Zero sat right up, instantly awake. Her breathing was coming out in short heaves, and she was lightly covered by a layer of sweat. Hands were clutching the soft fabric of a blanket until her knuckles were white. She brought her knees to her chest, holding them with witch trembling arms, and rested her head. What she just experienced had rattled her. She let her eyes flit around as she tried to regain her bearings.

She was in an unfamiliar room. It was small but furnished. The walls were a people gray; the floor was a rich color with a red finish. There were no windows, but a shelf was fixed to the wall that held a few books. There was a small dresser at the end of the bed, and a desk across from her at the opposite wall. It had a wooden chair pushed under it. On top of the dresser were stacks of folded clothes. On the desk was what looked like food. The bed she was on was stationed in the corner of the room, and on the left side wall was a door.

As soon as her brain registered it, she was on her feet. She couldn't stand being locked up or confined. Not right now. But when she reached the handle to turn it she was astonished to find it unlocked. This perplexed her and she backed up slowly until the back of her knees touched the bed. She let her weight drop; sitting down.

Get a hold of yourself. She took deep breaths now as she tried to reel back her thoughts. How did she end up on this bed?

There was before when Heisenberg thought that she was lying to him. He was so angry; all niceties gone. Not even trying to listen to her practically begging. Then, all of a sudden she was in some sort of vision in a small white room. Was it a memory? That didn't seem right. She was much shorter, and her voice was more high-pitched. It reminded her of a child. The nicer guard, Lyle, had even referred to her as "kiddo". The voice she had now was older, and when she had looked in the mirror last she was sure she looked much older than a child.

But she was seeing it through her eyes. Like it was Zero who had experienced it instead of this Circe. She felt it; the way her muscles moved, the way her shrieks filled her chest and throat. She discounted dreaming since it happened in the middle of her waking hours. The more she thought about it, the more her instincts were telling her that it was, in fact, a memory, and it just so happened to be from when she was young. She still had a sliver of doubt, but she was going to continue with this assumption. It was the most logical.

Which leads her to realize that meant that she had probably just learned her name. Her very own name. Circe. She didn't know if she even liked it yet, but it was hers, and she claimed it. This meant that she could possibly remember who she was; learn even more about herself. Find out where she came from.

Then the idea of reminiscing quickly faded when she had finally processed what she had actually remembered.

She had killed someone. Even if it was an accident; he was dead. She was the one who had let go of the blast that led to his death, and she didn't know how she felt about that. This Doctor Kramer felt like a stranger to her, but at the same time, he felt important. At least, she had felt he was important in the memory. He was just a normal guy; no powers like Heisenberg in sight. He even looked like he had cared for her under his desperate demeanor.

She was dangerous. Why else would the man with the gun have his weapon on her the entire time since he had entered the room? Doctor Kramer seemed like he had forgotten how deadly she could be, blinded by some kind of pure desperation, and it had cost him his life.

She felt like some sort of freak of nature. Like she should be locked up; guarded and contained. Kept away from the innocent.

Now she had to face Heisenberg. As Circe. As a freak.

Feeling demoralized, she lifted herself from the mattress and walked over to the desk. There was an apple and a can of beans. Next to them was a spoon that had been placed on top of a folded piece of paper. Moving the utensil out of the way, she unfolded it and flattened it out. Heisenberg's messy writing was scrawled across the page.

I'll be in the forge if you wanna talk. The floor will have yellow arrows pointing you in the right direction. I understand if you don't.

P.S. This is your room now. You also have a kitchen and a bathroom. Come and go as you please, just stay inside the fence.

Did this mean he felt bad? That he no longer believed that she was lying to him? He had given her the option of whether or not to go to him. Giving her control, and even letting her loose around his property. Surely, he wouldn't allow this if he thought she was deceiving him in any way. What happened while she was thrown into the past? Did he carry her to this room? Cover her up after he put her on the bed? Bring her food and fresh clothes?

Circe was apprehensive, but she decided she would go to him. She wanted to talk, anyway, to get all of her jumbled thoughts out in the open. Perhaps, she would be able to process them more successfully in doing so, and Heisenberg's idea about the whole thing would probably help her.

She grabbed the apple (she was saving the beans for later; she wasn't all too hungry) and walked over to clothes. Her free hand went through them as she picked out an outfit, and placed each article on the edge of the bed. She noticed that her original ensemble was among them; clean and ironed. She ate the fruit while she set things up, noticing how she didn't like the texture of the peel. She swallowed it anyway. After her outfit (a black tee-shirt and black pair of jeans) and snack were complete, she took the fresh clothes under her arm and walked through the unlocked door.

