixing screws or assembling parts together. He’s able to tune out his surroundings, letting himself grow absorbed in the work. This tranquil working time lasts about ten minutes, however.

Though he’s able to ignore what goes on around him in favour of work, he just can’t seem to ignore the lingering flash of dull white in the corner of his vision, nor can he ignore the very distinct sensation of being watched. After a moment, he sets his screwdriver down with a loud clatter.

“Would you get the fuck out of here already? I thought I told you I don’t like being watched when I work.” He bares his teeth at Angie, who doesn’t recoil, but is lurking behind the safety of the doorframe. She pokes her head out to speak.

“But I wanna know what you’re doing with those blades,” Angie whines, “you said we could be curious! I’m curious.”

He had said that, and he’s sort of regretting it now. Still, he can’t sense the immediate hostility he normally faces when speaking with Angie. He wonders if this is some work of Donna, or if the doll really is interested in his work. He takes a moment to consider it, eventually rolling his eyes with a huff.

“Fine. Get over here and I’ll show you, but keep your trap shut, got it?”

If Angie could pout, he suspects she would be doing so right about now. Thankfully, she says nothing, but waddles over to join him. When she reaches the desk, she holds her arms out above her expectantly. It takes him a moment to get it, but he gingerly reaches down to pick Angie up and place her on the desk.

“Hey, careful of the dress!”

He glares, and Angie’s mouth snaps shut quicker than he’s ever seen. To think he was actually trying to be careful here. Next time, he won’t bother.

“Alright, well,” he scratches his chin before picking the doll up for Angie to see, “making a retractable blade is piss easy, but I’m gonna go a little further with it, so I’ve got these parts that will extend the blades outwards from its back.”

“But… wouldn’t it work better if the blades were at the front?”

“Maybe, but with these blades, the reach isn’t far enough. Not to mention there’s limited room for functionality. You’ll basically just have a doll that’ll stab whatever it runs into. If I attach it to the back, I have more room to make blades that can attack from other angles.”

He flips the doll over, showing a square of wood that has previously been cut from the doll’s back. “Also, it’ll put the weak spot in the hardest position to attack it from. It’ll be more difficult to disarm the doll if that spot is at the back. It’s just a matter of making the extension sturdy.”

“I see…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he slouches back in his chair, “I could put them at the front- it would work if you could overwhelm your opponent with multiple dolls, but you want range. It’ll be harder to dodge, that way.”

“You put serious thought into this…” Angie comments. It’s not outright offensive, but there’s a lingering sense of subverted expectation in there that he doesn’t much care for. He grabs a metal piece from the table and hunches over to start attaching it to the doll.

“I’m not one to half-ass a job. I’m not Moreau.”

Angie snickers. He might’ve found that endearing if it didn’t sound like cheese-grating metal.

She watches him work for a little while, and he actually doesn’t mind it so much. Every now and then, she’ll make a little noise of wonder, as if she’s inspired by his creation. Though he’d rather she left him alone, it’s better than that dead-eyed stare she normally gives him.

Though there’s naturally no footsteps to be heard, Heisenberg catches a shadow passing by, and a glimpse of Donna standing in the doorway. He curtly ignores her. That is, until she sets something down on the table behind him. It sounds suspiciously like crockery, and there’s a sickeningly sweet aroma that hits his nostrils. The effort it takes him to resist sighing is monumental. Angie hops down from the desk to assist her. If he’s given another shit cup of tea, he’s simply not going to drink it.

Sure enough, Donna carefully sets down a steaming cup of tea on the desk beside him. He pointedly doesn’t stop working.

“It’s ginger tea. It’s supposed to help headaches and nausea,” Angie informs him, “and it’s very relaxing, you know.”

He pauses at this point, his lips twisting into an odd expression of grim realisation. “Is this because I mentioned headaches the other day?” His voice is more exasperated than accusatory, and Angie shuffles awkwardly where she’s standing.

“...no.”

He rolls his eyes. Of course not. Donna would never latch onto a passing mention of weakness and make a feeble attempt to help. Why would she? He should’ve known better than to mention it at all.

He clears his throat, “Look, if… if you’re that desperate to get me a drink, just get me a beer or something next time.” It’s an attempt at an offer to compromise with Donna’s need to accommodate him, and though he doesn’t see it, Donna nods with understanding. She never keeps beer stocked in the house seeing as she doesn’t drink it herself, but she’s more than happy to get a few bottles from the Duke the next time she sees him. She supposes Heisenberg must really be a rugged kind of man. How she would find common ground between the two of them is still a mystery to her, and one that seems unsolvable.

Donna is about to sit at the table behind Heisenberg, but pauses for a moment. He might grow irate if she lingers around him too long. She needed something to break the silence, to create a comfortable atmosphere. 

“Wanna switch on the radio?”

Angie’s suggestion is light in tone, but Heisenberg can’t fathom why. Did these two just not understand the concept of leaving someone alone? Though as he watches Donna fiddle with the radio out of the corner of his eye, he suspects Angie wasn’t really asking him for an answer. She was telling him that was what was happening. 

“If it starts getting annoying, I’m gonna tell you to shut it off, y’know…” 

Angie, having clambered into one of the wooden chairs, begins to kick her legs back and forth, “Do you not listen to the radio whilst you work? We do.”

“No point. Can’t hear a damn thing over the machines in the factory. That’s as close to music as I can get.” It’s true, the radio, even at full volume, is still very hard to hear over the din of the factory, and the noise of grinding metal and whirring machinery clashes horribly with whatever static-laced sound he can get to come out of the piece of shit that now just sits uselessly on his desk. 

“We listen to cassettes too!” Angie seems to totally gloss over Heisenberg’s response, and he’s beginning to feel his patience being worn thin. It’s not even noon yet. 

However, cassettes are things he uses at least semi-regularly, when he has the time and space to listen to them. His are a little worse for wear though, having been plucked out of muddy ditches, pilfered from abandoned houses or bought from the Duke with whatever stray coins and interesting items (also stolen) that he can scrape together. He imagines that, much like the rest of the house, Donna keeps hers in good condition. Must be nice, not having anything important to do.

“Yeah, I’ve got a few of them…” Heisenberg’s response is a little lackluster, what with being occupied with work. He twists the screwdriver, the noise of scraping metal being pleasant to his ears, and finally finishes assembling the first offensive upgrade for the doll. He holds it up to inspect, looking fairly pleased for a job he didn’t even want to do.

“What do you listen to? Music?”

He sets the piece down and begins to pile various parts together, creating little assembly sets for each piece. “Nah,” he mutters, “more like… recorded journals. Statements. Investigations. War documentaries. That kind of thing.”

Angie gives the impression that she’s pulling an expression of perplexion, what with the way she tilts her head to the side. “...journals? Of other people? Why would you listen to stuff like that?”

“It’s a good way to keep up with, uh… what’s going on- or what’s already happened, anyway. They’re probably years out of date, but they’re interesting enough to listen to.” Though, now that he thinks about it, he has picked up a few odd music cassettes, but they all sound like poor attempts to record specific songs to cram in one cassette, so each track is choppy and cuts out about halfway through. Not really worth listening to. Maybe he could flog them off to Donna.

“Huh…” Angie hums, “Maybe you could stick one of them in the radio? Donna doesn’t mind.”

“I have a cassette player to do that.” 

“Oh.”

After that blunt end to the conversation, the tinny silence of the medical room is soon interrupted by a quiet crackling melody that manages to scrape its way out of the radio speakers. Donna turns the volume down, not wanting to disturb Heisenberg further, but really having no idea that the volume wasn’t the problem here. She returns to the table, pulls out the chair with a sickening squeak, and sits down to enjoy her tea. 

The medical room isn’t exactly her first choice for a place to relax with tea, but the company provided by Heisenberg is enough to convince her to stay. She daintily picks up her teacup and takes a sip, relishing in the warmth that spreads over her tongue, and the biting sensation of fresh ginger that nips at her tongue. Truly refreshing, even in such a dank old room. It tastes like being outside in the sun. 

She rests her chin on her hands, and Angie, sitting in the chair beside her, stares straight into space as she begins to sway slowly to the pleasant music. It’s a soft piano composition. One of her favourites, in fact, purchased from the Duke. He’d recommended it to her personally, and he hadn’t steered her wrong so far. 

She’s listened to it multiple times, but if she closes her eyes, the world feels different. Being carried away by the music, she can feel the house around her slowly becoming alive. The creak of Heisenberg sitting back in his chair soon becomes the distant noise of people bustling around upstairs. The melodic tapping of Angie’s feet against the edge of the chair soon becomes the playful footsteps of her sister, running up and down the stairs. The soothing warmth of the steam that rises from the tea in her cup soon becomes the homely sensation of a crackling fireplace, keeping the house warm and safe. 

It’s like she’s really there. The same place, but another time- one she desperately longs to return to. 

Without realising, she’s been humming along to the tune for the past few minutes, very quietly heard from behind her veil. She doesn’t notice it, but Heisenberg, sitting just a few feet away from her, does. She also doesn’t notice the way he glances at her over his shoulder with plain, unblinking eyes.

Heisenberg leaves at some point in the early evening, bidding a short, gruff farewell, and leaving Donna behind in the workshop to clear up. The house has grown cold once more, and the fond daydreams of a happier time is now a fleeting memory, as it always had been. The warmth of the tea has long since subsided, and what little remains of it in the pot is colder than stone. The bright ruby reds of the strawberries painted onto the teapot seem much more dull than they had been before, looking more like splatters of stale blood than plump and juicy fruits. The leaves, once gorgeous verdant leaves, now look like withered nettles. She picks up the pot and stares at it for some time, feeling how it weighs her hands down. 

The teapot is placed back onto the tray, along with the cup she had been drinking from. It’s bitterly cold to the touch. Angie’s cup, barely touched, is also placed onto the tray beside it. The beige liquid sloshes within the ceramic confines, leaving behind a pale residue. The tray feels heavier than it had that morning.

Though, when she goes to collect Heisenberg’s cup, she finds it’s empty, and she savours the way it sits lightly in her hand. 

Chapter Text

The layer of uneven snow beneath Donna’s feet crunches softly when she bends down to rest a hand upon a flat, solid slab of grey stone. The stone is deathly cold to the touch, almost enough to make her flinch and pull her hand away. The bitter chill numbs the tips of her fingers, tinging them a pale pink.

With her other hand, she reaches out to brush off clumps of snow from the green, leafy plants that surround the slab. Angie is standing nearby, hiding behind one of the shorter slabs of stone that protrude from the ground at odd angles. The writing once inscribed upon each slab has long since eroded, leaving nameless memorials for people she no longer knew.

She continues to brush flecks of snow from the larger gravestone, running her fingers over every groove carved into the material. Angie watches her silently, allowing her to have this moment. The faint breeze disturbs the nearby plants, and sends Donna’s veil billowing behind her. For a moment, Angie can spot the lower half of her face- pale, with rosy plump lips. Donna swallows thickly, grabbing the layer of fabric to keep it in place. There’s a long pause, until eventually, Donna removes the veil entirely, neatly placing it atop one of the other slabs of stone.

The next few moments are spent arranging the dolls that are strewn around the grave, having been jostled about by the outside winds. Donna places them in a variety of positions around the stone, creating a scene that could come to life. One little doll in a crimson dress and a bonnet is sitting with its legs dangling over the edge of the stone. Another doll is standing upright, leaning against the horizontal slab with its tiny hands. Angie continues to watch, but does not intervene. Not until Donna speaks to her directly, in a voice barely audible.

“Angie… please fetch the flowers.”

Angie nods, skittering off to haul over the bunches of arranged flowers. Some are woven into intricate wreaths, whilst some are tied together with shining ribbon, but all have been picked from Donna’s garden by hand and lovingly crafted into stunning displays. These arrangements are picked up one by one, slowly finding suitable homes around the grave. Donna thinks long and hard about the position of each one, and when the breeze picks up, the few stray locks of hair that manage to escape from her bun are blown across her face. Donna’s expression twists, but she does not make a move to fix her hair. She doesn’t particularly want to touch her face.

Angie watches her from behind the little gravestone, waiting patiently whilst Donna arranges the flowers displayed around the grave. In a small attempt to help, she quietly flicks a few clumps of snow from the dull foliage clustered around her. As she does this, something catches her eye, and she jumps in surprise. Somehow, she manages to stay silent, as she squints through the thin mist to try and inspect the figure lingering a little way away from the entrance to the clearing. It’s almost impossible to see any details, but against the fading forest backdrop, she can make out the prominent brim of a hat, and the tiny glow of a lit cigar. She glances back at Donna, who is still preoccupied with her work. 

Angie is debating telling Donna that Heisenberg was lurking along the path behind them, but she knows this is a very special time for Donna. She doesn’t want to interrupt, but it seems like Heisenberg isn’t making any moves to come and join them. He’s just… standing there. Angie can just about make out the vague movements of him shuffling from foot to foot, but he’s not even looking in their direction. He’s sort of staring up at the trees above him. He takes a long drag of his cigar. Angie finds this… kind of strange, but if he wasn’t about to interrupt, then she had no reason to tell Donna. 

Despite that, her gaze on Heisenberg doesn’t shift. It doesn’t seem like he’s even noticed her, either. 

After a moment, Donna sits back on her heels, running her eyes over every inch of the grave, and the work she’s put into keeping it decorated. The flowers she’s picked are some of the most vibrant she could find, standing out in bright whites and dusty pinks, even through the mist.

She takes another short moment to simply sit there. Even after thirty years, it doesn’t feel right. The action of paying respects feels… almost outdated in these circumstances. Paying your respects was something you did for deceased grandparents, or for elders of the village who you’d met once or twice as a child, but didn’t know personally. Donna remembers doing both of these things, and it had felt so surreal to her at the time as well. Paying respects… It’s like a tribute to long life. A show of respect for a life once lived.

Paying respects to a child just doesn’t feel right. 

There’s no long life to celebrate for a child who has passed on. There’s respect for the dead, respect for the state of being, but respect for the life lived is a hard thing to celebrate when it had barely even begun. She doesn’t remember feeling respect for this life. She remembers feeling love. Perhaps love is a kind of respect, but it doesn’t feel that way to her. Respect, to her, feels like admiration. Inspiration. It’s almost a commendation, in a way. Love, on the other hand, feels… indescribable. It’s so many things at once. It’s every emotion that could ever be perceived, all existing harmoniously between two people. It’s something you can’t imagine losing until it happens for real.

Donna remembers the day she lost it very well. The love she had been familiar with throughout her life had soon warped, becoming a cold and hollow longing for something she could never obtain. It’s like losing a piece of yourself, and she knows that experience very intimately. 

What she doesn’t know, and still tries to figure out to this day, is how to restore these missing pieces. Empty holes are made to be filled, aren’t they? Yet it seems like every single thing she attempts to embrace just doesn’t fit the holes she’s desperately trying to cram them into.

She’s resigned herself to accepting that this may never change, but she’ll never stop trying. The family she’s found herself a part of now, Miranda’s family, is her only chance to restore bits of what she’s already lost. 

“Donna…”

Donna turns her head just a fraction, but there is no eye there to glimpse Angie out of the corner of. Angie attempts to wade a few steps through the plants in order to whisper to Donna, “He’s here… he’s been waiting.”

Donna stiffens, quickly snatching up her veil and placing it over her face. She hadn’t noticed. Normally, she’s the one to surprise people with her silent presence, but today, it appears the tables had been turned on her. When the veil is adjusted correctly, she stands up. Angie waddles out to the pathway that shrouds the gravestone. Did she say he’d been waiting…?

Donna is a little hesitant to turn around, but it’s not like she has much of a choice. She bites back a wince, anticipating the figure of Heisenberg standing right behind her. To her surprise, he’s standing a lot further away than she’d thought. However, with Donna now standing at full height, waiting expectantly by the gravestone, Heisenberg takes that as his cue to appear. He paces out into the clearing, savouring the last drag of his cigar.

“Didn’t feel it right to disturb you,” is all he says.

Donna is incredibly appreciative of this sentiment, and just as equally surprised to see this kind of consideration from Heisenberg. Not that he couldn’t be considerate, but… it’s something she had yet to see from him during the time they’d been a part of Miranda’s family. She gives him a small, silent nod. 

He approaches the grave with intrigue, momentarily leaning away to blow the cigar smoke in the other direction, which he awkwardly wafts away with his hand. It’s reminiscent of a parent who’s trying not to smoke too close to their child. Donna doesn’t know what to make of it, but she allows him to observe the grave.

His eyes skim the inscription on the top of the grave. It reads,

“Freed from the binds of flesh, she now walks the valley of death.”

Cheerful, he thinks. He definitely can’t think of a more suitable epitaph for the gravestone of a child. Despite knowing of the grave’s existence for many years, he’s never stopped to read it himself. It’s not his grave. It’s not his kid. The irony of his gravedigging habits is not lost on him in this moment, but he knows better than that. Things like this should just be left alone. He’s aware of the kind of man he is, but he’s not a monster. Well… alright, he’s a monster, but he’s not that much of a monster. Credit where credit is due in this case.

Though he knew of the grave’s existence, and of its occupant, he knows absolutely nothing else. To him, Claudia Beneviento is just a name. There’s no person linked to it, other than whoever is resting peacefully beneath his feet. To Donna, however, well… he can’t really begin to imagine it. He’s not actually had any clarification on their relationship either, but the most logical conclusion he can come to is that they had been sisters.

“Seems you keep it in good condition.”

With that factually accurate statement, Heisenberg begins to wander off in the direction of the house, leaving Donna behind to catch up to him. Donna hurriedly picks up Angie, and begins to follow.

It’s become a comfortable little routine now. Heisenberg is pretty much free to head straight to the downstairs workshop whilst Donna sorts out things around the house. Heisenberg makes the tedious trek down to the medical room, swinging his bag out from over his shoulder, dropping it onto the desk with a loud thud. He drops into his seat and gives himself a moment to get settled.

Strangely, his mind immediately drifts to Claudia. She’s been dead for over twenty years now, and though he’s not entirely surprised that Donna has been meticulously tending to the grave for all that time, it’s still a fact that sticks out to him. The Beneviento family had definitely been around in more recent decades, and had all passed on just as recently, which left Donna with more of a lingering sorrow for her lost relatives than the rest of them. He barely remembers his own family, having been taken under Mother Miranda’s ‘maternal’ wing at a very early age. In fact, he’s still not entirely certain of the circumstances that landed him here, but he knows it was sinister and underhanded. Most of what she does falls under both of those descriptors.

Needless to say, he can’t quite relate to Donna’s plight, aside from the fact they had both faced adversity perpetrated by Miranda. Though he detests his so-called ‘siblings’, that is the only reason he could ever bring himself to have sympathy for any of them. Whether they were aware of it or not, they were all in the same boat, set adrift by Miranda in the hopes of achieving her personal goals. That wasn’t even including the countless lives that had been lost over this period of time. He’s grown numb to it now. He knows it’s wrong, but morality has no place in this village. Either he does what he was told, or he dies. Simple as. These rules apply to the other lords as well. 

He wasn’t privy to the details of Claudia’s death, and he suspects the other lords aren’t either. He’s normally in the know about most of the things that happen in the village, but even Miranda has her secrets to keep, and over the decades, he’s been able to piece together the picture bit by bit, purely by what she neglects to tell him, and compares that to what he can observe for himself. What he doesn’t understand is how his siblings are unable to do the same. 

For reasons that are beyond him, Dimitrescu has been gunning for his position as the ‘favourite’ for many years, and it’s only becoming more apparent as time goes on. Despite being an adult much older than he, she still has this bratty attitude that he can’t believe she has the audacity to display in front of everyone. Still, he’s grown accustomed to it, and he fights back with equal pettiness. What irks him further is that he suspects Miranda to view this as the traditional ‘sibling rivalry’, and she only steps in to scold them when their arguments grow out of hand. It was almost like she’d been enjoying this twisted family dynamic, and of course, Dimitrescu plays along with it every step of the way. She even goes so far as to refer to him as her brother, and without realising it, he’s been grinding his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache. 

He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s very much the type of person to think of better arguments in his head several hours later. Even whilst he’s working, he angers himself with these scenarios playing out in his head, figuring out just what it is he wants to say to that oversized bitch. Unfortunately, it’s not something he can say without getting in serious hot water. Perhaps even literally. 

He grunts to himself, roughly taking each tool out of his bag and slamming them down on the desk, muttering gruffly under his breath. “That… fucking bitch.”

“I hope you’re not talking about me…”

At this, he actually does jump a little, and naturally, Donna is standing in the doorway with a tray in her arms. Angie comes trotting out from behind her to confront Heisenberg with her little hands on her hips. She leans over to sneer at him. “Talk about civility.”

“I wasn’t actually talking about you…” he removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, “Seriously, I wasn’t. It’s just that… fucking… ugh. Our wonderful too-big-for-her-own-good sister. Lady super-sized bitch.” He waves an irritated hand, as if trying to emphasise his sister’s poor-quality traits.

Angie recoils, but not out of fear. She tilts her head as if utterly fucking baffled by what he’s saying. “Big sister…? Dimitrescu? She’s not even here! How are you getting mad at someone who hasn’t even said anything to you yet!”

“Trust me, she’s said enough to me so far that’ll keep me pissed off for the rest of my life.” Heisenberg emits a wheezy, sarcastic laugh, tipping back in his chair slightly. “You’re lucky you get to stay out of it so much. If I had a coin for every single time I had to butt heads with her just to get one simple job done, I’d have enough ammo to kill her forty times over.” It’s a stupid little vision, but he thinks he deserves it for putting up with her as much as he does. It’s satisfying to imagine such a petty revenge. What could he say? Miranda didn’t raise her so-called children to be adults. She raised them to be slaves. Now she just had four middle-aged kids to do her bidding for her. She’d taught them nothing.

“Listen,” he waves his hand dismissively, as Donna passes by to place a tray full of teacups onto the desk behind him, “Don’t worry about it. I just get, uh… heated about things sometimes. Ain’t your fault.”

Angie climbs up onto the seat next to him, “What were you so mad about…? Was this because of the other week? You got super mad when she was allowed to pick that villager to eat, when you wanted him for an experiment. You went bright red!”

He begins to chew the inside of his lip, having forgotten that incident up until now. His irate expression isn’t lost on Angie, who shyly bows her head, “Maybe not… um. For what it’s worth, I think you should’ve gotten that guy. Dimitrescu could’ve just eaten him after you were done.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to tell her! But, no, she’d rather throw away perfectly good potential in favour of a meal.” He can feel the rage rising, and he’s ready to start a full-blown argument with himself just over this matter alone. Normally, he thinks he can keep a pretty good temper, so long as he isn’t screwed around with. However, over time, his patience with Dimitrescu has worn away to absolutely nothing, so it takes very little for him to get angry with her. However, even his outbursts of anger don’t last long, and he quickly subsides into quiet exasperation. “She just vies with me over everything so she can get all the attention from Miranda. It’s pathetic.”

Donna begins to fill the teacups on the tray up with beverages, and Angie begins to murmur, “Y’know, do you think she would stop if you wouldn’t get so angry? The two of you bicker all the time, and when you yell at her, she yells at you .”

Heisenberg offers a meagre shrug, “Are you kidding? She’s a fucking idiot half the time. How can I help it? If I don’t say something, she’ll just end up getting in my way. I don’t give a shit about being Miranda’s favourite. She can have that spot if she wants it that badly. I just want her to stop, just… ugh!!” He can really only emphasise his rage through an exasperated shaking of his hands. “Fucking… obnoxious…”

“Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Angie snarks, folding her arms. Heisenberg emits a sigh, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I can lose my temper sometimes, but at least I don’t try to purposely get in everyone’s way. I’m just trying to get things done that will benefit all of us.” Not exactly a lie, he thinks, as he reckons the other lords will also be better off without Miranda- and who knows? If they turn up dead by the end of it, it’ll still be a better outcome. They’d thank him for it later.

Donna sets down a teacup beside him, and sets one down for Angie too. Angie seems to have adopted a meeker demeanour, shyly replying, “I know you think we don’t know, but we notice.”

Heisenberg is taken off-guard in two ways here. The first, is that he hadn’t been expecting Angie, or Donna, for that matter, to say something so… pathetically sweet. It’s not like he does this to get recognition or reputation (though it’s not like he dislikes this kind of attention once in a while). He mostly just wants to be left on his own, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, but… he has to admit, having someone actually agree with him on something is a nice change of pace. Donna had always struck him as having her head permanently in the clouds, but it seems like even she has enough brains to see what’s irritating him so much.

The second thing that baffles him is the contents of the teacup that’s placed next to him. He notices immediately that his drink isn’t emitting a stream of sweet-smelling steam like Angie and Donna’s cups are. He picks it up, and the contents inside are a warm honey colour, fizzling enough to give the liquid a slightly frothy top. The disbelief in his eyes complement the way his expression twists into a very comical look of confusion. He slowly looks back up at Donna, who has taken a seat in the same spot that she had the day before.

“Donna…”

Donna stops drinking.

“Did… Is this beer? Did you put beer in a teacup?”

Donna looks at him as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. She’s really unsure of what to tell him, other than the truth, so the most she can offer him is a slight nod of the head. She’s actually a little worried by how seriously Heisenberg seems to be taking this, but just ends up confused when his lips stretch into a wide grin, barely concealing laughter.

“You’re such a fucking freak, you know that? Who the fuck puts beer in a teacup? Listen, I’ll give you points for, like… getting the right drink. Just give me the bottle next time, okay?” He says all of this through a very amused chuckle, barely even being able to take a drink from the cup without laughing his way through it. 

Donna’s sort of used to being called a freak by Heisenberg, but she’s not had this reaction before. It’s not as mocking or belittling as what she’s seen previously. It seems like… he’s actually finding it genuinely funny, and she can’t understand why. Was he happy…? He was drinking the drink, and he didn’t seem to be angry with her.

He turns back to his work, plonking the teacup back down on the desk, and almost sending its contents spilling over his hand. “You’re such a fucking weirdo…” He laughs to himself, and Donna suspects that this might not actually be an insult when she doesn’t sense the lingering tinge of malice that normally drips from his words. He suddenly seems in far better of a mood than he had been when talking about Dimitrescu. What an enormous win for her! She could not be happier. Her tea begins to taste extra sweet, and twice as delicious. Who knew making mistakes could be beneficial from time to time? Not her.

She enjoys her tea with the noises of Heisenberg working quietly next to her. He’s continuing his work on adding offensive upgrades to the one doll she’d picked out from the beginning, but the other dolls she’d been preparing are all still patiently sitting on her workbench in the other room. She’s been biding her time during her work, figuring out what kind of designs she’d like each doll to have, and making a mental tally of the amount of materials she has to work with. Though she’s criticised for having a childish hobby, dollmaking took quite a lot of skill and commitment. 

However, as she takes her afternoon break, she’s not caught up in the flurry of creative ideas that she normally is. In fact, she’s still thinking about what Heisenberg had been saying. Not the bit about her being weird- the bit before that. About Dimitrescu.

Heisenberg and Dimitrescu have always been the one to have this obnoxious rivalry. In fact, you could say that, due to this, they actually have the closest relationship out of all of them. They have more to say about one another than they do about her or Moreau, and for the most part, she and Moreau generally remain quite quiet during these meetings. 

Back when their family had finally come together (when Donna had joined the party), she had enjoyed just watching them bicker. It didn’t irritate her. The fact she now had another family around her was enough for her to feel comfortable. She’d been so grateful to Mother Miranda for all that she’d done, aside from the unfortunate facial deformity she’d been blessed with, and was all-around just content with the situation. However, she had to admit that even she was capable of feeling quiet resentment towards her siblings every now and then. Heisenberg and Dimitrescu fight as fiercely as they’d done for the past fifty years. Angie still bothers Moreau when she gets the chance, and though you could consider this some kind of warped family dynamic, something just felt… very odd about it all. She’d never been able to really connect to any of her newfound family members, and over time, had grown utterly disconnected to it all.

That is, until she spots an opening to worm her way back in. The desire to fill the holes that had opened when she’d lost her family has never faded. It’s a difficult balance of trying to appease a family that don’t work well together, and fulfilling her wish of a functional family. She’s not given up on this wish. There just never seems to be a solution to her problems, but without her family, she has nothing. 

