Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a literal mold man raising a probably mold baby on your own is not easy, as Ethan Winters keeps getting made more painfully aware of every day. Being mandatorily relocated to a remote village stuck in the 1950s a dozen miles from your old home in a foreign country that somehow only keeps getting more foreign certainly doesn’t help. (And 1950s is being generous, by the way.) He gets to experience all the joys of adjusting to his newfound life as mold in the shape of a human male and the struggles of sudden single fatherhood, packed with the spicy addition of completely unfamiliar surroundings that he legally has no choice but to sit down and shut up about. Yay.

Of course, Ethan hasn’t always been a mold man. (To his knowledge, at least. Who fucking knows at this point?) Even when he became a chunk of sentient mold, he somehow wasn’t aware until the physical manifestation of religious psychosis attempted to kidnap his daughter, Rose, and succeeded in killing his wife, Mia. The rage and panic and grief this elicited in him “unlocked his mold powers,” as he jokingly puts it so he can cope well enough to sleep at night. This manifested in some weird fucking growths shooting out of his apparently inhuman body and impaling the kidnapper repeatedly as she tried to fly away with his child. After that, he doesn’t remember much. Just a blind rage with a smidgeon of protective instincts as one of the vine-like projections gently grabbed Rose before she could plummet to the frozen ground. The next thing he was cognizant of was calling Chris Redfield from the safety of his home with Rose in his arms.

According to Chris, Ethan wounded the abductor almost beyond recognition. His wording implied that Chris knew who she was, but Ethan didn’t care to press for information. He only cared that his daughter, the light of his life, was safe. Chris was an absolute pal and promised to keep it on the down low that Ethan was the one who did it, so as to avoid questioning and potential experimentation, especially in his time of grieving. Unfortunately, he still had to be relocated. Chris said it was so that they could clean up the mess and Ethan could be spared the painful feelings and reminders in the home, but Ethan knows it was because his position was compromised and they didn’t want a repeat. He also gets the feeling that for some reason, Chris specifically chose this remote village to hide him. From what, he’s still not entirely sure, but he’ll trust Chris’s judgement. For now, at least.

Although Ethan is certainly thankful that he doesn’t have to live in the house his wife was brutally murdered in, adjusting to the sudden shift in lifestyle and the unfamiliar surroundings while in mourning is proving to be much more of a struggle than anticipated. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Rose and will do anything to keep her safe and raise her right, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult. Especially not when he lies awake at night worrying that he’s going to accidentally kill her one of these days because he can’t control his mold abilities. What if he gets just a little too frustrated, and he hurts Rose with another involuntary mold explosion?

Chris keeps telling Ethan not to worry, but it feels impossible not to. This sudden change in… well, everything is extremely daunting. The agent said he could assemble a small private team to try and work on controlling Ethan’s mold powers, but he respectfully declined. At this point, Ethan would prefer to ignore it in the hopes that it will go back to being dormant and he can get on with his life. He knows he has no right to worry about losing control, then, but wishful thinking and willful ignorance go a long way.

Since moving to the village he never bothered to learn the name of, Ethan has never once left the house. He’s been here maybe a week already, and he’s eternally grateful that Chris thought to stock the house to last for a while before he moved in. Unfortunately, however, this is his home now, whether he likes it or not, so he has to establish himself in the village sometime. That means getting a job and, though he shudders to think of it, socializing with the locals. At the very least, he needs to familiarize himself with the layout of the village, which felt more haphazard than organized when he first arrived.

Sighing, Ethan pushes out of his chair and sets down the book he got eleven pages through without reading anything. If he’s going to go out and walk around the village, he has to wake Rose up from her early afternoon nap. Lately, she hasn’t been as cranky about her sleeping habits, and Ethan wonders if it’s a developmental thing or if she knows what happened to her mom. Could be both, but neither would surprise him.

A smile graces Ethan’s face as he enters their shared room and looks upon his daughter’s peaceful face. Of course, he loved her with every fiber of his being before, but he has never been more thankful to have her in his life as he has since Mia died. He can’t help but feel a little guilty as he disrupts Rose’s sleep by picking her up. Her nose scrunches up adorably before her eyes flutter open as Ethan cradles her close. She doesn’t look happy to be woken up, but she isn’t vocal. She just sends a cute baby glare at her dad as he brings her to the changing table across the room.

“I know,” Ethan apologizes softly as he starts changing her, “I’m sorry. But we have to go out, hon.” Pinning the diaper in place, he picks her up to find some new clothes and her jacket. “Trust me, I’m not much happier about it than you are.” He pauses as he sets her down on the changing table again and starts dressing her. After bundling his pride and joy in as many layers as are comfortable, he zips up her overcoat and adds, “We can be grumpy gills together, huh?”

As if she understands what he means, Rose bubbles a laugh, looking up at her dad with a tiny grin. Ethan’s heart melts as he picks her up and makes for the front door. After struggling to put his own coat on one-handed for a few minutes, they’re finally ready to head out. At least, physically they are. Mentally is still up for debate.

Ethan checks to make sure he still has his keys in his pocket and adjusts Rose on his hip before opening the door and locking it behind them. The cold hits him all at once, and he suppresses a shiver. Glancing at Rose, he sees that her only reaction is narrowing her eyes against the wind as she gazes out at the village. The adorable sight warms Ethan enough to strengthen his resolve against the cold, and he takes his first few steps outside his new home. Although the act of getting ready and the first steps felt monumental, the rest of their walk is largely uneventful, which is a relief to Ethan. Maybe he doesn’t have to be as constantly on guard as he used to.

The only odd occurrence is the gathering of villagers around a statue and a group of four very different people, the most striking being the tallest and palest woman Ethan has ever seen wearing the most massive hat he’s ever seen as she stands on the far left. The four seem to be trying to make some sort of announcement, but they can barely get along well enough to say anything of substance for long. In his best translation, it seems to be something about a mother being gone and them being left in charge, which almost makes Ethan snort because it makes their whole village sound like one big comically dysfunctional family. He tries to hold it back to avoid being disrespectful, but a tiny noise still escapes him against his will. Two of the four in the center, the “bookends” so to speak, snap their heads up to look at him. The tall lady on the left and a haggard hobo-looking man on the right. He averts his gaze immediately, feeling embarrassed, and the announcement proceeds as normal.

From what Ethan is able to gather, the village had been having an animal problem -- wolves, maybe? -- since the disappearance of the mother figure, and the four of them just finished taking care of the last of it. Since the mother (whoever she was) would not be returning, those four would be taking over care of the town. Ethan’s Romanian is not the best, so he may be wrong, but it sounds like they’re all her children, so they’ve inherited shared rule or something like that. They were already lords of a sort before, at least.

Everything in the announcement checks out with what Chris had been telling him prior to moving in. The lead ruler had disappeared recently, leaving the village to four people. Her sudden disappearance caused a lot of chaos in the village, which delayed his move-in date a little. Chris personally worked closely with the four new heads of the village to ensure that Ethan’s arrival would take off without a hitch. In the midst of everything, the village was overrun by feral animals taking advantage of the unrest. While the loose wild animal situation served as another excuse for him not to go outside, Ethan honestly expected it to have been taken care of earlier than it was. He’s been here a week, and it only just got cleared up. He has never been so glad to have poor coping skills.

As the crowd breaks up at the end of the announcements, Ethan starts to turn away as well before someone calls out to him in English. “Ethan Winters, correct?” A small jolt of startled panic runs through him, but he quickly suppresses it to make sure he doesn’t have a moldy outburst. He and Rose share an uncertain look as he turns around to face the four approaching lords. The man in the dirty trenchcoat is the one who called out, and he continues, “We’ve heard a lot about you from your friend Chris.”

Glancing between the four, Ethan forces a smile. He struggles to quell the fight or flight response triggered by the unsettling thinly veiled glare the tall woman is pinning him with and the grin the industrial revolution boxcar hobo wears. “Yes, Chris. Unfortunately, he didn’t tell me much about you four or the village in general. As usual, he tossed me into the thick of it with next to no information.”

“Ahaha! But that’s the most fun way to do it!” Ethan jumps as a doll being held by a woman with a black veil over her face cackles, speaking in a shrill voice. He’s not sure how much more his heart can take before his mold powers force their way out.

Rolling her eyes, the tall woman says, “Excuse her. Unfortunately, she does not share her maker’s ladylike grace.”

Ethan lets out a nervous chuckle, not sure how to respond. He’s seen some weird shit, but this woman speaks as if the doll is its -- her? -- own person. Surely, that can’t be the case, right? He sure as hell hopes not, because he can’t handle any more unnatural shit in his life. This village is supposed to be his chance to move away from all that. For real this time.

“Well, all things considered, I can’t say I blame him,” the hunchback standing behind the rest of them gurgles. His voice does not sound pleasant, nor does he look very pleasant, but Ethan’s more concerned about his words.

Ignoring the instinctive urge to take a step back, Ethan narrows his eyes and asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nevermind him,” Mr. Prohibition Special cuts in, sending a pointed glare to the other man. At least, Ethan thinks he qualifies as a man. Yet another seemingly unnatural thing that he’s desperately hoping is completely, one hundred percent, bona fide natural. “Allow us to introduce ourselves. As you probably know, we are the four lords of the village. I am Karl Heisenberg, and I am most grateful for your service.”

Ethan almost corrects him that he’s never served a day in his life and in fact has no idea where this man got the impression that he had, but then he remembers that Chris could have told them literally anything about his background. Hell, with all of the resources at his disposal, Chris very well could have put together a fake, but entirely legalized, life story for him. Ethan is only just now realizing that he has absolutely no idea what pretenses he’s here under, which is vaguely terrifying. At the very least nerve-wracking. To make matters worse, he’s unfortunately smart enough to sense some sort of hidden meaning in the lord’s words. What the fuck did Chris tell them, and how much do they know? They very well could know more than he does, which he supposes they have a right to, considering they’re welcoming him, and all his baggage, into their village, but it is nonetheless frustrating and worrisome.

Pulling him out of his spiralling thoughts, the tall woman says with a curled lip, “Yes, quite. I am Alcina Dimitrescu, but you are to call me Lady Dimitrescu. Are we clear?”

Ethan blinks before nodding. “Yes, of course, ma’am. I’m honored to make your acquaintance.” The polite, diplomatic air he instinctively adopts is a pitiful defense mechanism.

Lady Dimitrescu’s face softens slightly at the honorific, looking almost pleased. Ethan feels only slightly less intimidated by her, now knowing how to appeal to her. Unfortunately, this pleasant feeling doesn’t last as a shrill voice shrieks, “And I’m Angie! This drab lady holding me is Donna Beneviento, but you should call her Lady Donna! She doesn't talk much, but she'll like that!”

“Pleased to meet you, Angie, Lady Donna,” Ethan says with a shaky smile, eliciting a pleased squeal from the unsettlingly animated doll. At least now it seems more normal. He assumes Lady Donna just has trouble speaking for herself, so she speaks through her doll. He’s certainly not one to judge people’s coping methods or personal quirks.

