Chapter Text
You weren’t sure what was beating harder: your fist against the factory’s door or your heart against your ribcage.
It was preferable to keep your distance from Heisenberg, but right now there was no way of helping it. Desperate and fearfully close to peril, your torso pressed tight against the closed entrance while your gaze stayed locked on the forest. No breezes stirred, leaving the frozen condensation made by your shallow, anxious exhales to hang in the winter air. It was the deathly stillness, not the chilling cold, that terrified you most, though.
Mere moments before, the lycans could be heard noisily tearing their latest victims apart. You cringed remembering the disgusting, crunching, squelching noises. But now all was quiet and, somehow, that was more upsetting. Undoubtedly they were on the prowl again. Victims were scarce in the winter and you, with only a parka to protect you from their vicious jowls and claws, sure looked an awful lot like prey.
Your eyes briefly connected with two black dots that glittered near the forest's edge– eyes, presumably. As soon as you saw them, they disappeared. The hair on your neck raised and, as a feeling of dread washed over every atom of your body, you began striking the door with both gloved hands. Though slightly muffled by the knit fabric, there’s no way he didn’t sense the impacts.
“Open up!” you pleaded desperately at the staticky monitor above you. Nothing.
You wondered woefully what you’d done to get on his bad side, positive of your impending doom. You’d always been such a good lackey, always there to do Mother Miranda’s bidding. Always. Even now, you had initially only come on his turf to tell him where to find the victims’ abandoned SUV for scrap. It was proving to be a fatal error that you hadn’t anticipated how close nightfall actually was when you’d started your journey.
“Heisenberg, please!”
You did your part dutifully, luring unsuspecting victims deeper into the village by feigning some sort of injury or begging for help to find a “missing friend.” In between those moments, you stayed in your small cabin, never bothering Heisenberg with small talk or pleasantries. Why was he holding out now?
Perhaps he was disgusted with you.
“They know I’m alone! I’m desperate!!”
You were disgusted with yourself, after all. Maybe this was a fitting end.
A handful of lycans were trying to be tactful as they hid in the shadows of the treeline, but your eyes couldn’t look away from the moonlight reflecting off their drooling maws. Big fangs were ready to receive you and tear you apart like a rag doll until you momentarily satiated their endless hunger. A sprint of just a few yards is all that stood between you and fate. Realizing this, your knocking faltered and your breath caught. You’d had a good run, better than most. But this was it, you realized.
The pack took off from the trees, bounding recklessly forward. They yipped and howled with glee, thrilled to feast twice in one evening. You collapsed against the metal door with a defeated cry and braced your body for the inevitable. They were about to close in when the entrance opened with such a force that it toppled you sideways.
“Shut your fucking traps and leave!” an angry voice snarled. The pack obeyed, skittering to a halt on the icy ground.
“I told you to leave!” he bellowed, clearly agitated for having to repeat himself. You heard the lycans retreating. Safe for one more night, you thought. “That goes for you too, princess.”
Shit.
Eerie silence fell again. You sat up and said nothing at first, half expecting him to slam the door without another word. Through squinted eyes, you realized he was still there, arms crossed. He was giving you an opening to beg. You had to make it count. Even this modicum of patience from Heisenberg was rarely observed.
“Please, Lord Heisenberg. I’m as good as dinner the second I leave.”
“Not really my problem,” he growled.
He watched as you sat up on your knees, arching your back slightly, and gave him the best sultry expression you could muster. As a woman in your late 20s, you were sure you had some assets he might consider.
“Please, my lord, I’m begging. I’m sure I can find some way to earn my stay.”
One side of his mouth quirked upward at the use of the honorific. He was amused, but how much and in what way was uncertain. His eyes were unreadable behind those damn glasses. More than once you’d fantasized about taking them off and hungrily memorizing every detail of his beautiful, blissed out face as you rode him into a mattress.
Hey, it certainly wasn’t why you were offering yourself now, but you didn’t not want to fuck him.
Now was the first time you’d gotten a good look at Heisenberg tonight. Clearly he’d been in the middle of some kind of foundry work when he came to your aid. He’d shed most of his usual attire, save for the hat, glasses, and the scale around his neck. Seeing him in only a pair of work pants and a dirty, sleeveless undershirt nearly awoke something you didn’t dare think about outside of your bedroom.
Heisenberg always looked attractively broad-shouldered and rugged, but especially in this moment. His whole body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his chest heaved slightly. Whether it was from his hustle to the door or his work, you couldn’t tell. His shoulders and parts of his attire were dusted with soot, hair a mess underneath his brimmed hat.