So, though she observes the constant butting of heads of all four of them, she knows very little about their interpersonal relationships and what goes through their heads. This is why Heisenberg’s little spiel had taken her by surprise. He’s not a man to reveal innermost thoughts. What he says comes purely off the top of his head, and is a basic reflection of his mood in that moment, which is why she’s eager to get some inside information, and maybe finally clue herself in on the relationships between her siblings. Again, for her personal benefit and safety, and also just in the hopes that she can salvage some kind of hope for a family of her own. 

“You’ve… never really liked Dimitrescu, have you?” Angie murmurs, testily. Heisenberg seems to purse his lips, considering his answer. 

“Nah. She’s always been a stuck-up bitch. Surprisingly, I don’t get along with people like that.” He finishes that off with a sarcastic little chuckle. 

“I don’t think she’s that stuck-up, but… well… she…”

“...she’s stuck-up.” 

Donna winces, but carries on sipping her tea, whilst Angie speaks for her. “She does tend to look down on you…” She’s not really sure what she’s saying, or why she’s saying it. She simply wants to keep the ball rolling in the hopes that Heisenberg might be able to piece together the thoughts she struggles to verbally present. 

“Oh, really? And how long did it take for you to notice that?” His voice is jovial, but dripping with venom, and she can’t really blame him. However, it is enough to make her backpedal, as she doesn’t want to ruin the slightly better than average mood she’s created in the room.

“I… I didn’t really… um…”

Heisenberg waves his hand, “Forget it. It’s nothing to do with you anyway. Dragging you into our fights will only make things even more of a pain in the ass for me… and for you, too.”

Donna blinks. Naturally, nobody sees it. There’s a long pause, before Donna decides to work up the courage to ask something that’s been on her mind. Angie’s screeching voice crackles from the doll’s mouth.

“I… don’t understand why the two of you spend so much energy fighting one another. Doesn’t it get tiresome…?”

Heisenberg snorts at this, “Yes. It gets very tiresome and very boring, very quickly . The thing is, I don’t even come in looking for a fight. She just decides to throw down the gauntlet every time I step into a room. C’mon, even you see it. She starts this shit, not me.”

Donna considers this to be a very childish argument, one very befitting for two bickering siblings, and that comparison alone is almost enough to bring her a small amount of amusement. However, she knows very well that he’s self-aware enough to accept the fact that he is equally as childish as he makes Dimitrescu out to be. He just wouldn’t even admit that aloud. 

“Why does she dislike you so much?” It’s an innocent question, coming from Donna, but Heisenberg gives a hefty sigh, momentarily ceasing his work to begin rambling his answer.

“Because, as proven, time and time again, she has this obsessive need to be Miranda’s favourite. So she sets out to cut me down every step of the way, calling me a child, belittling me-- you get the idea. It’s just… it’s pathetic.”

“You really think that’s true?”

“I know it’s true. It’s so damn obvious, and it’s fucking sickening watching her trying to cozy up to Miranda just to get some kind of meaningless label. Who the hell cares about being a favourite?”

Donna looks down at this point, quite guilty indeed. It’s a label that she, herself, had sought after for many years, but never quite as intensely as Dimitrescu. However, as time went on, she found herself receding to simply sitting beside Miranda, enjoying the close proximity. Despite that, Miranda still doesn’t pay her any special attention. She doesn’t really want to put herself in a position of being ridiculed by Heisenberg, but she feels like he should try and see things from her side.

“Well… I don’t know. Sometimes… we just want to feel loved by someone. We want to feel like they love us and nobody else in the world. Maybe it is pathetic… but I think it’s still natural.” Her little speech is long and slow, as she pours an enormous amount of thought into every word Angie speaks in her stead. Heisenberg silently listens, and remains silent for a few moments afterwards.

“That ain’t right… That’s kid behaviour. Fighting just so someone can reassure you that they love you? Not worth the effort. She can have the spot as a favourite for all I care… I don’t need that kind of love from Miranda.”

Donna knows he’s always been a bit of a lone wolf, even amongst their family, seeking almost nothing from Miranda aside from orders. He doesn’t bother trying to be civil with anybody else, either, and for as long as she’s known him, he’s just kept himself holed up in his factory. Still, it surprises her to hear this finally come from his mouth. He always seems so respectful to Mother Miranda, and relishes when he comes out on top in his spats with Dimitrescu. To hear such an indifference that contrasts the way he presents himself during their meetings is… new. In fact, it’s almost shocking. Mother Miranda was what bound them together in the first place. It’s what keeps them alive in this village, living their lives as they do now. Miranda had given that to them.

“I… I see,” is all Donna can bring herself to say. Heisenberg sighs, yet again.

“Look, this isn't about you. It’s about big-ass bitch in the castle over there,” he gestures vaguely with his screwdriver in the direction of Castle Dimitrescu, “It’s just a pain in the ass being dragged into someone else’s insecurities or… whatever. Fine if you wanna gun for the top spot as Miranda’s favourite, but just don’t drag me into it.”

Donna looks down at her empty teacup with a pensive expression hidden under her dark veil. She mulls these words over, and soon sets the cup down onto a matching saucer. 

“Why are you Mother Miranda’s favourite, then?”

Heisenberg carries on working, but it takes him some time to formulate a reply. 

“Because I do whatever she asks. She’ll play favourites with whoever does the job right, and since a lot of the work ends up on my plate, I’ve kind of just… ended up there. I guess I tend to volunteer myself into these spots too. It doesn’t really hurt.” He neglects to add the fact that his physical capabilities might play into it too. He suspects he’s the strongest out of the four of them (and he uses the word ‘suspect’ to prevent himself from looking like a self-congratulating asshole) and, though he’s still a failed test subject, Miranda takes pride in being able to own him. He hates this fact with a burning passion, but if it keeps him in good favour, he’s just going to have to deal with it.

“But if you don’t like it, why do you keep putting in the effort? I mean… wouldn’t you be happier in my position?” Though she suggests this, she can’t really see Heisenberg as the kind of man to sit back and watch other people take over. He’s far more assertive than she is, and she thinks his position may be too taxing for her.

“Because if I don’t show my worth, and if I don’t do as she says, and I find myself sliding all the way down the ranks to the very, very bottom of our little family hierarchy...” he smiles humourlessly, before peering over his shoulder at Donna. He can make out the narrow slits of his eyes from over the rim of his glasses, “...then I will end up dead.”

For the first time in quite a while, Donna suddenly feels a horrible sense of dread looming over her.

Chapter Text

With a few last minute adjustments and minor fixes, the first doll is finally complete.

Heisenberg stands over it with a grin on his face, though from the twist of his brow that Donna can just about make out from where she’s standing beside him, he seems sadistically delighted with his creation. Angie peers over the table at the doll with intrigue.

“That wasn’t too tricky. Should work a treat, too,” he says, before offering Donna a charismatic tip of his hat, “Why not give it a spin?”

Donna eyes the empty Cadou jar on the desk, and then the seemingly innocent doll. With a slight shift of the hand, she wills the doll to move, curious to see what the outcome will be. The doll floats awkwardly in the air for a moment as Donna begins to feel out the new capabilities. The retractable knives that are tucked away on the dolls back whip out with shocking force, causing Angie to topple over in surprise. 

Each part moves smoothly, and though Donna is unaccustomed to controlling such mechanisms, she decides it won’t be too hard to get the hang of. With the doll now possessing a newfound offensive power, it’s clear that this little project is a complete success. Heisenberg chuckles, watching the doll amble around, flicking the blades around in a menacing fashion. It’s not the most refined weapon in the world, but he’ll admit that being taken off-guard by one of these things will be enough to surprise anyone.

“There you go. Now you can, uh… do whatever else you want with it. Be careful with what you stick on the back, though, or it’ll just obstruct the functions.”

Donna nods eagerly, allowing the doll to wander into her arms. She tucks each blade away by hand, securing them to the dolls back, and then holds the doll close to her chest. This had come out a lot better than she’d been expecting, and the process of decorating her dolls is a pleasant pastime for her, so she’s equally excited to get to work. Angie emits a crackle of laughter.

“Oh, this’ll be good! I can’t wait to see it in action!”

“That’s the spirit. You’ll be tearin’ people apart before you know it.” For once, Heisenberg and Angie are on the same page, and his good mood is putting the cold room at ease. Watching the two share a momentary pleasure in destruction, strange a concept as it is, is bringing Donna a newfound joy. After all, it means a lot to her to see someone she holds dear to her (Angie) get along with someone she would like to be able to hold dear (Heisenberg). It’s just the kind of content happiness she’s been looking for. Was that such an unreasonable desire?

She has to thank him. After a good job well done, this is the perfect time for her to pounce and provide an act of goodwill towards Heisenberg that would hopefully be paid back in the future. Cementing this kind of solid relationship, even if it is purely business, would be very beneficial.

Angie is now rattling off a load of ridiculous ideas on how to use these special dolls, and Heisenberg is finding great amusement in this. Donna isn’t paying attention to either of them, and is too busy thinking of what she could do for Heisenberg in return, but the worry that Angie may say the wrong thing and spoil the mood entirely does cross her mind. Perhaps it’s best to keep her busy until then. 

She doesn’t need to say anything. Angie understands her entirely, verbal or not, and is always privy to Donna’s conscious desires. With a simple nod, Angie jumps down from where she’d been hanging from the edge of the table, and trots off to the next room.

“I’ll go and get the other dolls ready.”

Donna watches her go, her pleased expression hidden behind the fabric of her veil.

“Now that I’ve got a basic idea down, doing the rest of these little bastards will be a cinch. They’ll be done before you know it.” Heisenberg murmurs, but the smile on his face is unmistakable. Donna has a funny feeling he’ll be making even wilder adjustments to the next batch, and though she’s eager to find out what, she suspects they might not all be… appropriate for what she’s looking for. That would be a hurdle she’d have to trip over at a later date, however. She still has a gift to plan. 

She sets the doll back down onto the desk, and pauses. Heisenberg’s eyes flicker over her figure, and it almost looks as if she’s about to speak. Sure enough, she holds out a hand as if begging for his attention, but no words follow. Truthfully, she does want to speak, but she regretfully has to wait until Angie toddles back into the room. It’s rather difficult to grab a speaking slot in a conversation when your mouthpiece isn’t even here. Heisenberg quirks a brow at her, his lips protruding into an impatient pout. He’s not an idiot, he can tell she wants to say something, but he’s generally exasperated by her inability to do so simply. Donna visibly sags where she’s standing, emitting a single audible sigh.

“Donna says you should take a break!” Angie yells from the next room, “Go outside and smoke or something!”

It’s a tad unseemly to have to yell from another room, but she hasn’t much of a choice. Angie will be a small while, and she’d rather keep Heisenberg busy so she is able to find something for him. With both of them out from under her feet, and at opposite ends of the house to boot, she won’t have to worry about them clashing whilst she’s gone. Heisenberg seems pretty partial to the idea.

“Could do with one,” he shrugs, snatching a lighter and cigar from the pocket of his jacket. He’s practically lighting it before he’s even left the room, and Donna follows closely behind him like a shadow as he marches in the direction of the elevator. She closes the door after him, leaving her and Angie alone in the workshop. She rests her back against the door and takes a moment to relax.

Angie is by her working desk, shifting a few of the dolls over to the medical room. They float, so it’s not a tedious job for her, but she can hear Angie grunting unceremoniously as she tugs each doll out of the pile. Donna silently thanks her for her efforts.

It’s a shame that a doll wouldn’t be a suitable gift for Heisenberg; not even a weaponised one. He’d have no use for anything like that, and she’s aware of his disdain for most items of this nature. He’s a grown man, after all. What exactly did grown men like…? It’s not something she’s ever had to think about. 

She considers the tastes of her father for reference. Her father enjoyed wine, but she doesn’t pin Heisenberg as the type of person to drink it. Wine was more of Dimitrescu’s thing. A refined drink for refined tastes-- not that she’s implying Heisenberg is unrefined! Except… he is. Just a little bit, as unfortunate as it is for her to admit it. It’s a fact she’ll take to her grave (and if she ever says it to his face, it’ll be a fact he’ll bury along with her).

Her father also enjoyed smoking, now that she remembers, but Heisenberg seems to have an endless supply of cigars in his pocket. She’s never seen him run out, but common sense implies that he purchases them from the Duke. Is there any point in gifting him something he frequently buys for himself? She doesn’t think so.

She’s desperately trying to glean some inspiration from her surroundings. Wood? Materials? He only works with metal, and it’s safe to say he’s in possession of the biggest supply of scrap metal in the village. If she wanted to find scrap metal for him, she’d pretty much just be taking it out of his front yard. 

Tools? Her only tools are for painting and woodworking, and he would no doubt have a surplus of tools in his factory. The only use she envisions Heisenberg having for a chisel is as a toothpick. However, she does have a small supply of medical tools in the room next door- ones that she hasn’t used for a number of years. Perhaps they could be of some use? She’s unsure of how he conducts his experiments, and it’s a bit of a risky idea. What she really wants is something that appeals to Heisenberg personally, rather than just being an object of use for work, but she really knows very little about his tastes. 

Her eyes fall upon the radio. He’d mentioned it himself that he had no use for a radio in his factory, and she’s not particularly inclined to hand it over to anyone. He did say he had a few cassettes, but almost all of Donna’s cassettes are music, and he’d seemed indifferent to those. He preferred… what she assumes are more non-fictional and non-recreational facets of media. Donna uses her cassettes to escape real life, whilst Heisenberg seems to use his to know more about it.

At that moment, it hits her. She has just the thing, and she’s out the door before Angie has a chance to ask where she’s going. 

She’s surprised it hadn’t occurred to her sooner, especially since she’s so prone to lending them out to Moreau, but she’s certain she has the perfect thing that he would enjoy. The short jaunt through the house finally lands her in the doorway of the library; home to her incredible number of books. 

There’s so many that it’s exceeded the space she has on the bookshelves, so she’s simply resigned to having to pile them up around the room. The library had always been overflowing with knowledge, even when she had been just a little child, running excitedly around the room and looking at all the pictures. Now that she’s head of the house, she’d taken it upon herself to purchase books where possible to keep the library thriving. Regrettably, she’s not read all of them yet, but she’s slowly chipping away at it. It’s hard to keep up when the Duke has so many intriguing titles to offer.

However, she is aware of a collection of books pertaining to the history of the land, and the wars and plagues that had swept through the continent in earlier decades. All of these had been kept in order by her father, and now it was her turn to take care of them. Though she’s wary of letting such old books out of her sight, she doesn’t imagine Heisenberg to be the type to be needlessly reckless with such things. She trusts he’ll keep things in decent condition if he’s asked to (though this assumption is very generous of her to begin with).

She plucks out a small selection of books that range within the time period of the late 19th century, early 20th century. They’re not books she’s gotten around to reading yet, but it dawns on her that studying up on this kind of thing could create some good points of conversation for her. Finding something to talk about is always the hardest part of any conversation. (To be fair, for her, every part of a conversation is the hardest part, but she suspects if she were more verbally inclined, she would struggle with this aspect in particular.)

The small stack of books sits comfortably in her arms, and she leaves the library looking very satisfied indeed. With Heisenberg busy smoking on the front porch, she has time to make her gift look presentable enough. The real struggle with this comes with attempting to make a gift look nice without making it look like you spent time making the gift look nice. Heisenberg would no doubt be put off by her particular brand of decor and her need to make things look as good as possible. She’d have to be casual about the whole thing.

By the time she reaches the workshop, books nestled safely in her arms, Angie is done moving the dolls into the next room, and is sitting patiently on the chair. She puts a curious hand to her chin, watching the way Donna glides towards her workbench. She catches onto the idea fairly quickly.

“Oh…?” Her grizzled voice is laced with amusement, “You’re giving him those? Do you really think he’ll accept them?” Angie makes a valid point, and Donna promptly ignores it. Was there any real reason for him to refuse? These books had many benefits, and Heisenberg isn’t exactly picky with what he can get. If there’s an opportunity, she’s sure he will grab it, and even if the books weren’t useful to him, would he at least appreciate the fact she tried? Despite her general lack of confidence, she’s got a very good feeling about this.

She ties the books together with a length of parcel string, and places them on the desk Heisenberg has chosen to work at. Angie, still sitting in her chair, watches Donna make ridiculously tiny adjustments to the stack of books through the open doorway. She keeps turning them a fraction of an angle, indecisive about the way they should sit. It’s obvious she desperately doesn’t want to screw this up, but it’s beginning to border on obsessive.

Donna is still unsatisfied with the presentation, but decides that this is all she can do for now. She anxiously eyes the desk, wringing her long, spindly fingers, and has to make a real effort to tear herself away from this room. Angie emits a little sigh, her legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the chair.

“Stop worrying! It’ll all be fine!” Angie tells her, encouragingly, “You’re always the best at gifts, and knowing that scrap-for-brains, he’ll probably try and hide how much he likes it!”

It’s a silly and slightly uncharacteristic thought, but Donna deeply appreciates Angie’s support. She may not be adept at reading a room, and to be fair, neither is Donna, but her confidence is generally well-founded. It’s enough to make her feel at ease, and Donna decides to sit in the chair beside Angie as they anticipate Heisenberg’s return.

It might seem like overkill for a simple gesture, but Donna has a very specific plan in mind, and she wants it to go perfectly to prevent unexpected problems from arising. After all, if this project finishes without a hitch, she’ll be in good favour with Heisenberg, and even better favour with Mother Miranda; and the best part about the plan is that neither of them will know what she’s up to. 

Heisenberg returns a few moments later, tucking the door shut behind him with his foot, and takes a few lazy strides towards his desk. He’s about to flop down into the chair, but the books catch his eye. He blinks, the perplexion in his eyes masked by his glasses. Where did these come from?

He need only tilt his head a fraction to eye the way Donna is lingering in the doorway like a shy little ghost. He wants to assume that she’s mistakenly left her belongings scattered over his workspace, but the way she watches him expectantly blows that idea out of the water. Again, with the unpredictability of this woman. He sighs.

“Alright, then. What’s this?”

Much in the way Donna peers around the edge of the doorframe, Angie suddenly peeks out from behind Donna, and squints up at Heisenberg. “Donna wants to thank you for doing such a good job, and, uh…” Angie seems to rattle off a bit, as if reading from a script, “oh-- oh, yes, and for, uh… putting so much valuable time into this. It would mean a lot to her if you were to accept it.” Donna seems to recoil for a moment. That hadn’t been part of the script.

Heisenberg raises a brow. 

“They’re books.”

“I got eyes, dollface.”

Angie leers at him. Strange. That could’ve almost been a term of endearment from him, if he didn’t have such an awful habit of wrapping his lips around every word, putting an unnecessary emphasis of force behind each one. As much as Angie would like to bite back, she refrains from doing so for Donna’s sake.

“You mentioned the other day about those cassettes you like to listen to. We don’t really have tapes like that, but we do have some books we think you’d like. You’re welcome to take them.”

Heisenberg swallows back yet another sigh. Even just by mentioning one tiny thing in a passing conversation, Donna is able to latch onto it like a leech to the belly of a fish. This is just like the headache thing again- he’s going to have to really watch what he reveals, but even then, he wouldn’t be surprised if Donna is able to glean more useless information from his silence. 

Still… as he’s perusing the few titles she’s selected for him, he can’t deny that he’s at least interested in what she’s offering. Judging by the covers and bindings, they’re high quality books, no doubt from her personal home library. It seems like she’s actually put some amount of thought into it, and whilst he’s not really in a hurry to accept empty gifts and gestures of goodwill from her, he’s a little more inclined to take these books home with him. They really do look like something he’d read in his spare time. Guess it didn’t hurt to accept them, but he’s not about to get roped into obligatories here.

“Look, just to make things clear, I’m not doing all of this to get something good out of it. Don’t start… feeling like you owe me, or whatever. You don’t.” At this, he emits a noise of amusement to himself, “Well… not in this instance, you don’t.”

“We know that,” Angie argues, “Donna just wanted to thank you for your troubles, that’s all. They… they are okay, right?” There’s a tinge of hopefulness towards the end of that sentence, and Angie tilts her head in a way that’s begging him to say yes. Heisenberg would find great amusement in tearing the little doll down, but Donna’s been staring at him for quite a while now. He can’t predict what she’ll do if he says no, so he offers a curt bow of the head, and a grin that belies it.

“How could I possibly complain?” He takes a moment to lift his glasses just above the bridge of his nose- enough to peer over at Donna from beneath the lenses, “Better than getting a pile of shit I don’t care about.” It’s the best he can do in terms of gratitude. 

Donna seems to understand, but puts a hand to her chin as if considering what to say next. Angie glances up at her, and then turns back to Heisenberg, “She also says you’re welcome to borrow books from the library if you want to. You might find things in there that could help you with your work.” Donna doesn’t want to lay the offer on too thick, but it’s better to do it now whilst it’s still relevant. To her surprise, Heisenberg seems partial to the offer.

“Not a bad shout.” He mutters to himself, putting the books back on the desk. He’s not familiar with the kind of books Donna keeps in her collection, and had kind of assumed she was one for fairytales and whimsical storybooks, not the historical recollections she’s presented him with. Maybe she really does have some helpful sources of information tucked away in the house somewhere. He’ll gladly take her up on that offer, if it’s all the same to her.

“Fair warning,” Angie’s voice is laced with mirth, “if you don’t find a book you’re looking for, you’ll have to go bully it out of Moreau. He’s had some of our books for years now! If that ugly fish-face has ruined a single page in any of them, we’re gonna beat him stupid!”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Heisenberg smirks. “I’m no bailiff, but I’ll pass along the sentiment next time I wind up at the reservoir. It’s the least I can do.” He’s aware he speaks of not returning favours or fulfilling obligations, but this is one thing he’s more than happy to do. Moreau isn’t normally worth much of his time, but where there’s a fish to cower beneath his boot, there’s more benefits to be had. It might not seem like it, but anyone with a keen enough eye would soon discover there’s a good deal of things to find in that dingy pit. Whatever he can’t find for himself, he can drag out of Moreau. 

Angie cackle is sinister, and could put his fifty-year chain-smoking laugh to shame. In this context, he appreciates their mutual passion for intimidation and extortion. If she wasn’t so utterly irritating as a character, they could probably get along to some extent- maybe even more if she wasn’t a damn doll. He really can’t pass that one by. It’s just weird. It’s made even weirder by the fact he can’t always discern what’s coming from Angie and what’s coming from Donna. He wonders how much of Angie’s crappy attitude and bossiness stems from Donna. If he could get away with hiding from consequences behind a doll like she does, he’d be laughing, but he finds that a five-foot hammer has much the same effect.

Maybe this would work out for him in more ways than he’d anticipated.

Chapter Text

Every family meeting held by Mother Miranda usually ends up following the same routine. The current state of affairs are clarified, upcoming plans are discussed, and Dimitrescu and Heisenberg have their quality bickering time. Moreau slinks around in the corner and listens quietly, and Donna sits back and watches all of it happen without saying a word. 

The sibling rivalry is a little more subdued today than normal, as the main point of discussion in the meeting was something Mother Miranda deemed to be of the utmost importance. It appears Mother Miranda had a very special child in her sights, and that they would be enacting a serious plan in the coming months. Donna listens to this much, but tunes the rest of it out. Whatever she failed to remember, Angie would remind her of, so having her special companion there was very helpful for her. 

Oddly enough, she finds herself observing Heisenberg a lot more than usual. She tends to tap out entirely once his voice reaches a certain volume, but she doesn’t realise she’s been staring at him for almost the entire meeting, quietly observing the way he behaves. Needless to say, she’s become more intrigued by him over recent weeks, and she’s beginning to make little connections between what she sees of him in the meetings, and what she sees of him in her home. This is purely out of curiosity for her, but the insight may prove to be helpful in other ways.

He’s slouching in one of the pews in his regular fashion with his hammer neatly propped up beside him and a cigar dangling from his lips. Dimitrescu sits opposite him, towering over him in all her graceful glory, much in the way her castle towers over the rest of the village, but every snide remark from her is met with an angry rebuttal from him. Even when she shuffles to sit at full height, he’s not even remotely daunted by her. Donna is a little bit envious of this.

It does prompt her to consider what he’d told her days beforehand. She’d definitely been surprised to hear Heisenberg’s confident theory on Dimitrescu’s behaviour, and had been even more so by his indifference towards Miranda’s affection, but that had paled in comparison to what he’d ended that thought with. 

If he fell behind in his duty as a lord… would he really end up dead? That had struck an alarming amount of fear within Donna. Even if it’s an unpleasant thing to admit, she’s not an idiot. She knows that she’s vying for the very bottom spot in the hierarchy against Moreau, and she’d never really considered that an issue up until now. Surely, this couldn’t be true. Was this just what the pressure of being the ‘favourite’ did to him? If so, she finds his disdain for the role to be understandable, but it still leaves her with more questions than answers.

Despite expressing his thoughts about the circumstances earlier, he remains much the same as he does in every meeting. He shows up displaying his regular act of bravado, remains cool and civil towards Miranda, and mouths off to Dimitrescu when the time calls for it. The cold dismissiveness that he’d shown when talking about Miranda is nowhere to be seen here. Donna finds this very curious. It seems like there’s an awful lot he’s keeping to himself, away from the meetings and away from the eyes of Mother Miranda.

Speaking of Miranda, Donna occasionally eyes her from where she’s sitting. Not once does Miranda even glance in her direction, but that was fairly standard. She stands elegantly above them, head held high, looking as if she’s addressing not four but thousands of people in the room. Donna has often marvelled at how regally she presents herself. She silently relishes in the idea that she will soon be able to show off her newfound power to Miranda, and is keen to imagine what the reaction will be. Heisenberg had even said it himself that Miranda would no doubt be pleased, and that her initiative to become stronger will paint herself in a most positive light.

From under her veil, she begins to bite her lip at this thought. Why had he said that? 

From what she could gather from his argument, he’d turned up out of his own volition in order to help her gain enough strength to join her siblings on an even playing field, an act that would benefit them all. Impressing Mother Miranda was just the icing on the cake, but why did he care about whether or not Miranda would be pleased? He’d already said it himself that he doesn’t care much for Miranda’s attention, implying that it was only necessary to bear to keep himself out of trouble. If he was so dismissive of Miranda’s opinion to begin with, then why would he even bring it up? Encouraging her with the idea of making Miranda proud whilst simultaneously showing disdain for doing that himself just didn’t make sense to her. What did he get out of making her look so impressive?

She finds herself slowly becoming confused by this idea, as her brain begins to fill with fog, and she soon ends up just chasing the same thought round and round in a little circle in her head. Something really didn’t feel right here, but she can’t quite figure out what it is that’s making her feel so uneasy. 

For him to appear to her like he did, it must mean that he cares about her wellbeing to some extent. If that somehow wasn’t the case, then what could possibly be the alternative…?

Her thoughts during the meeting had weighed on her mind so heavily that by the time the meeting was over, Donna felt like she just had to do something about it. After silently watching the other lords skitter away back to their domains, Donna decides to stay behind for just a few moments, hoping her presence would be enough to grant a small audience with Mother Miranda. Thankfully, Miranda graciously awaits her, and allows her to speak. Naturally, Angie speaks in Donna’s stead.

“We just wanted to tell you that, well… we’re not slacking off! We’ve been working hard to become even stronger in recent days, and our efforts are becoming successful.” Donna adopts a more formal approach when speaking with Mother Miranda, which may sound strange coming from the mouth of Angie. Miranda listens quietly. “We won’t be letting you down any time soon, Mother Miranda.”

Miranda smiles, and it’s a smile so soft that it barely registers on her face. “I see. What exactly is it that you are doing?”

“We’re upgrading our dolls to become even more powerful. When we’re done, it’ll be like having a little army on our side!” Angie becomes visibly excited with every word. Somehow, Miranda seems to do the exact opposite, as she purses her lips ever so slightly.

“And where did this idea come from, exactly? I assume you’re referring to the dolls you split your Cadou amongst.”

Donna wants to wince at the mere mention of the Cadou, but steels herself under the gaze of her mother. However, Angie seems to stumble over the answer she’s trying to give, and Donna knows exactly why. Do they tell Mother Miranda that it was really Heisenberg’s idea? Or do they lie and claim the idea for themselves? Heisenberg doesn’t seem desperate to claim anything for the work he’s doing, and Donna suspects it’s not like he’ll need the boost in reputation. 