A nervous gurgle comes from the hunchback before he hesitantly offers, “I-I’m Salvatore Moreau, b-but uh… just Moreau is fine. Or-or whatever you want to call me. Fishface is a favorite around here.”

His face does kind of look like a fish, but Ethan wasn’t about to say that. “Well, that’s just rude,” he says, furrowing his brow. “Rest assured, Moreau, I believe in behaving like polite company, and polite company would not call people such names. I’m very glad to meet you.” Ethan thanks his lucky stars for that weekend of “gentlemanly manners” classes that his mom forced him through when he was ten. Who knew it would have actually paid off one day? The man may look, and admittedly smell and sound, grotesque, but it would be horrible of him to point it out or make fun of it. Clearly, he already feels bad enough as it is.

A wide, toothy grin breaks out across Moreau’s face. “You are very kind, sir.”

Ethan gives him a surprisingly genuine smile. “Please, just Ethan is fine. That goes for the rest of you too. No need for formalities.”

Lady Dimitrescu looks about ready to spit something witty, but Heisenberg speaks up first. “But of course, Ethan .” Suppressing a shudder, Ethan finds himself exceedingly uncomfortable with the way the lord said his name. He briefly considers taking it back, but just for this one. The others are fine. “Now that we’re all acquainted, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need help. My factory lies just over there.” He gestures to a large building chugging out smoke in the distance. “I hear you have a background in engineering. If you’re looking for a job, you should stop by. I could use someone with a bit more expertise than the common rabble around here.”

Ethan forces a smile, still feeling uncomfortable and unsettled by this man. “Thank you,” he says politely. “I’ll be sure to consider the offer once we’re settled in.” Heisenberg’s grin grows and he leans ever slightly forward, once again triggering Ethan’s fight or flight response as his arms subconsciously tighten around his daughter. Oblivious as ever, Rose stares up at him with a goofy grin on her face, and when he glances down at her, the sight makes him relax just enough to get through the rest of the conversation.

It looks like Heisenberg is about to say something, but Lady Dimitrescu cuts in, presumably payback for interrupting her. Ethan seriously considers worshipping her as his new goddess for sparing him from whatever the fuck else that Van Helsing wannabe could possibly have to say, even as her words drip with thinly concealed venom. “Well, Ethan --” yup, he much prefers the absolute hatred with which she spits his name over the way Heisenberg says it “--I much prefer my solitude, so I would personally appreciate it if you never reached out. Ever.”

Ethan appreciates her efforts to remain civil and ladylike despite clearly despising him for some unknown reason, so he graciously ignores said disdain and respects her wishes. Although, she’s, like, nine feet tall and could probably squash him with her pinky toe with minimal effort, so he’d respect her wishes either way. But, still, he appreciates it. “Yes, ma’am,” he says simply with a nod. She looks pleased at the honorific again, and he’s glad not to have angered her any further.

“Don’t come to House Beneviento, either!” Ethan feels proud of himself for not jumping at the shrill voice of Angie that time. Talk about uncanny valley. “Donna doesn’t like people! It’s a miracle she’s even here right now. Besides, the last guy to visit little Donnie ran away screami--” The doll shuts up immediately as Lady Donna abruptly shakes it. Trembling, she clamps a hand over its mouth and shakes her head as she silently excuses herself. Ethan forces himself to look away from her retreating form after a brief moment, not wanting to be rude or make her uncomfortable.

When he turns back, Lady Dimitrescu is rolling her eyes with a click of her tongue, muttering something about insensitive and unladylike behavior and that infernal doll . Moreau is shifting uncomfortably in the back, and Heisenberg… Heisenberg looks sympathetically forlorn, such a vast contrast to his former arrogant demeanor. Presuming something bad happened in the lady’s past, Ethan drops the subject and resolves to never bring it up, no matter how curious he might get one day. Odd that Lady Donna would bring it up as she spoke through her own doll, but maybe that’s part of her persona. Not Ethan’s business.

Awkward silence descends for a few minutes before Moreau breaks it by hesitantly saying, “Um, well… I think I’ll head home too.” A violent shudder wracks the lord’s body, and Ethan almost asks if he’s okay. However, the other two look entirely unconcerned, and he just continues talking as if it didn’t happen. “Um… I’m probably the last person you would want to come to for help, but… I live over by the reservoir if you ever need me. God help you if you do…” He mumbles the last part to himself as he turns to walk away, and it makes Ethan feel very sad for him.

“Of course!” Ethan calls out, not wanting Moreau to feel so down and left out. “I’ll be sure to stop by if I need anything!” Stopping dead in his tracks, Moreau turns his head after a beat and flashes a happy little smile at Ethan before continuing on his way.

Ethan can’t help the smile tugging at his lips at the simple man’s joy, but it’s ruined by Lady Dimitrescu’s scoff. “Don’t encourage him, Ethan,” she spits, radiating disgust. Oh, so that’s the kind of person she is. Civil to your face, trashing you the moment you leave. He knew people like that in high school. Mia used to have a friend who--

Ethan forces himself to stop thinking before he starts crying in front of the two lords. Unfortunately, no thinking means his mouth has no filter and immediately empties his prior thoughts. “Why not?” he blurts, unable to stop himself as he adjusts his hold on Rose, who had started slipping. “Why shouldn’t I encourage him? Because he looks different? Because he sounds different or, admittedly, smells different? He’s a person just like the rest of us and deserves just as much respect. I mean this in the nicest possible way, Lady Dimitrescu , but that comment actually made him seem a hundred times more respectable than you.”

Flabbergasted, the lady’s mouth opens and closes like a fish as she makes several offended noises, an equally offended hand pressed to her chest. After a few moments she clenches her fists at her sides and lets out an indignant cry of frustration as she turns on her heel and stomps away to her castle. Shaking his head, Ethan mutters, “How petulant,” before thought finally returns to his brain and he realizes what he just did. “Oh, shit.” He pissed off one of the lords of the village. The village he just moved to and needs to be accepted in. How did he fuck up so quickly?

Ethan’s thoughts are broken by the sound of laughter trying and failing to be held in. Startled, he jumps and turns to the last lord who he forgot was still here. When their eyes meet, Heisenberg composes himself with visible effort, letting out a few stray breathy laughs before clearing his throat. “That was amazing,” he says finally, allowing himself a final chuckle as he takes a step closer. His demeanor has shifted to something so much more lighthearted and less intense that Ethan doesn’t feel compelled to back away for once. He suddenly feels more inviting and less… predatory. Ethan actually isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I’ve never seen anyone make her clam up like that,” Heisenberg continues, grinning widely. “It seems you never stop impressing, do you, Winters?”

Before he can stop himself, Ethan corrects him, “Ethan.”

Heisenberg smirks, an uncanny blend of that initial unsettling, predatory feeling and the more recent warm, inviting… magnetism. “Right, of course. Well, then, I bid you adieu, Ethan .”

This time, Ethan can’t help the chill that runs down his spine, a touch more pleasant than the last. It lingers with a tingling sensation as he simply stares at the other man, whose smirk grows in response to the visible shudder. Heisenberg abruptly turns away with a perfunctory wave above his head, a hammer Ethan somehow didn’t notice before slung over his other shoulder. All too late, Ethan regains his mental faculties and calls out, “Uh, yeah. S-see ya!” The wind carries a soft chuckle to his ears. When he looks down, Rose is giving him a look that he’d call inquisitive if he didn’t know any better. Unfortunately, a six-month-old baby understanding that interaction would be all too par for the course these days. Sighing, he starts the trek back home, vowing to explore the rest of the village tomorrow as he mumbles, “I don’t know either, Rose.”

Chapter Text

Ethan does not explore more of the village the next day. Three days pass, in fact, before he can bring himself to leave the house again. Same as before, he spends most of his time repressing his emotions and avoiding thoughts about his wife (or about his dismal situation, for that matter). As a result, he’s unfortunately left overthinking his interaction with the lords of the village. One of them absolutely despises him, that much is certain, and two of them seem either indifferent or undecided. Ethan doesn’t even want to think about the fourth one, but he hates to admit that he’s been thinking about that one a lot .

Unlike the other lords, Heisenberg’s demeanor fluctuated constantly throughout their little introduction. At first, he was merely unsettling and kind of creepy, but then it morphed into something more… predatory, in the simplest sense of the word. For most of the exchange, Ethan felt incredibly anxious having him anywhere near his daughter. However, when Lady Donna left, he seemed genuinely sympathetic, a soft look Ethan never would have expected from him. Then toward the end, when he was laughing… it was genuine, lighthearted amusement, and Ethan would be lying if he said he didn’t smile every time he thought about it. (Which, he would assure anybody who might ask, was only once or twice and definitely not more than five.) He suddenly seemed so much more inviting in that moment, like someone Ethan wouldn’t mind having regular conversations with or even befriending. That is, until Heisenberg’s previous demeanor began creeping back in at the very end.

Needless to say, Ethan feels disconcerted by the man. He’s made it a point not to think about him, but he can’t help but want to figure out the puzzle. It bothers him that he figured out the other three lords so easily, but this one makes his brain smoke. Heisenberg’s behavior varied so wildly, Ethan has no idea what to make of him. He agonizes over this for a large part of his three shut-in days and still comes up empty. Rose, meanwhile, seems to find his misery amusing.

When Ethan finally takes Rose outside, he takes solace in the fact that the lords don’t seem to visit the village all too often. God forbid he runs into one of them alone. Thankfully, his trek around the rest of the village that he didn’t get to explore last time is rather uneventful. He runs across the odd villager or two every once in a while, and his polite smiles are met with odd looks, confused at best and disdainful at worst. Most of the villagers, however, appear to be either congregating in the marketplace or relaxing at home. Honestly, Ethan has no idea what day it is, so he’s not sure if this is typical. He certainly appreciates the peace either way, but he knows it won’t last forever.

Sighing, Ethan adjusts Rose on his hip and makes for the marketplace. As much as he hates to suddenly diverge from his tranquil path, he needs to find a job as soon as he can and work out how this village likes to do their trading and vending. Although the plaza is half-empty when he arrives, he feels extremely out of his league nonetheless, suddenly reminded that he knows very little Romanian. Mia was always the smart one who communicated with the locals…

Before Ethan can chastise himself for daring to think about her again, a young woman walks up to him and shockingly asks in English, “Do you need help, sir?”

Startled, Ethan jumps and turns to look at her. “Um, yes,” he replies slowly. “Well, maybe. My name is Ethan Winters, and I just moved here a little over a week ago. I’m trying to find my way around the village and learn how things work here, and maybe… find a job. I’m not sure if you could help me with any of that, though.”

The woman nods slowly, smiling. “I can sure try. You picked a hell of a time to move in, Ethan, what with the, uh… animal fiasco that just got cleaned up. The whole village is also currently mourning the loss of our matriarch, Mother Miranda, so things are slower than usual around here. In time, of course, everything will return to normal, but for now, I can help you learn your way around. Oh, I’m Elena, by the way. Elena Lupu. Pleased to meet you.”

