The pull on my flesh was just too strong, stifled the choice and the air in my lungs.

[hostage]

WHO: Jesse Pinkman & OPEN
WHERE: various locations
WHEN: June 10 - 17 (Road Not Taken)
WHAT: If Jesse was never a drug dealer... (Conflicting memories and confusion are welcome.)
WARNINGS: Domestic as fuck.

HEROPA - COFFEE SHOP ( OPEN TO ALL )

[It's a morning routine now that he's unemployed. At least, he thinks it is. As far as he remembers, he's been a regular at this coffee shop for the past six months. It's strange that the barista doesn't recognize him when he orders his usual triple espresso, but Jesse chalks it up to the early hour and takes his favorite seat by the window. The position is ideal for drawing, with light shining through to illuminate his sketchbook while he sits facing the interior, giving him a view of the other customers. He immediately gets to work on gesture drawing, sketching his fellow patrons in thirty-second bursts while attempting not to stare too obviously.]

HEROPA - AROUND TOWN ( OPEN TO ALL )

[Everything just seems off this week. Jesse couldn't find his art supplies anywhere in the studio, which leaves him wondering if he got absentminded and misplaced them in the park the other day. He ends up having to buy another easel and set of paints, which isn't cheap, so he's doubly frustrated with himself by the time he settles in for his daily session of en plein air. He takes up a spot by the street corner and begins without flourish, quickly applying dabs of acrylic to his canvasboard to capture whatever scene is in front of him before it changes.]

CAPE CANAVERAL - BEACH HOUSE ( CLOSED TO HOUSEMATES )

[He's starting to feel like he's going insane. Nothing is where he left it. It's like someone came in and rearranged the whole house while he was asleep, and the more time he spends at home, the worse that feeling gets. As if he's back in his world without his powers and he's misplaced his Adderall, the way everything's scattered. Eventually it gets to be too much for him, and Jesse starts tearing through the house in search of his sketchbooks and canvases and everything else he knows should be around here somewhere.

...Which leads him to the discovery in the study upstairs. In the back of what should be his supply closet, he finds a refrigerator instead. And inside that refrigerator are bags upon bags of blood, seemingly prepared for a transfusion. If this was a hospital, which it isn't. When Jesse turns to rifle through the rest of the closet, he finds that the bags inside it aren't filled with art supplies, but with cash. Cold, hard cash. Thousands - maybe millions - of dollars. And behind those bags, resting on racks affixed to the walls, are dozens of guns.]

Jesus... Oh, Jesus Christ.

[What the hell is going on?]

Comments

coffee shop au

[5055034455]

[Saul drifts in not long after Jesse gets settled. His plan today is to load up on caffeine, work on campaign plans, and not be annoyed, but then he catches sight of a familiar figure in the coffee shop and he's immediately annoyed.

He's still pissed off about the way Jesse called him Jimmy. He's been stewing over it, actually, turning that one word over and over in his head. Who the hell does Pinkman think he is, pulling that shit? And to do that after everything that went down — it's low. Even for them.

He tells himself to just ignore Jesse, to get his coffee and find somewhere else to camp out for the morning. Sure enough, once his coffee's in-hand, he marches over toward Jesse with one hell of a speech on the tip of his tongue.

And then he does what he always does: opens his big mouth.]

You know what, Jesse? You're in no position to judge me. I bent over backwards to help you, I went miles out of my way to make sure you stayed out of trouble, and I am trying — despite the voice in my head that's telling me I'm an idiot who needs to move on — to maintain a functional relationship with you here. And okay, fine, maybe deep down, you hate me, maybe you're never gonna forgive me, and maybe we're not really friends, that's all fine, but when I reach out to you and you throw shit back in my face? That's not okay. That's fucked up. I would never hold anything over your head like that. Alright? So don't do it to me.

[It's only at the end, when he seems to finally draw a breath, that his eyes drop down and he notices the sketchbook.

And then his face just goes like, What.]

I hate this

[hostage]

[Jesse listens to that entire speech with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as he tries and fails to find a moment to interrupt with a question. This is clearly something the guy needs to get off his chest, and Jesse doesn't want to be rude about it, but...]

Sorry, uh... Do I know you?

♥

[5055034455]

[Saul would throw his coffee if it didn't cost so much goddamn money.]

Are you —

[A pause for air.]

No, you know what? I'm not even gonna ask if you're kidding me. I already know you're not kidding me. I can see it in your eyes. Fuck. I hate this fucking place, I can't —

[Their surroundings go uncomfortably quiet, which is when Saul realizes he's making a scene. Another pause, another breath.]