“Uh… it was our idea.” Angie manages to say, “With the Cadou, they’ll be able to move and fight autonomously. It’ll be easy to overpower anyone with the amount that we have.” Somehow, Angie is starting to sound more and more unsure of herself as she carries on. There’s a small pause after she stops speaking in which Mother Miranda seemingly begins to mull over the new information. 

“I see,” she says, plainly, “Your desire to gain greater power is… admirable. This will be good not only for you, but for all of us. I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labour.” Miranda offers a gracious bow of the head after that, and turns to excuse herself, leaving in the opposite direction. Donna continues to stand there for a moment, processing what’s just happened.

That was… good. That was good, wasn’t it? Miranda seemed pleased by the effort she was putting into this, and even looked forward to the final outcome! Though Donna doesn’t find herself as awash with praise as she was expecting, she realises that if she can do absolutely stunning work, Miranda’s favour would only grow. This was a good start. This is… what she wanted.

This is what she wanted.

Heisenberg barely gets his foot through the door to one of his workshops before the telephone starts ringing. His expression turns from placid to thunderous almost immediately. Miranda is the only person who would ever call him through the phone- it’s part of the reason why he has one to begin with. What frustrates him is that he’d just been at the meeting. Why is she suddenly phoning him now? Could she have not asked him to stay behind just a few more minutes to speak in private? He flings his hammer off towards the wall somewhere, stalking towards the rotary dial telephone that’s sitting innocently on the workbench. 

He picks it up with great force, flopping down into the chair, “Yes? Mother Miranda?”

There’s a small pause here where Miranda prepares herself to speak, and her voice, even through the tinny, distorted line of the telephone, is as prim as ever. “ Heisenberg. I’ve just spoken with Donna .”

That’s enough to make Heisenberg fling his glasses off and pinch the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. This didn’t feel like it was going to be good. Miranda would have no reason to phone him like this if there hadn’t been some sort of problem. Just what the hell was Donna running her mouth off about now?

“Uh-huh? And?”

“ She’s informed me that she is working diligently to improve her offensive capabilities, and that what she is effectively creating is… a doll army .”

Well, when she says it like that , it just sounds stupid. He bites back another sigh, leaning back heavily into his chair and propping his feet up upon the desk. “Well, whatever makes her happy, I suppose…”

“ I take it this is your idea? ”

“Somewhat. Is there a problem with what I’m doing? I am doing what you asked me to, Mother Miranda.” He’s a little unsure of where this is going, but he can’t possibly predict what Donna may or may not have mentioned to Miranda, so he’s rather wary of the situation as it stands. Miranda’s tone is impossible to gauge from over the phone.

“ What I really would like to know is why has Donna come to me about this? I told you specifically not to let her know of my wishes. I would’ve thought you’d understood this. ”

Heisenberg is gearing up to explain himself before Miranda’s even done talking, managing to slip his argument in before she can go off on a long spiel about his inadequacy. “No, no, you got the wrong idea here. She doesn’t know anything about that. What I ended up doing, uh… in order to secure her interest in becoming stronger, was using you as motivation. Now, I know you said you didn’t want to be involved at all, I get that…” He didn’t think this plan would come back to bite him in the ass so quickly, “...but she doesn’t think the order came from you. She thinks it was just a nice suggestion from her dear old big-brother to make mother happy. In her eyes, this is more like… a surprise-- a surprise for you, in order to show her worth.”

Miranda listens silently, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect she’d just left the phone midway through his excuses and had gone to get a cup of tea. He scratches his chin, feeling drained by the fact he’s having to battle his way out of this. “For all she knows, you have no idea about any of this-- at least, up until now, and it was the only way I could convince her to put real work into any of this. You have to understand, Mother Miranda. She’s difficult to work with.”

“ Yes, I see. ”

“But, the project is coming along well, and she’s been pretty receptive to the improvements so far so… there won’t be any trouble.”

“ You must understand, Heisenberg, that it is very important that she does not know of my true wishes. Her mental stability already crumbles easily under the weight of her own self-consciousness. As one of my beloved children, should I be the one to ever break her heart, or her mind, then she will simply fall apart. We cannot have that. ”

“Of course not, Mother Miranda.”

“ I am what keeps her here with us, and should she lose that faith in me, she will be useless. Defective or not, it is better to keep her here with us, than to lose her, don’t you agree?”

She went from ‘beloved child’ to ‘useless defective’ far too quickly for Heisenberg’s tastes, but he obediently, albeit thickly, replies, “Yes… Mother Miranda.”

“So long as there are no misunderstandings, I am happy with how this is progressing. I will play along with Donna’s little game for her sake… and for yours. That is all.”

Heisenberg doesn’t respond, and Mother Miranda hangs up. She somehow made it sound as if she was doing him the biggest favour in the world, and that irritated him to no end. What added more fuel to the fire was fucking Donna. What the hell did she think she was doing, blabbing about their plans to Mother Miranda so soon? He’d had no time whatsoever to workshop how this scenario was going to play out once all the dolls were done, and Donna, again with the unpredictability, had chosen to take the moment into her own hands. This didn’t so much as throw a spanner in the works for him as it did throw one directly at his head, and it seems as if he’d managed to dodge it by mere millimetres. What the hell was she playing at?

He drops the phone back on the hook, roughly rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, “For fuck’s sake, Donna…” he grumbles to himself. 

It’s at this point that Heisenberg goes to shift his foot, and he almost ends up knocking what’s sitting on the desk over onto the floor. Through narrowed eyes, he glances over at the pile of books wrapped neatly in parcel string placed next to the telephone. For a moment, his eyes soften, and he sighs. 

Luckily, this hadn’t gone down a disastrous path, and despite what Miranda might call her, Heisenberg had come to realise that Donna isn’t exactly an idiot. The only problem is that he can’t go around telling her his problem with her outright, or she’ll figure out what’s going on immediately. She wouldn’t see anything wrong with telling Miranda of her plan- why would she? As far as she’s concerned, Miranda has nothing to do with any of this, but if Donna is doing this for her, then of course she’s going to want to say something about it.

Maybe it wasn’t worth pressing. After all, Miranda had simply been surprised to have been confronted about Donna’s plan in such a forward manner, and he sure as hell shared the same sentiment. So long as Donna was kept under the illusion that she’s perfectly fine in Mother Miranda’s eyes, then all was well. He’ll just have to bite his tongue and save his irritation for Sturm.

Chapter Text

Heisenberg turns up at House Beneviento much earlier than he’d ever done before. After the events of the meeting, and a close shave with Mother Miranda, he’s eager to get these dolls done as soon as possible. With a heavy leather bag slung over his shoulder, he’s trudging through Donna’s front garden before he’s even finished his first cigar of the day. 

He flicks the cigar butt into the snow and freely lets himself into the house, feeling the homely warmth soothe the bitter sting of cold weather on his cheeks. Nobody is immediately here to greet him, and that’s fine. It’s become routine now that he’ll just simply head to the elevator, get down to the medical room, and begin his work for the day. In this peace and quiet, he’s confident that he can make good headway with the next doll he’ll be upgrading.

Over the past few days, he’s finished about four dolls in total, and they’re all sitting neatly in a row in the corner of his desk. The pile of unfinished dolls lay scattered unceremoniously on the big table in the middle, all patiently awaiting reconstruction. Heisenberg sits down and gets to work.

Eyeing Donna’s workbench over in the next room, he can sort of make out what she’s been doing to the upgraded dolls. A case of paints lay open on the desk with all the little lids screwed on tightly. A glass, now retired from its original purpose, holds a decent amount of dirty paint water, and the brushes sit neatly beside it. He can even make out scraps of material in little piles over one half of the desk, with a pair of sewing scissors acting as a paperweight to keep them in place. For someone as tidy and well-presented as Donna, her workbench is looking surprisingly messy. It’s almost starting to make him feel at home. 

Speaking of Donna, she has yet to appear. In fact, after twenty minutes of silent working, Heisenberg realises that he’s not seen her once since he arrived. There’d been no silent shadow lurking in the next room, nor a little head popping in through the doorway to check up on him. Hell, even Angie hadn’t come to offer him his daily bollocking. The house feels eerily silent, and without its even quieter owner, it makes everything feel much more empty. 

He ignores this at first, resuming his work without so much as a second thought. It was her house, after all, she could do what she liked within these confines, and it’s not like he’ll be doing anything more than working. He doesn’t need her keeping an eagle eye on him the whole time. He’s a damn adult, not an unruly toddler who requires constant supervision (and if the events of the previous day are any indication, Donna is the toddler in this scenario, not him).

He does enjoy this quiet working time. The silence in the workshop doesn’t ring as loud as what little silence he can scrape from within the factory does. The work is easy as well, though he begins making slightly different and trickier modifications to the dolls’ arsenals as he goes on. However, after about an hour, Donna’s lack of presence is starting to weigh on him slightly. Maybe it’s because Donna seems very much like a woman of routine, or, at least that’s how he’d initially pegged her. Angie’s lack of appearance is even more concerning, considering the doll’s rambunctious nature. He’d seen neither of them anywhere on the walk up to the house, so he’s not sure what to assume.

...alright, it’s not that he really cares that much, but for a reason even he can’t quite pinpoint, it’s starting to irritate him a little. The house feels unnaturally eerie- even more so than usual. Did she even manage to get out of bed this morning? Is she ill? He’s not sure if that’s even possible anymore. It would be nice to have at least some indication of whether or not she was still roaming this mortal plane, especially if he’s still making these dolls for her. 

So, after mulling it over for about fifteen minutes, Heisenberg sighs and finally pulls himself out of his chair in order to search for Donna. The house isn’t too large, so it’s not too much ground to cover, but he’s aware that certain areas of the house will be inaccessible to him. If Donna’s gone and locked herself in a room, he’s not about to break down the door just to say hello. He reckons he’ll just give the house a quick skim and see if she’s around. If not, he’ll just get back to work.

He pokes his head into every room he passes by, growing more and more perplexed by the minute. The kitchen is dark and cold, with no sign that anybody’s been cooking or preparing tea at all today. The bedroom (messier than he’d been expecting) is also empty, with an unmade bed strewn with blankets. The only thing resembling any kind of company in any of the communal rooms are the hordes of dolls that sit eerily still upon the furniture. Heisenberg isn’t an easily perturbed man, but even this many dolls in one space is unnerving to him. 

“Donna…? Are you even here?”

He does consider the idea that she simply could’ve stepped out earlier this morning, but where would she go? She rarely leaves her house to begin with- he suspects a trip to visit the Duke might be the only thing that will get her out and about, but even then he’s unsure if that’s a part of her routine. Visiting Claudia’s grave is also a reasonable assumption, but he hadn’t seen her there when he’d passed by. It doesn’t feel like there’s anybody in the house at all, but he just can’t figure out where else she could possibly be. She knew he was coming over today, too. 

After a while, he shrugs and gives up. Maybe she was just off to see the Duke. That would be the most likely explanation, but she could’ve at least left him a note or something. It would’ve saved him the trouble of wandering around the house trying to figure out if she’d died in the night or not. 

He’s more than happy to make the trip back down to the medical room and resume his work, and that’s exactly what he does. The elevator trip is uneventful as always, and despite him keeping a keen eye out for anyone on his way back, it seems like there’s just nobody in the house at the moment. That is what he’d initially wanted, but without Donna there’s nobody to grab him a beer, so it’s only mildly inconvenient. 

He flops back down into his seat whilst considering if he could get away with smoking in the house or not. It’s not like Angie is here to tell him no, but if he knows his luck, that little bitch will make a sudden appearance the moment he pulls his lighter out. 

He thinks about that for quite a while. 

He reaches out for his coat pocket, rummaging around in search for his lighter, and finally pulls it out with a victorious grin. However, this does not deter him from keeping a suspicious eye on the door. With his other hand, he manages to procure a cigar, and just as he’s about to put it to his lips…

“Um.”

“Are you fucking serious?!” He growls, hastily shoving the lighter back into his coat pocket, “I see absolutely nothing of you all morning, and now you decide to show your face?” He glares at the small spot in the doorway, which is currently being occupied by a small and slightly bewildered doll. Angie’s little ceramic hands keep her propped up against the doorframe, as she peers into the room. 

“What?”

Trust her, he thinks. This is exactly the kind of bullshit he’d been imagining. It’s nice to know that he wasn’t wrong, but it’s a bigger pain to know that he was right. He huffs, leaning back in his chair to give Angie the glare he felt she deserved. Angie, however, doesn’t assume her usual offensive stance. She seems quite timid, lurking by the open door. The harsh lighting in the medical room sends a long shadow stretching out through the workshop behind her. 

“So what gives? I didn’t come here to play hide and seek, y’know. Could at least leave a note if you’re gonna be gone. I’ve got no damn clue where you keep the beers.” 

Angie tilts her head slightly, and the little veil she wears drapes rather gracefully over her tiny porcelain body. No immediate backbiting response is to be heard, much to Heisenberg’s curiosity. 

“We weren’t out. Donna doesn’t want to play today.”

“Well, that’s good. I told you, I don’t come here to play, I come here to work. I’m not bothered by what you get up to here, but I’d like at least some indication that you guys are still alive. If I call for you, I expect at least some kind of response.”

Angie shuffles awkwardly. “Well… Donna really doesn’t want to see anyone today.”

Heisenberg chews his lip as he thinks about this. “And that’s what you’ve come to tell me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Removing his hat, Heisenberg runs a hand through the mess of silvery hair that covers his head, emitting a nice, long sigh. “Alright, then. It’s not exactly a problem for me. Who knows? I might even get proper work done without you two loitering around.” That last point is meant to be a bit facetious, but his tone doesn’t convey that in the slightest. Grabbing a previously discarded screwdriver, Heisenberg begins to get back to work. 

However, as Angie is tottering away, a thought suddenly grabs hold of his mind, and he suddenly slides back in his chair, filling the room with a sickening screech.

“Hold on. You’ve been in the house the whole time?” Heisenberg’s expression is quizzical, and Angie has to backtrack to meet his gaze. She offers a quiet nod, and Heisenberg scratches his head. “I didn’t see you anywhere. Where the hell were you?”

“Did you forget about the pollen from outside? You may be stronger than we are, but in our house, you see only what Donna allows you to see.” Angie tells him flatly, and the regular strain of her voice is starting to seep back into her words. This is not welcomed by Heisenberg in the slightest, but what she says unnerves him even more. He’s fully aware of Donna’s abilities, but it actually hadn’t occurred to him in the moment that she would be using it on him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t much care for it.

“So, what you’re saying is that I probably did pass her by, but just didn’t see her. Fucking figures…”

“She’s in her bedroom. To be honest, we weren’t expecting you to actually come looking for us, so… you gave her quite the fright when you walked in.”

At this, Heisenberg laughs. “Sorry about that. I don’t make a habit of snooping around other people’s bedrooms.” As he speaks, he continues to work on the dolls at a leisurely pace. Angie continues to linger in the doorway. “So what’s got her in such a mood? I know she ain’t exactly a stellar representation of functional adulthood, but hiding in your bedroom when you have a guest over is pretty childish.”

Angie leans over to leer at him, “What was that you were saying before about doing whatever she likes in her own home?”

“I did say that.”

“And I’ll bet you have tendencies just as childish in your own house! Just like the way you throw your little temper tantrums during our meetings.” She reaches out to point an accusatory finger in Heisenberg’s direction. Heisenberg pauses, before offering Angie a narrow gaze from over the lens of his glasses.

“I don’t have a house, dollface, I have a factory, where I work. I don’t got time to play stupid games like you two do- and even if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time sulking in my room. Probably because I’m not a fucking toddler!”

The noise of pure frustration that comes from Angie is comparable to the shrill whistle of a boiling kettle, and she throws her hands down in exasperation. “Well, you could’ve fooled me! And she’s not sulking! She’s just a bit upset today! She needs her alone time. I bet even you need some of that every once in a while.”

She makes a good point on that last bit, he figures. For that, he decides to humour the situation, and politely overlooks what she’d been implicating at the beginning. “So what’s wrong with her then? Did she break one of her dolls or what?”

“No! She’d never be that careless.” In Angie’s mind, that’s solid reasoning, but in Heisenberg’s mind, he’d beg to differ, if only to be insulting. With a small huff, he blows a stray piece of hair out of his face as he leans forward to screw in a particularly tricky piece.

“Is it Claudia?”

At this, Angie goes deathly silent, and for a moment, Heisenberg suspects he may have hit the nail on the head. However, he’s proven wrong when Angie quietly says, “No… that’s not it.” It seems like she hadn’t been expecting him to suggest that of all things, but he can’t imagine why. It's a fairly reasonable assumption.

“Then what?” 

He’s not really expecting a proper answer. Donna is very much the secretive type, and he honestly doesn’t care that much about her personal life. Call this a surface pleasantry, with the added bonus that he might get some useful information out of it. He’ll listen if there’s an answer to be given, but he’s not going to try very hard to seek it out. Angie is also very fiercely defensive of Donna, so he’s not expecting her to yield sensitive information either. However, subverting his expectations yet again, Angie provides him with an answer he’d not been expecting.

“It’s… I think… it’s Mother Miranda.”

Why is he not fucking surprised? What with the way his siblings mindlessly fawn over Miranda, he’d not really considered that she’d end up actually presenting herself as a problem, especially considering how hard she worked to rigidly maintain this godlike appearance towards them. Hell, that fact alone is the entire reason he’s here to begin with. 

When that thought finishes, Heisenberg stops dead in his tracks, realising that this was exactly the opposite of what he’s been trying to do. It could have nothing to do with the situation at hand, but Mother Miranda being the cause of Donna’s upset is potentially going to pose a very dangerous risk to his plan. There’s no way she could’ve figured anything out-- not unless Mother Miranda went and said something stupid and incriminating, but (and he despises the fact he has to admit this) even she isn’t that dumb. She’s far too smart to unintentionally sabotage her own plan, which means the fault in all of this will lie with him, and he can’t have that. 

He drops the screwdriver and spins around in his chair to face Angie. “Mother Miranda? What makes you say that?”

“It’s…” Angie suddenly shakes her head, “No, it’s probably none of your business. Besides, why in the world would you care?” She says this with great force, but there’s a sense of lingering uncertainty within her words that implies that her words belie her true thoughts. This only serves to intrigue Heisenberg further, and he offers her a good-natured shrug.

“Do you think I would ask if I didn’t care?” 

Angie stares at him. Her little beady eyes are piercing, and Heisenberg is impressed by the fact that he can be stared down in such a fashion by a doll. Though her body is little more than a husk, it’s as if she’s really trying to gauge his placid expression. 

“... I think you would.”

Interesting answer. Even more interesting implication. For that, he has to smile.

“Then… let me rephrase it. Do you think I would ask if I didn’t want to know?”

“So you can go and tattle to Miranda? No way. You’d only want to know if there was something in it for you.” Angie’s accusatory tone is thick, and it looks as if she’s about to start spitting venom at him right there and then. With his elbow propped up on the backrest of the chair, Heisenberg rests his chin on his hand. The glasses he wears masks the glint in his eye. 

“You’re right. There is something in it for me, but running off to Miranda isn’t it,” he replies, “As hard as you might find it to believe, I’m not that fucking incompetent. We don’t need Miranda coming in to solve every single little problem we face. I prefer to take care of this kind of thing myself.”

Angie pauses, but her suspicious gaze upon Heisenberg doesn’t falter for even a second. “So what’s in it for you, then? I know you don’t care about Donna. I can’t think of any reason for you to want to know other than to use it against her. I’m not gonna let you do that.”

“You make it sound so much more simple than it actually is,” he chuckles, “I admit, sure, I’m a bit… dismissive when it comes to Donna, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about us all as a whole.” He’s had to lie plenty of times in his life, but he’s never had to lie through his fucking teeth this badly. Not even to Miranda. It’s actually almost a bit difficult to make himself say it aloud. “Sure, we have our differences, but… do you remember when I said that I do things to benefit all of us? I meant that.”

At the time, and in that context, he kind of did, so that part isn’t a lie. His conscience can rest easy. 

“It’s no good if Donna’s out of commission for the day because of Mother Miranda. Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just sort it out now? I’m sure whatever she’s upset about is just a misunderstanding or something. I can fix that.” Not to mention Donna still has a lot of work to do to finish off this project of theirs. She’s in no position to be slacking off.

Angie has a surprising amount of body language for a doll, so Heisenberg can see very plainly that she’s really considering this idea. Her defensiveness of Donna is a somewhat admirable trait, but as she’s mulling the idea over, it occurs to Heisenberg that Angie’s protectiveness of Donna may even stretch as far as to obstruct Mother Miranda. After all, she’d said it herself that she was worried he would go reporting to Miranda about all of this. She wouldn’t have let that one slip if she wasn’t concerned about Mother Miranda being privy to certain sensitive pieces of information. Heisenberg is definitely intrigued, but he’s had enough of all of this. He needs to nip this in the bud as soon as possible before it throws a wrench into his plan.

“For what it’s worth, you kind of incriminated yourself by bringing Mother Miranda up in the first place, so let’s just go upstairs and find Donna and see what she’s pouting about.”

“I-I told you! Donna’s not pouting!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

On days where she feels particularly run down, Donna takes to her bed, and spends the better part of the day staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Call it lazy, but she finds it’s the quickest way to help ease the stress and turmoil that’s built up over time. On days like this, as tempting as it is to put herself to work as a distraction, having this time to herself takes a lesser toll on her body. 

Even with the veil to hide behind, she worries how hard it is to conceal the horrid feeling that’s gnawing away at her body. Her limbs feel heavier than normal, and her head even more so. Heisenberg’s sudden appearance earlier on certainly hadn’t helped either. Though he’d given her quite the shock, she soon found herself surprised by the fact he’d come looking for her to begin with. Definitely not like the big brother to come checking up on her. She’s aware that his intentions aren’t as good-natured as she’d like to believe, but she can dream.

There’s a short moment where she wonders if her dreams have actually become reality when she hears a heavy knock at her bedroom door. She bolts upright with immense speed, almost winding herself in the process. She won’t lie, she’s not exactly in the mood to have visitors, but at the very least she would like to know what brings him back.

The door opens a tiny crack, and Angie’s little head pops through the gap, shadowed by the chink of light coming from the hallway behind her. 

“Donna… he came to talk to you,” is all Angie says, and Donna finds herself frozen in place. Angie must’ve told him that she was here, but what in the world did he want to talk about? She hurriedly claws around her bedside table for her veil, pulling the fabric over her head before Heisenberg can enter. Angie takes this motion as the all clear, and pushes the door open a little further. 

“Wonder where you’d gotten to. Thought you died or something.” 

Donna suspects this to be a bit of an overreaction, but decides to not mention it. Angie comes trotting over to sit on the bed beside her, and Donna has many, many questions for her. Why has she brought him here? There really is no need- Angie knows damn well that she isn’t in the mood for talking today. The bond between the two of them is unshakeable and unbreakable, so this little lapse in judgement is making her anxious. 

“Don’t worry,” Angie reassures her, seemingly knowing exactly what’s going on inside Donna’s head, “Heisenberg’s come to help.”

Donna blinks. Help? He’s come to help? She considers this very uncharacteristic for him, but since he did offer to help her fix up her dolls, perhaps she’s wrong. Maybe he did have a soft spot somewhere behind all of those metal-lined walls he keeps up. Still, this isn’t something she’s willing to divulge to him, so his efforts will sadly be in vain. 

“I told him about Mother Miranda.”

Or perhaps not, if Angie has decided to divulge said information to Heisenberg without Donna’s consent. She feels lucky to have donned the veil when she did, because the tense and twisted facial expression she pulls is one she wouldn’t have been able to stop in time. As much as she loves and adores Angie, this is a very irritating thing for her to do. 

Angie hangs her head sadly, having sensed Donna’s anger, and this is what gives Heisenberg an indication of Donna’s concealed emotion. Heisenberg shimmies in through the door and takes up a comfortable position leaning against the doorframe. 

“Don’t start getting uneasy, now. I’m not here to chew you out,” he says, physically dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand, “I’m here to try and clear things up for you. Sort out whatever’s going on.” What he says and what he thinks are two different things, but Donna isn't privy to that much information.

Donna relaxes ever so slightly. So he had come to help. Hearing it from Angie is one thing, but hearing it from Heisenberg directly is another. Donna isn’t all too sure how to proceed with this, already feeling hesitant to the idea of revealing her thoughts to him. Don’t get her wrong, she’d like to, but she’s come to suspect that the risks of doing so far outweigh the benefits.

“Like I said to Angie,” Heisenberg begins, sensing Donna’s reluctance, “I just want what’s best for all of us. Mother Miranda has some big things coming up, so we can’t afford to start faltering now- otherwise we’ll all fall behind, and we don’t wanna disappoint our dear old mother, now, do we?”

Trust Heisenberg to make reasonable and rational arguments. Even if she wants to protest, the way he makes his case is just impossible to fault. Oftentimes, if she starts rebutting him, she’ll only make herself look suspicious or incompetent, and the general opinion of her will only worsen. It helps to have Angie complain in her stead in these situations, but it seems as if Angie is on Heisenberg’s side this time around. 

Then again… her problem lies not only with Mother Miranda, but with Heisenberg as well. His uncharacteristic actions are what’s causing her so much confusion to begin with. Maybe now is the time to try and get some real answers out of him.

From the outside, Heisenberg can only gauge Donna’s reactions through Angie, so he’s taken aback when Angie reels back in surprise over what he assumes to be a nonverbal conversation between the two of them. Angie’s uncertainty is evident in the way she fidgets. Donna, on the other hand, sits there like a stone.

“Um… Donna has some questions for you.”

Heisenberg clicks his tongue, “Wouldn’t it be easier to ditch the go-between and talk to me directly? I’m getting a little tired of all this messenger bullshit.”

If Angie could frown, Heisenberg suspects she’d be doing just that, but instead, her irritation is laced neatly into her words, “Why did you bring up Mother Miranda when we talked about making the dolls? Donna knows for a fact you don’t care much about being respected by her. You even said it yourself, that you don’t need that kind of love from her. If you don’t care, then why do you care what she thinks of us?”

Heisenberg’s face is unreadable and seemingly passive, belying the thoughts he keeps to himself. So it was about that all along. This could be troublesome if he doesn’t handle it well, but he’s left with little other choice than to tell the truth.

“I don’t. I really don’t. The reason I brought it up to begin with was because I knew it would convince you. That’s all.”

Donna has to think about that. She thinks about it for quite a while, choosing her next words carefully. So… this wasn’t about Mother Miranda at all, then? That makes even less sense, but she accepts that he’s answered a very pressing question. As for how legitimate the answer really is, well, she’ll have to consider that later.

“So then why did you choose to help us?”

“I already told you. I do what benefits us all in the long run. If giving you a little extra boost helps you keep up with the rest of us, then so be it.” He’s already jumping fifty hurdles here, and if Donna trips up now, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to jump her too. He’s coming so close to being able to enact a plan he’s been concocting for fifty years, and he’s not going to let Donna ruin that for him.

“So… you don’t think that we’re strong enough? You doubt our abilities? You’ve barely even seen the things we can do. Why not offer this kind of help to Moreau? He probably needs it just as much as we do, if you think we’re so weak.”

Heisenberg reaches up to push his glasses further over the bridge of his nose, and the lack of time it takes him to formulate a perfect retort is a little bit frightening. “Because there’s nothing I can do for him. I can’t give him things to improve his ability. You, on the other hand, have a lot more to work with. What’s the big deal about a little gesture of kindness?”

“Because you’re not kind. ” Angie spits, “This whole time you’ve just been weirdly evasive about your intentions, doing whatever it’ll take to convince us to let you do whatever you like- and that’s not the only thing you’ve said that’s suspicious.”

Heisenberg smirks, “Oh, really? Go on, then. What else have you got?”

Donna’s hands, once neatly placed in her lap, are now tensed. She wrings her fingers so hard that the veins on the backs of her hands bulge in pale shades of purple and blue. “You said that if you fell behind- that if you started letting Mother Miranda down- that she’d kill you.”

