maskormenacelogs | [Closed] Everybody has, needs, wants a cold gun.

Entry tags:

† jimmy mcgill | saul goodman

[Closed] Everybody has, needs, wants a cold gun.

WHO: Jayden Zharkov and Saul Goodman
WHERE: Heropa #012
WHEN: February 2nd, after afternoon till who knows.
WHAT: Jayden makes horrible decisions. He should have called Saul.
WARNINGS: IDEK.

[After Jayden saw Annie's post about Yuri's capture, he decided to act. He'd been making plans the last few days, weighing possibilities in his mind. This one seems to be the best option. So when he gets home from school, he calmly puts everything away in his room and carefully makes sure no one is home so that he can sneak into Freddie's room. He knows she has a gun; it's all just a matter of finding it. He leaves the door slightly ajar when he enters, so that he can listen for anyone coming home in the meantime.

It doesn't even take that long to find it. The gun is under the bed, behind a frilly bra that he, to his credit, does not inspect in a prolonged manner. He sits crosslegged on the floor and pulls it out. It's heavier than he expected, but already makes him feel better, more in control of the situation. He looks it over, searching for a way to eject the magazine to see if it's loaded. The longer he holds it, the better he feels. He should have gotten one of these a long time ago. So much could have been avoided.]

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[Jayden shies away from Saul's outstretched hand, knocking into the lamp on the bedside table and nearly sending it crashing to the floor. He startles, and the gun flails dangerously around in his hand as he gropes for the wall behind him. He doesn't want to give it up, now that he has it. It would be surrendering the tiny piece of power he's finally been able to obtain in this shitstorm. Back against the wall, he grasps the weapon with both hands, holding it in front of him, aimed at the carpet in front of Saul. He can't bring himself to raise it any higher than that.]

No, no. I'm thinking fine. Tell me what your idea is.

[Saul, also startled, takes a step back and throws his hands up.]

Easy, easy. You might be thinking fine, sure, but I — [He swallows.] I've been held at gunpoint too many times, Jayden. And to be honest? Can't say I'm a fan. So let's just avoid that possibility altogether, huh? [A pause.] Please?

[As distraught as Jayden is, it does still strike him as odd that Saul is a man who has been held at gunpoint multiple times. Or perhaps it shouldn't. This is a guy who changed his name to Saul Goodman and then wouldn't tell him what his real name is. He's got people he's run from, probably.]

If I do... you gonna call the cops on me or something?

[It sounds pathetic coming out of his mouth, akin to a five-year-old miserably asking, Am I in trouble?]

No. Give me the gun, and I swear, swear this stays between you and me. No one else will hear a peep about it. Scout's honor.

[Realizing Jayden probably won't buy him being a Boy Scout for a second, Saul decides on a slight revision to that statement:] Seriously. I'll even clean the prints off it.

But you're not gonna let me have it back, are you.

[Definitely not so much a question as a statement.]

You know what? You get a permit, take some lessons, hell, I'll buy you your own gun. But right now? At this moment in time, when you're this angry and desperate? No, Jay, I'm not gonna let you have it back.

[Might as well be honest.]

[He shakes his head.]

I can't, I can't. This is my only shot. I can make him listen. He fucking deserves it. I don't wanna be useless anymore, okay? I don't wanna be the liability they have to keep out of the way when shit gets real.

[Which is embarrassingly undermined by the tears that have sprung in his eyes. Great job, everyone's going to believe you now. He raises the gun a little higher, so that Saul might get struck in the legs if the gun were to be fired.]

Tell me your idea or get the fuck out of the way.

You have a gun, Jayden! Of course he'll listen!

[He's getting a little loud, but you know what? Fuck it. If the kid wants to try to shoot him, so be it; there's a chance he can switch on the intangibility just long enough that the bullet will pass through nothing but air.]

Do you hear yourself right now? Who am I talking to? What's this shit about "he deserves it"? Deserves what? Do you want him locked up and serving his time according to the laws here, or do you want him dead?

[He flinches at Saul's sudden increase in volume. He shakes his head and tears are running down his face. He decided on the plan, which wasn't to kill Kotetsu. That doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it. He's thought about a lot of things, but that doesn't mean he'd do them.

But he also didn't think he'd ever be holding a gun on Saul. Or, more accurately, near Saul, because his aim is so wildly inconsistent.]

I-I don't know.

[And that lack of knowing is the problem, so Saul decides the best course of action is to gently steer Jayden in a direction that ends with him putting that goddamn thing down.]

You're better than that.

[His head cocks to the side, and he sniffles.]

How do you know?

[That question almost makes Saul laugh. Really?]

Dude. You wanna take a minute and go look at yourself?

