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]

[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.

[hostage]

[...Saul's lonely?

It takes a second for Jesse's head to switch gears. He's not used to thinking of Saul in human terms. That is, they're former business partners and even brothers-in-terror under the reign of Heisenberg, but under any normal circumstance, Saul would not be seeking Jesse's company.

Of course, this is far from normal circumstance, so Jesse nods and turns and opens up a cabinet to pull out a bottle of well-aged whiskey and two tumblers.]

Did you check out your place yet?

[5055034455]

[Lonely isn't the word he'd use. Too freaked out to be alone at this current point in time? Yes, but not lonely.

He looks relieved when the alcohol appears, in part because he's really not sure what exists here and what doesn't. Then again, Jesse just confirmed the existence of meth, so maybe this place isn't that different from home.

And that, on top of the war thing, is kind of worrying.]

Yeah, I dropped my stuff off. No one was there. Should you be drinking?

[hostage]

I'll be fine. Drinking's not really a thing for me.

[He pours one for himself and one for Saul, the latter being a bit more generous because, like he said, he's not that into it. But he raises his glass for an ironic little toast.]

Welcome to Hell, I guess.

[5055034455]

[Saul raises his glass in return, then downs a little more than half of it in one go.

Alternate universe whiskey is great.]

Thanks. Is it — is it really that bad? The war thing? I did the required reading, and it's not like I can't see what a mess this place is, but...

[He trails off, frowns.]

I picked out a gun. I can count on one hand the number of times I've fired a gun, and can't count the number of times I've had to shoot at someone because that's never happened.

[hostage]

They'll train you. You'll get good at it, if that's what you wanna do.

[Jesse barely sips at his whiskey. The glass is mostly there so he can turn it back and forth between his hands.]

It's bad when there's surprise attacks. Most of the time, it's just a lotta sitting around. Even missions, you can mostly sit 'em out and there's not a lotta fighting. But when the bombs just come falling outta the sky, that's the worst part.

[5055034455]

What I want — ?

[And now Saul's glass is empty.]

No, I can't really say I want to shoot anyone, even with my fancy electroshock bullets. I'm not that guy.

[He hires guys to be that guy. He's not that guy.

He sets the glass down and taps his thumb against it, thinking. It's not that he wants to bring this up again, but it's either 1) talk about legitimate, actual, real life war, or 2) talk about Jesse. The second option is easier, but it's kind of surprising, even to him, how he sounds sad when he asks his next question.]

And the meth... what? Is an escape?