Heisenberg says nothing, but he remembers that moment well. It hadn’t been the smartest move on his part, but surely Donna knew that this was an eventuality for them all. It baffled him how the other lords could remain so blind to Miranda’s true intentions. After Eva is revived… then what? Did they really think she would just keep them around just for the sake of it? When their job is done, they will be disposed of. He can’t foresee any other outcome than that. 

“So what…?”

“Mother Miranda would never do that! She gave us all of this-- this life we have. This… family. She gave us that! Why would she turn on us like that? We’re helping her.” Donna’s irritation pours out of Angie’s mouth with every word spoken, and the more she speaks, the more irate Donna can feel herself becoming. She knew something just didn’t feel right about the situation, and having such a loose grasp on everything is stressful. Why does it feel like Heisenberg knows everything? Why does it feel like he’s keeping something from her…?

“I get it.”

Donna wills herself to look up at his face. He looks down upon her with a humourless yet condescending smile. 

“You’re scared about what I said. You’re scared because you know that you’re pretty much at the bottom of this little family hierarchy, no offense, and that if what I say is true… Miranda will be gunning to cut you loose from the family and get rid of you for good. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

With every word, Donna feels her blood running cold. It’s as if he had reached over and plucked the very thought from her mind, reciting the sentiment word for word right back to her. She’s not used to feeling so vulnerable or exposed, and the idea that she can’t hide from his gaze is making her hands feel cold and clammy. 

“But…” Heisenberg chuckles, “What do I know? You think just ‘cuz I say something, it’s right? So I did say that, but you say different. You say that Mother Miranda would never do something like that- and you believe that, don’t you? You must do.” In his head, he knows he’s right, but this situation is becoming dangerous, and painting himself as more human than he is seems to be the easiest way to diffuse this suspicion.

Angie remains silent.

“So… which one of us is right, then?”

Donna steels herself, but she despises this question. She doesn’t know what’s right, and that’s what put her in such a mood to begin with. Doubting Mother Miranda’s true intentions is painful, and she doesn’t want to do it, but when she listens to Heisenberg talk, it’s as if they’re talking about two different people. Mother Miranda had always been kind to her. Was she not kind to him? Is this why he acts so cynical about all of this? His nature is so secretive, and yet he drops total bombshells on her every now and then, with no explanation or context to go with it. She just can’t understand him.

“I… don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right about any of this. Maybe we’ve been thinking about it too much. We just… want this to work out.”

Heisenberg considers this for a moment, before telling her, “Then just sit back. Observe things with your own eyes. Come up with your own thoughts. Don’t get me to do it for you. I do what’s best for me. Do what’s best for you.”

“I thought you said you do what benefits us all.”

Heisenberg pauses, before slowly pushing the door open and stepping back out into the corridor.

“I did say that.”

Donna watches him leave, and the grip she has on her skirt is like iron. His footsteps echo loudly as he thuds down the hallway and towards the foyer. Donna can barely register any of this, instead only driven by what emotion she’s able to glean from the situation. In the end, the despair of unknowing and the dread that’s inexplicably looming over her is what drives her to shoot off the bed, almost knocking Angie over in the process. Angie is left lying dazed on the bed whilst Donna runs down the hallway.

This was a direct inference with her plan. All she had wanted was to get into good graces with the other members of her family, and here Heisenberg was, somehow managing to sabotage everything by words alone. On top of that, Mother Miranda had barely been registered as a threat prior to this, so even if she was able to worm her way under Heisenberg’s wing, even he couldn’t protect her from their all-powerful mother. Just what is she supposed to do if she turns on her? Heisenberg would never stick his neck out that far.

She catches him right as he’s about to open the front door. The anxiety sends a horrid, uncomfortable warmth to her cheeks and chest, and the labored panting caused by the sudden exertion of energy only serves to make her feel dizzy. She grips the wall beside her, leaning into it for support. Heisenberg glances at her from over his shoulder.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but what he wasn’t expecting was to hear Donna’s voice with his own ears.

“I just… I just don’t want to lose this family…”

Heisenberg says nothing. He waits, and then he opens the door, letting a bitter rush of cold air blow into the house. Donna is barely able to hear his parting words over the snowstorm outside, but she regrets the fact she does.

Unbeknownst to her, even Heisenberg is tentative about saying it, but in his mind… maybe it was time to pull the girl from the elaborately woven daydream she’s been living in. If she’s come this far, how much would it take to get her to see the truth? He knows he’s playing with fire, but he can’t expect reward without risk. 

“Well, what can I say? Can’t lose what you don’t have.”

Chapter Text

“I said shut up , you fucking freak!”

Venom bubbles in Heisenberg’s throat as he yells at the open hole on the other side of the room, gritting his teeth at the grating cacophony of metal on metal. It’s utterly impossible to do serious work within a two-room radius of the creature that’s lurking in the walkway beneath him, which is why this room is really only used for storage, small fixes and other miscellaneous work unrelated to mechanics. It’s used more like an office than anything else, but he should’ve known trying to read here would be a mistake. As if Sturm would give him just a moment of peace. 

He flops back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, and he reluctantly puts the book down. It’s one of the books Donna had gifted him; the others are lined up along with his other little collection of books nestled beneath the large spread of papers and photographs pinned up on the wall. With a few moments to spare, Heisenberg had finally decided to sit down and soak up a little information from the books he’d received. Donna really had managed to pick out some good ones, and it’s made better by the fact he’s able to use diagrams from within the pages as inspiration for his own work. Tanks, cars, guns, planes- carefully inspecting the illustrations and technical drawings only serves to get the creative juices flowing. He’s actually pretty excited to sit down and crank something out with these books in mind. On top of that, Donna had pretty much given him free rein to borrow from her private library, which means there’s a decent chance she’ll have other gems like this hidden away somewhere. 

Though he’s not been back to the manor in three days, he’s wary that this isn’t a connection he wants to cut just yet. However, that will depend entirely on Donna. He’d already said far too much, and the outcome of the seeds he’d sown within her mind will be irreversible. It’s just a matter of hoping Donna will be smart enough to realise what really is best for her. 

If that ends up being the case, then he’ll be smiling. If Donna catches onto what’s really at stake here, she’ll know better than to go running to Mother Miranda about any of it. That will keep him protected as well, and who knows? As ineffectual as she generally may be, he might be able to use her to secure the success of his plan. That is, if he can decide on whether or not she’ll be trustworthy or not.

Worst case scenario, Donna decides that Heisenberg is planting all these crazy ideas in his head (which isn’t an incorrect statement) and goes crying to Mother Miranda about all of these malicious things he’s said. That would really fuck him over, and his traitorous ideology will no doubt finally come to light. He really doesn’t have much of a plan on what to do should Donna turn on him. The only effective action in that moment would be to kill her, hence why, though he’s kept his distance, he’s still keeping an eye on Donna and her movements. However, she’s not left her house for three days. It could be good, it could be bad, he’s really not going to have a clue until he finally goes up there in person. It’s just a matter of figuring out how he’s going to handle it.

Sure, giving Donna time to sort out her thoughts is not a terrible plan, but if he wants to make sure Donna won’t turn on him, he’s going to have to win her over in another way. The promise of Mother Miranda’s love won’t work this time, and if he wants her to see things from his side, he’s going to have to give her something more important to desire than Miranda. If he can sever that clingy connection between the two, Donna might actually try thinking for herself for once. He’s not holding his breath for that one, but he can try.

It’s a dangerous game he’s playing, and in all honesty, he’d been doing his best to avoid this situation entirely. With an army of his own, he doesn’t need allyship from his siblings. He can win over this entire village through brute force alone, and he’s grown used to strategizing around Miranda’s plans in the hope that he can siphon firepower with every endeavour she undertakes. Sure, most of it comes in the form of corpses for him to fix up, or lycans he can whip into submission, but even the tiniest amount is one step in the right direction. He could never afford to be picky about what he can get, which only succeeded in turning this into possibly the longest con he thinks the world will have ever seen. 

On good days, he does like the relish in the fantasies of a superb victory over Miranda. Being able to snatch his freedom from the icy grip of her talons, finally having a life that was his to live-- but he’s never really decided what he will do once that day comes. It’s not that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get that far, but… he’s never really been able to imagine what he’ll end up doing. It’s not like he has anywhere to go. He doesn’t even have any idea how much longer he has left to live, but the idea that his life may finally be his to live is all he really wants. He’ll get there one way or another. After that, who knows? Maybe he’ll finally get to take down that vile older sister of his. If he can take down Miranda, then Dimitrescu will be a piece of cake, and he cannot oversell how much he longs for the day in which he can really use his full power against her- and he expects exactly the same from her. He may despise her, but he can’t deny he would enjoy a real fight with her with both of them exerting maximum strength. It’ll probably tear down what little of the village will be left when he’s done with Miranda, and maybe that ugly castle too.

You really did have to make your own motivation in a place like this. It’s not like Mother Miranda’s ambitions drive him to work hard. What does he care about reviving some kid? It’s not his kid, and even if it was, he thinks this is taking it too far. The amount of work, energy and sacrifices they’ve collectively had to make just to bring back one person just cannot be worth it. They’re set to slaughter the population of the entire village soon, and though he can’t profess to being the world’s biggest empath, it does seem… wasteful. He definitely can’t complain, considering the sacrifices from the village are what’s filling the gaps in his army, but he’s simply making do with what he’s got. Can’t fault him for that.

What’s really fucking sad about it all is his supposed siblings. He and Moreau haven’t had a lick of family between them since they were children, and Donna’s have only recently passed on. Little Claudia was still just a child, too. Why in the world would Donna work to help Mother Miranda revive her precious daughter when she, too, has a lost family member that he doesn’t doubt she would do absolutely anything to bring back.

And to make it even more depressing, there’s Dimitrescu. What does she think will happen to her and her daughters when Miranda is done with them? The fact that she doesn’t realise that Miranda will not hesitate to murder her three girls should the situation call for it irritates him to no end. It would be so tragically ironic, and Dimitrecu’s ignorance is even more so. After all, they were all Mother Miranda’s children… weren’t they? 

No. They weren’t. They never have been, and the sooner his idiot ‘siblings’ realise this, the better off they’ll all be. Maybe he’d just been a jaded child, having gone through the process of this epiphany at a fairly early age, but Dimitrescu had been forty-four years old! How did she fall for such an empty manipulation tactic? In the end, it’ll only take the death of her own daughters to see who Mother Miranda really is, and if that doesn’t do it, then she’s simply a lost cause. There’s nothing he can do for her, even if he wanted to.

To be honest, he’s not really inclined to help any of them, and he knows damn well his disdain for all three of them is mutual… except maybe for Donna. Donna hadn’t really been on his radar very much up until Miranda had forced him to do something about her lacking strength. He’s still not inclined to stick his neck out too far for her, but… if Donna makes it easy for him, he’ll pull her out of this hole they’re stuck in once he manages to get his teeth into Miranda. She’s by far the most bearable out of the three other lords, but even that’s being generous. If he starts getting attached to anything , it might just end up impeding his plan. Naturally, he can’t have that, so he’ll keep Donna at arms length and simply use her for his own benefit. What else is he supposed to do? 

He flicks open his lighter and allows the tip of his cigar to crackle and disintegrate within the tiny flame. He takes a long, much-needed drag, before exhaling an impressive cloud of wispy smoke. 

He should probably go and see Donna soon. Maybe even tomorrow, he thinks. After all, he still has work to do, and if he leaves her hanging any longer, she might get the wrong idea. He’ll have to play it extremely cool, but as for what he’ll say…

It’s tricky. In all honesty, he really does want to just blurt it all out, but that amount of information, not to mention how much it will challenge everything Donna’s come to understand up until now, will only destroy her… which is fine, so long as it doesn’t leak out to Mother Miranda, but then it’ll just sabotage his job, so that’s definitely out of the question. 

Maybe Donna won’t even say anything. He’d like to think she hasn’t connected any dots yet, but the way she spoke a few days prior was unsettling. She spoke with far more self-awareness than he’d come to expect of her. Clearly, she doesn’t want to lose whatever she has, but this wasn’t exactly the greatest family in the world. The sooner she stops with these stupid delusions, the better it will be for all of them.

After another drag of his cigar, he clicks his tongue in exasperation. Maybe he had been a bit too harsh. Like it or not, Donna had always been… a sensitive character. If he ends up breaking her, she may just end up dead, and if that turns out to be a real thorn in Miranda’s side, then he might even end up joining her. The chance may be slim- after all, he’s infinitely more useful to her than Donna- but he can’t risk it. He’d have to be gentle with her if he was going to try opening her eyes.

Suddenly, a smile sprouts across his lips. That might just work, now that he thinks about it. After all, Donna’s desires, as much as she tries to hide them, are often quite transparent. She’d even said it herself, that she just wanted to feel love from somebody. He’s not confident that he’s the person to give it to her, and he’s not exactly inclined to do so either, but… it wouldn’t hurt to give her the idea that he could. Then, after Miranda is disposed of, he can cut his ties and make a clean break; he could even encourage her to do the same. God knows she needs it. He really, really doesn’t say this often, but… she deserves better than this. 

In a way, despite all the awful things they’ve done over the years, they all deserve better. Sad to see that none of them seems to feel that way, and there’s not much he can do about that. Still, it’s not like Moreau or Dimitrescu could function outside of the village. Both of them are visibly monstrous, and with equally monstrous habits to match. At least he can pretend to be a normal human being. He doesn’t need to drink blood or stick to water to survive. He could actually blend into a crowd (if he ditched the hammer) and even though she’s not really inconspicuous, Donna has a far better chance blending into regular society without the other two. 

He lingers on that thought for a moment. Moreau and Dimitrescu would be impossible to sway. They wouldn’t leave Mother Miranda if you paid them, and would naturally wind up living out the rest of their miserable lives in the village. Donna, on the other hand… she had the potential to be swayed, made evident by her expression of doubt. Her desires are simple. They could be fulfilled by anyone. If he could get her to understand that, maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to get her out of here as he’d expected.

He’s honestly surprised at himself for considering the idea, but when he thinks about the way she’d called out to him herself, and he’d heard the tiny little voice that’s been hidden away behind physical and emotional barriers all these years, he finds himself… unsettled. She’d been so much quieter than he’d been expecting. All these years being wrapped around Miranda’s little finger, warped by the lies and manipulation she’d been feeding them. He almost feels sorry for her. She really had been doomed from the start. 

On that thought, he gets up out of his chair, taking a drag so heavy that the smoke accidentally rockets from the cavity of his mouth and down into his lungs, scorching the tissue and sending a fizzing sensation over his skin. Somehow, the burning pain is wonderfully calming, and he relishes in the way the smoke comes up his throat and out through his nose and mouth. He smiles, enjoying this small moment of pleasure that is no solace to the stress and suffering that surrounds him. Somehow, it makes the feeling even better and twice as worse. It’s practically masochistic. Revelling in one’s own ecstasy and misery was just one of the many awful ways to cope with this fucking hellhole. It’s enough to drown out any emotion and what little morality he had left within him.

He has no reason to help her.

Chapter Text

The house on the hill is dead silent for three very long days. Even with the howling wind that rattles the window panes, the crashing water that cascades from the clifftop above, and the trees that rustle, their trunks snapping as they bend under the force of the gale outside, the house is silent and still. The weather grows worse in these wintery months- layers and layers of snow pile up over the terrain, and the rare appearance of clear skies only seem to make it feel more chilly. The floorboards of House Beneviento are like slabs of ice, and the stone walls are even colder. 

The aura within the house feels so bitter that even Angie feels as if she’s starting to catch a chill. Donna’s been very quiet recently, and not very productive either. Despite the incredible bond between the two of them, even Donna sometimes needs a short break from Angie, and perhaps even more so considering the events of three days ago. Angie didn’t mean for it all to happen like that. She really did think that Heisenberg would be able to help, but whether he managed to do that or not still remains to be seen. At this rate, it’s not looking good.

Speaking of Heisenberg, Angie practically jumps out of her veil when she hears the front door swing wide open and then loudly slam shut from a few rooms away. Her immediate reaction is sudden panic, until she realises that the person entering their home is probably Heisenberg, which is followed by even more panic. Was he just going to waltz in here without saying a word? Well, he can do that. Is that right? Is Donna going to like that? Angie is ready to drive herself into a tizzy over it, but most importantly… she’d quite like to speak to Heisenberg herself.

By the time she skitters to the front door, he’s already gone, no doubt heading down to the workshop as he usually does. Donna is currently in her bedroom, and Angie doesn’t know if she’s aware of Heisenberg’s appearance or not. Either way, she definitely isn’t in the mood to be bothered right now. Without much else in the way of options, Angie heads down to the workshop via the elevator, and anxiously pokes a head in to peer into the dimly lit room.

Donna’s workbench is still strewn with materials, and her tools are all left out in the open. Though the doll workshop is rather dark, the medical room next door is bright, and Angie can make out the shape of Heisenberg’s shadow shifting across the floor. A screech of wooden chair legs scraping across hard flooring reverberates throughout the workshop, and Angie quietly shuts the door behind her. She potters over towards the open doorway to the medical room, shyly lingering there. Heisenberg is sitting at the desk, screwing something into the doll. Though he doesn’t look up, it doesn’t take very long for him to notice her.

“What do you want?”

 Angie pauses for quite a while, hesitant on saying anything at all, but she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have a reason. Much like the first time around, she decides to leave it rather vague.

“I think you made Donna feel worse.”

“What, ‘cuz you told me about her issues with Mother Miranda to begin with? Yeah, that sure is my fault.”

Angie physically recoils, “Ugh… I didn’t… think you would mess it up that bad,” she retorts, “But it just didn’t seem like she would be able to deal with it on her own. It was really bothering her. Now I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore. She won’t even come talk to me…”

Heisenberg sighs, “Ain’t surprised, but it’s probably good for her in the long run. Just let her mull it over and come to her own decision. That’s what I told her.”

“You also told her a lot of other things.”

Heisenberg doesn’t reply. In all honesty, he’s a little surprised that Angie is lurking around by herself, spending some distance from Donna, but if it gives him a little more insight into what the best plan of action is, then it’s worth listening just a little longer. To Angie’s statement, he shrugs, not looking up from his work.

“We just don’t want to lose what we have now.”

“So she told me, but what exactly is it that she thinks she’s gonna lose?”

Angie stumbles over an answer, “W-Well… our family, of course. Mother Miranda.”

“And how’s that gonna happen? Everything’s going pretty smoothly at the moment, wouldn’t you say?” 

With a groan of exasperation, Angie throws down her arms, as if having an enraged fit, “Because you told her that if we fall behind, Mother Miranda will kill us! But that’ll never happen!”

Heisenberg momentarily stops his work, sitting back in his seat. “Alright, so… you’re telling me two different things here. If she thinks it won’t happen, then what does she have to worry about?”

Angie falters.

“Exactly. She thinks it will , and that’s why she’s going all crazy. It’s a fair concern, I’ll give her that, but look at all this,” he gestures to the work laid scattered across the desk, “With this plan, she won’t fall behind, so what does she have to worry about?”

“...I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you why. This ain’t the family she thinks it is, and she’s starting to catch onto that.”

Angie hangs her head, staring hard at the floor. There’s no way to really gauge her thoughts through expression alone, but Heisenberg already knows.

“...and you are too.”

“But we love Mother Miranda! When she gave us our abilities, we were so happy…” Angie trails off, seemingly reminiscing about an older, happier time in their lives, but even then, her words tremble.

“Yeah, she must’ve been real happy when she got that fuck-ugly mutation on her face.”

Angie’s little display of rage is followed by eerie silence, and she suddenly finds herself with no words. That scar had been a real blow to Donna’s mental state, one that still hasn’t healed. There’s nothing she can really say to refute him, but her irritation isn’t lost on him either.

“I… don’t really know what’s going on anymore. It should be easy, right? We just… have to trust in Mother Miranda.”

“Seems you found where the problem lies. Good for you.”

Angie tilts her head. Was that really it? It’s becoming harder to glean anything from surface emotions and intricate feelings with no concrete form, but could that really just be all this boils down to? Maybe simplifying it in this manner would help Donna figure out just what is making her so anxious.

Heisenberg keeps a steady grasp on the situation as it comes. He’s well aware this could get tricky, since he’s actively doing the exact opposite that Mother Miranda had asked him to, but Mother Miranda was under the assumption that if Donna started doubting her, then it would break her entirely. That she would be able to easily notice if this was the case. Even Donna wouldn’t be stupid enough to mention a lack of trust towards Miranda, so… it seems like it was just a case of concealing this little rough patch from her entirely. If he can steer Donna away from a breakdown, all while feeding her the real truths of this ridiculous farce, then it would be a win-win all around. Things actually just became easier.

Except… it didn’t. He knows nothing about Donna’s emotional state, other than the fact that there is a lot of it. He’s never seen it for himself, but through written analysis and word of mouth, he’s come to understand that she’s often quite bad at maintaining emotional stability in times of stress. Hell, that much was true, he’d seen it for himself, but having just a surface level knowledge wouldn’t be enough to effectively manipulate the situation. 

This means, and he’s never had to do this, he’s going to have to actually make an effort with her. Maybe even go so far as to create an amicable relationship with her. Talk about unfamiliar territory. However, Angie could prove to be very useful in this plot. He chews his lip, considering his options, before adopting an entirely different tone to the situation.

“Well, no point letting her stew in this emotional bullshit. If she does want this to work, then she’s just going to have to power through. Why don’t you go and… I don’t know, make her feel better or something?” He says this rather jovially, hoping that a sudden good mood might give Angie the motivation she needs to go and deal with this herself.

Angie withers slightly, “I tried that, but…” she puts a hand to her chin, seemingly deep in thought, “... she’s not very receptive at the moment… but I think I might just have a plan! If we’re talking about cheering her up, I’m the best at that!”

“Doing a stellar job so far, dollface.”

“Shut up! I know exactly why my normal methods aren’t working right now. It’s because of you!” She points an accusatory hand in Heisenberg’s direction, but her tone is growing excited. Heisenberg quirks a brow. Where exactly is she going with this?

“After all, you were the one that started this! So you gotta fix it!”

“...huh?”

Angie stamps with great intent over to where Heisenberg is sitting, but from the outside, it looks more like a drunken marionette stumbling it’s way towards him. If this is going to involve physical work on his part, he’s not doing it. He knows he said he might have to start making an effort with her, but this isn’t really what he had in mind. If Angie can dig her out of this little hole she’s in, then he can take over from there. Expecting him to go and deal with Donna like she is now is asking a bit much. 

“I’m… gonna tell you a big secret, okay?”

“Worked out well last time.”

“Stop being an ass! Right now, we’re partnering up to make this all better! We make Donna happy, all this bad stuff goes away, we get our doll army finished, and we all go back to normal, right?”

Heisenberg isn’t sure about that last one, but he can trip that hurdle when he gets to it. As much as he despises Angie, and would never partner up with her if she was the last sentient thing in the village, her outcomes do seem promising. Would it really be that simple?

“Alright… So what’s this secret?”

Angie stands neatly to attention, but her voice is hushed in a conspiratorial whisper, “You see… Donna has been trying to get closer to you this whole time, and to Mother Miranda too. She thinks that if we agree to have you over to work for us, she can grow closer to you, and also make Mother Miranda proud.”

“If that’s the case, then it’s a fucking transparent attempt. You think I don’t notice her trying to be nice all the time? I mean, the books were pretty good, but I’m not getting roped into all this friendly shit.”

“It’s more than that. She thinks if she can secure a good relationship with you, as the strongest out of all of us, then we’ll be protected from everyone else. We know we’re not as strong as everyone else, which is why, if she’s able to hide behind you , we’ll be far safer. That is… until Mother Miranda became a threat.”

Heisenberg smiles. Now that was fucking sneaky. He’d definitely been under the assumption that she was just trying to form some stupid family bond, but using him to protect herself from threat? He’s actually impressed. “Guess I must’ve thrown a bit of a wrench into her plan, then.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, idiot.”

“But… I can work with that. Since you know her better than I do, what have you got in mind? Assuming your half-a-brain can think that far ahead.”

“Ugh, you’re so foul!”

“All part of the service.”

Angie shakes her head with exasperation, stalking back towards the doorway as she speaks, “Well, we’re going to have to make her feel better. Make her try and forget all of this stuff-- if only for the time being. She’s gotta be in a good headspace! Maybe then… she’ll have a better time figuring out what to do.”

“Yeah, no, that’s… not my forte. I’ll leave that to you.”

“But that defeats the point! If you’re nice to her, it’ll have a greater impact, and she’ll start to trust you! Then it’ll undo all this mess you caused.”

He hates the fact that her point makes sense. It’s not that he can’t be nice to people, but the circumstances he finds himself in, surrounded closely by the people he cannot nor wants to trust, makes it very hard for him. Surface pleasantries are what keeps him in the good books with Mother Miranda- he couldn’t give a toss what the other lords think of him, thus he’s never had any motive to be friendly. He wouldn’t call Angie’s plan much of a motive for him, but it does seem like the most surefire way to secure control over the situation. The only problem is that… it’s easier said than done. He leans back in his seat, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. I’ll do what I can, but don’t expect me to go above and beyond for this. I just want to deescalate all this horseshit.” 

Angie remains silent for a moment, but the voice that comes out is uncharacteristically soft. 

“You know… you always make it out like you don’t really care about her, but if you don’t, then why did you bother warning her about what could happen to begin with? You wouldn’t care if she lived or died… so why did you go out of your way to tell her?”

Heisenberg sits in his chair, unmoving. This doll is one tricky little bitch, and this is probably the first time he’s ever been caught off-guard by anything she’s said. Mainly because… he actually doesn’t have a good reason. He doesn’t care much for her, and he’s very confident in this fact, so Angie makes a good point. Why did he say that? In fact, making that mistake is what turned this whole scenario sour. He could’ve just left it. He could’ve just sung Miranda’s praises like Donna would’ve wanted to hear, make her feel like she’s doing something worthwhile. Instead, something drove him to reveal these snippets of truth to her, even with the risk far outweighing the benefits. 

He really doesn’t have a good answer for that, so he shrugs. He’s not lying. As far as he knows, he just felt like saying it in the moment, and he’s not about to sit around to reflect on his own actions (because if he did, he’d be sitting there for about ten years). 

“Look, do you want to do this or not?”

Angie knows she won’t get a satisfactory answer out of a man like Heisenberg, so she settles on giving him a firm nod. “Of course. I know just how to start. If you would follow me to the kitchen…”

Heisenberg gets the feeling he’s not going to enjoy this.

Chapter Text

“Well, she likes the one with frogs on rainy days, and she does like the one with strawberries too. Maybe the fancy set isn’t the right one for today…”

Angie voices each thought aloud, taking Heisenberg along for the ride as she decides what to do. Heisenberg, much to his exasperation, can only stand beside her in silence, gazing upon the many tea-sets laid out on the shelves. How did he know that it would fucking come to this? This is exactly what he didn’t want to do, and he’d made that abundantly clear to Donna right from the beginning. He’s hesitant about the idea, knowing that there’s a very good chance that Donna won’t fall for such an unconvincing change of heart.

As Angie rattles on in the background, Heisenberg reaches up to pick up one of the hefty teapots sitting on the shelf. This one is painted a pale mint colour, with wreaths of deep green foliage spiralling around the spout. He’s never had to use a teapot in his life, not even back in his youth. Couldn’t you get electric kettles now? Surely, Donna would benefit more from one of those than anybody else in the village. Maybe that would make a more worthwhile gift than just making her a cup of tea.

“Are you listening to me?!” Angie stamps a little foot on the ground in rage, which makes absolutely no noise at all, “I said , we need to pick a tea-set and a blend to brew!”

“Oh, come on. It’s just hot leaf water. How fucking hard is it gonna be to make? Just pick whatever and I’ll take it up to her.” He puts the teapot back and turns to slouch against the countertop, watching Angie from under the lens of his glasses.

“You’re so much work,” Angie hisses at him, “It’s not hard. Just pick a pot, and pick a blend. Do it at random if you like! I don’t care.”

In fairness, part of Heisenberg’s reluctance stems from not wanting to take orders from a doll, and the other part comes from the fact he considers this to be quite a shallow attempt to win back Donna’s favour. Still, he can’t deny that Angie knows Donna the best, so who is he to argue? In the end, he shrugs, and takes the mint green teapot back off the shelf, plonking it roughly onto the countertop. He stares at Angie expectantly.