Returning her smile, Ethan says, “Likewise. I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”

Elena averts her gaze. “Yes… thank you.” After a moment of awkward silence, she clears her throat and looks back up at Ethan with a strained smile. “Well, welcome to our humble village, Ethan Winters, and…” She trails off, furrowing her brow slightly at Rose.

“Oh! Uh, Rose,” Ethan supplies. “Her name is Rosemary, but we -- I just call her Rose.”

Smiling warmly, Elena says, “What a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl. It’s very nice to meet you, Rose.” With her thumb and forefinger, she shakes Rose’s tiny gloved hand, causing the baby to gurgle out a laugh. Elena’s smile grows as she chuckles in return before turning back to Ethan. “How about I show you around the marketplace? Like I said before, many of us are still in mourning, so most of the non-essential shops are closed for the time being.”

“Alright,” Ethan responds with a nod. “No shame in needing some time off. I know the feeling.”

Graciously, Elena doesn’t comment on his vague reference to his own mourning and flashes him an understanding smile. “Of course. Come, follow me.” She beckons to him as she turns away and starts heading into the sparsely crowded marketplace. As she walks, she says, “You know, Ethan, our village didn’t have a name until relatively recently. The first settlers simply never felt the need for one. They preferred seclusion, so there was no desire to identify the village for others to visit. It wasn’t until the factory was built, I think, that anyone thought to name our village. Although the residents still desired isolation, the factory signaled a new age of outside influence. By then, we had the four noble houses, just like in the old days when this valley was ruled by four kings. What with the statues and the ruins and the lords, the people of the village reluctantly agreed upon the name Valea Regilor, or Valley of Kings, in your tongue. The factory was largely shunned, however, and no outside influence ever occurred, just the way the villagers wanted it.”

Ethan had no clue the village even had a name at all, much less a history behind it. He really needs to get some more information from Chris if he’s to live here long-term.

Pausing in her step, Elena turns to face Ethan for a moment. “I don’t know where it’s like where you come from, but I know you probably think our ways and beliefs are antiquated. Many of the villagers may take quite some time to warm up to you. I only hope you’ll give us a chance, and in time, they’ll extend the same courtesy.”

Ethan nods and replies, “Of course. I wouldn’t expect any of you to like me right away or to change the way you live on my account. I’m just one man trying to scrape by and make do with what I can.”

Elena smiles at him, then at Rose. “I’m sure you’ll do great here.” Turning back, she gestures at a line of wooden stands. “These are some of the vendor stalls. The smaller businesses and hobbyists usually use these to sell their wares. No one really owns a specific stall, but most people have been using the same one for so long that it’s more or less considered their stall. As you can see, all of these are empty. None of the businesses who use stalls are considered essential, so they were all able to take time off in our time of grief. The essential shops are ones that people need to survive, like the doctor and grocers. Those all have their own buildings, which are over here.” As she speaks, she continues over to a line of dark, unlit buildings, none of which seem to be occupied save for the one on the end. The lone building projects light from its windows, combating the shadows from the overcast clouds above. Didn’t Elena call these essential businesses? Why are they all closed?

As if reading Ethan’s mind, Elena clarifies, “Not all of the businesses that have buildings are essential, but all businesses that are essential have buildings. However, not all of them are in or near the marketplace. Some people, like the doctor, do business out of their homes. I understand it can be confusing. Do you have a map, by chance? I could mark some of these places for you.”

Nodding, Ethan shifts Rose over to his other hip and struggles to pull the map of the village Chris gave him out of his pocket. After a moment, he manages to get it out and sighs, handing it over to Elena. “That would be very helpful, thank you.”

“No problem.” Elena smiles as she grabs a pencil from a pocket in her pinafore and starts circling certain areas, making corresponding notes in the margins. Pointing at one of the circles, she explains, “This building here is Luiza’s house. She and her close friend, Magda, provide most of the village’s medical services there, though they will take house calls if necessary. You might want to pay them a visit sometime and get acquainted. Oh, and don’t worry, Luiza speaks near-perfect English. She’s actually the one who taught me.”

Ethan nods and distractedly murmurs, “Thank you,” as he reads her notes and lines them up with their respective circles.

“Of course. As you know, this one here,” she says as she points at a circled square, “is the grocer. We are standing right about here.” She points to an empty space on the map near the grocery. “These other ones are just some other important places to know, including the bakery, the butcher, and my home here,” she adds, pointing to each one in turn. “I live with my father; he’s the carpenter and runs one of the stalls. Unfortunately, like many of the others, he’s not very fond of outsiders, but feel free to stop by if you need anything. I’m always happy to help. Right now, my best advice would be to keep your head low, don’t cause any trouble, and work to earn your place in the village. Do that, and they may just warm up to you in about three years.” Elena nudges Ethan with her elbow as she laughs at her own joke, and he returns it with an awkward chuckle, admittedly intimidated.

“Thank you so much, Elena,” Ethan says as he pockets his map again before shifting Rose back to his other hip.

“Of course, Ethan!” she replies, grinning for a moment before turning more serious. “Remember, try to go along with what the villagers say, within reason. You don’t want to draw any untoward attention. If it seems like it may just be a cultural difference, it probably is. Many of us are pious folk, and our village has a bad history of people trying to convert us from our ‘heathen ways.’ Don’t talk about religion, and try to forgive us for any of our odd quirks. We’ve held many of our customs for centuries, and none of the villagers would appreciate you crossing or disrespecting them. Do you understand?”

Although nothing in Elena’s tone would denote a threat, Ethan shifts nervously on his feet as he slowly nods in response. Heathen ways? He can’t help the anxiety that grips his stomach as he hopes they’re not the “sacrifice-the-non-believer” types, as unfair as he knows it is. Despite the occasional dirty look, he’s been given no real cause so far to believe such a thing, but the intrusive thought remains. He comforts himself with the knowledge that in time, as he gets to know the villagers and their customs, that thought will fade into the wind as though it never existed in the first place.

Elena smiles with understanding. “It will be a lot to get used to, I know, but I have faith that you’ll fit right in in no time. Until then, I’d recommend not to try haggling with any of the vendors or shopkeepers. They won’t be willing to lower the price for someone they don’t know or like, and, no offense, but doing so may make them dislike you and think of you as just another greedy American. Unfortunately, while we don’t get much from the outside world, we certainly hear the stereotypes and prejudices. One of us hears it on the radio and spreads it to everyone else. I’m sure you know how small villages love their gossip.”

Chuckling awkwardly, Ethan says, “Yes, unfortunately, I am quite aware. I grew up in a small town, though not nearly as small as this one. Word tends to spread quickly.”

“Indeed,” Elena replies with a grin. “Did you need any help with anything else while I’m here?”

Ethan casts a nervous glance at the dark stacks of smoke unfurling in the distance. “Yes, actually. You mentioned working to earn my keep. I was wondering if you may know where I could find employment.”

Elena hums as she pauses to think, furrowing her brow. “Well, there’s always the factory. Most of the men in the village have worked there at some point in their lives. Otherwise, I’m not sure who else may be willing to hire you. Again, no offense, but people here don’t care for outsiders. They don’t know you or your family, so you have absolutely no reputation, which means they have no basis to judge you. Unfortunately, that also means they won’t trust you yet. It’s not very fair, I know, but it’s true. I’d say your best bet is to try the factory.”

Sighing lightly, Ethan mutters, “I was afraid so.”

As if sensing his apprehension, Elena quickly adds, “You could try asking Luiza if she needs any help with her practice. Even if she doesn’t, she may know someone desperate enough to accept your help. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ethan sighs. “Thank you for the help, Elena. I just need one more thing.”

“Of course, ask away.”

“This may be a long shot, but do you know of anyone who’d be willing to watch Rose while I work?”

Smiling, Elena glances down at the tightly bundled baby in question. “Oh, she seems like such a joy. I would love to babysit her for you whenever I can. Sometimes I have to help my father with his craft, but it’s usually just running the stall when he has a big project. If you wouldn’t mind, I could watch her at the same time, or you could ask Luiza while you’re there. I’m sure she would love to watch Rose too.”

Nodding, Ethan says, “Thank you, Elena. Once I find some steady employment, I’ll let you know.”

“Of course,” Elena replies happily. “It’s no problem, Ethan. You know, I still have some time before my father expects me home. I could walk you to Luiza’s if you wanted to see her right away.”

Ethan shrugs as well as he can with Rose in his arms. “Might as well since I’m out here. A familiar face may make her more likely to listen to me.”

Nodding with a smile, Elena leads the way through the village to a large house atop a small hill. A vast grassy field extends in front of the closed gate and wall, and Ethan shudders as his imagination decides to politely inform him of the multitudes of creatures and horrors that could be hiding among the tall dry grass. The loud squeaking of the gate as Elena pulls it open shakes him out of his trance before he can dwell for too long, and Ethan almost thanks her for it. Instead, he nods at her as she glances back at him. Returning the gesture, Elena continues up the path and knocks on the double doors. Movement can be seen behind the large frosted glass windows set in each side, overlayed by a curling design of wrought iron.

As the door on the left opens, it reveals a sophisticated woman in a dark dress with dark hair tied in a neat bun at the top of her head. She looks Ethan up and down with an unreadable expression, her gaze lingering on Rose before she turns to Elena with a smile and greets her in Romanian. Ethan struggles to translate in real time as the two women converse, but it seems like pleasant small talk. After a few awkward moments, the older woman glances at him once again and asks in English, “And who might this be, Elena? Is this the outsider the lords spoke of?”

As Elena nods and murmurs an affirmative, Ethan takes this as his cue to introduce himself. Shifting Rose’s weight on his hip, he offers a hand with a polite smile and says, “My name is Ethan Winters, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The woman looks mildly impressed, as if she had not been expecting such a reply. Returning his smile, she accepts his hand and shakes it firmly. “Luiza Ciobanu. The pleasure is all mine, Mister Winters.”

Ethan shakes his head lightly as he returns his hand to support his hold on Rose. “Please, just Ethan is fine.”

“Alright, then, Ethan,” Luiza replies mildly. “You may call me Luiza or ma’am.”

“Of course. Thank you, ma’am.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Luiza,” Elena interrupts awkwardly, “but I must be going before my father starts to worry. You know how he is. Ethan here had a few things to speak with you about, though, if you don’t mind.”

Luiza smiles warmly. “Of course not. It was nice to see you as well. Say hello to Leonardo for me, will you?”

“I will,” Elena says as she slowly backs down the porch steps. “Goodbye, Luiza, Ethan, Rose! I hope to see you again soon.” As she turns around to face the front gate, she gives a small wave in their direction.

Although Elena won’t see it, Ethan waves back anyway and calls, “Goodbye, Elena! It was nice to meet you.”

“You too!” Elena replies, shutting the gate behind her.