[Jayden's standing there sniffling and crying and can't even bring himself to properly hold someone at gunpoint. Saul's not trying to make a joke or make Jayden feel bad; he's just pointing out the facts, here.]

You wouldn't react this way if you weren't. You're a good person. [Person, not kid.] You care. Maybe too much, but — [He smiles a little, trying to break some of the tension.] We all have our flaws, eh?

[He laughs just once, a hiccuping, choking sound. Then he lowers the gun and puts it on the bedside table before sliding down the wall. Knees raised, he lowers his head and covers it with his arms. Despite his best attempts to muffle it, his shoulders shake as he sobs.]

[Thank God.

As soon as Jayden's down, Saul grabs the gun, unloads it, and pockets the bullets. He's going to have to come up with some kind of explanation later, or re-load it before Freddie gets home, or... something.

Right now, though, there's a more pressing concern: Jayden. Saul disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, then reappears with a box of tissues and joins Jayden on the floor. He sets the box down between them.

And then he just waits. The tissues are there if Jayden needs them, as is Saul.]

[It takes awhile, but eventually he calms down enough to form words. His voice is hoarse and timid.]

I'm sorry.

[He's too ashamed to even look at Saul quite yet, and instead grabs for a tissue to occupy himself with instead.]

It's okay.

[He means that.

What might be weird to Jayden is that Saul sounds like he's done this before.]

You want some water?

[He blows his nose and wipes his at eyes with the back of his palm.]

I guess.

Okay.

[His reason for getting water is two-fold: Jayden needs water, of course — crying can be awfully dehydrating — and Saul needs to check and make sure Freddie's not about to walk in on this mess.

When he returns, he's holding a glass of water for Jayden and a mug of coffee for himself. He passes it Jayden's way once he sits back down.]

I meant it, by the way. If having a gun is gonna make you feel better, and I don't blame you for thinking it will, I'll get you one. But we're gonna do it the legal way. Deal?

[The tissue is knotted up in his fist by the time Saul comes back. He takes the glass from him and gulps it down quickly; as predicted, he is really thirsty. He laughs a little, half-heartedly.]

Really? Don't I have to be eighteen for that?

Technically, yes.

["Technically."]

But if you put down a responsible adult as your guardian...

[but he's not hinting at anything

nope]

[Jayden gives him a skeptical look.]

You're not just saying that?

I'm not.

[He smirks a little.]

I'm willing to accept legal responsibility for your boneheadedness.

[He lets out a small, exhausted laugh.]

Thanks.

[He drinks some more water and puts the glass on the bedside table, as well as the crumpled up tissue. He lowers his head, raking fingers through his messy hair and tugging at the curls.]

Can I ask you a question?

No problem.

[Saul takes a sip from his own mug, glancing thoughtfully into it while Jayden is silent. Then he peers over, head tilted slightly.]

Sure. Shoot.

[...]

Poor word choice.

[He tries not to roll his eyes at the ultra lame joke. Then he hesitates, biting his lower lip.]

Why'd you change your name?

[Saul shifts around uncomfortably, considering the question. He figured Jayden would ask sooner or later — everyone who finds out does, eventually — but he's not sure how to answer. Never is. It's complicated.]

I'm gonna do the lawyer thing and answer your question with a question. Do I look like a "Jimmy" to you?

[His tone suggests there's only one correct response.]

[Jayden looks him over, brow furrowed in concentration, seriously considering the question despite his tone.]

I could see it.

[He shrugs.]

Do I look like a Jayden to you?

[Since Jayden asked, Saul studies him for a moment.

A long moment.

Just to make him uncomfortable.

This is what the kid gets for asking questions.]

Well, I can tell you you definitely don't look like a Ralph. Or a George. Or Nelson. Or...

[Should he go on?]

Or a Dmitri? Because that's the name I was born with. My parents changed it when we came to America.

[He looks away, grabbing another tissue to twist around in his hands.]

Names aren't that big a deal. If I can be Jayden, you can be Saul.

[He shrugs.]

I just wondered why. Jayden sounds more American than Dmitri. Does Saul sound more like a lawyer than Jimmy?

I can see that. Dmitri. You've got the eyebrows of a Dmitri.

[Whatever that means.]

You don't see many lawyers running around calling themselves Jimmy, do you? Saul works. Saul Goodman works even better. Anyway, it was stupid. Complicated and stupid. My brother was a lawyer, too, part of this big firm. So when people heard our last name, McGill, that was who came to mind: my brother. Not me. So trying to start a business as a lawyer with the same name... [He shrugs.] You can see how I ran into some problems.

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[Closed] Everybody has, needs, wants a cold gun.

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