“Be careful with that! If you break that teapot, you’re going to have to make and paint a whole new one! And it would have to be exactly like the original!” Angie screeches at him, and Heisenberg simply rolls his eyes. “Whatever. What next?”

“Pick a blend.”

“What have you got?”

“ Well ,” Angie takes a deep breath, before going into an endlessly long list of blends they have stocked in the house, “we have: Rose, Chamomile, Lemongrass, Cinnamon, Ginger, Peppermint, Citrus, Jasmine--”

“I’ll take the peppermint.”

“Really?”

“Goes with the teapot.”

Angie eyes him for a concerningly long amount of time, before shaking her head. “And you call Donna a freak,” she mutters, only to reel back when Heisenberg growls in indignance. “Um. Anyway, it’s not hard to do. There’s a kettle already on the stove- just fill it up with water, then set it to boil. Even you should know when it’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Heisenberg replies thickly, “I’m not an idiot. I know how to use a fucking kettle.”

“Well, you can never be too sure,” Angie replies flippantly, “I bet you’ve never used a kettle in your life!”

Overlooking the fact she was incredibly correct, Heisenberg fills up the kettle with water and slams it down on the stove hard enough to make Angie jump. “Very bold of you to assume someone who makes autonomous machines is too stupid to know how to boil water. I’d choose your next words wisely, unless you wanna land in the pot.” He pulls open the lid of the kettle in a sinister gesture, with an equally sinister smile, “You could use a fucking wash, you’re filthier than the lycans.”

“Oh, really? I probably wash more than you ! You smell like you’ve crawled out of Moreau’s Reservoir!”

With that being the final straw, Heisenberg takes one very menacing step towards Angie, and Angie suddenly skitters away in an attempt to flee the very dangerous man she’d been provoking. To his surprise, she can move very quickly when she wants to, and he finds himself unable to catch the little doll before it climbs into a narrow cupboard. He gets down to his knees, pulling at the cupboard handle, only for it to jiggle uselessly. Cue some real confusion on Heisenberg’s part.

“Why the fuck do your cupboards lock from the inside?”

“For this exact reason,” comes Angie’s muffled voice from inside her spot of safety. Heisenberg can only stare incredulously at the cupboard, before giving up and going back to the kettle. He really was going to do some damage this time around, he’s fucking sick of all this shitty backbiting commentary from something that shouldn’t even be alive. However, if Angie stays in the cupboard, then this will work out for him. Here’s hoping she has enough sense to keep her trap shut for once.

Atop a burning blue flame, the water within the shining copper kettle is beginning to bubble fiercely, and the beginnings of a shrill whistle can be heard rattling within the kettle’s spout. With his hands planted deep in his coat pockets, Heisenberg waits silently for it to finish. He’s got to have some respect for Angie’s idea, though. He wouldn’t have thought of this himself, but it might just work. Now it was just a matter of figuring out what to tell her. 

He picks up the kettle, and pours the steaming liquid into the small confines of the green teapot. Angie, apparently able to hear the faint noise of pouring liquid, then mutters, “Get the blend you want from the drawer. Then put it in the teapot and wait for it to brew.”

“It’d be a lot easier if you weren’t hiding in a cupboard.”

“Well, that’s not my fault.”

“It absolutely is your fault.”

He procures the package of homemade peppermint tea and drops the small bag into the teapot, putting the tiny lid back on to let it stew. That wasn’t so hard, but would Donna really get any kind of appreciation out of this? It could just be one small step on a long road to getting back in her good graces. This kind of strategic planning and emotional manipulation is never this tiresome. Donna’s one hell of a hard target.

Though at least he thinks he has some idea of what to tell her when he shows up at her bedroom door. That is, if he can even get through the door to talk to her.

“Donna likes sugar in her tea, by the way.”

“You’re gonna have to leave that cupboard sometime soon.”

“So you say…”

With a roll of his eyes, Heisenberg reaches for one of the little pots lined up on the kitchen counter. He opens the lid, peers inside, shrugs, and pours a sizable amount into the teapot without bothering to stir it. It should be done by now, right? He grabs the closest thing he can use as a tray and piles the crockery onto it. 

Being a character who generally lacks finesse, the balancing act he has to put on in order to carry the tray to Donna’s bedroom is unimpressive at best and humiliating at worst. Hell, he reckons if Donna was able to see this embarrassing display, she would perk right up. No way to brighten someone’s day like making an ass out of yourself.

He manages to balance the tray in one arm to knock on the door, though it sounds less like a polite knock and more like someone trying to claw their way in. He’s got to keep a good face on, but allows himself one weary sigh.

“Got you somethin’. If you don’t let me in, it’s gonna get cold.”

He’s not actually expecting Donna to physically answer the door (it seems to be a common habit of hers) so he opens the door a fraction, allowing a single chink of light to stream into the darkened bedroom, and waits. After taking a moment to make sure Donna doesn’t succumb to a heart attack due to an unexpected arrival, he pokes his head in. 

There’s nobody there.

He enters anyway, wary of the fact that Donna could very well be in this room and he’s simply unable to see her. He’ll give her credit, it’s not a bad skill to have. He should’ve expected this much, but he’s not deterred. He sweeps whatever junk is taking up the nightstand away with his hand, setting down the tray in the newly emptied space. After that, he takes a quiet seat on the bed.

The room is bathed in a silence he finds to be surprisingly pleasant. From the way the light beams into the room in front of him, he’s able to watch the tiny particles of dust dancing around the movement he’d left behind. From his pocket, he procures a cigar. Angie can say whatever she wants, whether she’s in the cupboard or not, but he’s having a smoke. He lights the tip of the cigar, balancing it expertly between his lips, and allows the smoke to lazily curl out from the gap between his teeth.

“I don’t know if you’re in here or not, but…”

It would be fairly strange to attempt to have a conversation with someone who isn’t even in the room, but talking to oneself is one of the lesser strange occurences to happen within the village. Even so, it would be a waste of breath to speak with nobody to hear it, but that’s never stopped him before.

“...you know we’re all just doing what suits us in the end.”

The room remains silent and still.

“Sure, I know I was a bit underhanded… said a few things to get my way… but you can never say that I lied to you.”

He takes one very long drag of his cigar, savouring the lingering burn the smoke leaves behind as it ripples out of his mouth in pure white wisps. After the gruelling decades of living in the village, years that blur into a dull smudge of grey, this seemed to be the only thing his body didn’t grow numb to. 

“And I’ll tell you now, not many people are lucky enough to get that much from me.”

He can barely remember the days where his subconscious hatred of Miranda had begun to fester into something to be reckoned with. It felt like so long ago, he can barely believe it. Every day had been spent hoping for just a sliver of freedom to be found over the horizon, but those days had achingly stretched to months, and then to years, until now. Time seems to fly when you think you’re reaching the end, and when you look back, you find the path is much longer than you remember.

“It’s not so complicated to understand in the end. It doesn’t matter whether you trust Miranda or not. It doesn’t even matter if you like her. You do what she says. That’s how it’s always been.” He reaches over to neatly flick a stub of ash into one of the empty teacups.

He pauses before the cigar is able to reach his lips, habitually chewing the inside of his lip, before saying, “You’re not an idiot, Donna. Our positions must seem nice from the outside, but you know as well as I do that it’s more dangerous than we’ve ever really admitted.”

With a gaze lingering at the tea-set, now growing cold, Heisenberg clunkily takes the teapot and pours the contents into one of the teacups. He holds it in his hand for a while, staring down at the translucent liquid. The sheen of light coming from the doorway obscures his reflection in it.

“So… I don’t know. Think real hard about what you want… and then do it.”

After all, that’s all he’s ever been able to do. He’s not exactly an expert on good advice, and connecting with any of his so-called family is one hell of a chore, but he just gets this very slight impression that maybe, just maybe, he and Donna may be able to meet at eye-level.

With not much else left to say, he takes a drink from the teacup…

...and immediately spits it right back out. 

It takes a lot of effort not to spill anything over the bed, or set anything on fire with the cigar that nearly falls from his fingers, but he’s racked with the sharpest and most unpleasant tastes he thinks he’s ever experienced, bar that one time he mixed up the water and the petrol and drank from the wrong container. Spitting it out doesn’t seem to relieve it in the slightest, as it coats his tongue like a thick layer of disgusting grime. The sting it provides is enough to make him start coughing, and he discards the cup in favour of discreetly wiping the brimming tears in the corners of his eyes. Through the hacking, he manages to wheeze a regret to himself.

“Ugh… fucking… salt. Jesus, Donna...put some fucking labels on these things…” 

Hunched over and coughing horribly into his hand, Heisenberg is unaware of the looming figure that trembles behind him. He doesn’t see it, until he catches a glimpse of black from under his arm. Offering a laugh at his own expense, he removes his glasses in order to wipe his eyes roughly, tilting his head to look at Donna from over his shoulder.

“Okay… that didn’t work out the way I was expecting. Kinda glad you didn’t drink it now. Ugh… that was fucking nasty,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting out what little of the taste he could.

There’s a long pause here where Donna doesn’t make any motion to respond in any way. Instead, she merely observes the way he wallows in the regret of his own creation. He’d tasted failure before, but never this badly. However, after a moment, Donna quietly comes to sit beside him on the bed. The bed creaks under her weight, but her movement is so silent it’s like she’d never sat down at all. Heisenberg allows himself one pitiful drag of the cigar to treat himself. 

“You… made that for me?”

Hearing her voice now is a lot different from hearing it over the rush of wind from the outside. It’s different hearing it in its normal timbre, as opposed to the desperate plea she’d thrown at him as he’d left her house with the barest of sympathies. It’s nothing like Angie’s screeching tones. Hard to believe that Angie could ever effectively convey Donna’s soft-spoken words.

“I tried.”

Donna nods her head, but the way her shoulders shudder gives Heisenberg the distinct impression that she may be laughing at him. Well, he can’t really be mad. It was a pretty stupid mistake on his part, regardless of how poorly labelled Donna’s things are. Still, for what the situation was, he thinks it went down better than expected.

“I appreciate it.”

“So much that you’ll drink some?”

His facetious tone isn’t lost on her, but she does wonder how ridiculous a gesture it might be to actually drink the disgusting concoction. He shakes his head with a smile plastered on his face, “It was meant to be peppermint or some shit, but I guess it’s just salt tea now.”

“I suppose that’s your special blend, then.”

“Hey, tell me where the sugar is next time and maybe I’ll make something that’s actually edible. Though, I won’t lie… not the first time I’ve made a mistake like that.” He vaguely remembers eating suspiciously sweet bacon at some point during a sleep-deprived marathon of work, and it’s not something he cares to eat again.

“Did you pick that tea-set?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Heisenberg pauses for a moment, before shrugging, “I thought it’d go with the tea.”

Donna emits a mere ghost of a chuckle, “You know, I have sets in white. Perhaps that would be more fitting.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, I get it,” he sighs, but the smile doesn’t fade from his face.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Heisenberg is able to enjoy his cigar without Angie’s nagging, and Donna is able to savour this feeling of normalcy for the first time in a very long while. To come all this way, to put all this effort (even if it didn’t really come out as intended) is very strange to her, but not unwanted. She’d been listening to his words this whole time, whether he’d known it or not, but even if he hadn’t expected it, it’s made her feel remarkably at ease. There was one thing that he’d said that had resonated with her.

“You said… just a moment ago, you said that you’ve never lied to me.”

“Well, not purposely I haven’t. I might’ve misled you with purpose, but what I said wasn’t much of a lie.” In his eyes, this is true. He had wanted to boost Donna’s power, as that had been his intention from the start. Whether or not Miranda influenced this decision didn’t need to be said. To him, withholding information isn’t the same as lying, and neither is embellishing a very bare truth. 

“So… all of this. This isn’t a lie?”

Heisenberg takes a moment to think about it, before very plainly responding, “I guess not, no.” Even he’s unsure of how far the legitimacy of the gesture goes, but for what it’s worth to her, he’d come here with the intention of making her happy. That much is true.

Then again… if he’s testing the real legitimacy of his actions, how far is he willing to go for something he’s unable to get a grasp on. That had been the real problem on his mind for a while now. Maybe he had lied in the past, maybe he hadn’t. After a certain point, he’s lost the ability to even realise he’s doing it. Perhaps offering some real truths for once, with the purpose of shedding light upon a situation, rather than masking it in shadow, is worth the risk.

“Alright… I’ll admit… maybe I did say some things that weren’t true after all.”

Donna doesn’t move, but silently listens. It’s all she can do, and strangely enough, it’s all she wants to do.

“When I said that I care about us… all of us. That… that’s really only true to a certain extent, but really, do you think any of us care about one another? I care about keeping things functional, but only for my own benefit, so that’s barely true to begin with. So… don’t go getting the wrong idea.”

This… makes sense to Donna. After all, their primary goal is to work together in aid of Miranda and her ambitions. As for why he’s choosing to get specific about it, she doesn’t know, but she’s eager to find out, so she lets Heisenberg carry on speaking.

“I have no reason to help you out. It doesn’t benefit me in the slightest.” In the context of this situation, the only benefits he got from helping Donna improve her power was avoiding the wrath of Mother Miranda, but what he’s talking about in this instance is something far more general. He’s unable to gauge Donna’s reaction to this, but he doesn’t care to know anyway. Nonetheless, Donna responds.

“So why did you go this far?”

Heisenberg offers a meagre shrug, with an even more meagre laugh to complement it. “You tell me. Maybe I just felt like it.”

“That’s very unlike you.”

“I don’t think you know me well enough to make that call.”

“Does it even matter at this point? I’ll admit… I was initially suspicious by your lack of reason to help me, but I suppose if anything, even just feeling like it is a reason in itself.” Donna murmurs, and though it’s slightly muffled through the thin fabric of her veil, Heisenberg can hear her just fine.

“Well, fine, Angie was the one who dragged me up here, but… for what it’s worth, if I really didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t have done it.” He knows himself well enough to know this is true, regardless of what outside influence comes into play, but even if this was all at Angie’s request, how much of a lie could it really be? 

“I believe you.”

“And as for Mother Miranda, well… don’t think too hard about it. It’ll give you more trouble than it’s worth.”

Donna observes the way Heisenberg flicks the cigar butt into the teacup he’d been previously drinking from. In his own way, it really did seem like he’d come up to dispel some amount of the despair that she’s been shrouded in. As he said before, she doesn’t know enough about him to really gauge just what kind of person he is, but despite that, she can’t help but feel this is both uncharacteristic and something to be expected.

“I think I just got lost for a moment. All I’d ever wanted was for this family to work. It doesn’t matter to me what we do or what orders we follow. Mother Miranda… she’s the only thing I have left. Without her, what else is there for me? I’ll have nothing.”

Heisenberg sits on that thought for a moment, debating on whether or not to have another cigar to help him mull it over. He begins to speak as he roots around in his pocket for his lighter.

“I think you’ve got a lot more than you realise. In fact, I think you’ve got more left than any of us do.” He holds out a cigar for Donna to take, but she politely refuses, so he decides to smoke it himself, “There’s a lot more to this world than Miranda… more than she could ever give us. It’s just a fucking shame I’ve never been able to go out and see it for myself.”

“I’ve never left the village. Not even once.”

“Of course you haven’t. People who’re born here don’t ever leave. This village is Miranda’s world. That’s why she means everything here.”

“I don’t think I remember a single day where Miranda just… wasn’t.” It’s a hard thing to describe. Miranda’s reign over this village has been a long one, and it almost feels like there could never be a time where she simply didn’t exist. She supposes that’s what it means to be regarded as a deity. 

“Once upon a time, there was a point in my life where Miranda wasn’t there. Wish I could remember it.” Despite his age, his brain works like the decades had never passed, but the older he gets, the more memories he’s naturally losing to time. Sometimes he worries he’ll go senile, but dementia hasn’t set in for Dimitrescu yet, so he reckons he still has a few decades left on the clock.

Donna remains silent, staring down hard at the floor as she ponders this. A world without Miranda. What would that be like? 

“Still… she’s given me so much,” Donna finally mutters. Heisenberg wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. Donna’s perspective is much different to his. In a sick way, he’s often wondered if he’d be happier living a life like hers, though he’s come to understand that she doesn’t live as simple of a life as he’d come to expect. His answer takes that into consideration.

“She’s given me an awful lot, but it’s not like I owe her for any of it. It’s just obligation. All of what we do for her is payment for what she’s given us, but it’s not like I wanted any of it to begin with,” Heisenberg mutters.

That’s right. Donna had marvelled over what Miranda had given her in the early days. She’d been so excited to have this power, but she’d never really considered that the others hadn’t shared her willingness. Sure, there was the unfortunate collateral damage that came in the form of her mutated eye, Dimitrescu’s unnatural bodily changes, and Moreau’s disfigurement, but… that had just been part of the price to pay, hadn’t it? If anything, it seems like Heisenberg had gotten the best out of it all, especially having responded so favourably to the Cadou, but he’d not been enough for Miranda.

“...I did.”

Heisenberg blinks, but doesn’t look up to meet Donna’s gaze. He flicks his cigar into the teacup again, silently goading Donna into continuing.

“I wanted it. I was… so happy to be chosen by Miranda. To be adopted by her. The power that she gave me was everything that I’d wanted. With that… I thought I could’ve seen my sister again.”

“Hm?”

“With that power, the gardener who worked at my estate could finally see his departed family. After he planted the flowers, he spoke to me about seeing images of his wife. I thought with that, I could give him his family back… and maybe get my own back, too.”

“Surely, you knew that it was all an illusion to begin with? Even if you could see them again, they’re not there.”

“I know, but in the end, the effect of the pollen doesn’t work on me. I suppose it’s logical, but it must’ve been nice for him to see his family again… even if it wasn’t real.”

“Reviving the dead is never worth dabbling in. It’s far too much trouble. There’s too much to go wrong for it to ever be a reliably successful ordeal. That’s how we got into this mess to begin with.” True enough, Miranda’s final goal is to resurrect her unfortunately deceased child, but how much collateral damage is too much? Both he and Donna are simply means to an end, and that’s all they really have to lose.

“I suppose… it was an impossible dream from the start, wasn’t it?”

“The dead stay dead, Donna, and that’s how they should always stay,” Heisenberg replies thickly, “Besides which, any attempt you make to bring your sister back will only be hijacked by Mother Miranda to aid her own efforts. You really think she’d sit by and let you make that kind of headway without leeching off of the profits? She’s killed people, for fuck’s sake. She wouldn’t think twice about taking it from you.”

Donna has to admit, this would be the most likely outcome. Miranda’s gain takes priority over everything else, and her personal efforts would not be spared. That did cast a rather grim light upon the person that is Miranda. She’s almost a little afraid to admit it.

“Look, the bottom line is just… let it go. It really will give you more trouble than it’s worth if you decide to cling to the past like that. They’ve moved on, so… you move on too.”

“That’s awfully profound of you.”

Heisenberg rolls his eyes. It’s not like he’s incapable of being thoughtful. Despite the obnoxious, egocentric exterior, he does put a lot of thought into things, including Miranda’s motives. It helps him cope with the situation at hand. He can only really feel at ease with things if he’s able to understand their inner workings. It reduces the anxiety of being faced with the unknown. If he has knowledge, he has the means to make educated guesses and hypotheticals of what was to come, which means, even if it’s a small amount, he has control.

As for Miranda’s motives, he still doesn’t agree with them, and he still admittedly doesn’t know the finer, more secretive details that she keeps hidden away, but his insight into her isn’t too inaccurate. That’s what gives him the confidence to carry out his plans away from her prying eyes. 

And what little he knows about Donna is soon shaping into a fully-formed understanding of the person she is. Donna turns to face him directly, but doesn’t remove the veil that stands between them.

“And despite all of this… you still have no reason to help me.”

Heisenberg contemplates this with his lips wrapped around the tip of his cigar. Then, very slowly, he breaks into a smile.

“Then why don’t you give me a reason…?”

Chapter Text

For the first time in a while, Donna feels good.

She feels energised by her conversation with Heisenberg, and she’s become a lot more motivated to put in some serious effort for the dolls. Over the following days, where Heisenberg is busy at his own factory, she speeds through all the work she has to do like it’s nothing. Dolls are repainted and reclothed, weaponry is tested, and Donna spends some time using the dolls in a hypothetical combat situation in order to get a proper feel for them. To her, it feels like she’s come through a rough patch to something a lot brighter, and though she still doesn’t quite understand the depths of her own feelings, or the state of what’s going on around her, she feels hopeful. She feels like something good is ready to happen.

Meetings are still a bit of a challenge, however. It doesn’t matter how much of a good mood she’s in. There’s always a point during every meeting where she gets distracted and stares off into space for a good ten minutes. This results in her missing out a few crucial details, and having to embarrassingly pretend that she knows what’s being discussed. As much as she tries to hide this, she gets the feeling that it’s not escaped Mother Miranda’s eye. This is probably the reason why she doesn’t get saddled with as much responsibility as Heisenberg.

However, in her eyes, this just gives her an excuse to talk to Heisenberg more. Her plan of growing closer to him was now back in action, now that things finally seem to be on the right track. So, after a particularly long meeting, (in which Donna struggled immensely with not falling asleep in her chair) she decides to approach Heisenberg.

He doesn’t immediately tell her to piss off, which is a stunning start. They make a slow walk for the door, allowing Dimitrescu to overtake them to leave, and Donna wills Angie to hiss quietly at Heisenberg.

“Um. So… that meeting.”

“Huh? What about it?” 

Donna is slightly wary of Mother Miranda’s presence in the room, and she keeps glancing over her shoulder to see if she’s listening. It’s clearly not a subtle gesture, as Heisenberg clearly notices what she’s up to, but it only serves to further intrigue him. 

“I… missed a few details.”

Heisenberg rolls his eyes, but he’s not as exasperated by this as he would’ve been a few weeks ago. Donna follows him out of the door, jogging slightly to catch up with him so they can walk side-by-side. 

“I figured you might’ve fallen asleep. One of the longest fucking meetings we’ve had.”

“I didn’t fall asleep! I just… um…”

Heisenberg dismisses her with a wave of the hand, “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Alright, to cut a very long and very fucking boring meeting short- that mold incident in Louisiana ended up producing a pretty special kid. One that Miranda’s had her eye on.”

“Louisiana…?”

“It’s in America, Donna. You know the thing that happened with Eveline? Or were you asleep for that as well?”

Donna pouts slightly from beneath her veil, and Angie crosses her arms in protest, “We weren’t asleep! It’s just hard to remember. Eveline was made with Eva’s DNA, wasn’t she?”

“Sure was. Then a load of shit went wrong. Eveline, uh... for lack of a better term, died, but not without infecting some people in a little shithole in Louisiana- including the parents of this kid, Rose.”

“Rose?”

“The kid she wants. Since this brat is pretty much made of mold, Miranda reckons she’ll be a perfect host for Eva. To be honest… it seems like it might work.”

“Do you really think so? But… how do we know where the child even is? Rose…”

At this, Heisenberg flashes her an all-knowing grin, “Because they’re headed straight for here! Miranda’s been tracking the events following the incident in Louisiana, and it seems like they’re moving over. Miranda will probably take this into her own hands, but once the kid is in our possession, then it’ll be our time to shine.”

Donna nods, and the pair of them begin to amble through the village together. Neither of them really seem in a hurry to get back, nor do they pick a direction to go in. Donna doesn’t particularly enjoy being outside, but with the way the snow gently falls upon the village, it’s very relaxing. That is, until Heisenberg speaks again.

“That means the cull will be starting soon.”

Donna panics for a split second, worried that he may be referring to them both, but is put a little more at ease when he mutters, “These villagers have no fucking idea what’s coming, do they?”

Donna isn’t particularly close with any of the villagers, so she doesn’t have the strongest feelings toward their impending doom, but she thinks it a shame to slaughter them all just like that. However, this was simply another necessary part of Miranda’s plan, so it’s going to happen no matter what she has to say about it. 

“It seems like such a waste…” is all she can bring herself to say, as she eyes the village buildings around her. Each one is made of cobbled together stone, but they’ve all stood the test of time. None of these buildings have been replaced or renovated since long before she was born, with the exception of a few additional structures installed. It’s a fond and familiar sight, but the idea that the village will one day be totally devoid of people is a solemn one.

“I was going to say the same thing, y’know.”

Donna glances over at Heisenberg. The little flakes of snow that are cascading around them are starting to create a thin frosty layer upon the brim of his hat, and the wisps of condensating breath are indistinguishable from the swirling smoke coming from the tip of his cigar.

“It’s a huge fucking waste just for a sacrifice, but it’s gotta be done. Can’t go arguing with Miranda, now, can we?”

“No… I suppose not.”

Heisenberg flicks the cigar stub onto the ground, squashing it out with the tip of his boot. “Don’t worry about it. So long as we do what Miranda tells us, we’ll be fine…” This advice is more for Donna’s sake than his own, because he doesn’t plan on following Miranda’s orders quite to the letter. The plan for Rose is fairly straightforward, so it’s easy enough to strategise around it- that is, if things don’t go wrong.

“But then what…? Miranda will have her child back… and we still get to be a family?”

Heisenberg’s judgemental stare is enough to give her the idea that this might not be the plan. She’ll be at a loss if this isn’t the final outcome. After all they’ve been given, and all that they’ve done… 

“Well… it never hurts to make a back-up plan.”

Heisenberg isn’t about to start openly plotting with Donna of all people, but this seems like the right time to push her in the right direction. “I mean, who knows what’s gonna happen? Things go wrong, fuck-ups happen… gotta be prepared for it.”

“Prepared…”

She mutters the word silently to herself, as if testing the taste of it on her tongue. He wasn’t wrong. Even if the situation at the moment is favourable, did it ever hurt to have a back-up plan? Heisenberg seems to know what he’s talking about, which prompts a sudden question from her.

“So what’s your plan?”

The silence that follows is not unexpected, but Heisenberg has a moment of conflict where he’s struggling to decide how to react. Even the wrong facial expression could give away far much more than he’s willing to divulge, so he shrugs plainly.

“Who knows? I doubt my plan will be of any help to you. You gotta figure this shit out for yourself, don’t get me to do it.”

“So it’s that much of a secret, huh?” Angie scoffs, and Heisenberg offers a complementary tip of the hat to them both, “That it is, and it’ll stay that way. I don’t want you guys getting involved, you’ll just complicate things.”

Donna supposes this is fair enough. She’d have to rack her brain for some idea of how to get out of a particularly sticky situation, but half the battle is envisioning these scenarios to begin with. There’s so much to go wrong, she’s got no clue how she’ll even begin to try and construct countermeasures. Donna is plunged into thought almost immediately, tuning out Heisenberg and the rest of the village. Nonetheless, they continue to walk together up until they part ways.

Donna stops abruptly upon realising she needs to alter her route to return home, and Heisenberg busies himself with procuring another cigar, habitually shuffling his feet as he does so. It’s a bit awkward, in all honesty. Nobody likes an awkward goodbye, but Donna does her best.

“Um… thank you-- for clarifying the meeting, I mean. I suppose I should give a back-up plan some thought.”

“Yeah, well, it’s probably best if that stays between us, if you know what I mean.” That sentence alone is incriminating enough, but Donna understands. She’s about to turn away and bid him goodbye, but he seems momentarily rooted to the spot, searching for the right words to say. He’s got a bit of a stutter, Donna’s come to notice. He can lose track of a word mid-sentence, and often ends up repeating himself a few times before he can get the whole thing out. Donna’s patient enough to wait, but in the end, he sort of waves his hand dismissively.

“Look… sometimes just staying out of it is a plan in itself. Keep a distance. The further you are from the flames, the less likely you are to get burnt, or… whatever the fuck the saying is.”

Donna’s nod at his advice is a sage one, and she watches the way he spins on his heel, displaying a half-assed wave goodbye, and stomps away back to his factory. She watches him right up until she can see him no longer, before slowly wandering back to her own home.

The sweet aroma of ginger tea fills the room, as Donna pours the steaming liquid into a small teacup for herself. A back-up plan, eh? Normally her general offensive tactics are countermeasures in itself, as she rarely opts to seek out conflict. The only time she would ever face a fight would be if somebody came for her first, so all of her plans would need to revolve around the actions of other people. Her dolls are able to subdue most civilians living within the village, and the hallucinogenic pollen she manipulates can obscure her from view. That would usually be enough, but now it felt like there were bigger threats at play here.