Smiling, Ethan turns back to Luiza, who ushers him inside her home and closes the door gently behind them. The foyer is small but cozy, with plastered walls and a worn wood floor. Two long red rugs stretch the length and width of the room, overlapping crosswise in the center. The one on top runs between two doorways set in the center of the walls on either side, the left a white door with wood trim and the right a white lace curtain. A bench sits to the left with a cushion and a throw blanket on the farthest end, next to a coat rack. To the right, a typewriter sits atop a hutch dresser alongside an ornamental pitcher, and plain wooden chairs sit on either side of the dresser. The foyer ends in a decorative hearth, an armchair nestled in one corner and a small table next to a metal washbasin in the other. The room looks well lived-in, and it makes Ethan ache for the home he once had.

“I’m not sure exactly what you may need of me,” Luiza admits, shaking him out of his longing as she leads him through the door on the left and down a hall, “but we can talk in my sitting room.” As she stops at an open door with a curtain, she lifts one side and ushers him through. “Take a seat at the table. I will get a fire going.”

As Ethan lays eyes on the round table, piercing fear suddenly seizes his body, rooting him in place. Shrill feminine shrieking and gruff masculine shouting simultaneously reverberate throughout his skull, disorienting him as he stumbles. For a moment -- two? Three? He can’t tell -- Ethan forgets where he is until a small hand lightly bats at his face. Blinking, he looks at his daughter in his arms as she gently smacks him a few times with a curious look on her face. After a beat, Ethan huffs a laugh and pulls her closer to him as he forces himself to sit at the table with a thick swallow.

Resting on her father’s leg, Rose continues patting his face and gurgles happily as he gives her attention. This succeeds in soothing Ethan’s nerves, his shoulders dropping as he chuckles. He makes the executive decision to ignore what just happened and files it away with all the other emotional garbage he doesn’t have time for. Pointedly keeping his focus on Rose, he leans forward and blows raspberries on her cheek, eliciting a high-pitched screech of a giggle. Ethan shares a grin with her before the crackling of a fire draws her short attention to the fire Luiza just lit. A small gasp escapes her lips as her eyes widen, her face glowing orange. Ethan smiles warmly as a chair scrapes the floor to his left.

“Is she yours?” Luiza asks softly.

Looking up, he meets Luiza’s gaze as she folds her hands on the table in front of her. With no small amount of pride, he replies, “Yes, she is.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Luiza says, smiling warmly. “I believe Elena called her Rose, correct?”

“Yes.” Ethan nods. “Short for Rosemary.”

Luiza hums. “Rosemary. A lovely name for a lovely child. How old is she?”

“Just over six months now, but you wouldn’t believe it. She’s so smart and intuitive. I swear, she understands everything I say.”

Chuckling, Luiza says, “Most parents feel that way, but, yes, I suppose she does seem to have a certain look in her eyes.”

“Do you have any children?” Ethan asks, curious.

“Oh, no,” Luiza dismisses quietly. “We tried, my husband Vasile and I, we really did, but it never seemed to be in Mother Miranda’s plan for us.” Sighing, she casts a glance at Rose and shakes her head. “Nevermind all that, though. What was it you needed from me?”

“Well, a few things, really,” Ethan admits. He moves on from the previous topic quickly, recognizing the sad look in Luiza’s eye. “First, I was wondering if you knew of any jobs around the village that may need filling. Elena wasn’t sure, but she suggested I ask you.”

Luiza takes a few moments to think before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Ethan. You seem like such a nice boy, but… How do I put this? That will not be enough for many of the villagers. Leonardo, Elena’s father, has been looking for an apprentice for a while, but unfortunately, he does not share his daughter’s open mind. He would not be willing to work with you until you become more well-known around the village, and neither would the others. We could have used you here a few weeks ago, with all the… animal attacks, but now with that taken care of, we already have all the help we need. I know you were probably hoping for choices, as all young folk are, but I’m afraid your only option for work is the factory.”

Flashing a strained smile, Ethan sighs and responds, “I was afraid so, but thank you anyway, Luiza.”

“Of course,” Luiza offers kindly. “If I learn of anything, I’ll let you know. Be careful when you go to the factory -- it is a dangerous place. You’ll have to be tactful as well. Lord Heisenberg is certainly the most open of the siblings to outsiders and outside influence, but he is still a lord. Offend him, and you may never leave his domain. Tread lightly.”

Ethan nods, recalling his past encounter with the greasy man. “Yes, thank you. Unfortunately, I am already well aware. We’ve met before.”

Luiza’s eyebrows disappear behind her bangs as she leans forward just slightly. “You’ve met Lord Heisenberg already? When?”

“I met all four of the lords,” Ethan answers, unaffected. Clearly, they don’t mean near as much to him as they do to her. “A few days ago, there was a town meeting about the animal problem. They talked to me after the villagers left.”

Eyes as wide as dinner plates, Luiza gasps softly. “You met with all four of them at once? Ethan, that is quite the honor -- one I don’t believe a single villager has ever had.”

Not wanting to be insensitive, Ethan refrains from commenting on the lords. “I feel honored they thought to speak with me, but it was all about my moving into the village. As I understand, it’s an unprecedented event.”

“Oh, yes,” Luiza says, nodding. “I believe there may have been one man many years ago who tried settling in from elsewhere, but most regard that as myth. Believe it or not, the village used to be even more hostile toward outsiders than it is now.”

It is a little hard to believe, but Ethan isn’t about to say that to her face. “Well, as you can imagine, the lords wanted to know who this outsider is, coming to live in their village, and they wanted to clarify a few things. Set the record straight on who they are and their place in the village, as well as mine.”

Recovering from her initial shock, Luiza nods. “Yes, I imagine they’d want to make sure you know who they are. I mean no disrespect to our lords, but I am surprised you came out unscathed.”

Maybe physically, Ethan remarks wryly to himself before asking aloud, “Are they usually violent?” The thought makes him instinctively hold Rose closer to himself, especially with the mental image of Heisenberg’s predatory gaze and Lady Dimitrescu’s thinly veiled loathing.

“Oh, no,” Luiza rushes to reassure him. “Not usually. Well… in truth, that’s because they ordinarily don’t interact with most of the villagers. Sometimes, a villager gets caught in the crossfire of their familial disputes or… does something that calls for punishment.” Wringing her hands nervously, she averts her gaze and purses her lips. She’s hiding something, and Ethan doesn’t like the pit forming in his stomach. As if she can sense his apprehension, Luiza meets his gaze again and states firmly, “You have nothing to worry about, Ethan. The lords are welcoming you, an outsider, into the village for a reason. They wouldn’t harm you or Rosemary. I know our ways may be confusing or concerning to you, but things have been like this for longer than anyone can remember. Our way of life works, and we hold it dear. Understand?”

Hesitant, Ethan nods slowly. She has a point. Besides, Chris would probably have their heads if they did anything to him or Rose. They must know that. “I understand, Luiza,” he relents. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Ethan,” Luiza replies with a smile. “Now, what else did you need help with?”

Glancing at Rose, who is still mesmerized by the fire, Ethan decides to accept the shift in conversation. “Yes, one more thing. While I’m working, I won’t have anyone who can watch Rose. Elena already said she wouldn’t mind whenever she had time, but she may not always be able or willing to babysit for me. Would you mind caring for Rose if I ever need you to?”

Luiza smiles and observes Rose for a few moments. There’s a small sense of sadness in her eyes for a brief moment before it’s carefully covered up. Ethan takes note but knows better than to ask. Turning back to Ethan, Luiza nods and says, “I’d love to, Ethan. Free of charge, whenever you need, you can bring her over.”

“Really?” Ethan asks hopefully. “Thank you so much.”

“It would be my pleasure, Ethan, really,” Luiza replies. “Little Rosemary seems like such a well-behaved bundle of joy. There’s always room for her here.”

“Still, thank you,” Ethan insists, looking down at his daughter just in time to catch a tiny yawn. Chuckling, he turns to Luiza. “Well, I think that’s my cue to get her home. It must be time for her next nap. Thanks, again, for everything.”

As he stands from his chair, so does Luiza. “Yes, you’re very welcome,” she says, walking him back to the front door. “Don’t be afraid to stop by anytime you need anything.” As Ethan opens the front door and steps out, she stops in the doorway. With an apologetic smile, she admits, “I will be honest, Ethan Winters, I was wary of you at first. If Elena hadn’t come with you, I may not have even given you the time of day. But I am glad that I did. You seem like a good young man, and it was very nice to meet you. Both of you.”

“It was very nice to meet you too, Luiza Ciobanu,” Ethan says, smiling. “I’ll see you soon. Goodbye.”

“Have a nice day,” Luiza responds with a nod.

Ethan nods back before turning and heading to the gate. He doesn’t hear Luiza’s front door shut until after he closes the gate. Grinning, Ethan glances down at Rose and says, “Look at us. We already made two friends in one day. I’d say things may just be looking up.”

Chapter Text

Ethan’s chipper mood is unfortunately soured the moment he reaches his small home. A dead fox has been left on his doorstep, horribly mangled almost beyond recognition. His stomach lurches, and he anxiously covers Rose’s mouth with his sleeve. He doesn’t know how long it’s been dead, and he doesn’t want to take any chances with airborne disease. Giving the front stoop a wide berth, he goes to the back door and wrestles with his keys one-handed to get it open. Once inside, he quickly changes Rose before laying her down for a nap. He waits and watches her eyes slowly flutter shut to make sure she falls asleep before leaving the house through the back.

With a shuddering deep breath, Ethan grabs the shovel that leans against the side of the house and steels himself to move the dead fox. Fate really seems to have it out for him lately. Figures something like this would happen, and just when things were going well to boot. He knows a threat when he sees one, having been a televised suspect in his wife’s disappearance all those years ago. Unfortunately, similarly to before, there isn’t anything he can do but clean up the mess, make sure the locks work, and hope it doesn’t escalate. This time, however, he has a daughter to watch over. He just hopes Chris comes by soon so he can get some help.

On the bright side, Ethan lives on the village limits, right at the edge of the forest, so at least the cleanup will be easy. Picking up the fox with his shovel, he trudges through the woods for a couple minutes before gently laying the animal at the base of a tree. Hopefully, it’s far enough to avoid encouraging wild animals to hang around his house for food. After cleaning the blood off the shovel in the snow, he goes back to his front door and scoops up all the bloodstained snow to deposit it over the dead fox. In the best attempt at a burial he can give with the ground frozen solid, he covers the rest of the fox in more snow and gives the marbled white-red lump a small salute.

“Sorry you had to die for this, buddy,” he murmurs with a heavy sigh before turning and heading back home.

The next morning, Ethan knows it’s time to get off his ass and apply for work at the factory. Around noon, he bundles Rose up and takes her over to Luiza’s house with a bag of supplies. No offense to Elena, but Luiza seems like she knows more about taking care of a baby. For the time being, she’s going to be the first choice. After knocking on Luiza’s front door, Ethan waits patiently, watching Rose as she stares transfixed at the snowflakes gently falling from the sky. As Ethan smiles warmly, one of the doors swings open, revealing a woman Ethan doesn’t recognize with medium brown hair pulled into a bun similar to Luiza’s.

