Fanfiction Archive

Karl and Donna dance in the Beneviento living room to the tune of a staticy old radio

Karl and Donna work together in her basement, discussing and inventing until late become early, becomes late again.

When Donna falls asleep against his chest, Karl kisses the top of her head. 

Angie won’t stop demanding until Karl gives her a piggyback ride.

Mealtimes are an old ritual for Donna; she reminds Karl to eat.

When Donna lets Karl see her face, he cups her chin and tells her that she’s beautiful.

Their life is strange and haunted, but sometimes, together it’s enough.

When Karl told Donna that she was beautiful, he meant it– and he meant all of her.

Even that part of her that she hated– the cursed cadeau that twisted her flesh unnaturally. Even that was beautiful. Even though it was the same as the part of Karl that he could not love or find beauty in, in himself– it was beautiful as a part of her. She made it beautiful, with her radiant spirit and her quiet dignity. It was inhuman beauty, but it was beauty all the same. He would kiss her there gently before she flinched away.

Donna invites Karl to the manor for tea. She brews the dark leaves with an expert hand, and serves from a beautiful and antique porcelain tea set.

Karl asks her if she would let it steep a little longer. He likes his tea strong. She allows it.

When he thinks that she isn’t looking, Karl carefully slips a splash of vodka into his cup from a flash in his coat pocket.

Of course, Donna sees him do it.

She asks if she can have a splash in hers.

Karl smiles. He pours generously for her.

They raise their teacups.

“Cheers.”

Heisenberg may not like Angie, but he loves her. She is a part of Donna. He understands why Donna has her. Why Donna cannot give her up.

Sometimes Heisenberg wishes that he too could cut out a part of his own heart and give it a life of his own.

Sometimes Heisenberg feels like he is two in one.

Sometimes, when his heart struggles with itself, Heisenberg wishes that he could be cut in twain.

The man that might have been.

And the monster that Mother Miranda created. 

Heisenberg snaps at Angie; but apologizes. He offers to brush her hair.

Karl doesn’t mind the veil. There’s something about seeing her face so rarely that makes it more exciting. A thing withheld is a thing treasured, and he treasures each glimpse of her.  Pale lips. Smooth jawline. Luminous eye. Serious brow.

Even when her face is hidden, he learns to read her. To understand the way she holds her body when she’s amused. The little tilt of a head that means there is a smile beneath. Some people assume that Donna doesn’t smile much. Karl knows better. Unlike others, he doesn’t have to lift the veil to see the woman beneath.

When Karl comes alive again it is with a great choking breath, the tube down his throat making him gag. Not one to panic, despite the last memory  of death at Ethan’s hands, he wrenches open his eyes. Green liquid. He’s in some kind of vat.

There is another vat beyond. Maybe more beyond that. He can’t see. But that doesn’t matter. He recognizes the form in the vat beside him.

Donna.

He puts his hand out toward hers, brushing the glass.

It wasn’t in vain.

Where they are now he doesn’t know; it doesn’t matter. He will reach her.