Sorry. [Quietly, now.] I'm sorry. You have no idea who I am? You don't recognize my face at all? Not even —

[He sets his coffee down, does the Better Call Saul! pose. Forced smile and all. It's so strained. It's a smile that says, please, God, please let this spark some kind of memory.]

[hostage]

[Lucky for Saul, that does spark some recognition. Jesse's mouth forms an O and his eyebrows raise before furrowing again. Because... why is Saul Goodman, the lawyer with the stupid commercials from Albuquerque, now here to deliver a heartfelt speech to him? To Jesse, specifically. He didn't miss the fact that Saul addressed him by name.]

"Better Call Saul", yeah.

[Said with minimal enthusiasm and maximum confusion.]

So, uh, I guess I pissed you off?

[5055034455]

[So many times, Jesse.

So. Many. Times.

Saul drops the pose and rubs at his temples.]

In a word, yes. But I'm gonna guess that as far as you're concerned, we have no reason to know each other.

[hostage]

I haven't been back in ABQ since like '08. Moved to California, you know? Before... all this.

[He gives a vague gesture to their surroundings. Yay, interdimensional kidnappings.]

But I guess you're from my future, huh? Some timeline bullshit?

[5055034455]

California?

[He says this like it's the most implausible thing he's ever heard.

Aliens built the pyramids? The moon landing was faked? Vaccines cause autism? Jesse Pinkman lives in California?]

[hostage]

[Why does he feel like he should be offended by that incredulity?]

Yeah, uh, Santa Clarita? It's like a half hour outside L.A.

[5055034455]

Okay.

[Saul arches one skeptical eyebrow.]

So do you, like, surf?

[hostage]

Um, sometimes. I mean, the beach is pretty damn far from Santa Clarita and school keeps me real busy...

[morethan084]

Jesse?

[Daisy had just gotten back from work at the local emergency clinic only to walk into an extremely messy house. Looking upward when she heard him. Making her way up the stairs, Daisy did not expect to see what she did.]

...What the hell is this?!

[hostage]

[Jesse leaps to his feet when Daisy appears, throwing his hands in the air like it's the cops who just walked in.]

I don't - I don't know! I was looking for my sketchbook and just...

[He gestures helplessly, at a loss for words.]

Is this some kinda joke?

[morethan084]

[Daisy flinches when he jumps, keeping her distance from him as she tries to understand what all of this is.

She's never even seen him hold a gun, and yet...]

Did someone break in? Downstairs is a mess.

[hostage]

No, that was - I mean, maybe somebody did, but the mess is all me. It's like nothing's where I left it. I feel like I'm going crazy, and now - now this.

[He waves at the guns and the rest of the very obviously illegal supplies surrounding him.]

[morethan084]

[Moving closer, Daisy bent down to inspect the money. It looked real.]

Why would someone prank you by leaving all this money here?

[hostage]

Is it even a prank?

[Jesse hadn't even considered it when he first walked in, but... Maybe it is? Just someone trying to spook him? Or beyond that... Some kind of threat?]

[morethan084]

I don't see who would do this as a prank.

[Daisy's mind went straight to bad.]

...What if someone is trying to blackmail you?

[hostage]

How're they gonna blackmail me if they don't tell me what they want?

[morethan084]

I don't know. But why else would there be all of these guns in here and...?

[Daisy was just now noticing the fridge and what was inside of it.]

Is that blood?

[hostage]

[Jesse turns to look at the fridge again, pale in the face.]

Yeah. I'm pretty sure it is.

[morethan084]

We should call the cops, Jesse. This is not good.

[hostage]

Oh yeah, that'll go over great. "Hey, officer, I just found a fridge full of blood, a shitload of guns, and maybe a million dollars in cash chilling in my closet. Yeah, it totally doesn't belong to me, even though it's in my house. Yup, no idea how it got here. Swear it ain't mine. Pinky promise!"

[morethan084]

Hilarious.

[Honestly, Daisy wasn't sure what else they could do. Either way, she was pretty sure she wasn't the only one who didn't want to live in the house with this stuff there.]

We need to do something.

[hostage]

What we should do is just get rid of it, but... I mean, what if somebody comes looking for this stuff? I'm thinking they won't be too happy we chucked it into a swamp.

[morethan084]

Right, because that would look a lot less suspicious than just calling up the cops.

[As it is, she's already reaching for her communicator to call them.]