exsiliumlogs | Get back home, things are wrong - Well, not really. It was bad all along.

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Get back home, things are wrong - Well, not really. It was bad all along.

Date & Time: June 18 - 20
Location: the hospital & catacombs
Characters: Jesse, Saul & OPEN to anyone who wants to run into them
Summary: Jesse drags Saul's ass to safety and then they hang out for a while.
Notes: First thread is for Jesse and Saul, start subsequent threads for visiting.
Warnings: Jesse's high, Saul's sick. It's probably a little gross.

[Jesse's already been at Saul's side for days, ever since he was brought to the hospital. At first, the only thing he's worried about is the illness itself and the possibility that Walter White might stop by to speed the process along, so to speak. Then comes the United Earth's transmission, and then the alert that bombing is imminent. Still, Saul's condition is so bad that Jesse doesn't want to evacuate him until it's absolutely necessary. It's one of those tough decisions: what if the bombs never come but the stress of it all makes Saul even sicker? He opts to keep watch instead - already wearing a ventilator to keep from getting infected, anyway - and to listen for the sounds he's come to know so well by now.

When he hears the first distant rumbles, he gets to his feet immediately and reaches out to shake Saul's shoulders.]

Wake up. Wake up, Saul. We gotta go.

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The things you just said to me, for a start.

Please stay out of it.

[Saul actually sounds like he's pleading.

...because he is.]

I don't want anyone else involved.

[It's all fucking stupid. Really fucking stupid. All that Jesse fucking Pinkman did was give her a squeeze and pin her down. Shoot her a few leering words. No more than that. She knows logically that there's no way it would have been more than that, because Saul isn't sentimental and he's not blinded and even a shark drops clients if they're too much to handle. He wants to help Jesse, then there's something in Jesse worth helping. So there's got to be more than what she saw in that apartment.

But it's still got her fucking rattled. She looks at that fucking asshole and it makes that spot between her shoulderblades itch. With him, for just a moment, she wasn't in control, wasn't able to mock and curse and spit her way out of it.

Well, nothing to make a girl feel better about things than a little bit of sadism, right? If she can't have control over herself, and she can't have control over Jesse, then maybe it'll calm her down to have just a bit of control over Saul.]

Okay. What do I get?

Nothing.

[His voice is sharp again, expression solid — if she can get past the way his eyes were watering not five seconds ago.

He agrees that this is really fucking stupid. Under no circumstances would he ever put his neck on the line the way he has for Jesse. No one else has been worth that much, and he tries to tell himself that Jesse's not, either, but...]

It's the best I can offer you. And if you're smart, you'll take it.

Then I'm not backing off.

[She leans forward.]

You want me to do something. I want something in return.

[Whoops.

There go his eyes again. Leaking. Maybe he should get that checked out.

He grabs her hands, cupping both between his. And she can pull away if she wants, slap the shit out of him if she wants, that's fine. But he needs her to understand how serious this is, because she obviously doesn't, and he's so goddamn exhausted and so sick that he can't figure out how else he's supposed to get his point across.]

You don't get it. Jesse and I are both dead men anyway. One misstep, and that's it. Bam. Done. And it's not just us — he'll come after you, after Stephanie, after Lisbeth...

[He trails off, a vaguely confused look draping itself over his features. It occurs to him that he probably shouldn't have said any of that, but if his hands are as hot as his head, that might explain why he's suddenly so keen on sharing.

And also why he looks like he's about to faint.]

[She gives him a what the hell look when he grasps her hands, definitely, but in spite of her earlier reaction she's usually a very touchy, hands-on sort of person - can't grow up in a family like hers without that being the case. So she doesn't pull away at all, because it's sort of nice and sort of natural, but she does shoot him that look -

That fades into a focused sort of wariness a moment after.]

Who will.

[He stares at her like he has no idea what she just said. Like maybe she wasn't even speaking English or any Earth language at all, and it dawns on him — as the corners of his vision go dark — that this is going to look awfully suspicious, passing out right after dropping that bomb, but this is something he can't help. And he really wants to help it. For the record.

Hell, he even tries to say Walter's name, but that comes with a flood of panic and a spike in blood pressure that knocks him clear over the edge of consciousness.