He seemed to consider you and your willing damsel "act" briefly.
“I’m not too sure I need any company.”
Your shoulders slumped and your face fell. He huffed a laugh at the sudden change in demeanor.
“Look. If I die, it will take Mother Miranda a few days to replace me. That’s precious time you’d have to spend scouting for metal yourself. Don’t I do a good enough job? It’s just one night.”
“Now you’re talking,” he grumbled. “But I’m not in the mood to babysit, princess. A lot of things in here bite, too.”
You missed the suggestive grin he flashed when he said that last part.
“I’ll sleep on the floor. On a walkway. Anywhere. Just please, please–”
He waved off the rest of your words, turning back into the factory.
“Alright! Alright, fine. You’re so fucking needy!”
You stood up as quick as you could, a little annoyed at his tone, but lost your attitude when you started to shut the heavy entrance. There in the woods you could see the shadows of the lycans pacing. Watching. Waiting. They were hopeful Heisenberg would change his mind.
You thought about your family, how Mother Miranda’s experiments had failed them. You knew the truth or, at least, part of it. How the ones who weren’t lucky enough to die turn into lycans. It was too dark to distinguish their faces, but there was a real possibility you used to know one of those monsters in the treeline. A feeling of dread chilled your spine thinking of your cousins' and siblings' painful transitions. You nearly wretched at the thought.
Perhaps it would be a bad idea to bare your teeth at your savior.
Pushing the door all the way closed, you nearly had to jog in order to keep up with Heisenberg's strides. The factory was a nondescript, poorly lit labyrinth of similar-looking metal corridors. He didn’t check behind him once to see if you were still following. If you got lost, you were nearly positive he wouldn’t have considered coming back for you.
A couple minutes later, he slid a key into a door that looked no different from the others you had passed. Its interior wasn’t very thrilling– poorly lit with some folding chairs and a covered desk. A thin layer of dust suggested it hadn’t been used in some time.
Heisenberg grabbed the muslin cloth off the table and threw it on the floor, a couple of blueprints scattering on the ground with it.
“Rest up, princess. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. Nighty night and don’t let the lycans bite.”
You sat on the floor without question, absolutely deflated. You rested your elbows on your knees and slowly rubbed your hands over your face. The sound of his footfalls stopped and you soon sensed Heisenberg was looking at you. Perhaps he'd anticipated more of a fight.
“If I may be so bold to ask more of you, my lord, I pray you grant me a sedative,” you said. Though you’d hoped your words would sound demure, exhaustion and grief betrayed your tone. This was Heisenberg, after all, and asking for another favor was liable to put him further on edge.
He sighed audibly and tensely.
“You sure are one entitled little–”
“Please,” you sharply interrupted, throwing your hands down and raising your gaze to meet his. “Forgive me. I-it’s just been a while since I’ve had to think about what she…”
Your words died on your lips, heartbeat quickening slightly. Exhaustion had made you forget the status of your present company. Certainly a lord of the village wouldn’t take kindly to Mother Miranda or her work being insulted. Instead of finishing your sentence, you waited for him to strike you or just turn the lights off and leave. Maybe both.
“'She?’” he asked.
You bit your lip in hesitation.
“...Mother Miranda.”
He snorted.
“What’d she do to you?”
“Turned my family into a bunch of fucking monsters,” you snipped. Now your patience was running thin. “She destroyed each one of them. Why I was allowed to live, I don't know. Probably just wasn’t worth the resources. Lucky me, now I get to keep the lycans fed and live in exile so my blood doesn’t mix with the others’.”
Heisenberg considered you for a second with another ever-indecipherable look.
“Or did you expect me to buy that ‘Lord Heisenberg has specially requested your help’ bullshit," you spat.
“Well, at least you’re self-aware,” he smirked. “Follow me, princess.”
Your eyebrows raised in shock, not believing his almost jovial shift in demeanor.
“Unless you prefer to sleep on the floor, of course.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming…” you muttered.
He shut the door behind you and unlocked another down the hall. It revealed a much more lived-in space. Papers were messily arranged on a desk. A tall shelf was haphazardly stuffed with a collection of vintage records and old books. On the wall opposite of that was an actual bed with schematics hung above it proudly. A sofa and bar cabinet were tucked in another corner, too. The whole room smelled like him, you realized as you took a tentative deep breath.
“Welcome to the lion’s den,” Heisenberg said. “My personal quarters.”
He retrieved two highball glasses and a nearly full bottle of scotch from the cabinet. He poured you both a dram.
“It's no sedative, but I think it'll help you feel better. We have a lot to talk about, princess.”