Narrowing her eyes, the woman looks him up and down and asks brusquely, “Who are you?”

“My name is Ethan Winters,” Ethan introduces himself politely. “I’m rather new in the village, and I--”

Rolling her eyes, the woman rudely interrupts, “Obviously. Outsiders like you all look the same. What do you want? The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can make you leave.”

Stunned at the blatant animosity, Ethan holds Rose tighter and stammers, “W-well, I-I wanted to talk to Luiza.”

The woman’s eyes narrow further. “What do you know of Luiza?”

“We talked yesterday, and she said she wouldn’t mind watching my daughter Rose for me if I needed it.”

“Did she now?” the woman sneers.

“Yes, I did,” a calm voice behind her interjects. The woman jumps and turns to see Luiza standing behind her with a warning expression. “I can take it from here, Magda. Go check on Sebastian.”

Nodding meekly, the woman -- Magda -- mutters, “Yes, ma’am,” and skitters away.

“I apologize for her, Ethan,” Luiza says with a sigh. “As you are aware, most of the villagers are distrustful of outsiders, and she is unfortunately no exception. I’ll be sure to talk to her later.”

Ethan sighs and shakes his head. “Thank you, Luiza, but it’s no problem, really. I’m sure they’ll get used to me in time. I just have to keep my head low.”

“That doesn’t make it right for them to mistreat you, Ethan,” Luiza asserts firmly.

Ethan smiles lightly as Luiza suddenly reminds him of his mother. “I know, Luiza. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Luiza responds with a nod. “Now, I heard you need someone to watch Rose?”

Ethan nods. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. I was going to head up to the factory to ask for work, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to bring Rose along. Would you be able to watch her for me?”

Smiling warmly, Luiza says, “Of course, Ethan. I would love to. I told you yesterday, any time.” She holds her arms out, and Ethan releases a sigh of relief as he hands her Rose, who looks almost confused at the transfer. “Oh, she’s such a little angel.”

With a chuckle, Ethan hands her the bag of supplies as well and says, “I know. Thank you so much. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, though. I don’t know whether I’ll be expected to start right away.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, truly,” Luiza dismisses. “Take as long as you need.”

“Really?” Ethan asks, surprised. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, Ethan. Now, go! I wish you luck.”

Backing away slowly, Ethan chuckles nervously as he waves. “Thanks. I’ll probably need it. Goodbye, Rose! Have fun.” Rose gurgles a laugh and waves back, bolstering Ethan’s confidence and determination, even if only a little. “Goodbye, Luiza!”

“See you soon, Ethan!” Luiza calls back. Once again, Ethan hears the door click shut after he closes the gate.

Now with no more excuses for putting it off, Ethan forces his legs to carry him to the massive stone bridge across the gorge. Each step makes his heart and stomach sink lower as he recalls his previous encounter with Heisenberg, the images he wishes he could scrub from his brain flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks. When he reaches the bridge, he looks up at the factory and shudders. For Rose, he reminds himself as he hurries to the other side.

A barbed wire fence surrounds the factory, including a spacious yard in front littered with trash and miscellaneous scrap. The place looks dilapidated and derelict, and Ethan almost expects the two large gates to be padlocked shut. He almost wishes it were so as he pushes the left side open and steps onto the dead grass. It crunches under his boots as he carefully makes his way to the sliding barn door in front, side-eyeing the tank half-buried in a scrap heap that he passes on the way. Struggling to recall the last time he had a tetanus shot, Ethan hesitantly puts his hands on the sliding metal door and pushes it to the side.

The lack of lighting inside is concerning as Ethan steps into the front room, which reminds him of his grandpa’s shed when he was growing up. Barrels, metal scrap, and wooden beams and pallets haphazardly dot the room, and a long puddle stretches out from the front door to the only other door in the room right across from it. Against his better judgement, Ethan closes the door behind him to avoid coming across as rude. As much as this place looks like somewhere they’ll never find his body, he desperately needs this job.

As Ethan cautiously picks his way across the rubble to a pair of metal doors across the room, he hears hurried shuffling and a muffled curse from somewhere to his left. Confused, he slowly approaches the noise and finds a side door he hadn’t noticed in the corner, hanging slightly ajar. Hoping to find someone who knows where they’re going in this hellhole, he picks up his pace and opens the door. Much to Ethan’s relief, there’s a little more light in here to guide his steps, and he follows the noise to what seems to be a dead end. Several shelves of various sizes and shapes intermittently line the periphery of the room, and against the far wall sits a large desk with a similarly large man in front of it. The poorly constructed curtain spanning the center of the room does nothing to hide the identity of the one man Ethan was silently -- and perhaps foolishly -- hoping not to see right away.

The lord of the factory himself is frantically tearing down papers of some sort from the wall above the desk, and Ethan can’t quite see or make any of them out through the ragged cloth. As Ethan takes a curious step forward, Heisenberg freezes and curses under his breath. Setting the papers facedown on the desk, he turns on his heel and strides toward Ethan. Ethan tries to inconspicuously catch a glimpse of what the other man was so furiously removing from the wall, but Heisenberg is careful not to disturb the curtain as he bows under it. “Ethan Winters,” he drawls, opening his arms wide. “What a surprise. How can I help you on this fine day?”

Resisting the urge to take a step back as Heisenberg languidly advances, Ethan says impassively, “I am here to request work, assuming your offer still stands.”

Heisenberg stops but a foot in front of Ethan and grins. “Oh, it stands. I wonder if you will once I’m done with you.”

Aghast, Ethan can’t help but take two steps back as he stammers, “P-pardon me?”

Thankfully, the lord doesn’t chase him and settles back on his heels as his grin widens wolfishly. Chuckling lowly, he replies, “Oh, you know. Factory work can be grueling.” He pauses for a moment and inclines his head. “Unless, of course, you’d rather work more closely with me and put that engineering degree to work.”

Ethan furrows his brow, considering. Although he doubts he’d be happy doing grunt factory work, how happy could he possibly be in the alternative? He can barely stand the knowledge that this man lives in the same village as him. How could he survive working closely with him every single day? Sure, it would be nice to put his skills to use, but would it be worth it?

“You could choose your own hours.”

Yes, it would be worth it.

Not wanting to give Heisenberg the satisfaction of accepting immediately, Ethan pretends to think it over for longer. “That would give me more time with Rose,” he mutters.

Heisenberg shrugs and says, “You could bring her here for all I care.”

Ethan scoffs, giving him an incredulous look. “And give her tetanus and God knows what else? I think the fuck not. You may not care, but I do.”

Throwing his head back, Heisenberg lets out a deep, hearty laugh. “Point taken, Winters. So, what’ll it be?”

Ethan hums for a moment before answering, “It would be nice to use that degree I spent so much money on. It looks like you have a new partner, Heisenberg.” Without thinking, he extends his hand.

Heisenberg looks shocked for a split second before he covers it up with his signature overconfidence. “I knew you’d make the right choice, Winters,” he replies, accepting Ethan’s hand and shaking it firmly.

Ethan snorts. “That remains to be seen.”

Laughing, Heisenberg claps Ethan on the shoulder. “When would you like to start?”

“Well, I have pretty much all day freed up,” Ethan replies, shrugging. “I say let’s pen out a schedule and go from there.”

“Of course.” Grinning, Heisenberg quickly ushers Ethan back the way he came. Without paying any mind to the excessive detritus scattered about the large entry room, Heisenberg strolls over to the double doors and shoves them open with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing Ethan inside. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Ethan steps onto a vast production floor and immediately notices that much of the machinery doesn’t appear to be functional. He can’t tell exactly what the workers are producing with the few machines that are running, but none of it looks safe. One, two, three, four…

“Holy shit,” Ethan breathes, looking out over the workers in concern.

Behind him, Heisenberg says, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“W-wha-- I-I -- No! It’s a fucking deathtrap!” Ethan stammers, aghast, as he whirls on Heisenberg. “I count at least twenty OSH violations, just from a general sweep of the floor. There are most certainly more, but if I keep counting, I may get physically ill. How has no one died in here?”

Completely glossing over the last question, Heisenberg asks, “What the fuck is an OSH?”

Eyes widening, Ethan glances back at the factory uneasily as he mutters, “Oh, my God, that makes so much sense.” As he looks back up at Heisenberg, he shakes his head. “OSH stands for occupational safety and health. The International Labour Organization sets forth bare minimum standards to keep workers safe and protect their rights, and each country that participates has their own national organization to expand upon these rules and regulations and enforce them. Back in the States, we had OSHA, and here in Romania, we have the Ministry of Labour. I was only just starting to study Romanian OSH legislation before… the incident, but I can still recognize the copious international violations. This place is one massive lawsuit waiting to happen, and I’m frankly surprised you haven’t been sued out your ass yet.”

Heisenberg gives a rueful chuckle as he begins walking across the floor. “You have a lot to learn about the way things work around here, Winters,” he says unaffectedly, shaking his head.

Matching Heisenberg’s stride, Ethan replies, “Be that as it may, the safety of your workers should always be a top priority. Even if the average villager’s life does not have value in Valea Regilor’s culture, or to you specifically, it would benefit you from a strictly business standpoint.” As much as the idea sickens him, Ethan recognizes that the only way to appeal to Heisenberg may be through practicality, profit, and numbers. He knows the type all too well. “The fewer deaths and injuries in your factory, the more people you will have available to work at any given time and the higher quality their work will be. The happier and safer your workers are, the more profit and progress you are able to make.”

Heisenberg pauses in front of a nondescript door with a frosted glass window, his hand resting on the knob as he studies Ethan’s face for a few moments with a small, impressed smile. “You make a compelling argument, Winters. Tell you what -- if you draft up your proposed safety measures, I will implement them as soon as it fits the budget. Rome wasn’t baby-proofed in a day.”

Unable to help it, Ethan snorts a laugh, earning a grin from Heisenberg. “Yeah, sure. Can’t rush perfection.” Once again, the lord starts inching his way into tolerable territory, and Ethan feels conflicted. Although he welcomes the break from Heisenberg’s typical over-the-top and uncomfortable behavior, he knows it won’t take long for Heisenberg to return to his insufferable flirty persona. He does every time without fail, always spoiling it whenever Ethan almost starts to enjoy his company.