It feels more dramatic than it looks. If he were standing, maybe then the scene would be a little more fitting for the tone of things, but — two blinks, two shakes of a lamb's tail, and he's out cold, head rolling to one side. If she's not quick to prop Saul up, the rest of him will follow.]

Oh, fuck -

[She lunges forward at once, wrapping her arms around him to shelter him from the fall.]

Shit, shit -

[He's heavy - lose a few pounds, Goodman - dead weight, and her angle's rotten, and she almost sags under him, straining every gym-toned muscle to keep him upright. She calls out for a moment - ]

Nurse -

[And then she closes her eyes, knowing who's closest who'll give a shit - ]

Pinkman!

[He knows it's bad news if Sonya's calling for him like that. Jesse's there in an instant - heart attack be damned - and practically yanking Saul away from her.]

What'd you do to him?!

I didn't do shit -

[But that anger's not really directed at him. The moment she's out of her arms, her hands come up to her face, curling against her mouth in an expression of pure horror.]

He was just talking about some guy who was going to come after you and Stephanie and Elizabeth and then he passed out, I don't -

[A flash of pure horror crosses Jesse's face. It's accompanied by a whole series of paranoid thoughts, like: She's working for Mr. White or Mr. White heard them and he did this or Mr. White had it set up like this so if Saul ever said anything - which is all crazy. It's crazy. He knows it's crazy, but he looks around anyway, like he expects someone else to be there.

There isn't, of course, and Saul isn't dead. Jesse can feel him breathing. He adjusts Saul's weight in his arms, feeling pretty damn faint himself all of a sudden, and attempts a feeble cover-up:]

Must - Must've been hallucinating. From the fever.

Great fucking poker face, Slim. Bullshit.

[But there's still no real rancor in it. Helplessly, she reaches out and grabs for Saul's hand.]

If you - get him by the shoulders, I can get his feet, and we can maybe get him back to bed...

[That's cute, but no. Jesse is in no shape to be carting Saul around. Anyway, he bristles when she calls him out.]

Fuck off. I'll take care of him myself.

You're halfway to collapsing yourself, shitbird.

[She releases Saul's hand, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. This one sounds different - not a thoughtless, casual curse, but a genuine prayer:]

God help me.

[Then she lowers her hands.]

Give him to me. I'll fly him over.

[Jesse doesn't look okay with this at all, but honestly, there's very little choice. He's nearly dead. There's not a whole lot he can do for Saul by himself.]

Fine, just... Fine. Be careful.

[She jerks her head and grasps Saul, pulling him in close. She loops her arms under his, hugs him tight, takes a breath and, slowly, rises into the air. She only goes high enough that Saul's feet are no longer scraping the ground - only a foot of clearance between them and the ceiling - and then moves forward.

Her eyes are narrowed in misery as she does. A little noise escapes her throat, but she manages to get him onto the bed without mishap.

Then she slumps down into the chair, taking a moment to recover before reaching out to adjust him so that he lays appropriately.]

[Jesse follows after her, considerably slower than before. While she's setting Saul down, he keeps watch nearby. Not too vigilantly, because it kind of looks like he's just trying to not throw up. But once she's moved away, he moves forward and sits right next to Saul.]

[She swallows hard, but with shaking hands gets Saul all straightened out. She reaches down a moment later and grabs the thermos of tea, lifting it to her mouth and taking a deep swig. Then she looks at it and says -

Shit, now it's...backwashy. Fuck, no one's going to want it.

[So another deep swallow.]

[Jesse ignores her. He keeps on staring at Saul. Because silently willing him to wake up is enough, right? Well, he doesn't know what else to do.]

[She sets it down, raises an elegant middle finger to him, and then drops her hand.]

So who's the guy.

[Curtly:]

I dunno.

Yeah, you seem to have mistaken me for someone stupid. Answer me or I'll ask Saul, and I'll ask him repeatedly until he has a stroke.

I guess you better, 'cause I don't got a clue.

Cool.

[She runs a hand through her hair, takes a breath, huffs it out, and takes Saul's hand and speaks down to his motionless form.]

Hey, Goodman. So how did Pinkman here save your life?

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