She took a moment to regard the kitchen. It was similar to the other one, except there was a coat hanger with various jackets hanging from it, next to the door across from her. She would look through them later. For now, she stepped over to the sink and grabbed a glass from the cabinet above it to make herself a glass of water. With full limbs, she went to the restroom.

Taking a shower was more of an experience this time. On the counter was a bag with more feminine type products than that of the musky smelling soap that was in Heisenberg's restroom. There was shampoo, conditioner, body wash, fancy shaped soaps, and these two wiry, plastic things with strings hanging from them. She guessed it was for scrubbing, and that's exactly what she used it for. The honeydew body wash was her favorite. She also used most of the other items, as well, only after carefully reading the instructions printed on the back of each one.

Once she was done bathing, she dressed and brushed her teeth. She had her own toothbrush now. There was a hairbrush, too, and she used it to detangle her disheveled hair. She let it hang loosely around her slender form. She almost started staring at her eyes again but ripped her pained gaze from her reflection before she could even feel sorry about herself. She could do that later.

Out of the four jackets to choose from, Circe plucked a black leather one from the rack. It seemed new, but it had a worn look to it. She liked the way the texture felt under her fingertips. Then she found her boots next to the door- she assumed it was the exit- and slipped them on her feet.

Was she ready to face him now? Not entirely, but she had told herself she wanted to go, so she willed herself towards the door and opened it.

The outside was a different part of the factory that she hadn't been to before, but as Heisenberg stated in his note, there were yellow taped arrows on the ground. She walked over them quickly; wanting to get to the end before she had any thought that might change her mind. Who else did she have to tell about her new findings? No one. She moved faster.

She only stopped short when she came to a set of double doors. There were three arrows pointing on the wall beside the entrance, and she could clearly hear the clashing of metals behind it. He was definitely in there. She crept forward, her hands rising to slowly push on one of the doors. She didn't open it enough for it to start creaking, so she took this time to peer inside.

It was the largest and tallest room she had seen in the factory so far. There were many tables with what looked like different types of stations set up on most of them. A lot of chairs. The walls had all types of tools hanging from them. Various metal contraptions; one with a blazing fire coming from its mouth.

Heisenberg's back was to her as he sat across the room at a work table, and he was focusing deeply on some sort of hands-on project in front of him. Tools and metal parts were floating around him, and every now and again they would fly in and out of his hands at his will. He hummed to himself, then looked up at the blueprint-covered wall in front of him before sighing, grunting, and then continued with what he was doing.

Circe was so engrossed by observing his actions while he was unaware of her presence that she didn't notice her hand involuntarily pushing the door open wider. The hinges let out a rusty groan that resounded through the room ahead of her over the clashing of metal, instantly alerting Heisenberg that he was no longer alone.

He jumped up and spun around. It was evident on his face that he was not used to being snuck up on, but when his eyes landed on her he relaxed. He wasn't wearing his glasses, so she was able to see the whole of his gold-gilded eyes. They brightened ever so slightly and widened. He only paused for a moment.

"Well, hey there, sweetheart," he greeted, taking a step forward, then stopped himself. His mouth moved strangely as he thought about what he wanted to say next. One of his arms lifted vaguely in her direction; the other one rose up, his hand rubbing under his shoulder-length hair at the back of his neck.

Circe opened the door enough so that she could enter the room. She stopped some way from him. She wanted to talk, but she didn't know what to say either. So she waited for him to figure something out.

"Uhhhhh," he was glancing away from her every now and again. Looking at the floor. The ceiling. Back to her. To his hand. A table. Back to her. "Do you like your room?" he finally asked, dropping his hands to his sides, and holding onto the table behind him.

Circe nodded, looking at him through her lashes.

"Ah, fuck," he muttered to what she guessed was himself because he was trying to say it under her breath. His eyes were avoiding her now. Suddenly, he turned back to the table and hit the palms of his hands on it. Not hard enough to make the table shake, but enough to make a sound.

Circe flinched. She was relieved he couldn't see.

"Look," he said, head angled down. "Listen, I-" he blew air sharply from his nose. "-I shouldn't have done... what I did," was it hard for him to say this? "

"And I believe you, by the way," he clarified, waving an arm outlandishly; still facing away from her.

She had never blamed him for accusing her of lying. In fact, she completely understood. She could only imagine thinking the same exact way if she were in his shoes; looking through his eyes. She wondered what he thought of her now.

When she didn't answer after a certain amount of time (because she was distracted) he continued on.

"You were just so damn good at everything you did," the words were expelling from his lips now; voice projecting. She felt them dance around her eager ears. "It's like you've been trained for years. No, decades. Hell. A millennia!"