She’s always been a bit wary of the lycans, despite the fact they’ve not posed any danger to her so far (but who knows when they’ll turn). Luckily, they don’t come sniffing around her patch very often, so a bit of hallucinogenic pollen and a mind to stay out of their way seems like the best course of action. They’re not especially smart creatures, so under the effects of the pollen, it’d be a miracle if they could even find the house, let alone break into it.

The other lords could indeed pose a threat if they were ordered by Mother Miranda to dispose of her. Moreau’s power wanes when he’s away from water, but Dimitrescu is definitely the one to watch out for. Though she prefers to let the people around her do the dirty work, she’s definitely not one to shy away if the time calls for it. She’s so much bigger, so much stronger, and even with the dolls, Donna is sure she would struggle to hold her own against the towering woman. Once again, avoiding conflict would seem to be the best course of action. Though she much prefers to hide away here on her home turf, she’s beginning to reluctantly admit that she may have to abandon this place entirely if the situation called for it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to plant a few more of those flowers around the town…

Come to think of it, that’s an excellent idea, and Donna is very pleased with herself for having come up with it on a whim. The special flowers she’d ordered her gardener to plant are only planted within the area outside of her home, but if she were to plant a few secret patches here and there, the scope of her power would be increased. She could manipulate her pollen, and nobody would be any the wiser. Heisenberg would definitely be impressed, but it would defeat part of the purpose if she told him about it. Such was the curse of devising such a brilliant secret plan. 

Angie, already clued in on Donna’s train of thought, takes this moment to contribute. She’s sitting on the chair beside Donna with her own cup of tea, which remains untouched. She leans over to plant her little hands on the table’s surface.

“You know, we could easily take seeds from the flowers that are already in bloom and scatter them around the village. If we plant them close to the houses, I bet nobody will notice they’re even there.”

“We may have to put good soil down with it, but we’ll have to do it when it’s dark, otherwise people will see us.”

“How hard will it be? I bet we’ll be really quick. It’s a good idea!” At least Angie is here to offer the support and praise this idea deserves, and Donna smiles, taking a small sip of her tea. It feels like they’ve already made great headway. Expanding her garden in small sections would definitely be an improvement, and that would give her an advantage within the village against the villagers and the lycans. Plus, as previously found out, Heisenberg is also able to succumb to the hallucinogenic effects. (Donna has never actually attempted to use this pollen on any of the lords before, nor has she had the chance to do so, but it was a particularly pleasant discovery.)

As for whether or not Mother Miranda would succumb to the pollen, well… she doesn’t know, and she’s really not keen to find out. Mother Miranda is the threat she’s really trying hard not to think about, but it seems to be inevitable. After all, she’s simply securing all the options. However, she’s not privy to any of Miranda’s weaknesses, if she even has any to begin with. If anything, Miranda probably has plans around Donna, let alone the other way around. Just how would she cope if Miranda were to turn on her…?

Well, distance seems to be the obvious choice, but even then, Miranda has been known to stalk her prey over a great distance. Not to mention, if she leaves the village, she will have no pollen to manipulate. 

“Why not take a bunch of the flowers with you?” Angie suggests. Donna mulls this idea over, but replies, “Will that be enough? After all, you’d need to inhale the pollen to succumb to its effects.”

“Maybe drop the flowers on the path so they spread?”

“That would just leave a trail, Angie.”

“Oh, right.”

Having portable flowers really isn’t a bad idea, but the magnitude of flowers required poses quite the problem. That would have to go on the back burner for now. 

“We could just hide where she’d never think to look for us! And maybe we could plant some flowers there in advance.”

Again, not a bad idea, but Donna can’t help but feel that if Miranda were to notice the flowers, she would catch on immediately. As for a place to hide, she’s stumped. Miranda knows this village like the back of her hand, and the outside surroundings even more so. (You kind of had to, if you wanted to catch stragglers attempting to defect.) 

“Why not hide in someone else’s house? Dimitrescu has a lot of underground tunnels. Miranda would even think to look for us there!”

That’s true. Castle Dimitrescu is home to many underground spaces, most of which are hidden by secret pathways and doors. Miranda probably wouldn’t look for her there, but the bigger problem is that Donna doesn’t particularly want to be there.

“Then hide in the factory. If you get chummy enough with Heisenberg, he’ll probably let you stay.”

Donna doubts this, but it’s worth a shot. She’ll save that idea in her head for now as an option for later, but it’s a bit too soon to be asking such favours from Heisenberg. She’d have to really get in his good books if she wanted to wangle something like that. 

“Maybe we could leave a really obvious trail somewhere, and then go in the opposite direction?” Angie suggests, cheerfully.

“Wouldn’t it be too obvious…? Wouldn’t she know we were setting a trap?”

“I guess that depends on how smart she thinks we are.”

Harsh, but true. This is the first time Donna’s ever thought of becoming fond of her unpopularity. Under the guise of being stupid, she could easily get away with plans people would deem too smart for her brain to concoct. Maybe it’s too late to start seriously playing the idiot card. This plan is more suited to Moreau than to her.

“You know, we could leave whilst Miranda is occupied… at least we’ll get a head start that way.”

Donna doesn’t fancy her chances on that one, but it’s as good as anything else. Maybe if they left now, Miranda might not notice for a while. She could try tripping somebody else up in order to cause a distraction, but that would require some serious planning. She’s not above sabotage, but her siblings are hard targets. Sabotaging Moreau is futile because he’ll sabotage himself sooner or later, and it’s become expected of him. Heisenberg is constantly twenty steps ahead of everybody else, so not only would he be tricky, she doesn’t want to risk losing what she’s built with him. That left the vampire…

“Sh...should we?” Angie stammers, wondering if Donna would really consider this idea. Dimitrescu is held in high regard by Miranda, so if she were to slip up spectacularly, it could cause quite the stir. Miranda would no doubt be distracted by such uncharacteristic incompetence on her part, and the best part is that were she to tell Heisenberg of this plot, he would gladly contribute. Donna’s eyes can only widen as these pieces begin to fit together.

“It’s… not the smartest plan. There are a lot of drawbacks,” Donna murmurs slowly, but the idea has already been sown into her mind, “but if we were able to succeed…” Her mind begins to unravel at the mere possibilities, but she resigns to shaking her head. “Let’s just keep it in mind for now.”

“Awww…” Angie whines, resting her chin upon the counter. “That one sounded promising.” Donna can just tell she’s disappointed that she may not be able to pull one over on Dimitrescu, but she’ll just have to see how this all turns out. The flower plan was an immediate must, and Donna’s ready to get up and go. In fact…

As Donna stands up, the teacups on the table all wobble precariously. Angie looks up at her with surprise, “You’re doing it now?”

“It’d be best to do it as soon as possible. I think… we should relocate some of the flowers, and then spread seeds whilst we’re at it. That way, we won’t have to wait as long.”

Angie giggles, “Those other lords don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re just as smart as they are! But we can use that to our advantage.”

Donna likes the gleam in Angie’s eye, as she replies, “That we can.”

The snowflakes that fall upon the vast Beneviento Estate glitter in bright shades of ivory against the greying afternoon sky. There is no breeze to disturb the clumps of trees that frame the pathways leading out towards the village, and the neatly planted flowers all remain silent and still; that is, until Donna comes out.

She must admit, the land has fallen into serious disrepair since the gardener died. The only places she bothers to maintain are Claudia’s grave and the little space in front of the house. The forested area between her house and the village used to look so much neater back in the day, but she simply doesn’t know what to do with it. Nonetheless, she’s not averse to a bit of gardening, nor is she entirely ignorant on the subject. Armed with a pair of gardening gloves that are clearly too big for her, and a little rusted trowel, she finds herself digging out a select few patches of flowers to relocate to the village. 

Angie has been tasked with collecting seeds from the flowers. She toddles up and down the path, carefully extracting the little pods and putting them into an iron tankard found in the gardener’s shed, which she hangs from her elbow like a handbag. Alongside the tankard, Donna was able to find a slightly worse-for-wear wicker basket, which she begins to neatly fill with soil from the flower patches.

Donna spends a good half an hour digging up the patch, occasionally having to dig around a particularly hefty rock or root, and each flower is carefully extracted from the earth and placed into the wicker basket. The flowers are all different shades of a pale, dreary yellow, yet the little splashes of colour brighten the dull landscape of the forest. They had initially been planted in front of Claudia’s grave, soon spreading throughout the garden and expanding the range of the pollen. So, with luck, the flowers would take to their new homes, and Donna’s scope would be increased.

Judging by the darkened grey clouds overhead, nightfall isn’t too far away. Under the shroud of darkness, Donna is able to take the basket and go down to the village without being seen. Her mourning garb is excellent for these kinds of stealthy endeavours, and she blends perfectly into the shadows as they amble down the path leading out to the village.

The villagers lurking around the dimly-lit village are few and far between, leaving Donna with no distractions as she creeps around to look for suitable places for these flowers. Every now and then, Angie wanders off to plant a few seeds in some good soil.

The best spots are closest to the houses, and sometimes in the little gaps between fences. Places where they could blend in without being noticed. Donna methodically digs up tiny patches of soil, gently eases the plants into their new surroundings, and then re-covers them. 

Despite her silent movements and the way she vanishes from view to retreat amongst the shadows, she’s brimming with energy. Trembling, even. It feels like the first time she’s ever been able to do something on her own, without the input or influence of anyone else. All these years of doing what other people tell her, all working towards a preset goal, she’s living for a moment where she’s in pursuit of something for herself. Who knew it could feel so liberating? Even if the plan doesn’t work, it’s a refreshing change of pace. Could this be what Heisenberg was talking about when he advised to do what she wanted? She wonders if he, too, is able to obtain this small sense of freedom.

Angie trots back over to Donna after distributing the last of the seeds, keeping a keen eye out on the streets for anyone who could be watching. This seemed to be going better than she could’ve expected. 

“We’re nearly done!” Angie whispers, leaning over to see the last flower that Donna is planting in the safety of somebody’s backyard. Donna pats the soil down with a satisfied grunt, before leaning back on her heels to inspect her work. 

It’s… a little bittersweet, in all honesty. Even making these plans, being under the assumption that they will be betrayed, is a little hard for Donna to really wrap her head around. She still considers the idea that their family will remain, even if Miranda was able to revive Eva. She could even just abandon them in the village- that would be better than tying up any loose ends, but it’s impossible to determine what will happen. In the end, Donna needs to figure out what she values more. The family she’s found here in the village, or her own life. 

“It looks perfect. Do you really think it’ll work?”

“Only time will tell, but hopefully we shall see very soon.”

“Excellent!”

Chapter Text

The next few days are spent working very hard. Donna and Heisenberg work silently in their respective workshops. Painting and decorating her dolls is one of Donna’s favourite activities, and Heisenberg seems pretty happy with the work he’s doing as well. She has no need for the radio when the soft sounds of movement and human company keep her entertained. Even just sharing a quiet space is enough to stave off the loneliness, but she worries about when it’ll end.

After all, once the dolls are complete, Heisenberg will have no reason to come here anymore, and she will find herself without a work partner. She daydreams about ways to get him to keep coming over, but doesn’t go into the thought with much conviction. For now, she’ll enjoy the moment, but as she looks over to see the last two dolls that Heisenberg is modifying, she can’t help but feel a tiny bit disheartened.

She watches the way he screws in a particularly fiddly part, his face twisted in concentration as he does so. He has an odd habit of baring his teeth when he’s focusing on tricky tasks. His lips will pull up, revealing an alarmingly sharp looking canine, but when he scrunches his nose like that, Donna just finds it endearing. 

He also talks to himself from time to time, and Donna adores it. She’s used to listening to other people- you could even say that she enjoys it, and the way he mutters out loud when things go wrong, or the way he announces a victory when overcoming a problem, soothes the room with an overwhelming sense of normalcy. He’s just here, and she’s there too, and just revelling in the company of another person is enough to make her feel at ease. She feels much less tense around him, too. It appears that over time, they’ve begun to metaphorically feel each other out, discovering quirks, irritations and boundaries. This gives Donna more confidence in interacting with him than she ever had in the past.

These two dolls will be the last she’ll need to paint, and then her little army will be complete. 

With that thought ingrained deep into her mind, she plants her hands onto the workshop table and abruptly stands up. Unbeknownst to her, Heisenberg glances over out of the corner of his eye, before silently going back to his work. Angie, sitting in the chair beside Donna, is snapped out of a daydream.

“Huh? Where are you going?”

Donna’s smile is invisible behind the veil, but Angie will know it’s there. “Please look after the house whilst I’m gone. I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re going out?”

“Only for a moment.”

“You sure you don’t need me to come with you?”

“I think I’ll be alright. I’ll take somebody else. I just need you to keep an eye on things here, alright?”

Angie nods, albeit unsurely. “Sure.”

Donna leaves, quietly closing the door behind her, as she silently makes her way up to the next floor of the house. Along the way, she grabs a little wicker handbasket, a small pouch, and another friend to take with her. This doll has little pigtails fashioned out of brown yarn, rosy painted cheeks, and a perfectly embroidered dress. Tucking it safely in her arm, Donna opens the front door to the whirling snowstorm outside.

The trek down to the village is brutal in such bitter winds, but Donna doesn’t have to go too far to reach the Duke’s emporium. He often sets up shop close to Donna for her convenience, so by the time Donna is through the gate to the Beneviento estate and down the pathway, he’s right there. He beams upon seeing her figure drifting through the snow. 

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Beneviento? What an unexpected surprise.”

She wonders how unexpected it could be when he always seems to be out here when she comes looking for him. She stops just in front of the counter, eyeing all the wares the Duke has put out today. 

He’s got all kinds of trinkets laid out around him. Little silver items, jewellery boxes and the like, all well-polished and reflecting the bright flakes falling around them. Strings of vegetables are hung up around the doors, as well as joints of meat. Donna can spy a tasty looking package of dried fish from just behind the garlic that piques her interest. The Duke is busy sifting through a little wooden box, and judging by the faint sound of jingling, Donna assumes its contents to be money. After a while, however, he looks up at her with a curious smile.

“Why… no Miss Angie today? How very unusual.”

Donna swallows, looking down at her little replacement companion. Angie is normally her mouthpiece, and they spend more time together than not, so being in a position to have to talk without her is… new. Watching the way she awkwardly shifts, wondering if she can get any words out through the doll she’s holding, the Duke laughs softly.

“Well, it’s none of my business, is it? You’re here to buy, and I’m here to sell, so by all means, peruse at your leisure.”

Donna nods, already eyeing his many wares. How he managed to have such a variety of things is incredible when the size of the caravan he travels in seems so small. Still, despite all of the choice she’s been given, she has absolutely no idea what she’s supposed to buy. These little silver trinkets, as much as she likes the look of them, don’t seem appropriate for what she’s trying to do. She mulls over it for quite a while, staring intensely at a little collection of unlabelled books. 

“I have some good quality ingredients for your tea blends right here, Lady Beneviento. Should you desire to purchase them, that is.”

Donna shakes her head, but the way the Duke has this little gleam in his eye suggests to her that he may know of some way to help her with her predicament. 

She knows she’s technically not supposed to trust him. Not when he sells the kind of contraband that Miranda wouldn’t allow in the village. He’s quite the odd character as well, she’s come to notice. Even in the freezing winter, his feet are always bare. She never sees him on the road either. No matter where they bump into each other, he’s already set up shop and ready to sell. He doesn’t say where he comes from, or even where he’s going next, which makes his movements impossible to predict. Donna often wonders about his life beyond what she knows about him, but it’s hard to gauge such a thing from a man who has negative interest in talking about himself.

It’s not Angie’s voice… and it certainly won’t be her voice… but Donna’s need to communicate forces the doll to speak. It’s a voice neither of them have heard before, but it’s not commented on.

“I’m looking for a gift to purchase for somebody.”

The Duke perks up almost immediately, eyes glittering with intrigue. “A gift, you say? Your hesitation is understandable. It can be hard to purchase a gift for someone if you don’t really know what it is they would like,” he expertly flips a cigar around his ring-clad fingers, an expression of thought etched into his face, “Pray tell, who would be the recipient of this gift?”

Donna clears her throat, despite not needing to use her voice, “It’s… for Lord Heisenberg.”

“Lord Heisenberg? Now that is a predicament. One would think he has everything he needs up in his factory.”

Donna says nothing, but allows the Duke to stew the thought over for a moment. The man scratches his chin absentmindedly, eyes wondering over the shapely horizon of the mountain range around them. He emits a loud hum, before searching for something to light his cigar with.

“So, what would be the nature of this gift? Is it a congratulatory gift? Or perhaps a consolation gift?”

“It’s neither. It’s a present to say thank you.”

“Thank you? That is interesting.”

Even now, Donna still has no idea what she could possibly get him. The books had been a lucky idea, having come to her as she’d been searching through the house. This time, however, she wants to give him something that isn’t hers. She wants to give him something new. The trouble is, what the hell would he even want?

After a moment, a smile erupts on the Duke’s face. He quietly lights the cigar in his hand and takes a drag, if only to raise the tension. As the smoke he exhales quickly fades into the winter breeze, he begins to speaks, “Now, I don’t make a habit of sharing my customers purchasing habits- a kind of confidentiality, if you will, that need not fall to the ears of any competing vendors,” at this, he emits a low, grizzly chuckle, “but for you, Lady Beneviento, I think I can divulge some secrets. About Lord Heisenberg, that is.”

Of course, the Duke would know exactly what Heisenberg spends his money on. Though Donna is inclined to search for sentimentality in the gifts she gives, maybe something he likes isn’t the worst idea in the world. She has a funny feeling that Heisenberg isn’t one for her brand of sentimentality, so it’s best if the gift appeals to him personally.

“He buys his cigars here, naturally. We smoke the same brand, after all,” another chuckle interrupts his train of conversation, “What else…? Ah, yes, he does buy meat too, and in quite large portions I might add.”

“Meat?”

“Meat, potatoes, a few onions here and there. I would assume he eats quite heartily considering he runs an entire factory by himself. Perhaps a little gift basket could be what you need to convey your gratitude.”

A gift basket? Donna thinks there’s a lot she can do with a gift basket. If she can rustle together a collection of small items, that’s sure to be enough. She looks over to where the joints of meat hang, all rippling with shocking red, glistening flesh. She knows nothing about his eating habits, seeing as he never accepts her offer of food, but this is a good little bit of information she’s managed to obtain. Surely he wouldn’t decline a practical gift.

“Here, why don’t I pick out a few things for you,” the Duke offers, kindly reaching out to unhook one of the larger joints of meat. Donna holds the basket out for him to fill, watching as each selected item is dropped in. Maybe she could find some ribbon to wrap it up in, just to make it look presentable. Her creative nature outshines whatever inclination she has for practicality, which Heisenberg doesn’t appreciate in the slightest.

She looks down at the hearty basket of food, now feeling fairly confident in the idea, but just as an added bonus, she thinks she can sneak a little something extra in there.

“Then… if you have some, I’ll take some cigars as well.”

“A wise choice,” the Duke chuckles as he procures a flat package of pre-rolled cigars, “I’m sure Lord Heisenberg will appreciate it.”

Donna isn’t so sure about that. Despite her confidence, there’s fifty ways this could easily backfire on her, and she almost starts to wonder if the Duke is being sarcastic here. Nonetheless, she tucks the package neatly into the basket and begins to feel around for the coins in her purse. She then reaches out to drop a handful of coins into the Duke’s expectant hand. He expertly flips the coins in his palm and murmurs, “Yes, that should cover it. A pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

Donna offers him a polite bow of her head, turning on her heel and beginning the painful trudge through the snow back to the house.

Heisenberg grins at his new creation, and he holds it aloft like a little wooden trophy. Angie peers around the doorframe to watch him from a safe distance.

“Fuckin’ took long enough, but that’s the last of them!”

“You’re done?”

“Yup. That should be it. You’re all good to go. Not a bad job, if I do say so myself.” Heisenberg sets the doll down upon the table, pulling out the chair to plonk himself down on it. He roots through his coat pocket for a cigar. He’s having this and there’s no way Angie can stop him. It’s the least he deserves for all the trouble he went to. This mission was a complete success.

Angie claps her hands together, “Oh, good. Donna will be pleased!”

“She fucking should be, I actually put effort into this.”

He picks up the last doll and puts it on the table behind him with the rest of them, lighting his cigar as he does so. He takes one long, celebratory drag to reward his efforts. Donna can finish up painting the last few in her own time. As for him, he’s done and dusted.

Though, speaking of Donna…

“Where is she, anyway? She’s been gone for a while.”

Angie has to stand on the very tips of her toes to be able to get a good look at the pile of finished dolls, “Uh… she didn’t say where she was going. She said she’d be back soon, though. She might’ve even come back already. Why don’t you go and check?” As she speaks, she strains to reach a tiny arm out to grab one of the finished dolls. She pulls it over the edge of the table towards her, and holds the little creation in her arms. Despite all of Heisenberg’s many, many, many flaws, he’d actually done a very good job. She’s absolutely delighted.

Heisenberg leans back lazily in his chair, and the wooden legs beneath him creak in protest as they tremble under his weight. Going all the way around the house sounds like a real pain in the ass right about now, especially since all he wants to do right now is sit and enjoy his cigar. Isn’t Angie the one who’s supposed to do all the grunt work? She seems far too infatuated with his creations. 

After a while, he finally decides to pull himself out of his chair, and he slumps across the room towards the door, leaving Angie behind in the workshop. He’d only vaguely overheard that Donna was stepping out, but he has no idea why. He has to admit, it’s nicer not to have her constantly peering over his shoulder all the time, but it’s a bit unlike her to just leave so suddenly. 

Now that the dolls are finished, he really has no reason to be hanging around here anymore. It’s been a bit tricky to juggle all the work he’s doing for Donna whilst trying to maintain his consistent pace of work at the factory, but now that Miranda’s task is finally done, he can start working harder on his own projects.

The growing relationship between the two of them has crossed his mind once or twice, but he has no idea what’s to become of it after he leaves. He’s not expecting her to show up on his doorstep (in fact, he doubts she’s ever stepped foot anywhere near his factory), but knowing Donna’s… tenacity, he comes to the grim realisation that it’s very plausible. He doesn’t want her to know of his extra work, the little secret he keeps hidden within the depths of his domain, but he feels a twinge of pride when he thinks about how Donna is on the verge of breaking away from Miranda entirely. In a village like this, where Miranda’s pseudo-religion dominates with a cultish force, he’s come to see how difficult it is for people to escape such manipulative brainwashing. For Donna, the fear of facing Miranda’s wrath is very real, and though that fear is often what keeps people within her circles, this time, it would be what gives Donna that little push. 

He doesn’t need to touch on it again, but he’s looking forward to seeing how that seed will grow.

The corridors are still and silent, as they always are. Donna could literally be hiding right around the corner, and he’d have no idea. Though the hopeful note that his train of thought had ended on has put a bit of a spring in his step, he’s still cautious. 

He finally catches a glimpse of her lurking in the kitchen. She’s staring at some of the pots hanging from the racks, presumably deep in thought. He holds the cigar between his lips and gently raps on the doorframe. Despite the fact he tried to do so as gently as possible, Donna still jumps.

“Jesus, still as jumpy as ever. I finished the last of the dolls. They’ll be done when you decide to finish painting them.”

Donna clasps her hands together and gives him a slight nod. She’s become a little more accustomed to speaking directly with Heisenberg (even though she’d only ever done so once or twice) so she’s able to mumble a very quiet, “Thank you.”

“Well, you don’t need me hangin’ around here any longer, so I’ll be off now.”

Donna can’t help but disagree, but when Heisenberg turns to bid her a meagre farewell, she reaches out to stop him. “Hold on…!”

He stops, poking his head back through the doorframe to meet her concealed gaze. His lips purse around the cigar in his mouth in a display of perplexion.

The basket Donna has brought back from the Duke is sitting right on the table between them. Unable to put the thought of her gift into words, she hurriedly grabs the basket and holds it out to him. Being a few feet away, Heisenberg has to step into the kitchen to see what it is she’s trying to present to him, and he has to say, he’s kind of surprised.

“What’s this…?”

A little noise of anxiety rumbles in Donna’s throat, but she manages to tell him, “It’s… to thank you. For the dolls.”

He cringes a little at the ribbon wrapped around the basket handle, but the joints of meat, strings of onions, and the box of cigars nestled inside isn’t a bad sight. He removes the cigar from his lips, and a thin stream of smoke follows. 

“Oh. Thanks, I guess. Didn’t have to go that far.”

“Actually, I was wondering… perhaps… maybe… uh…”

“In your own time, Donna.”

Donna crumbles a little under such a flat response, but she takes a moment to collect the words she needs to speak to him. She looks down at the basket. He doesn’t seem to hate it, which is a good start, but she has something a little more ambitious in mind.

“I was… wondering… if you would like dinner.”

Though it’s barely noticeable, especially in the dimly lit kitchen, Heisenberg recoils ever so slightly. He’s not exactly surprised to hear an offer like this coming from Donna, but the reaction mostly stems from the fact he has no idea how to respond. During the few moments that he remains silent, the reflection of the gift basket shimmering upon the lens of his glasses, Donna decides she needs to save it.

“I wanted to just… give you something useful, but since you’ve done such good work… maybe… I could save you the trouble of cooking.”

When she puts it like that, it seems too hard to refuse, but Heisenberg can see right through her, and he’s actually starting to enjoy her little attempts to manipulate him into moments of camaraderie. Donna doesn’t like his silence one bit. The tension grows stronger with every second, and she fears a blunt rejection, but Heisenberg simply shrugs.

“Can you cook?”

“I can.”

“Good enough for me. Go for it.”

Now it’s Donna’s turn to do a double take. Sure, it was a bit flippant on Heisenberg’s part, but it was an acceptance all the same. Donna’s grip on the basket handle grows tighter, matching the bubbling excitement within.

Chapter Text

Donna stares down hard at the kitchen table. The joints of meat and strings of vegetables she’d purchased from the Duke lay innocently in front of her. The box of cigars, however, have already been snagged by Heisenberg. He’d returned to the workshop to pack up his tools, leaving Donna alone with the task of cooking a meal for them both.

She’s not used to cooking for more than just herself. In fact, this might be the very first time. She’s not exactly short on ingredients, so there’s no trouble there, but figuring out what to cook seemed to be the most difficult hurdle so far. It’s in her nature to overthink the smaller things in life, so she lacks the confidence to run into an idea headfirst. If only she knew what it is that Heisenberg cooks for himself at the factory.

Well, it doesn’t hurt to prep whilst she thinks it over. She’s already considering the idea of roasting the meat as it is, served with garnishes, but it’s not cemented. She plucks an onion from the table and moves it to the chopping board, brandishing a very large knife in which to cut it with. The sheen of the blade glows under the kitchen lights. 

She’s removed her veil for this task, but she’s starting to regret it. The pungent aroma of the onion is already assaulting her nose, and fat tears are beginning to brim in her eye. She squints in a poor attempt to see through the wet blur, slowly chopping the onion into thick slices, discarding bits of onion peel as she does so. 

Onions, meat- she’s got some potatoes somewhere in the cupboards, and maybe a few carrots too. If roasting them fails, she can always turn it into a stew. She uses the flat of the blade to shift the pile of chopped onions over to one side of the chopping board, grabbing a bulb of garlic from the basket as she does so. Is one onion enough? Maybe she should chop up some more. How much exactly did Heisenberg eat, anyway? The Duke made it fairly clear that he bought a large amount of meat. Maybe she should make a bit extra. She only knows how to cook enough for herself. 

Her fingers work around the garlic, scraping the layers of thin peel away and pushing the cloves out of their nests. Does she even need to chop these? Roasted garlic was always good as a side. Maybe she should just go and find a recipe. At this rate, it’ll be midnight before she decides what to do.

She looks over at the meat, before shrugging to herself. She likes her meat covered in garlic, and she has enough of it to do both. Peeling the cloves themselves is a little bit trickier, and she catches the sensitive skin beneath her fingernails whilst she does so- it leaves behind a faintly uncomfortable tingling sensation.