With a chuckle, Heisenberg opens the door and replies, “Exactly.” After ushering Ethan into the strangely faded room, he closes the door behind them and heads over to a desk set a few feet from the right wall, facing the opposite. He motions for Ethan to sit in an old chair in front of the desk as he pulls a few pieces of blank paper from a drawer. A cloud billows around the paper when he slaps it on top of the desk, and Ethan suddenly realizes what he initially wrote off as frosted glass and muted colors is in fact an exceptionally thick blanket of dust enveloping the entire room. Heisenberg doesn’t seem to notice or care as he grabs a pen from one of his coat pockets and starts, “Now, about your schedule…”

Ethan forces himself to ignore the dust, cringing internally as he reluctantly takes the seat offered to him. For the next hour, he works with Heisenberg on drafting up a weekly schedule. Surprisingly enough, the lord actually has some degree of professionalism when he wants to, and the process goes by rather smoothly. True to his word, he gives Ethan as much choice as he can, within reason. After some back and forth, Ethan decides to stick with a familiar work schedule of eight hours each day, five days a week. To give him time to get Rose ready for the day and off to her babysitter, he’ll start at nine in the morning and end at six in the afternoon, accounting for two half hour breaks. In the end, the one thing he isn’t sure of is which days of the week should act as his weekend. He doesn’t know how much his traditional Saturday-Sunday weekend matters in this village.

“When’s the sabbath?” Ethan asks, looking up from Heisenberg’s hastily written and poorly organized notes.

Blinking slowly, Heisenberg replies, “The what?”

“The holy day,” Ethan clarifies. “I understand the people in this village are extremely religious. Is there a particular day they reserve for worship and abstain from work?”

Heisenberg sits back and crosses his arms, scoffing. “Saturdays. Miranda made me give them all Saturdays off so they could worship her, in addition to one hour devoted to prayer every three.” Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head and mutters under his breath, “Bitch is gone and I’m still petrified to change it.”

Ethan graciously decides not to press what he clearly wasn’t intended to hear. “Hm… Although I personally wouldn’t mind working Saturdays, I would hardly consider it fair to ask someone to babysit my child on their day of worship.”

Snorting, Heisenberg says, “You wouldn’t want them to anyway. They’d probably try to indoctrinate her.”

Ethan chuckles nervously, unsure if it was a joke. He wouldn’t necessarily be surprised either way, since Heisenberg doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of the villagers, but they are also extremely devout. Their late matron even appears to have been sainted, and they clearly revere the four lords, even as they fear them.

“Alright, well,” Ethan says awkwardly, “I’ll take Saturdays off, then. And Wednesdays, if you don’t mind. It might be easier on Rose if she doesn’t have to go so long between our days together.”

Heisenberg nods slowly, taking a moment. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Ethan replies with slightly narrowed eyes. Heisenberg doesn’t seem to like when he mentions Rose. Maybe he thinks Ethan talks about her too much? If that’s the case, he’s going to have to get over it. Rose is the only thing Ethan cares about in his life anymore, so there's hours more where that came from.

Ethan watches as Heisenberg grabs an empty sheet of paper, turns it sideways, and starts writing down the agreed upon schedule in a calendar format. Contrary to the notes, he takes his time writing more deliberately, and Ethan wonders if he’s self-conscious or simply worried Ethan won’t be able to read it otherwise. Shaking his head, Ethan dismisses the trivial thought and asks, “If something were to come up and I couldn’t make it in -- say, I had an accident or Rose was ill -- what’s your policy on emergency time off, and how could I reach you to let you know?”

Pausing, Heisenberg thinks it over before looking up from the paper. “I suppose that depends on the emergency and how frequently it happens. In general, I don't really give a shit as long as the work is still getting done, but I will expect to be notified when and why it happens. I do not tolerate lies or excuses, and I have my ways of finding out the truth.”

“Of course,” Ethan replies, almost offended at the insinuation. “I’m not an idiot, Heisenberg. I know how this shit works. Besides, I have a baby to think about. I’m not going to put my job on the line just because I don’t feel like showing up one day.”

“Good,” Heisenberg says simply, nodding as he writes a string of numbers in the top right corner of the page. As he finishes penning the schedule, he continues, “That’s my phone number in the corner there. Should you need anything, you can reach me there.” He pauses for a moment before grinning as he hands the paper to Ethan. “And I mean anything. Work-related or otherwise.” He punctuates the sentence with a wink as Ethan accepts the schedule.

Ethan puts on a strained smile and says courteously, “Of course. Thank you.” He’s already starting to wonder if he made the right choice in job position. While he has nothing against gay people, truly, that doesn’t mean he enjoys being relentlessly hit on by someone he barely knows, least of all when he’s mourning -- or trying desperately not to mourn -- his dead wife.

Interestingly enough, there was no flirtation while they were discussing work. For whatever reason, Heisenberg was actually rather pleasant to talk to and work with while they discussed his schedule. Maybe as long as Ethan keeps all conversation work-related, he’ll be fine. With this in mind, he asks, “When would you like me to start?”

Already, Heisenberg visibly reels it back, causing Ethan to relax his tense shoulders. “It won’t take much time to set up an office for you,” he says. “You could start as early as tomorrow, or you could take a few days to find arrangements for your daughter if you need.”

Ethan shakes his head. “I already have someone to take care of Rose, so I’ll have no problem starting tomorrow.”

“Making friends already?” Heisenberg asks, raising a brow.

“A couple,” Ethan replies with a shrug. “Most of the villagers seem to hate me, but I was lucky enough to find one who didn’t, and she pointed me in the direction of another. Real life savers, those two.” Ethan chuckles with a lopsided smile as he adds, “Rose seems to really like them, and they both adore her.”

Heisenberg nods. “That’s good. Don’t worry, the village will warm up to you soon.”

Momentarily, Ethan considers mentioning the dead animal left on his doorstep, but he decides against it. It’s nothing he can’t handle. Instead, he says, “Yes, that’s what everyone keeps telling me. I just hope no one acts on their distrust in the meantime. I don’t want to lose Rose too.”

Heisenberg’s expression turns abruptly grim. “If anyone even tries, they will be put back in their place.”

The intensity in the lord’s voice floors Ethan, and he struggles to keep it from showing on his face. “I’m sure no one will do anything,” he assures with a shaky chuckle. “They probably would have by now if they were going to. I can deal with the glares and insults. At this point in my life, it’s the least I’ve been through. It’s almost refreshing, to be honest.”

Heisenberg slowly settles, an unreadable expression on his face as he replies, “Of course. The villagers know better than to act out, but be sure to let me know if anyone gives you any trouble.”

Ethan hesitates. He doesn’t quite like the way Heisenberg said any of that. Nodding slowly, he stammers, “S-sure.”

“Good,” Heisenberg replies, nodding back.

“Well, I should probably get heading home now,” Ethan says awkwardly, getting to his feet. After that tonal shift, he wants nothing more than to leave this place as soon as possible. “I have to inform Luiza of my schedule.”

Heisenberg stands as well as he asks, “Luiza? The… medicine lady?”

“Yeah,” Ethan responds with a nod, surprised Heisenberg would know any of the villagers’ names. “She volunteered to watch Rose for me whenever she can.”

“That’s… nice of her,” Heisenberg says slowly, brow furrowed as he rounds the desk.

Casting an uncertain glance at Heisenberg, Ethan walks backward to the door. “Yes, I was very lucky to meet her,” he replies suspiciously. Turning around, he opens the door and steps out, followed closely by Heisenberg.

“I’ll see you out,” Heisenberg offers.

Not wanting to be rude, and frankly a little scared to offend, Ethan accepts. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Heisenberg drawls with a grin, leading the way across the production floor.

Back to work, Ethan reminds himself as he represses a shudder. “When I arrive tomorrow, would you like me to report straight to that office? Or do you want me elsewhere?” The look Heisenberg gives him makes Ethan instantly regret his wording. Maybe work won’t always be such a safe topic.

Chuckling lowly, Heisenberg looks Ethan up and down and says, “Oh, I’d love to have you elsewhere… but that office will do for now. Technically, it’s my office, but I work from several places within the factory and out. I haven’t used that room in years, as you may have been able to tell.” Heisenberg pauses as he opens the door to the front yard. Leaning on the frame, he watches Ethan step outside. “I look forward to working with you, Winters.”

The way Heisenberg switches so effortlessly between flirtatious and serious is unnerving and more than a little confusing. Ethan finds himself at once unsettled by the duality of this man and curious about the true nature that lies beneath. He’s certain he’ll have plenty of time in the future to puzzle it out, now that he’s going to be working so closely with him. He just hopes he doesn’t get too close.

With a courteous smile, Ethan replies, “Likewise. See you tomorrow, Heisenberg.”

As Ethan turns and begins to leave, he can practically feel Heisenberg’s grin as he calls, “Until the morrow, Mister Winters. I shall wait with bated breath.”

Without looking back, Ethan waves and continues toward the gate. The entire way, he can feel eyes on him, continuing past the gate and all the way to the other side of the bridge. As the feeling dissipates, he takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders relax. He can’t quite tell whether the tension came from his desperation to secure that job or simply from being around Heisenberg for any length of time. It’s wholly possible that it’s both. At least now that he has a job, that’s one weight off his chest, but it still leaves him with the unfortunate reality of working alongside Heisenberg on a daily basis, with all of his innuendo and flirtation.

At first, Ethan thought Heisenberg was just the kind of person who strove to make others uncomfortable, either for amusement or to make himself feel more comfortable by comparison. However, Heisenberg’s persistence over time, with and without an audience, coupled with his seamless ability to set it all aside to discuss business on a dime, leads Ethan to believe the lord is actually more the kind of person who just likes to flirt with anything that moves. Or at least he hopes so. It’s certainly easier to not be bothered by it when he knows it’s just the way Heisenberg speaks and it means nothing, as opposed to him genuinely hitting on Ethan and trying to start something. Willfully writing it off as the former will be much better for Ethan’s mental health in the long term because not only would the latter make every interaction painfully uncomfortable, it would also seriously contend for sexual harassment over time.

So long as Ethan convinces himself Heisenberg talks to everyone like that, he may just be able to tolerate his new job. It’s a fragile sense of security and he knows it, but he sees no other viable option for the foreseeable future. This is his life now, and he has to learn how to live with it. Should he be concerned by the amount of self-deception and willful ignorance that seems to require? Or how easily such methods come to him recently, despite blatant evidence to the contrary? Perhaps, but he can’t afford to do it any other way. It’s the only thing keeping him together, and he has to remain as whole as possible for Rose.

For Rose, Ethan reasserts to himself as he knocks on Luiza’s door. It’s quickly answered by Magda, who huffs and turns, gesturing him into the house. Ethan silently follows, closing the door behind him as Magda leads him through the doorway on the right. Ducking under the white lace curtain, Ethan notes a staircase on his left with a narrow space next to it allowing access to a cupboard underneath. He briefly wonders what may be upstairs before he exits the very short corridor and enters a large room with a fire crackling inside a hearth on the far wall. Magda impatiently ushers him toward a medium-sized square table to his left with several chairs lining three sides, the fourth being taken by a bench. Luiza sits in one of the chairs with her back to the fire, supporting Rose on the table as she feeds her a bright orange puree.

Ethan smiles at the sight and takes a step forward. As Luiza notices him and looks over, Magda nods curtly before hurrying back the way she came. “Ethan,” Luiza says, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to be done so soon. I hope you don’t mind me feeding her. She was a little fussy after her nap, so I just boiled and mashed some carrots for her.”