She stood perfectly still, imploring him with her silence to keep going. At least for a little bit.

"I just can't fucking trust-" a closed fist hits the table slightly harder this time. She didn't flinch. "-anyone from this fucking hell hole, so I don't trust anyone ever. I had convinced myself that you were tricking me, maybe even tricking everyone. I thought I was so fucking smart for being the one to see through your ruse-"

Circe thought he was never going to look at her ever again right when he twisted his body towards her. He was holding himself together rather well, almost professional, but she could see a hint of true regret in his gaze.

"But then... you started screaming," his tone was tender now, almost like he was making a point not to speak above a certain octave. "You were so loud. I didn't expect for you to be able to get that loud," it appeared he was staring at a specific part on a faraway table. "I thought you were screaming at me at first, but your eyes had this...glazed look over them. Like you were seeing something far away. Something that wasn't there," his eyes looked similar to the description he was giving; seeing his memory instead of the room in front of him. "And then you-"

He stopped himself as he snapped back to reality.

"I digress," he muttered, hand going to the back of his neck again, like a habit. "What I'm trying to say is...sorry," it seemed like he was looking at the wall behind her.

Circe took a few steps forward, then paused. She gave him a light smile. "Hey."

He finally met her eyes head-on, but they were guarded; brow furrowed. "Yeah?"

"I understand why you didn't believe me."

His eyebrows rose then. "What?"

"I said I understand," she continued closer to him now. She didn't stop until she was about a foot away from him; even when his feet shuffled as he straightened his stance, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You had a right to think I was lying."

Circe couldn't tell if it was how much more clear her voice was or her words that had done it, but he appeared to be speechless. This left them staring at each other.

After a while, it seemed like he had just heard what she said because he smiled and his eyes had that lovely glint to them again. "You forgive me?" he asked.

She nodded distinctly. "I forgive you."

Heisenberg's smile grew; one hand raising, dropping, then rising again to ruffle the hair on the top of her head. "Well, thanks, sweetheart."

Circe scrutinized a screw that he had probably dropped on the floor at some point, hoping with all her heart that he could not see her blushing. "How long was I out?"

Heisenberg told her she had been unconscious for several hours. Long enough for him to set things up in her new space, and he still had time to kill after. He was just about to go check on her right before heading to his own room for the night. He asked her if she would like to join him, since he was going to have a few drinks, anyhow. She accepted and they made their way there.

"You want one?" he asked, once Circe had taken her seat on the sofa. He was already pouring a glass for himself.

"Do I want alcohol?" she countered, making sure this is what she thought he was asking.

He smirked. "Yes, alcohol," his head turned to her. "I mean, if you're too much of a wimp-"

"I want one."

Heisenberg chuckled and poured her a glass before placing it in her hands. She looked it over, swirling it around, and lifted it up to her nose to take a sniff. Its strong aroma filled her nostrils with fire, and the back of her throat tightened. Her nose scrunched up.

He laughed louder this time; head tilting up slightly. "Looks like you actually are a wimp."

Circe pursed her lips and shook her head pointedly. "No. I just want my head to be clear when I-" then she realized that now was the time to talk about having her first memory. She didn't even know how to start.

"When you...?" he prompted, serious now and staring at her intently.

"I have something...to share," her fingers poked at the rim of the glass; eyes temporarily frozen to the swishing liquid. "I think I very likely...had a memory." She glances his way.

"Ah." Heisenberg was leaning forward now. "I guessed you had a flashback, of sorts, but I didn't know you remembered it. How much do you remember?"

Taking in a shaky breath, Circe told him everything. She started from how it was triggered by him shaking her and how she doesn't remember anything from the real world after being thrown into it. She tried to go over that part as fast as she could. She didn't want him to feel bad for it again. She told him about the memory coming from her as a child. About Doctor Kramer. How he was trying to get her to remember something she couldn't. How he crumpled to the floor when she willed him away; his lifeless eyes staring not quite at her.

She was trying to explain the energy blast in as much detail as possible, but she was crying now. She had to get through this without getting too upset or she would never be able to get through it. Wanting this to be the only time he had to hear this, she moved on to sob about the guards, and finally to the voice on the walkie-talkie telling them to sedate her.

At some point during her stream of words, Heisenberg had moved to sit next to her on the couch. Though he was sitting straight forward, she found herself turned towards him on the left of her. He wasn't touching her in any way, but it was like he was trying to console her with his company. She appreciated it. Even as she was staring at the limp hands in her lap. Even as she tried to recover her lungs.

Heisenberg stayed quiet as she did this, and put the hand not holding his drink on her shoulder. He gave it a tender squeeze.

