And everything was buried by the deep blue sky.

[hostage]

Date & Time: April 1
Location: Unit 409
Characters: Jesse & Saul
Summary: A boy is reunited with his criminal lawyer.
Warnings: Breaking Bad spoilers y'all.


[It must be a too-familiar sight for his roommates by now: Jesse sprawled on the couch, a mess of old plates and leftovers and crushed cigarettes all around him. He's asleep, but not deeply. Drifting in and out like he's been doing since he "woke up" this morning. He made a good call, giving up cookie duty this month. He'd probably be passed out in that tent right now, rain and cold and everything. It's warm in here, though, and all the warmer for that blanket wrapped around him. The door's left unlocked - yes, even with the recent attack and everything. Jesse's gun is within arm's reach, anyway, tucked right under the couch. And even so, he's not worried. He's too tired.]

Comments

[5055034455]

[At some point, it occurred to Saul that if he's here, other people from home might be here, too.

And all he could think was, Shit. That could include anyone. Someone from the Cartel. A pissed-off client or two. Or ten. Fring. Walter.

So he took to the directory, scrolling through with a shaky hand.

He doesn't know why, but he wasn't expecting to see Pinkman anywhere on the list. He did, though, and now he's standing in the hallway outside of room 409, staring at the numbers like he's not quite sure what they mean. There's some relief in knowing that Jesse's here, but he's also uneasy for reasons he can't explain.

Reasons beyond the whole I've been kidnapped and plopped into an alternate whateverthefuck thing.

After what feels like an hour but is really only more like two minutes, he knocks.]

[hostage]

[The knocking barely makes Jesse stir. He rolls over and calls out groggily with slurred words:]

It's open, yo! Stuff's in the... kitchen...

[5055034455]

[Oh, Christ.

Saul opens the door, steps inside, and looks around without saying anything. (Saul's face is saying it all. Too bad Jesse can't see it.)

So, okay. Great. Jesse Pinkman is still a mess. And looks... not very good, actually. Saul can't tell if he's high or sick. Or both.

He decides to investigate the kitchen for funsies. Since he's not sure what stuff Jesse's talking about:] Where?

[hostage]

[Oh, it's just Saul.]

In the fridge, obviou...

[- What the fuck? It's Saul?

Jesse opens his eyes for real this time, sitting up sharply. It takes him a second to kick the blankets and stuff off of him, then he scrambles to his feet. He gives the door a look, grabs his pistol, sticks it behind his back into the waistband of his boxers, and covers it up with his t-shirt. Only then does he venture into the kitchen to greet his Third Amigo.]

The hell are you doing here?

[5055034455]

Raiding your fridge, obviously.

[He's not kidding about that, either. Too bad there doesn't seem to be anything worth snatching — not that he's surprised. He swings the fridge door shut, then squints at Jesse.]

What do you think I'm doing here? I was two feet from my car when... [Random gestures.] When this happened.

[Pause.]

You look like shit.

[hostage]

[Ignoring that.]

Is anybody else with you?

[5055034455]

[Does it look like anybody's —

Oh.

Saul shakes his head.]

No. I don't think "anybody else" showed up with the rest of us, either.

[hostage]

[Jesse's going to choose to believe Saul because... hell, he's that tired. He leans back against the counter, letting out a long sigh.]

So you just got here? How'd you find me?

[5055034455]

[Saul really wishes he could say he had a guy do it, but he has no guys here. No Mike, no Huell, no Kuby, no nobody. He frowns, giving Jesse a quick-once over before responding.]

Looked you up.

[hostage]

Of course you did.

[Honestly, he should have expected Saul to catch onto things that quickly. Most people spend their first day crying and screaming and begging to go home and meanwhile Saul's surfing the 'net.

Jesse turns, leaning on one elbow now while he gestures to the refrigerator.]

Help yourself.

[No, really. Help yourself, Saul, because Jesse's not in the mood to play host. He runs his hand over his face.]

[5055034455]

[He could take a second look and hope that something appealing has materialized in the past five minutes, or he can mirror Jesse's pose and lean against the refrigerator.

Which he does.

It's possible that he looks a little concerned.

(...which he is.)]

What's the problem?

[hostage]

[He gives an infuriatingly nonchalant shrug.]

[5055034455]

Okay. So you either don't know or you don't want to tell me, and since I wasn't born yesterday, I'm gonna go ahead and assume you're keeping something from your lawyer.

To which I say ouch, Jesse.

[hostage]

Nothing, okay? It's just, you know... The usual.

Anyway, you're not even my lawyer anymore. I don't have any money. You don't have to check on me or whatever you're doing right now.

[5055034455]

The "usual"?

[Accompanying air quotes.]

So... drugs, basically.

[hostage]

Yeah. Drugs.

[5055034455]

[Saul stomps his foot and swings his arms wide, all mock enthusiasm.]

Fantastic! We're a thousand years in the future, I've got strange women thrusting weapons at me and talking about war — and here's Jesse Pinkman, getting stoned.

[hostage]

Getting clean, actually.

[And fuck you, too.]

[5055034455]

[...oh.]

Withdrawal?

[hostage]

Yeah.

[5055034455]

Jesus, kid! What the hell is your problem? You couldn't just come out and say that? Between you and Walter, I swear to God —

[Saul sighs, runs a hand over his face. He's still freaked out. Jesse doesn't feel good. Yelling isn't going to help either of them.]

I'm not in the mood for beating around the bush, okay? I ask you a question, you answer it. Let's try: Withdrawal from what? Specifically.

[hostage]

Meth. And why do you even care? I just told you you're fired.

[5055034455]

No, what you basically did was give me a verbal pink slip. Not being able to pay me isn't the same thing as firing me.

So — what, that's it? I'm off the hook. Not your lawyer anymore, so I should just flounce on outta here and pretend like I'm not, oh, I don't know, maybe concerned for you as a fellow human being?

[hostage]

[Instead of warming up at that, Jesse gets icy. The very last thing he wants right now is another person who cares about him, getting all wrapped up in his bullshit and then getting pissed off when they find out what he's up to. Jesse can't quite look Saul in the eye when he snaps the next words:]

I don't need your concern, alright? I'll survive.

[5055034455]

Yeah?

[That sounded worse out loud than it did in his head. He backpedals a bit, waving a dismissive hand.]

Okay, fine. You might not need my concern or my legal advice or anything from me anymore, but the fact unfortunately remains that you're the only person here I know.

So there's that.