“No, of course,” Ethan replies as he comes to stand next to Luiza. “I don’t mind at all. Thank you, really. It looks like she likes it.”

Luiza chuckles, nodding as she gives Rose another spoonful. “Yes. She needed some convincing at first, but she does seem to be enjoying it now.” As if in agreement, Rose giggles and grins up at Ethan. Now distracted, she ignores the next spoonful presented to her and reaches for her dad instead.

“Sorry, Luiza,” Ethan apologizes as he carefully picks Rose up to avoid knocking over the bowl or hitting Luiza.

“Oh, no,” Luiza dismisses goodnaturedly with a smile. “It’s quite alright. Rosemary has already eaten more than I expected. She has quite the appetite.” Chuckling, she sets the spoon back in the bowl and stands. Ethan takes a respectful step back to avoid invading her space as she pushes her chair into the table.

With a thoughtful glance at his daughter, Ethan says, “Yes, it would seem so. I never put much thought into it before, but she does eat quite a lot for such a small thing.” Grinning, he playfully pokes Rose’s belly, causing her to giggle and grab his finger. “I wonder where it all goes, hm?”

Luiza smiles fondly, a reminiscent look in her eye as she observes the interaction. “You have quite the bond with your daughter,” she remarks. “Rosemary is lucky to have such a devoted father. She missed you very much this afternoon. She was practically inconsolable for the first hour after you left. Is this the first time you’ve been apart for so long?”

Ethan sighs, allowing Rose to lightly gnaw on his finger as he shakes his head. “Not the first time, no, but it is the first since she lost her mother. For both of our sakes, I haven’t been able to part with her for long, but perhaps I held her a little too tightly. Now that it all has to change, I hope I didn’t give her separation anxiety.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Ethan,” Luiza reassures him. “It’s normal for young children to feel distress in the absence of their parents. And like I said, it was only the first hour. I’d say she quite enjoys my company now.” With a light chuckle, she grabs the bowl off the table and heads across the room. Ethan follows her into a kitchen as she begins washing up.

“Well, I hope she wasn’t too much trouble,” Ethan says.

Smiling, Luiza replies, “Oh, no, not at all. Nothing a seasoned old woman like me couldn’t handle.” As she finishes washing the dishes, she turns the water off and dries them with a nearby washcloth before putting them back in their respective homes. “Really, Ethan, you should stop looking for reasons to apologize,” she teases as she leads him back to the front door.

A dull ache grips Ethan’s heart as Luiza once again reminds him of his mother. With a soft smile, he stops in front of the double doors and turns to Luiza. “Thank you so much for watching her. Are you sure you don’t need or want compensation? Once I start working--”

Luiza holds up a hand, interrupting him. “I am quite sure, Ethan. Any time spent with floarea ei mică is compensation enough.”

Ethan recognizes the Romanian word for flower and smiles at the endearment. As reluctant as he is to not offer some sort of repayment for Luiza’s services, he’s glad to see that she really does enjoy having Rose over. Nodding, he relents, “Okay. If you say so. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you change your mind.”

Chuckling, Luiza just shakes her head and asks, “What time should I expect her tomorrow?”

“Well, I start at nine and end at six,” Ethan begins slowly as he takes a moment to think. Grabbing Rose’s coat from the rack, he starts tightly bundling her up. “I’ll probably drop her off around eight and pick her up around seven. I’d like to make sure I have a decent buffer just in case.”

Luiza nods. “That’s a good idea. I will see you then, Ethan.”

“See you then,” Ethan echoes, nodding back. “Thanks again.”

As Ethan opens the door and takes a step outside, Luiza says, “It’s my pleasure, Ethan. No thanks necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I’m gonna do it anyway,” Ethan calls behind him as he descends the porch steps. He hears Luiza laugh behind him before the door clicks softly shut. Sighing as he opens the gate with one hand, he turns to Rose and gives her a shaky smile. He hopes this job doesn’t end up being more trouble than it’s worth. For her sake.

Chapter Text

A pit of dread takes root in Ethan’s stomach as he stares up at the imposing factory before him. With any luck, today will prove better than he fears, but the memory of every interaction he’s ever had with the man he’s going to be “working closely with” on a daily basis does not bode well. As he trudges carefully across the sprawling field of debris, he struggles to swallow back the lump steadily rising in his throat with each step. The loud noises of the manufacturing equipment do little to ease his anxiety as he forces the front doors open with a screech of protest.

Making his way through the foreroom, Ethan glances toward the side passage he had found Heisenberg in the day before. As tempting as it is to snoop around and find out what the lord had been desperately trying to hide from him, he knows better than to risk his job on the first day. Instead, he turns his gaze forward, tamps down the nagging foreboding, and adopts his best air of professionalism as he pushes open the double doors.

 Ignoring all the eyes on him, Ethan keeps his head held high as he walks across the production floor. The door to Ethan's new office is already wide open as he approaches, which is honestly just lovely. A meeting with Heisenberg is exactly what he wanted first thing in the morning. Ethan can hear muffled shuffling emanating from the room as he approaches, but it abruptly ceases just before he reaches the door.

“Is it that time already?” the unmistakable voice of Heisenberg calls out.

“Um, yeah…” Ethan replies uncertainly as he steps into the small office. Heisenberg grins at him from behind the desk, and he berates himself for showing any iota of weakness. Crossing his arms, Ethan asks, “How did you know it was me?”

Closing the lid on a box of papers, Heisenberg replies casually, “Your belt buckle.”

“I’m sorry?” Ethan says dumbly, torn between being confused and oddly offended.

Heisenberg chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, silly me, I forgot,” he says theatrically, feigning shock. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“Know about what?” Ethan asks curtly, irritated. Heisenberg sounds like a high school mean girl paying a backhanded compliment.

Looking for all the world like the cat who caught the canary, Heisenberg grins widely with a glib shrug. “I surely don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you should ask your friend Chris.”

Oh, great. This is high school. Determined not to take the bait, Ethan ignores the twitch in his eye and retorts, “I’m not here to talk about Chris or whatever the fuck drama you’re trying to fabricate between us. We’re not schoolchildren. Now, do you have work for me to do, or am I going to have to find another job?”

Heisenberg’s eyebrows snap up to his hairline, and Ethan finds himself struggling to quell the mounting fear that he may have just fucked up his only chance at work. Even as Heisenberg throws his head back and bellows out a long string of laughter, the apprehension in Ethan’s gut and the panic gripping his heart refuse to abate. Turning a wolfish grin on him, Heisenberg says, “Not just anyone would talk to me like that, much less get away with it. You’re lucky you have friends in high places, Winters. Although, I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you’re so…” He pauses, slowly looking Ethan up and down. Ethan’s fear instantly turns into disgust, and he simply crosses his arms and raises a challenging brow at Heisenberg, making sure his thoughts are clearly translated on his face. Heisenberg only grins wider. “Well, nevermind. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“In your dreams,” Ethan scoffs under his breath. Now knowing that Chris holds enough sway in this village to keep the resident pompous douche from harming him in any way, any fear he may have once held in the presence of this man has absolutely evaporated. Of course, he shouldn’t push his luck too soon, but at least he knows he has room to safely defend himself now.

Heisenberg laughs at the comment, shaking his head. “If I ever slept, I have no doubt I’d be seeing you all night.”

Lip curling, Ethan rolls his eyes. The more he talks to this man, the more he sounds like a genuine pig, even through the decent points of conversation. “So, what do you have for me today?” Ethan asks, crossing his arms. Redirecting Heisenberg to work had some success at keeping him tolerable yesterday. Hopefully it’ll stick eventually.

Heisenberg's expression turns more serious as he nods. “Today, I want to familiarize you with the factory,” Heisenberg starts, walking around to the front of the desk. Ethan suppresses the urge to take a step back. “Assuming you still want to add those pointless safety measures, you’ll need to know what you’re dealing with.”

“Pointless?” Ethan echoes incredulously. “You agreed that it was a good idea. Even if we’re both in it for different reasons, you can’t deny that safety is important.”

Heisenberg raises a brow silently as he leads Ethan back out the door and onto the production floor. With a deep breath, he looks out over the workers trying desperately to act like they don’t notice either of them. “Perhaps, Winters,” he says slowly, glancing over at the man in question. “I will admit, there are certain… benefits to this idea of yours, but the way I see it, each of these men know what they’re getting into when they come into work. They know the risks, and yet, they arrive at the same time every day anyway. They are responsible for their own safety. If someone loses a finger, it’s their own damn fault for being careless in an environment they know to be dangerous. These men know these machines, and they know their jobs. Anyone not capable of fulfilling their role effectively doesn’t belong in my factory anyway. Am I right, boys?”

A tense murmur of ascent ripples through each cluster of workers, none of whom dare to look up from their task. Narrowing his eyes, Ethan chooses to ignore the blatant fear their boss inspires in them merely by existing. For now, at least. “Accidents happen, Heisenberg. Even the most careful worker could, say, slip on this dusty, dirty floor.” For emphasis, he swings his leg back and forth a few times, demonstrating how concerningly slippery said floor is. A dark cloud is kicked up in his wake. “Maybe they slip and get a hand stuck in the machinery or hit their head on a sharp corner. I’ve seen it happen personally, and it’s not pretty or fun for anyone involved, including you. After all, you’ve just lost a hard worker to an accident that could have been prevented, and you now have to pay reparations.”

“Reparations?” Heisenberg echoes in seemingly genuine confusion.

Pretending not to hear his frankly upsetting question, Ethan continues, “Most accidents are not the fault of the one who gets injured. That’s why they’re called accidents. As I just pointed out, it could be as simple as poor environmental conditions, like a slippery floor. Or perhaps it is a result of someone else’s carelessness, such as a beam dropped from above. Either way, the responsibility falls on you as the proprietor to put forth preventative safety measures because you’re the only one who can.”

Heisenberg searches Ethan’s face for a moment before crossing his arms with a huff. “Alright, Winters. What would you suggest?”

Ethan scoffs lightheartedly, surprised his little speech had any effect on the stubborn factory tyrant. Looking out over the under-dressed workers, he says, “Well, we can start with some hard hats and slip-resistant steel-toed boots.”

A small lopsided smile tugs at the corner of Heisenberg’s lips, and he casually rests his hands in his pockets as he leans back. Seemingly more receptive, he replies, “That certainly sounds doable. Wouldn’t want to lose our workforce to any unfortunate accidents, would we?”

Whiplashed, Ethan merely blinks up at the man in front of him for a few moments. He supposes he’ll take what he can get when he can get it, but he can’t help but feel disquieted at Heisenberg’s habit of rapidly and unexpectedly changing his mind. Ethan is struck with the sudden realization that he can’t trust anything he thinks he knows about this man, nor can he trust the man himself. At times, he feels he has Heisenberg figured out, lulling him into a false sense of security. In moments such as these, however, he has to remind himself that a man with a hundred faces has none.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” Ethan retorts with a scoff, trying not to let on his shock.