While she was monologuing, his expression rarely changed from one of puzzlement. Though she could tell he was hanging on her every word, it was like he was thinking about multiple things all at once. Maybe he would get around to tell her.

"They...they called me Circe," She finally said, looking up at him with swollen lids.

He rubbed on her shoulder for a second before he took his hand away to reach to an inside pocket of his coat. She was wishing he would have kept it there when he pulled out a square piece of cloth, holding it out to her.

She took it gratefully and wiped her face. "Thank you."

"'Course," he mumbled and took a long drink. "Circe, huh," she found herself liking the way the name sounded in his voice. You want to be called that, now?" He turned his head at her.

She looked worriedly at him. "Is it a bad name?"

Heisenberg allowed himself a chortle. "No, sweetheart. On the contrary. I think its a hell of a lot better than the stupid ass name Miranda gave you."

She smiled, quenching the urge to sigh in relief. "I didn't like the name, either."

He gave her an appearance of pride; a small light returning to his eyes. It had left sometime during storytime. "Guess you have good taste, after all," he informed.

Circe was elated that he accepted her new name so willingly, and was even amused that they had similar thoughts about Mother Miranda's given name. Then she started thinking about having to tell Mother Miranda her name soon, causing her to take charge of the next subject. She didn't want to think about her. Not right now.

"So...," she tapped all ten fingers together in thought.

"So...?"

"What happened?" she asked, tucking some hair behind her right ear. "After...I started screaming?" Maybe if she just asked, then he would tell her.

Heisenberg blew some air from his lips slowly, then got up. Circe was about to protest, but then she noticed him heading in the direction of the alcohol. "You gonna drink that?"

"Are you going to-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna tell you. I just don't want an empty glass," he said as he was pouring. Putting the lid on the decanter, he turned his body to the leather chair. Was he going to return there?

Her hopes were lifted when he jerked his body back around. He brought his glass and the decanter with him as he sat down, and sat the decanter between them on the sofa. He took a long drink, probably thinking about how he was going to start, himself.

She didn't understand why this seemed like it was hard for him to talk about. Then again, he had said she had been screaming at him. Well, almost at him. Did she actually make him uncomfortable, or possibly even frightened? It would explain why he was being so kind to her, even kinder than before, but she had placed that as regret.

The idea that she might cause him uneasiness drove her to take a sudden gulp of her drink. Though it tasted absolutely horrid, she kept it down. She made a face, but she was beginning to feel a tingle somewhere in her body. It was small, so she couldn't pinpoint its exact location.

"Whenever you're ready," she coaxed, ready to stop thinking on her own for a while. She simply wanted to absorb information.

He huffed. "After you started screaming and I realized I was a moron, I tried to calm you down," his expression was changing to the one he had in his forge; distant. His voice was low and gravelly. "I got you down on your knees and tried to get you to hear me, but nothing worked. Nothing. I waited a little while you emptied your lungs over and over again. You just kept saying you didn't remember."

This meant that she was acting out her memory as she was remembering it. This was embarrassing. Did she act the rest of it out?

The answer to her question was within Heisenberg's next statement.

"Then...you snarled," he blinked rapidly and turned his face away from her like he was trying to gather his thoughts. Probably to hide the look of disgust that he was surely feeling.

Circe took another swig of her drink.

He kept his face angled away from her as he finished rather quickly. "You snarled and then I was on my back several yards away. Your little energy thing must have triggered when it happened in your flashback. After I made sure my back wasn't broken, I found you unconscious and took you inside," he finished his second drink.

Circe's expression had transformed into one of horror. Not only was she aware of, at least, one death under her belt, but now she was learning that she could have possibly killed Heisenberg, as well. Regardless, she had definitely hurt him in some capacity.

And she hated herself for it.

"Lord Heisenberg, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Her shrill apology was cut off. Heisenberg had turned to her suddenly. "No! No, you don't have anything to be sorry about-"

"But I hurt you! I was the reason-"

She froze as he took her face in both of his hands. His golden eyes were blazing. "I want you to listen to me, Circe, and I want you to listen well. Do you understand?"

She didn't nod. Too afraid he would let her go. She didn't want him to let her go. She simply let out a mangled, "Yes."

"What happened was absolutely natural considering your circumstances," his thumbs wiped some fresh tears away. She hadn't realized she had begun crying again. "You were most likely programmed with some kind of defense mechanism by those fucking doctors."

"You don't think I'm a freak?" Her voice was weak.

He laughed. "No, Circe. In fact, I think you're marvelous," he said this like it was obvious. She gaped at him as he moved his hands to her shoulders, then he continued speaking.

"I think you're a force to be reckoned with. I believe you're the one who can finally kill that bitch, Miranda."