The smell of garlic is a fond one for her. It smells like cooking, and cooking reminds her of home, and home will always remind her of the family she once had. Peering through the kitchen door, wondering when food will be ready, was a common activity for her. Both she and her sister would often be scolded for doing such a thing, but it was hard to be upset when it smelled so good. She thinks it a shame she can never cook for her family, but cooking for Heisenberg is the next best thing.

Speaking of Heisenberg, he suddenly appears in the doorway right as Donna is peeling the garlic, and the clove slips from her hands and flies onto the table. She scrambles to recover it as Heisenberg watches her with silent amusement. 

He’s a little intrigued by the lack of a veil, but whilst Donna is working so hard, she seems to have forgotten about it entirely. He decides not to mention it, instead choosing to stride over and observe her work. 

“Well, you’re just a regular domestic goddess, aren’t you?”

The corner of Donna’s mouth hikes up slightly, but it’s not exactly a smile. It does seem to accurately reflect her situation, however, as she manages to battle the garlic back onto the chopping board. She pins it beneath her fingers and begins to gently slice it up. Heisenberg frowns. 

“What’s that for?”

For a seemingly simple question, it’s remarkably hard to find an answer to it. Donna looks at the garlic helplessly, before responding, “It’s… for the meat.”

“Crush it first, it’ll work better.”

“Huh?”

Heisenberg rolls his eyes, stepping in to shift Donna to one side so he can demonstrate. With the half-chopped garlic, he presses it beneath the blade of the knife, pushing it down with his hand until it splits underneath the force. The clove is flattened, creating a thin film of liquid around it. He finishes the job by roughly chopping it up into small chunks, before expectantly holding the blade back out to Donna. Donna hesitantly takes it. 

“See. The, uh… taste comes out better if you crush it. It’s easier to chop too.”

Donna nods, though it looks very uncertain. Nonetheless, she copies what he’d done with a fresh piece of garlic, crushing it under the blade of the knife and chopping it up. He chops faster than she’d been expecting. It almost seems like he’s really accustomed to this kind of thing.

“Ugh, my gloves smell like garlic now. Probably should’ve taken them off… damnit.”

That’s enough to put a tiny smile on Donna’s face, and she chops up one more clove of garlic before pushing the little pile aside to join the onions. 

“So what are you cookin’, anyway?”

“I’m… roasting it.”

Not the most concise answer she could’ve given, but it suits him nonetheless. After working all day, he’d sort of lost track of how hungry he was getting, and roast meat sounds pretty good right about now. He leans his elbows upon the tabletop, watching Donna as she sifts through the cupboards for some potatoes. He can’t say he wasn’t expecting a gift from her after all of this, but as far as Donna and gifts go, he was definitely expecting something more sappy. She just seemed like the sentimental type. Not that he wanted anything like that from her, but this was nice enough. 

“Huh. Been a while since I’ve had roasted meat like this,” he murmurs, prodding at the joints of meat on the table. “Did you get this from the Duke?”

Donna nods silently, setting down two handfuls of potatoes she’d managed to obtain from the cupboards. She doesn’t peel them, but does chop off the little overgrown bits. As she works, her mind begins to concoct a thought. Now it was just a matter of her mouth following up.

“Do you eat this often, then…?”

“What?”

“Roasted meat. Like this.”

“Oh. Um.” He goes to scratch the side of his face, but the sudden sting of garlic scent deters him from doing so. “Not much. Well, I used to. It was the easiest way to cook, but I kept, uh… getting sidetrack, and it would end up burnt. Work takes over, and I totally forget I ever started cooking until the fire alarms go off.”

Donna emits a tiny chuckle at the mere image of it, and though she doesn’t think twice, Heisenberg thinks it might be the strangest thing he’s seen since coming here. He barely gets to see Donna’s face, let alone see a smile or a laugh. She’s not exactly the most cheerful person in the world either, so this is… new. It’s not necessarily bad. Just new.

Donna finishes chopping up the potatoes into large chunks. She teeters on the idea of having carrots, and decides that it can’t hurt. Chopped up carrots are soon added to the piles of vegetables that take up the space of the chopping board. With the leftover cloves of garlic, that can be roasted alongside the meat, so she leaves them unpeeled. Now for the main attraction.

Despite her slightly wonky chopping skills, Donna is very skilled with meat. She rubs it in oil and garlic, seasoning it with herbs obtained from the Duke that Heisenberg didn’t even think you could get in this area. It’s kind of therapeutic to watch her work quietly. He was going to head outside for a cigar and some fresh air, but he thinks he’s actually pretty comfortable here.

“Need a tray?”

“Oh… yes. Um. In that… cupboard,” Donna manages to gesture to the cupboard with a flick of her head, her hands too covered in oil and herbs to do anything without making a mess. With her eyes on the meat, she can hear the awkward rustling and clanging as Heisenberg attempts to dislodge a big tray from its hiding place in the cupboard. He curses under his breath as he does so, managing to stop the other containers from falling on the floor. Donna smiles again. 

Through the moments of madness they’ve faced whilst under Miranda’s wing, and the dysfunctionality of their so-called family, she thinks this is the first time that she and Heisenberg have ever really felt like siblings.

By the time the meat is finished cooking, a savoury aroma has filled the entire house from top to bottom. Donna can’t remember the last time she’s enjoyed the smell of a cooked dinner she could share with somebody else. She carefully removes the tray of food from the oven, placing it upon the unlit stove. Heisenberg is lingering by the counter, slowly becoming lost in the scent of good food. Angie seems to have appeared at some point, watching the tray of sizzling meat with curiosity. 

“Angie… would you set the table, please?” 

Donna’s soft request doesn’t go unheard by her little friend, and Angie stands to attention, before waddling away to fulfill the task. Heisenberg watches the little doll leave, but can’t help but cringe. 

He’s never really been one to eat at a table. Most meals are eaten at his desk whilst doing other things, like reading or working. He sure as hell hasn’t eaten with anybody else for a long time either. Eating at a set table feels so… stiff. It doesn’t help that Donna isn’t the most talkative, so he can only hope the food will be worth it. Credit to Donna though, it smells amazing. 

As Donna is procuring the sizzling tray of roasted potatoes, she glances over her shoulder at Heisenberg.

“Please… if you would wait upstairs.”

Heisenberg has his doubts that she’ll be able to efficiently manage so much by herself, but he simply shrugs and follows her orders, ambling out of the room to head upstairs.

On the floor above, Angie is busy fussing with the little table she’s chosen for them to eat at. She has to climb onto the chairs to be able to lay down the cutlery, and she spends perhaps a little too long adjusting the placemats. 

Despite them being family, they’ve never eaten together like one. Not even once. Of course, he’d decline if presented the opportunity, but even back when their family was still being formed, there was none of this domestic kind of intimacy. Miranda didn’t sit them at a table and give them food. The idea of it is just laughable. If Miranda was currently working on you, the most you’d get was a bit of bread and water. 

Invitations to the other lords domains are few and far between as well. Dimitrescu would never let Heisenberg step a foot into her castle unless she needed serious help fixing something. Same goes for Moreau, and though Heisenberg doesn’t stay any longer than he needs to, the two have ended up sharing a few beers in the past. That was all business though. It never got personal. 

That’s probably why this all feels so jarring. After spending time getting used to Donna’s compulsion for unnecessary kindness, it does take the edge off a little bit, but it’s still disarming. It’s been quite literally decades since he’s had any kind of interaction like this. He’ll grit his teeth and bear it for the sake of Donna’s thanks for his work, but with that being said, he finds that it’s becoming a lot more bearable. Donna lacks a lot of traits that the other two seem to have an overabundance of. There’s no need to get competitive with him, nor is there any snideness. He has no reason to think twenty steps ahead of her like he does with the others. Despite having spent an enormous chunk of her life hiding behind a veil, Donna is surprisingly transparent. It’s actually pretty refreshing.

Angie manages to strategically fall off the chair, and she lands upon the wooden floor, outstretching a little porcelain arm to Heisenberg. “Here, you can sit right here.”

He acknowledges this with a nod of indifference, crudely pulling the chair out and plonking himself down on it. He stares down at the perfectly polished array of cutlery with disdain so visible that any passerby would think that the man had never seen cutlery in his life. 

The only cutlery Heisenberg has in his factory is a slightly wonky metal fork, a rusted knife that seems more suitable for carving meat than eating a meal, and an enormous dessert spoon with stains he can’t quite wash off. That’s all he uses to consume whatever edible objects he’s managed to lug in from the outside, and even then he’s predisposed to using his hands. Occasionally, he’ll use the knife as an impromptu screwdriver, but that’s just normal for him.

It’s strange for him to be in a place that’s so… livable. 

He sits there, elbow resting upon the table and chin resting upon his hand, as he drifts off into an absentminded state. He doesn’t react to the faint sounds of the elevator opening, nor the sound of Donna wheeling a little cart that squeaks obscenely, having not been used for some time. She wheels it out into the room where Heisenberg is sitting, and Heisenberg barely notices until it appears in his peripheral vision. He sits back in his chair, eyeing the plates laid up on the trolley.

“Guess this is the closest we’ll get to a restaurant in this piece of shit village, huh?” Heisenberg remarks, as Donna grabs a towel to move the steaming plates of food from the cart to the table. The food jostles when it hits the placemats, and it emits the most wonderful scent. Donna can only smile at his comment. If only she could spend her lonely dinners with other people, it would surely make the nights a lot warmer. Even with just Heisenberg here, she can feel the halls of her home begin to brim with life. 

Donna meticulously fusses over the plates, methodically spooning the right amount of food from each dish onto their plates. Heisenberg is more than happy to do it himself, but he fears if he gets in the way of Donna’s enormously threatening serving spoon, he might just end up on the receiving end of it. Good thing she isn’t a mother. She doesn’t need a biologically influenced increase to her silent, maternal tenacity. He’s had enough of that as it is.

After a short moment, Heisenberg is left with a very heaped serving of roasted meat, vegetables and potatoes on his plate. Now, he’s not exactly one for genuine compliments, he tends to keep these kinds of observations to himself, but… he’d be lying if he said it didn’t look amazing. The scent alone had been making him hungry, but now he feels ravenous. 

Once the table iss set to her standards, Donna finally sits down in her seat. The food before her is still sizzling from the oven, and it emits a faint wisp of steam that just about obscures Heisenberg’s face from view. He has his head bent over the plate, and he picks up his fork with little hesitation, but leaves the knife untouched. Donna had been raised on good manners all her life, especially being from a family of status, but curiously, the way Heisenberg hunches over his plate with his elbows on the table doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. She’s just happy he’s eating.

Donna doesn’t pick up her cutlery for a few moments, instead choosing to stare at Heisenberg with an intensity that suggests sinister motives. In actuality, she’s just gauging his reaction, hoping to see some amount of pleasure on his face. He’s already two bites in, shuffling a little pile of carrots and potato together on his fork and taking a hearty bite. It’s at this point that he catches her staring over the brim of his glasses. His face remains stone cold until he swallows. Donna’s penchant for socially inappropriate staring is one thing, but she can’t get away with it without her veil to obscure her eyes. He wants to tell her this, but he doesn’t want to startle her with such a reminder. The mood was actually getting comfortable for once, bar the way Donna’s dark eyes seem to be boring into him. 

He raises his fork, an awkward smile tugging at one corner of his lips, as he says, “Definitely not bad so far.”

That’s all Donna needs to hear, and Heisenberg is momentarily taken aback by the way she beams. It might actually be the first time he’s seen a real outburst of genuine emotion, and he wonders how long it’s been since she’s smiled like that. He’s not much of a people-pleaser, nor are any of his actions driven by the desire to make anybody happy, but what he will say is that whatever regrets he had about staying are now gone. Donna picks up her knife and fork and slowly begins to eat. The smile has yet to disappear from her face.

The pair have nothing to talk about, nor do they feel inclined to make feeble attempts at conversation. They simply enjoy their food, and the presence of just a tiny bit of normalcy in a village marked with the stains of inhumanity.

Chapter Text

By the time they finish eating, Heisenberg is just about ready to fall asleep right there in his chair. He’d finished off his entire plate, though not without some struggle through the last few bites, but it was definitely worth it. No point wasting the best dinner he’s had in a long time. Donna also wastes no time piling the empty plates back onto the trolley. How she can bustle around like that after eating such a big meal is beyond him. He just loses the will to move if he eats too much. 

He emits a long but satisfied sigh, “Y’know what, that was pretty good. I liked it.” In a rare moment of admittance, he can’t just let her go without some kind of praise. It’s not the most eloquent compliment, but it’s the best he can muster. Donna is already brimming with pride from his earlier comments, and now she’s officially in a very good mood. She collects the cutlery, placing them on the tray.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would you like a coffee?”

“Don’t drink it, remember?”

“Oh! Um… tea?”

“Not my favourite. C’mon, Donna, you know this.”

Donna stumbles for a moment, planting a hand over her mouth. How that little lapse of memory had happened, she has no idea, and she’s left tripping over her own words as she tries to offer some kind of after-dinner refreshment that suits him. Heisenberg openly chuckles at Donna’s little tizzy. He knows exactly what’s going through her mind.

“I’ll have a cigar, if it’s all the same with you.”

“Of course. Please do.”

With a curt nod, he procures a cigar from his jacket pocket, but as he fishes for his lighter, he’s suddenly very aware of the lack of presence of one very belligerent little doll. It wasn’t like her to be far from Donna’s side for too long. He’s definitely not complaining, but just where did that little pest get to? 

He won’t lie, the food has made this one of the best smokes he’s had in a long time. He relaxes back in his chair and removes his glasses, placing them down on the table. The lights aren’t as bright up here as they are in the medical room, and most of Donna’s house is often dimly lit. It leaves a warm and ambient glow that settles upon the room. 

Whilst Heisenberg enjoys his cigar, Donna wheels the trolley back down to the kitchen, but ditches it in favour of grabbing herself something to drink. Normally, as is customary after dinner, she would have a coffee, but as she shifts around to look for the beans, her small albeit high quality rack of wine bottles catches her eye. They’ve been here since her father had died, and she’s never felt inclined to drink them until now. She hesitantly takes a bottle from the top of the rack, staring down at the dusty label, but ends up grabbing herself a glass and a corkscrew on her way to leave the kitchen.

By the time she gets back upstairs, Heisenberg looks as if he’s melted into his chair. It’s not like him to feel so comfortable anywhere other than his chair back at the factory, but everything feels remarkably good. He flashes Donna a lazy smile as she passes by, and she sets the bottle and glass upon the table. He blinks. 

“You drinkin’ all of that, or what?”

Donna’s expression of alarm is comparable to that of a startled mouse, and she brushes away a stray lock of hair as she sits down. “N… no. I just thought it’d be, um… a nice change of pace.”

The truth is, this is her own way of celebrating this lovely evening. After countless attempts to form a more amicable bond with Heisenberg, it’s finally all come to fruition, and she couldn’t be happier. Of course, she wouldn’t tell him this. It’d probably set them right back to square one, making such a forthright statement, but she’s happy to celebrate in her own little way. A glass of wine left behind from her departed father, now shared with a person she could actually call a brother. A perfect way to finish off the night.

However, as the thought hits her, she jumps in her chair. “Oh! I forgot…! I didn’t get you a glass! Did… did you want one?” She’s ready to make the trek back downstairs, but Heisenberg waves a dismissive hand before she has a chance to get up. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. This is enough for me,” he gestures with the cigar, “you drink up.”

Donna flushes, but continues to open the bottle. She struggles with the cork for an embarrassingly long time, providing Heisenberg with an enjoyable amount of amusement to complement his cigar. It’s a bit of a hack job by the time she frees the cork from its glass confines, but it’s easily made up for with the nice full glass of wine she pours herself.

She won’t lie, she’s not a wine connoisseur like Dimitrescu is, so she really can’t tell the difference between good wine and bad wine, but it tastes lovely all the same. The two of them sit in silence for a short while, enjoying their respective refreshments, but Heisenberg is the first to break into conversation.

“So, you’re all set now. Those dolls should hold up well enough for some time. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course. Thank you…”

“Eh, you’re welcome. I think now’s the time we gotta get our shit together. It pays to be ten steps ahead.”

Donna nods, thinking about her own methods of preparation. She won’t tell him explicitly what she’s been up to, but what she does manage to murmur is, “I have been… taking more steps than usual to be ready. Just like you suggested.”

“‘Atta girl, that’s the spirit. You can’t tell what’s gonna happen. I know Miranda has her big plan, but let’s be real, how likely is it that it’ll go without interference?”

“The stakes are high…”

“If by stakes you mean our lives, yeah, they are pretty high. Now it’s just a matter of getting through it.”

“You have a plan?”

“You don’t?”

“Eh? W-Well… I do.”

“Then we’ll be fine.”

It’s clear evasion to avoid relaying to Donna any part of his plan, but he’s got no idea what she has in store and he’s not sure how much faith to place in her. She’s not the best problem solver in the world, and though he says they’ll be fine with the same amount of confidence he’d say anything else with, he’s got his doubts. He still has no intention of telling her anything, but… well, it doesn’t exactly hurt to take her fate into account. Just as an afterthought. 

Donna nods, belying the crease in her forehead that indicates silent concern. After all, her plan was simply to avoid confrontation at all costs. Hell, if her siblings are ready to take the spotlight in this grand finale, she might be able to hide from Miranda’s sights altogether if she hunkers down behind them. Not that she wants to leave Heisenberg behind, but surely he could hold his own, right? He was definitely the strongest out of the four of them, but would he be strong enough to retaliate against Miranda?

The conversation trails off at this point, though things feel a lot more tense now than they had before. Donna takes an ambitious gulp of her wine, and Heisenberg glances down at the half a cigar he’s still smoking. After a short moment, he puts the cigar in his mouth, and shoves his hand in his pocket.

“Want one?”

Donna blinks, mouth still full of wine. Heisenberg’s outstretched hand is holding a fresh cigar as he extends the offer of a smoke over to her. Donna hesitates, and Heisenberg impatience gets the better of him. Without waiting further for a reply, he places the cigar down and rolls it across the table to her.

“Smoke it if you want.”

Donna stares down at the small brown roll of tobacco. It’s the exact same brand her father once smoked, having also been purchased from the Duke. Somehow, it leaves a fond smile upon her lips.

“You know… I got in trouble for this a long time ago.”

Heisenberg raises a brow. Donna wasn’t much of a smoker, was she? His silence indicates an offer to continue.

“Well, my father would smoke these. I remember being quite young, and he left the room for a moment, leaving one in the ashtray. Whilst he was gone, I…” she cuts herself off with a small giggle at recalling such a silly memory, “... I suppose I simply wanted to know what it was like, so I gave it a try.”

Not the most thrilling story, but it elicits some amusement from Heisenberg nonetheless. “Well, aren’t you the little rebel?”

“Unfortunately, he came back at the most inopportune moment and caught me. He was really quite upset. He didn’t scold me much, but if the burning in my mouth was anything to go by, I think I learnt my lesson. Though… I suspect I may have put the wrong end in my mouth.”

Now this gets a real laugh from Heisenberg, and his head lolls back over the back of his chair as he does so. “Kids are dumb as hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. He was probably mad you were smoking it wrong.”

“Perhaps…”

She wonders what her father would think of her now, a grown woman sharing a cigar with a companion, much in the way he had done in his life. So much had happened to her since her family had departed, and she thinks she hasn’t been this happy since…

...since Miranda adopted her.

This thought calls for another gulp of wine, and with a very telling lack of hesitance, she takes up the cigar, much to Heisenberg’s pleasure. He slides the lighter across the table to her as she puts the cigar to her lips.

It tastes like nothing but burning to her, and a slight hint of something bitter. Oddly reminiscent of her childhood, and even though she doesn’t inhale, the unfamiliar sensation of her mouth growing hot causes her to cough a little. Heisenberg chuckles.

“Keeps the cold away,” he says, and Donna finds the way he exhales a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth and nose to now be far more impressive. “It’s good for when I have to trek across the village in the snow.”

Many a time has Donna recalled seeing Heisenberg trudging into their meetings with reddened cheeks, layers of snow on his coat, and a cigar hanging from his lips. Out in the open, she can’t tell what’s condensated breath and what’s smoke.

Donna stares down at the cigar she’s holding- this time she takes a smaller inhale and slowly relishes in the warmth. A thin haze begins to form above the table. Donna’s expression grows melancholic.

“After all these years… to think it’s all coming to an end. It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Far too fucking long if you ask me.”

“I suppose it’s been a lot longer for you than it has been for me, but… what are you going to do after all of this? The village will be empty.”

Heisenberg doesn’t reply- at least not for a while. He mulls the question over the rest of his cigar, and without his glasses, Donna is able to see the way his eyes move when he thinks. For a man who always seems to have a plan, it strikes her as odd that he’s taking so long to respond. In fairness, she’s never had to think about what she would do if she had to leave the village, and she still doesn’t know what she’d do either. Abandoning her home feels wrong.

“I guess… I’d just do whatever I feel like in the moment. If I wanted to go somewhere, it wouldn’t be hard. There’s plenty of crap in this village to keep me afloat.”

It’s strange to say out loud. Heisenberg isn’t sure if he can call himself much of a drifter. A loner, definitely, but he’s never had to leave the village before. He doesn’t feel particularly inclined to find his way back to wherever the very first place he called home is either. How is he supposed to know what he’d do with freedom? He’s spent so long beneath Miranda’s thumb that he’s forgotten what freedom even feels like.

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Well, what about you then?”

“I’m… not sure. Even if I could somehow make a family for myself… I can’t leave this place behind. I couldn’t leave Claudia behind.”

“Never let the dead tie you down. Stops you from really living.”

“You think so?”

“I mean, if I was feeling particularly optimistic, I’d say some shit about memories being important, but if you just sit and let the dead dictate your life, you might as well be dead yourself. Just look at Miranda. It’s been, what, a fucking century now? All those years she’s spent seeking out the dead, and the sequence of her life has brought about nothing but exactly that.”

Heisenberg sits back a little in his chair, fingers habitually tapping the edge of the table, “I’m not saying you’re gonna pull the same shit, but it’s a waste of real life if you live for the dead. I mean, look at us. We live for the sake of a dead kid we don’t even fucking know.”

“I suppose you’re a more logical person than I.”

“Took you a while to catch on.”

“But you can’t really claim to know what it’s like. Losing a child, losing siblings-- not that I’m, um… trying to rub it in. I just mean…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Heisenberg sighs, “I get it. I’m just giving you… I dunno, some kind of answer. Not like you ever have to take my advice, but you’re damn lucky I’m giving it to you anyway.”

Donna takes up her wine glass with a tiny smile, knowing that he’s exactly right. Sometimes it was never about the quality of advice. It was simply the presence of it that showed her really how far they’d come.

“Maybe we’ll just figure it out when we get there.”

“Not much else we can do.”

The strong taste of wine tinges the tip of Donna’s tongue, leaving a faint purplish residue on her rosy lips. It’s not in her usual nature to leave things to figure out til the last minute, but the current atmosphere in the room has her feeling so much at ease, her usual anxieties have melted away- at least for the time being. However, that doesn’t stop her mind from formulating the most pressing questions. There are questions to be found in almost every sentence spoken by Heisenberg, most of which he cares not to answer, though that may be down to the fact a lot of Donna’s questions can only be answered by personal truths and emotional contemplation. Even she’s come to learn that Heisenberg favours neither of these things, but it doesn’t stop her from asking. 

“Is there anyone in the village whose death would move you? I know you’re not exactly… fond of the others, but… there must be somebody.”

“Nope.” Heisenberg replies bluntly. “I mean, not in the sense of being, uh… sad. Miranda’s death would definitely move me, though. It’d move me right the fuck out of this shithole village, and sharpish.”

Despite the answer being punctuated with a Heisenberg-standard morbid joke, Donna can’t quite keep her face from falling. Quick as ever. Heisenberg’s eyes lock onto it immediately. It’s so much easier to determine Donna’s thought process without that bloody veil, but that can be as much of a curse as it is a blessing, and Heisenberg sighs.

“...did you want me to say I’d be upset if you died?”

Donna very transparently answers that question with an uncharacteristically large gulp of wine, and Heisenberg doesn’t know whether to laugh or not. It’s depressing enough as it is that she feels the need to seek something like that out to begin with, but it’s a little strange to consider the concept of wanting someone to lament over your death. It’s definitely not something that anybody has sought from him before. The only thing he’s ever been wanted for is his body for a host and his powers for strength. Though there’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them, one that requires some amount of acknowledgement of their status as a ‘family’ in order to spur them to tolerate one another, there’s never been an expectation to uphold emotional ties. Much like the other lords, Donna doesn’t actively seek out these kinds of relationships, but she does tend to try her hand at manipulating one into existence should the opportunity pass her by. After all, that’s as much as she’s done with Heisenberg, but he knows it’s born from her desire to replace her real family.

So, with all that kept in mind, along with the short analysis he’s made of her behaviour over the period he’s been here, Heisenberg finds a very unusual sentence lingering on the tip of his tongue. One that could’ve never been conceived had recent events not happened.

“...for what it’s worth… uh. You’re the most bearable one in the village at the moment. I dunno how I’d feel if you died, I can’t really determine something like that until it happens, but I would rather it were someone else instead of you.”

The words hit Donna so hard that she’s unable to really pull any kind of expression at all- something that throws Heisenberg slightly off guard. He doesn’t know if the answer she was looking for would’ve made her happy, either. He’s left in suspense when she takes the last sip of her wine, setting the empty glass upon the table with a hollow clink.

“Then… I hope you wouldn’t find it strange for me to say that I would much prefer to see you alive than dead, and… if I could somehow prevent that from happening, I would. Should you, uh… require my aid at any point in the future.”

To him, it finally sparks a much needed change of mood, and he laughs boisterously. “Like I need your aid, Donna. If anything, you’d be the one needing my help.”

Donna smiles, sensing no real malice from Heisenberg, nor any kind of dismissal of an offer of help from either side. She’s found his little jabs to be quite uplifting nowadays. It means he’s in a good mood, and she’d very much like to keep it that way. 

So, on that final ribbing of Donna’s offensive capabilities, Heisenberg plants his hands upon the table and pushes himself out of his chair with a low grunt. He snatches up his glasses and pushes them up over the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, I’m gonna get going. I’ve got shit to do.”

Donna scrambles to get out of her seat to see him to the door, a gesture Heisenberg finds to be both awkward and embarrassing. “Oh, of course. Thank you for staying.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for the food and all. Guess I know where to go when I get too tired to cook.”

Though it’s a joke, Donna has the very serious intention of fulfilling that exact desire. She won’t tell him that, though. Instead, the pair amble over to the front door. Heisenberg pulls at the handle and a harsh gale finishes the rest, sending the door flying open with what could’ve been a horribly loud noise had Heisenberg not caught it in time. The cold air is bitter and chilly, and Heisenberg knows he’s going to be in need of another cigar for the walk home.

“Try not to fuck the dolls up too quickly, alright? I don’t have all day to fix your shit. Other than that, go fucking wild.” He says, throwing up a hand to wave behind him as he leaves, pulling the door shut as he goes. “See you later.”

Donna, left standing by herself in the foyer, begins to habitually wring her hands. With the loss of the relaxed atmosphere that Heisenberg had (somehow) managed to bring with him, Donna is met with the brick wall of thoughts and emotions that have been subconsciously piling up over the course of the conversation. However, she can’t say that the evening hasn't been a success. In fact, it’s been everything she’s ever wanted, though there’s no telling if her plan has actually truly worked yet.

Nonetheless, she finds that her evening, and perhaps even her whole life, now feels a lot less lonely.

Chapter Text

The bitter temperatures of the mountain don’t change, even when February finally rolls around. Donna finds herself spending more time huddled up beside the fire than she had during the peak of the winter months. Though spring is just around the corner, the village seems colder than ever. Even Heisenberg has become prone to noticing that it always seems to be nippier outside than he initially expects, though he’s happy to seek warmth from the depths of his factory, which is now working overtime. 

As a facetious afterthought, he’d always imagined that the village would grow warmer when Miranda is away. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to be the case, but when he stands out by the front gate, looking out at what little bits of the village he can spy from across the bridge, he knows the temperature will only get lower. His breath becomes more visible with every inch the sun sets, soon sending sprawling, elongated shadows over the landscape. Soon, the only light he’ll have is the one flickering at the end of his cigar.