“Of course,” Heisenberg echoes, now fully grinning. It’s the same kind of grin that held Ethan’s organs in a chokehold at the end of their first meeting -- an open, carefree grin providing stark contrast to his typical lascivious, wolfish grins. A welcome change, to be sure, but not a welcome sensation. He feels nauseous. “Ah, but that can wait for now,” Heisenberg continues, clapping a hand to Ethan’s shoulder. The warmth of the touch feels radioactive as Heisenberg turns and gestures with a flourish at the production floor. “I believe a tour is in order.”

Ethan wants the hand gone, wants his shoulder eviscerated. Instead, he gives a strained smile and quickly mutters, “Let me get a notebook first.” He has to force himself not to sprint away, back to the office that will soon be his. Hoping he hasn’t just cornered himself, he shuffles through drawers to find something, anything, he can write on. With every passing second, he grows more frenetic, making a mess of the room as he throws papers and folders about haphazardly in his search. This stupid notebook is not urgent, so he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up, why his chest is so tight, why he can't breathe, why there’s nothing in this fucking office, why his hands are shaking, why… why his fingertips are turning black.

Crying out, Ethan stares down at his trembling fingers with wide eyes as the darkness unfurls past the first knuckle on each. This can’t be happening. He keeps frantically turning his hands over and over as if the mold will suddenly shake off. It can’t be back. Why is it back? He dispelled all thoughts of Mia. He's not upset anymore. She's gone! It shouldn’t be here!

Ethan’s head snaps up as the door creaks open and Heisenberg steps in with an inquisitive brow raised and mouth poised to speak. Stock-still like a deer in headlights, Ethan clenches his fists and bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a whimper as he feels fuzzy fingertips against his palms. The words instantly die on Heisenberg’s lips at the sight, his brows knitting together. Carefully studying Ethan, his gaze catches on the hands balled so tightly at Ethan’s sides that they shake like autumn leaves in a hurricane. As his gaze shifts back up and they make eye contact, Ethan finally drags in a shuddering breath.

“Are you… okay?” Heisenberg asks slowly.

Lungs rejuvenated, Ethan finds his shoulders relaxing and his fists loosening to a slack curl, just enough to hide his fingers. Forcing a shaky smile, he replies, “Y-yeah, of course. I’m just, uh… just trying to find a notebook somewhere in this mess. I should take notes as I survey your factory and its safety measures. Or lack thereof.” He gives an awkward, half-hearted chuckle at his own joke.

Heisenberg searches Ethan’s face with narrowed eyes for a few moments before nodding slowly. “I have one over here you can use,” he offers before retrieving a small glue-bound notebook from a box across the room. Ethan quietly closes the drawer he had been rifling through as Heisenberg makes his way over. Extending the notebook with a small smile, Heisenberg says, “The first few pages have been used, but it’s better than nothing.”

As Ethan reaches for the notebook with an open hand, he freezes, wide eyes meeting Heisenberg’s confused gaze. After a beat, a dreadful realization dawns on Heisenberg’s face and his eyes flicker down to Ethan’s outstretched hand. It takes Ethan another beat to recoil his hand to his chest as though he just stuck it in a grease fire. Heisenberg simply cocks his head, looking doubly confused.

Brow furrowed, Ethan looks down at his hand and finds… nothing. It’s gone! Unable to catch himself, a wide grin breaks out across his face as he lets out a breathy laugh. He looks up at Heisenberg gleefully before his face flickers and falls upon seeing the other man’s deeply concerned expression. Right. Nothing’s wrong.

Ethan clears his throat and offers an awkward chuckle. “Sorry. I, uh…” He scrambles for a feasible excuse and comes up empty. “I’m… still working through the circumstances of… my moving here. I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.” Averting his gaze, he takes the notebook and grabs a pen from the desktop. Before Heisenberg can respond, Ethan clicks the pen open and walks past him. “Let’s get started.”

To his credit, Heisenberg doesn’t remark on the warzone of a mess he had walked in on as he follows Ethan out of the small room. It’s the closest to empathy Ethan has seen from him. In fact, the whole interaction in that office was the most… human he’s ever seen Heisenberg. Dear God, now he’s humanizing the prick. This man is hazardous for his mental health on too many levels.

“Yes, let’s,” Heisenberg replies easily. Ethan finally turns back to face him as the door loudly clicks shut, echoing throughout the manufacturing floor. With a dramatic flourish, he motions for Ethan to continue to the right. “This way, Winters. The factory awaits!”

Ethan snorts, shaking his head at Heisenberg’s ridiculous antics as he follows the lord through his domain. Acting for all the world like a proud tour guide, Heisenberg shows Ethan around the factory with never-ending flaunts and vaunts. Thoroughly unimpressed, Ethan takes notes as they walk past dangerously unregulated and unguarded machines and concerningly few sturdy handrails on catwalks. As the pages of notes continue to pile up, Ethan realizes he truly has his work cut out for him this time. The whole place feels like one massive deathtrap, as if one wrong step will make Rose an orphan. Glancing down at the fingers curled around his pen for the tenth time in the last thirty seconds, he makes a mental note to revise his will to give Chris custody should something happen to him before he can fix this place. If it isn’t the unsafe working conditions, he’s sure it’ll be Heisenberg who kills him, judging by the man’s mounting incredulity and frustration with each suggestion Ethan voices aloud. He can’t wait until the factory hobo hears the ideas he's been keeping to himself.

A nagging sensation begins to tug at Ethan’s gut as the tour wears on. The further into the factory Heisenberg leads him, the more insistent it grows. He can’t figure out what it is, but it’s making him anxious. Considering earlier events, anxiety is not a good look on him. Literally. As he takes a deep breath to steady himself, he catches a glimpse of an ancient elevator shaft out of the corner of his eye. Desperate for a distraction, he gestures to it with the notebook. “Where does that go?”

Heisenberg instantly shuts up and glances at the elevator shaft warily. Hesitating, he says, “Oh, that’s… broken. Don’t worry about it. The stairs will take you anywhere you need to go.”

Ethan chooses not to press the secrecy as a way of returning the courtesy. Instead, he raises a brow and says, “That breaks just about every disability law in the book. After I get through my safety audit, that,” he gestures with the notebook again, “is next on my list.”

This time Heisenberg actually laughs. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Grinning, Ethan says, “I have my ways.”

“There is nothing you could say or do that would make me fix that elevator.”

“I convinced you to follow basic worker’s rights laws,” Ethan retorts with a casual shrug, leaning back.

Crossing his arms, Heisenberg returns Ethan’s grin full force as he says, “That’s because there was something in it for me, though far along the line it may be. I can’t see how fixing that stupid elevator would benefit me in any way.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to find out,” Ethan laughs, approaching the elevator. Heisenberg follows, shifting his weight nervously as Ethan peers over the rusty safety gate. It goes down pretty far. What does he have down there? Setting down the pen and notebook on the dusty floor, Ethan grips either side of the gate and tugs hard. The metal creaks loudly, and flakes fall into the shaft, floating countless stories down. The height doesn’t bother Ethan much as he pulls as hard as he can, nodding in satisfaction as the doors don’t budge. Whether that’s due to rust or a quality latch is anyone’s guess, but it’ll suffice for now. Letting go of each side, he instead puts his hands flat on the front of the gate and pushes. More creaking, but no budging. The rust is concerning, but frankly, there are more pressing matters when it comes to the factory’s protective measures.

With a shrug, Ethan swipes the rust dust off his hands and murmurs, “Strong enough for now.” Making a note to return to the elevator later, he turns back to Heisenberg, who seems to be a shade paler. Hm. Ethan makes a note of Heisenberg’s odd reaction as well. He almost doesn’t want to dwell on what may be down there.

Heisenberg takes a deep, relieved breath and turns away to continue through the factory. As the tour returns to normal, the foreboding slowly begins to fade. Ethan curiously casts a glance back in the direction of the elevator, though it is now obscured behind a corner. He jots down a few more notes before turning his attention back to Heisenberg’s over-the-top monologue. Ethan almost finds his pride in this shithole endearing, which is a concerning thought that he will never revisit.

Eventually, the tour begins to come to a close, and the notebook has but three pages left as Heisenberg shows him the receiving bay. It’s a vast room lined with countless shelves on each wall aside from the far side, which is outfitted with a handful of garage-style doors. The floor is littered with miscellaneous scrap and trash. It almost looks like the yard outside, with the way everything is organized in random piles of seemingly no connection, rhyme, or reason. Heisenberg presents it as a badge of honor, and Ethan turns to him, brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“How do you--”

Ethan jumps as a garbled clanking and churning echoes from deep below their feet. He looks down in shock as the noise slowly fades into an infernal revving. Turning to Heisenberg with wide eyes, he asks, “What the hell is that?”

Heisenberg, who had been glaring at the ground, whips his head up with a snarl. The pure rage on his face turns Ethan’s veins to ice. In an instant, the anger is gone, replaced by a carefully crafted nonchalance, but that split second of unadulterated fury will forever be seared into Ethan’s brain. The easy smile on Heisenberg’s face makes Ethan nauseous as he says, “Oh, that’s nothing. Just a… a pet project of mine. Sometimes it just turns itself on and runs free. Makes the most ghastly noises.”

Uncomfortable and more than a little afraid, Ethan gives an awkward chuckle and hopes nothing shows on his face. “Oh… Is there more to the factory than you’ve shown me?”

Heisenberg chuckles, shaking his head. “Nothing important, just my personal living space. Can’t bear to be too far from work, you know?” Smirking, he takes a step closer and adds, “Unless you wanted to see my personal quarters.”

Fear quickly morphing into disgust, Ethan rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not. On an unrelated note, remind me to add workplace harassment training to the safety reform list.” Throwing his head back, Heisenberg lets out a long hearty laugh and claps Ethan on the back with so much force he almost goes flying across the room. Ethan narrows his eyes up at the larger man. “I’m glad you find that one so funny.”

“I find it very funny, Winters,” Heisenberg replies easily. “Don’t worry. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

“Oh, are you?” Ethan asks, unimpressed. “Because it sounds like you keep picking up the exact opposite of what I’ve been throwing at you.”

Heisenberg chuckles. “Believe me, Ethan . I can read a person better than you can read your arbitrary little safety ratings. It’s a skill that became necessary for survival under our dearly departed Mother’s glorious reign, may she rest in several pieces.”

Ethan’s brow furrows, uncertain what to make of Heisenberg’s clear disdain for Valea Regilor’s late matriarch. He seems to be the only one in the village who feels this way. It makes Ethan wonder who was truly the problem -- her or Heisenberg?

“There’s no harm in hope, dear Ethan,” Heisenberg continues, his grin shifting into an oddly soft smile. “After all, hope is the one thing that can never be taken away from you. You have to choose to let it go, and I will never make that mistake again. Not with you around.”