The lycans know what they have to do. They’re all dumb as bricks, without a doubt, but at the very least they’re able to await the night before their vicious tendencies are allowed to grow wild and free. Heisenberg is simply there to keep things in order. He’s not much bothered by the fate of the actual village, but he’ll wring whatever amusement he can out of it.

He allows himself a little extra time to linger by the factory before he decides to head out. Enough time to be fashionably late, but as he strides across to the other side of the bridge, he can hear the carnage unfolding beautifully. What a shame that the actual perpetrator of this massacre isn’t around to see it, but the fruits of their labour will no doubt be enjoyed by Miranda when Rose is secured and brought to the village. 

Heisenberg doesn’t actually want to run into any of the villagers at this time. There’s no way they’ll understand what’s going on, and as much as he’d love to tell them all the truth about how their precious deity is actually a murderous, cultist bitch, there’s no point anymore. It won’t help them, and it won’t help him. As much as he hates to admit it, their faith in Miranda might be the only good thing they’ve got left ahead of them. 

As he walks at a steady pace, his right hand twists around the handle of his hammer, and the enormous hunk of metal balanced over his shoulder rhythmically sways back and forth. He’s a little irritated that the responsibility of the cull has fallen solely to him, but that can be said for most of Miranda’s tasks. As if the head vampire bitch would get off her enormous ass to do some real work, and Moreau is somehow worse than useless. Knowing them, they’d probably enjoy the show he’s putting on here, and are probably watching from a fair distance. Dimitrescu has the best seats in the house for observing the downfall of the village, but nothing beats being up close and personal to the carnage. The unmistakable scent of blood is sharp and metallic, the harrowing screams that send a real shiver down his spine- he’s got no idea if his reaction is indicative of a positive or negative response, but the presence of it alone is wildly exhilarating. 

Now standing at the very edge of the village, he can hear gunshots sounding off like fireworks in amongst the chaos, and the spilt blood is already seeping into the stone-cold soil. He lurks under the cover of some trees for a while, watching the eradication of the poor, unfortunate souls who were unlucky enough to be outside when the lycans had begun their attack. People fleeing for cover, only to run headlong into one of the vicious beasts, as the village begins to swarm with these monsters. If he’s being honest, he thought this affair would be over quicker, but it seems to be a slower process than anticipated.

When the path through the village is littered with only bodies, the lycans all jumping from rooftop to rooftop in order to sniff out what survivors remain (and he would bet there are surprisingly more than he’d expect), Heisenberg takes that as his cue to move. The chaos hasn’t stopped there, though. The sounds of hungry lycan snarling are occasionally interspersed with wild screaming and gunshots as Heisenberg strolls leisurely through the near-decimated village. Now that the survivors were all in cover, he could move through the village without some poor sap trying to ask him for help.

It’s draining enough to have to lie to them all, watching as they give offerings to those titled the Four Lords of the village. He’s only poked his head into the chapel once or twice, but catching a glimpse of his own portrait upon the altar always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, especially seeing it sitting comfortably next to a godlike depiction of Miranda. 

It’s not as if he doesn’t like being looked up to. Being revered as a figure of authority in the village gives his ego a nice little boost, but his gut always grows cold at the realisation that he’s being revered in a way like Miranda, and that’s all down to her. He doesn’t need that kind of responsibility. The title is fine, but he’s not one to take it too seriously. He doesn’t give a shit what happens to the village or the villagers. He’s just happy that they appreciate him so much that they’re actually too daunted to talk to him properly. That means he’s left with both authority and isolation, which is absolutely perfect for him. 

In both life and death, Heisenberg does virtually everything he can to avoid prolonged interaction with the villagers. Truth be told, he doesn’t really know how he’d feel if a villager came to him, begging him for help. Obviously, he’d crack their skulls open the moment they looked the other way (it was his own special way of helping them, because nobody wants to be torn apart by a lycan), but having to deal with the immediate reality of discarding an entire life that’s pleading for his aid is… a little bit depressing. He thinks it ruins the show a little bit, but whether or not he’ll ever actually be in a position to feel remorse for this, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know either. 

So, able to avoid having to commit any executions himself, Heisenberg manages to waltz through the village and towards the Beneviento estate, staining his boots with blood in the process. He’s got a while to wait whilst the lycans root through all the buildings, it could take hours, so he doesn’t think it hurts much to pay a visit to Donna. Unlike the other two, he sincerely doubts she’ll be out observing the cull. It’s not that she can’t handle all the brutality, but she’s not one to seek it out like the others do. He thinks it’s one of the things that makes her more bearable to talk to.

However, to his surprise, Donna is quietly lingering by the gate to the estate. She’s fully dressed, veil and all, and carrying a silent Angie in her arms. In fact, Heisenberg probably wouldn’t have even noticed she was there if he hadn’t spotted Angie’s off-white hue in his peripheral vision. He stops, planting his hammer into the ground so it stands on its own. 

“Donna? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Donna seems to recoil slightly. Perhaps she hasn’t come to watch the cull? Or, if she has, she’s reluctant to do so. Heisenberg tilts his head ever so slightly, mild perplexion evident in the quirk of his brow. Angie decides to speak in Donna’s stead, but even she sounds a little run-down.

“We just came out here to see what was happening.”

“I don’t think it’s worth the bother, to be honest. I’m just here to keep these brain-dead chunks of flesh working until the village is empty.”

“And soon… Rose will be here.”

“If everything goes to plan.”

They take a moment to stand in silence. The hoard of lycans alone sound as if a full-scale war is happening in the village, but the screams have yet to die down. If only he could use these beasts for his own efforts. Being swarmed by the amount of lycans hiding out in the stronghold is practically certain death, but they could never disobey Miranda. 

“Is it… fun for you?”

Donna’s voice is barely audible over the distant roar of savagery, but Heisenberg catches it. The way he frowns is hard to see behind his glasses, but the silent stare he offers Donna prompts her to elaborate.

“I mean, all of this,” she gestures with a hand to their surroundings, “the lycans… killing the villagers. Do you enjoy this?”

He’s not sure what she’s getting at, and whilst he prefers to make it look like he’s all-knowing, he has no problems with admitting how confusing this is to him.

“What a weird fucking question.”

Donna doesn’t reply. Heisenberg emits a long sigh, resting his elbow upon the propped up handle of his hammer.

“I mean, it’s easy enough to do. It’s not like I’m out there killing them myself. If I wanted to turn it into some kind of game… maybe I could enjoy it. It’s not like it means much to me.”

“You don’t feel anything for these villagers?”

“Do you?”

Donna pauses, before replying, “I’m not sure.”

Heisenberg rolls his eyes, and the way he shifts from foot to foot would suggest he’s getting impatient, “Don’t start taking the moral high ground now, Donna, it’s a bit late for that.”

“That’s not what I’m getting at,” Donna’s dismay is evident in her voice. It seems she might even be a little insulted by his harsh claim. “Things like this… this is more to Alcina’s tastes, aren’t they?”

“Nah. I mean, she enjoys this kind of brutality more than the rest of us, but she likes it long and slow. Sure, this whole cull is a bit of a quick thrill for her, but she’ll probably just get fucking bored in the end. So long as she gets a meal out of it, she doesn’t give a damn who dies.”

“Do you think she’s watching from the castle?”

“Oh, definitely. As if she’d get off her fat ass to come down here and help me with this- she’s probably enjoying the view from the very top.” Heisenberg’s eyes drift up to what little he can see of Castle Dimitrescu that isn’t obscured by trees, before flitting over to Donna. “But you made an effort to come all the way out here. Sure you’re not the one enjoying the action?”

Donna shuffles uncomfortably, “I… It didn’t feel right to stay indoors whilst this was happening. I suppose I just wanted to… see it for myself.”

Heisenberg isn’t too sure what to make of it, but nods nonetheless. Suppose there was some amount of courage to be found in the action of going out of your way to see the consequences of everything with your own eyes, but it’s an ultimately useless gesture in his eyes. He watches the way Donna looks down, seemingly deep in thought, before she speaks again.

“If one of them comes up here-- the villagers, I mean… what do we do?”

Heisenberg emits a chuckle, but it’s oddly humourless, “Kill ‘em. I mean, I doubt that they’d get past the lycans, but… what’s the point of letting them get away? They’re all gonna get killed in the end. It’s the kinder thing to do.” Though he says this, he's got no real will to make the mess himself, but for Donna's sake, he'll tell her what needs to be told.

Donna’s silence is a bit too loud for Heisenberg’s liking, and he glances over at her with exasperation hidden within his lidded eyes. “Let me guess. You’d let them go, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Bullshit. I know what you’re like.”

“But… that person could’ve been me. If Mother Miranda hadn’t adopted me… I would just… be any one of these people.” She knows it’s a useless argument, and there’s nothing she can do to change the past. She’s somehow managed to end up as one of the lucky ones, but it’s never truly occurred to her until now how fine the line between life and death had been for her here. Watching them all get slaughtered before her eyes brings a very new perspective to this situation.

“But you’re not. You’re one of us, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

“Claudia could’ve been one of these people, too.”

At this, Heisenberg snorts, but his expression is twisted into aggression. “Would you fucking give it a rest? The villagers were doomed from the very fucking start. It doesn’t help anyone to start feeling sorry for them now. You knew this was going to happen. You’ve known for a long fucking time, so don’t pretend like this is a shock to you.” He’s not about to be put into a position where he has to consider what’s going on around him, and Donna sure as hell isn’t going to make him. Caring too much will just cause problems in the long run. He’s known what he’s had to do right from the beginning, and he’s not about to stop now. Not for her, not for anybody.

Donna trembles slightly, recoiling away from the harsh yell that escapes his lips, but Angie steps in as her only line of defense. Her voice crackles like radio static.

“You’re an idiot. Of course we knew this would happen, but seeing it for yourself is much different. It’s easier to think about it when it’s not set into reality yet.”

“Then why did you fucking come down here? Mother Miranda doesn’t put you in these positions ‘cuz she knows damn well you do this. You crumble and lose your head the moment you’re faced with something serious- that’s why I get saddled with all the work! Not that it’s doing the work that’s the problem, but… come on, Donna, you must’ve known.”

Donna is shivering from beneath her veil, unable to really process what Heisenberg is telling her, because the way he bares his teeth at her and the glint of anger she can just about spot from behind his glasses keeps her rooted in place. Her mind is both blank and racing with thoughts.

In all honesty, she can’t act too surprised. Of course he would be used to this, and she’s not entirely sure what answer she’d been looking for. He does what Miranda tells him, and that’s about it. He’s got no real attachment to anything in this village, and she thinks maybe that is where they differ. Their circumstances are wildly different, but what little she knows about him prevents her from ever really finding his limit. At what point does he stop and draw the line? Donna trusts Angie to be able to latch onto this thought, and vocalise whatever coherent argument she may be able to concoct in her head. She can’t leave it like this.

“You and Donna are different,” Angie begins to mutter, “Even if Mother Miranda hadn’t adopted us, our family would’ve died here because of this. This village is our home. Not the home of Miranda’s family. It’s our home. You’ve never felt that way about this place, so how would you understand? We could’ve very easily just been another body in your factory.”

Heisenberg blinks, having listened carefully to Angie’s firm words, but there’s no emotional output. Nothing satisfying, anyway. 

“Yeah. You could’ve been.”

Donna chokes on her own breath. Much like the state of the village, knowing it is one thing, but experiencing it is another, and the words he speaks that are utterly void of emotion brings out the coldest feeling in her stomach. It’s like he couldn’t care where she ended up, and though perhaps asking that from him is a bit too much, she can’t help but latch onto this sinking feeling that she’d expected too much from him right from the beginning.

“This may be your home, but it’s a fucking prison to me. It’s a prison to all of us! Nobody leaves this shithole! This place has always been fucked, and there’s no saving it. Miranda is so deeply rooted into this village that if we ever wanted to get out, we’d have to kill her, and she’d sacrifice the entire fucking village before she takes her last breath. Regardless of who makes it out alive, the village is doomed either way, whether it’s by her hand or my hand.”

He’d run out of breath on that last rant, and Donna can see the harsh breaths escaping his lips as he tightly clenches the handle of his hammer. He looks about ready to start swinging it any which way, but strangely, she feels no fear. Just… sorrow. She can’t help feeling the way she does about the only place she’s known in her life. The grim reality of her circumstances are setting in, and hearing his cruel disregard for what could’ve been her demise just doesn’t sit right with her. Something about it just feels so eerily familiar. She’s used to this brutality from Dimitrescu, and even Miranda herself, but with him, it’s like she hoped for just a little bit more. He’s shown her that humanity before, but had it really just been circumstantial?

Would that have meant nothing, had she been just another poor villager?

“How far are you willing to go…? At what point do you stop and just…” 

She can’t even finish the sentence, finding it hard to think of a way to phrase what she can so clearly feel deep inside, but Heisenberg just scoffs.

“I don’t. I’ll go as far as I have to if it means I get back what belongs to me, even if it means tearing this entire fucking village down.”

Donna takes a slow step back, and then another one, and another one. Angie is motionless in her arms. Her lips tremble, knowing that what she wants to say cannot be said through a doll. It just feels so wrong, and though she knows she should never say this, she can’t help herself. She can’t help him.

“You… sound like Mother Miranda.”

He says nothing.

He says nothing for quite a while.

The air around them is dead silent- not even the lycans can be heard, but the one unmistakable sound that is piercing Donna’s eardrums is the sound of stretching leather, as Heisenberg’s gloved hands ball up into very tight fists. His face is dead.

She takes that as her cue to leave. Her dress billows out behind her like a black funeral gown as she stalks up the path back towards her home. The wind whips in her ears, her pace quickens, and the crunch of her footsteps soon dies into pure silence as she steps into her territory. 

“What the fuck did you just say…?! Donna! Get the fuck back here!”

He strides after her, grabbing his hammer as he goes, and the force behind his movements is so strong and so full of rage that he’s able to swing the weapon around as if it were a twig. With that kind of power, Donna would be nothing but a bloody pulp splattered across the snow, but she doesn’t need to fight him. He may want a fight, but she won’t let him, and as he races after her into the forest, her figure soon disappears into a shroud of mist. He grits his teeth hard enough to chip a tooth, audibly seething as he slowly grinds to a halt.

“Don’t think you can fucking run away like this! You think you can compare me to that kidnapping, murdering, psycho bitch and just walk away?!”

He doesn’t know if she’s still listening. He doesn’t even care. 

“I’m nothing like her! If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even be fucking doing this! This was always her fucking fault, and I’m just doing whatever I can to live my own fucking life! All the people dead in the village? That’s her fucking fault too, not mine! I don’t give a fuck about them. Maybe if they could open their eyes and see Miranda for the fucking monster she is, they’d have half a chance of escaping this!”

He can’t stop himself from pacing back and forth, throwing his arms out as he gesticulates wildly to the words he spits out to the empty forest surrounding him. 

“What, do you think I should be going out of my way, risking my fucking neck to save a bunch of clueless fanatics who don’t think twice about the village they live in?! I already went out of my way to knock some sense into you, Donna, don’t act like I’m even remotely on the same level as Miranda! At least I fucking tell you what I think of you. Miranda couldn’t even find the fucking decency to tell you to your face that she thinks you’re weak! If it weren’t for me, you’d be cut loose before any of us. Hell, you might’ve even been a part of tonight’s body count!”

His breaths are ragged and his shoulders are still trembling. Though the anger hasn’t subsided yet, he thinks he’s had enough. There’s no point arguing with her. He takes up his hammer and begins to storm back towards the gate. 

“Can’t believe I thought putting the effort in was a good idea- it’s given me fucking nothing in return. You’re exactly what I get for even trying to give a shit. It just gets in the way of everything. Next time, I won’t make the same mistake.”

Before he crosses through the gate, he stops for a moment. The sickly scent of flowers is still noticeable, even at the very edge of the estate. There’s no point trying to fight someone whose only skill is hiding, and if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay hidden.

“If you get in my way, don’t think I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Chapter Text

By the hours of the early morning, the village is next to dead. The place is still crawling with lycans, but the screams have died down, becoming few and far between. The sky is still dark, obscured by thick clouds, but with the light of the rising sun soon due, the inky black expanse is quickly growing into a shade of dim, navy blue.

Donna feels… possibly the worst she’s felt in a very long time. Even with the return of Mother Miranda no longer than an hour ago, and a call to the church for a meeting of the utmost importance, there is nothing for Donna to feel remotely hopeful about. What’s worse is that she’s going to have to be in the same room as Heisenberg. There’s no way he’d pick a fight with her in front of Miranda, but if she knows Heisenberg as well as she thinks she does, he’ll just flat out ignore her existence. Somehow, that feels more painful than being yelled at.

She regrets it immensely, saying what she’d said. Obviously, Heisenberg wasn’t exactly like Mother Miranda, but there was just something to those words he’d spoken that had just mirrored her exactly. Reasonably, there’s no way he can spend a lifetime in the village and not pick up traits from his dear old mother, but maybe telling him that outright wasn’t the best idea. 

Then there was what he’d said about Mother Miranda thinking she’s weak. In all honesty, she feels as if she’d had that coming, and though she’s done her best to cut her losses in that regard, it still hurts. She’s been lied to, and not just by Miranda, but by Heisenberg as well. The fact he’d known this all along makes her feel sick inside.

She tries to ignore the bubbling nausea and the feeling of her joints aching from the anxiety as she enters the dilapidated church hall. Normally, she’s the first to arrive, but it seems that Dimitrescu has gotten the jump on her today. That’s an unusual sight. 

Donna says nothing, bypassing the giant woman in order to take her tiny seat next to where Miranda stands. Neither of them attempt to strike up any conversation. They never do. Dimitrescu sits and smokes, and Donna will occasionally have a very quiet little natter with Angie, but they never speak to one another. Donna really does prefer it, and right now, she’s not in the mood to talk to anybody.

So, as is becoming a running theme in recent days, misfortune smiles upon Donna when Dimitrescu watches her for a few minutes, before exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke in her direction.

“So what’s wrong with you?”

Donna visibly sags. How the hell did she know? Scratch that, she doesn’t even need to think of an answer because Dimitrescu can already clock her thought pattern. The enormous woman emits a prim laugh.

“Make no mistake, you look about as glum as you do every day, but today is truly exceptional. I’ve not seen you like this since Claudia died.”

That’s Alcina for you. Even when saying something so brash and inconsiderate, she never takes a single moment to hesitate. There’s probably something admirable in the confidence it takes to say whatever comes into her head, but Donna can’t seem to find it. Though, as much as Donna doesn’t need to hear about Claudia at the moment, she can’t fault those words.

“It’s nothing at all,” Angie retorts, rather matter-of-factly, “Just… got into a little fight is all. Well, you know what Heisenberg is like.” It feels a bit wrong to just throw him under the bus like that, but at least for the time being, Donna can exploit their current mutual issues with him to strike up some kind of meaningful connection. Dimitrescu scoffs.

“He’s an utter imbecile. He thinks just because he’s got such favour from Miranda he can do whatever it is that he likes. It’s aggravating. He doesn’t give a damn about the ceremony, I promise you that.”

“Well… that wouldn’t be surprising.”

“So what did he say to you? You shouldn’t take his words to heart, it’s no doubt just the same drivel we have to hear from him every day.”

“It’s… a little hard to remember,” Angie lies, “He just ended up telling us that we were weak, amongst some… other threats.” Donna isn’t about to start turning this into a war, so she won’t divulge the finer details to Dimitrescu. It’s not like she can be mad at Heisenberg when she’s the one who started it. “We might’ve just told him that, uh… he’s not as… good as he’d like to believe he is.”

Dimitrescu laughs, and it rings throughout the empty hall like a church bell. “Yes, that’ll do it- and you’re right. He calls me the egocentric one, but really, he’s the one with the inflated ego. It’d do him well to be knocked down a peg or two.”

Donna can’t fault her there.

“I wouldn’t pay much attention to him. Even if what you say is correct, he’ll never admit it. He’ll just fight you back every step of the way, and, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think you’re up to it.”

Angie shuffles in her seat, thinking of what to say next, “Well… it would be nice to be able to take it back, if only to avoid all of… this. It’s not like we want to be his next target.”

Dimitrescu takes a long drag from her cigarette, “That’s just like you, isn’t it? Let me tell you something, Donna, it doesn’t pay to regret your actions. Whether they’re right or wrong, what’s done is done, and time spent being remorseful for what is done is time wasted.”

Donna blinks, but Dimitrescu obviously doesn’t see it.

“Do you think someone like Heisenberg is going to sit and mope because of some mistake he’s made? He doesn’t give a damn whether what he does is right or wrong, and you could learn something from that. There’s no place for it in Mother Miranda’s family.”

Now that she’s hearing it said out loud, Donna is very slowly coming to multiple realisations, and she wouldn’t have expected such an outcome from a conversation with Dimitrescu. After all, she was right. Heisenberg doesn’t care much for morality, and it’s not hard to see why when failure is punished above all else. There really is no room for those kinds of sentiments in this family. 

And Donna, who has done everything in her power to do Miranda’s bidding, who has managed to trip over at the last hurdle when facing the destruction of her home, and who is the only other person to face the truth at the hands of Heisenberg, now realises that there is no place for her in Miranda’s family.

She’s never been able to experiment on the Cadou like she was asked. She’s never been able to commit the grotesque acts her so-called siblings have been able to do- from slaughtering maids for their blood, to swallowing people whole, to digging up corpses to work on. The deaths on her hands were only the result of not being able to leave her domain, and she’d only ever wanted to help. She’d only ever wanted to be happy- and she was, if only for a short while. 

But now it’s all coming to an end, and it’s only as it dawns on her that these connections must be severed does she begin to accept her belief in what she’d said to Heisenberg. It’s hard to stand by something that will only bring hatred upon you, but what else is there to do? In the face of what feels like the end of her life, where their great plan begins to fade into uncertainty, Donna can only sit and stare. 

Donna is able to mumble the faintest “thank you” that goes totally unheard over the sound of the church door flying open, and Heisenberg striding in with Moreau in tow. 

Rose is… so much tinier than Donna had imagined. 

The little infant is currently nestled in Miranda’s arms, and the way the light of the candles hits the curve of her chubby little cheeks makes her look positively angelic. Donna’s barely listening to what Miranda is saying, being far more fascinated by the little girl who is sleeping soundly.

The meeting had started when Miranda had walked in, cradling Rose. Donna’s conversation with Dimitrescu had been abruptly ended when Heisenberg had burst in, and not once has he looked in Donna’s direction since. It’s eerie how calm he seems to be in comparison to his uncontrollable rage from the night before. 

Miranda begins to speak about the ceremony, and Donna’s heard this plan a few times before, but no matter how hard she tries to concentrate on Miranda’s voice, her mind just won’t cooperate. She can’t tear her eyes away from Heisenberg, who is seated rather casually on the pew opposite her. 

In the end, even if he claims to oppose Miranda, there’s no guarantee he’ll ever be trustworthy if his methods mirror hers. Donna’s been lucky enough to avoid dealing firsthand with any of the consequences of Miranda’s actions, bar the consequences that afflict her personally, so although it’s not exactly surprising , the weight of it all is certainly settling in. If Heisenberg is beginning to resemble Mother Miranda, and he really has no qualms about going as far as he needs to go to get what he wants, Donna fears he will end up following Miranda’s footsteps closer than he expects. She doesn’t want that. Not after everything he’s told her, and not after everything Miranda hasn’t told her.

Speaking of Miranda, Donna can barely look at her. She feels like a traitor just for thinking about all of this, and she worries her betrayal will become evident to Miranda somehow. Hell, if it benefits Heisenberg, he might end up throwing her into Miranda’s line of fire and branding her as the traitor. Things are beginning to feel a lot more dangerous. It doesn’t do her well to piss off the strongest lord in the village, but… no, as Dimitrescu says, though what she said may have been a mistake, she can’t allow herself to be overcome with such hopelessness. It’ll just give Heisenberg the advantage he needs to cast her away, and if she will allow herself to be indulgently brutal, it was something he needed to hear anyway. 

And as for what he’d said regarding Mother Miranda… she’ll relent and accept it. If she hadn’t taken the steps to sever her deeper emotional ties to Miranda, perhaps she would’ve crumbled under the weight of his words, but this new change of pace is giving her the resolve to approach this differently. She’s uncertain what to do, and she’s most definitely frightened, but the novelty of her current circumstances is giving her the energy she needs to face it head on. After all, she’s not entirely alone. Angie will always be with her no matter where she decides to go, and she’s never been so thankful for that fact in her life.

She’s still not listening to Miranda, now making her own mind up in her head. The lingering trembling from the rush of anxiety she’d been riding upon for hours has still not subsided, but at least her head was beginning to feel a bit clearer. As for dealing with Heisenberg directly, she’s at a bit of a loss. She’d love to go and explain herself, but she can picture exactly how that would go down. He’s got no patience for it, and probably even less patience for Donna as a person. Maybe avoiding him now was the best idea.

She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As much as he would hate to hear it, she’s beginning to care very deeply for this man. Hearing him admit that he’d put any effort into her at all had felt both incredible and heartbreaking, and she desperately wants to tell him that his efforts had not gone to waste. Tearing her away from Miranda’s arms might be the very thing that saves her life in the long run, but that means nothing when the value of human life to him is nonexistent. He doesn’t get any sense of pride or heroism from saving a life that ultimately doesn’t benefit him.

“...each of you will receive a flask, which you are to keep safe until the time of the ceremony. These pieces… will be Rose’s body.”

Donna perks up, having only caught the end of Miranda’s explanation, but surely she hadn’t heard that right. A piece of Rose’s… body? In a flask?

The other lords don’t look even the slightest bit perturbed, and Rose, herself, looks fairly calm, comfortably nestled in Miranda’s arms. How were they going to fit Rose’s body into such a small container? 

“With the use of the mold’s restorative capabilities, Eva’s consciousness will be revived, and this body shall be hers.” 

Ah, of course. The mold. Even though Donna’s knowledge of how it truly works is somewhat limited, she’s resigned to understanding that pretty much anything can happen with it. Miranda seems confident that it will work, and that’s enough for her. Still, Donna can’t help but sit on the edge of her seat as Miranda stops speaking and looks down at the child. To split Rose into pieces… Donna isn’t sure if she really wants to see this. 

With a few words muttered, the little baby soon begins to grow paler and paler until she’s nothing but pure white crystal. Angie leans over from where she’s sat on Donna’s lap, watching the transformation play out with interest. The little bundle, who was once stirring and fussing, is now still and silent. Miranda sets her down for the other lords to see.

Donna silently awaits their reactions. Both Dimitrescu and Heisenberg lean over to get a closer look- neither of them seem to care too much about smoking in such close proximity to the child. Moreau lumbers over to peer at the crystallised infant, emitting an odd, gurgling laugh beneath his breath. 

Miranda’s expression is calm, but the trembling smile that can be barely made out from behind the mask belies her peaceful demeanour. She’s excited and hardly able to contain herself, as she says, “Now… each of you, take a fragment of this child.”

With that, each of the four lords begin to slowly move towards Rose. Donna is hesitant to leave her seat, watching nervously as the other three loom over her. She wills Angie to go first, not wanting to appear reluctant to take part in Mother Miranda’s plan, but knows she will have no choice but to follow her. 

Limb by limb, the child is broken, and Donna watches from over the shoulder of Moreau as the hands of her siblings pluck their respective pieces. She lets them go first. She’ll take what’s leftover, and what’s left behind is a little pair of cracked, crystal legs. 

Her toes are tiny, her toenails even more so, and even in this crystallised form, she can still make out the rolls of baby fat around her ankles and knees. Angie carefully reaches out and procures the legs, holding them close. Donna, in turn, holds Angie close, and drifts back towards her seat. Mother Miranda begins speaking about the flasks, but Donna can barely hear her. Soon, Rose would no longer be Rose. Rose would be Eva, and the soul imbued within the little legs would be no more.

It makes her feel uneasy, knowing that had her brainwashing held out for this long, she might’ve ended up taking these parts of Rose with not much remorse felt, thinking only of Mother Miranda. Though it was never really about the remorse, her gut is beginning to feel cold again. Turning a blind eye had felt nauseatingly easy, and though she’s always sort of known that Miranda’s efforts had a body count, seeing it played out before her seems so much different.

Why does Rose have to die so Eva can live? She's not sure she really wants to know.