All the blood lying on the floor. Sense the crowd expecting something more.

[hostage]

Who: Jesse Pinkman and Gustavo Fring
When: immediately following this
Where: Tower Apartments
Summary: Jesse and Gus reminisce about the good old days, once upon a time in Mexico.
Warnings: Season 4 spoilers and graphic descriptions likely.


Knowing that Gus was probably just as wary of him, Jesse kept a respectful distance and made no sudden moves. Sure, Mike wasn't around to keep an eye on him in this place, but he might as well have been. Jesse still followed the way Mike had trained him, like any of Gus's men would. In fact, he settled back into the role so easily that it made him uncomfortable. He had to keep reminding himself, as he walked, that Gus was his enemy. Gus wanted to kill him and Mr. White. Gus poisoned Brock... in the future. (Did he, though? Why?)

When they reached the door, Jesse hesitated for a second. There was a huge possibility that Gus had only been looking for a private place to cut his throat. Jesse would come back, at least - and then he'd know for certain where they stood. But he was afraid, anyway. He looked to Gus, searching his face for any possible hints though he really should have known better than to think he'd find anything there.

Still... He wanted reassurance.

Comments

[hostage]

"There's really no way. People die trying. It's the Core - the machine that keeps us here. It's broken and they don't know how to fix it. But there's companies that're working on it. Have been... for a long time."

When Gus mentioned bringing a person here, Jesse also thought of Mike. God, how he wished Mike was here. Mike would somehow smooth all of this over, he thought, or at least tell him what to do to fix things.

"People do show up, though," he added with a shrug. "People you know. When I got here, they said... something about energy signatures drawing in people close to you from back home. It's a theory, anyway."

[businessman]

Gus went very still at that last part, even more than usual, although if Jesse looked down at that point he might notice that Gus's clasped hands had gone very tight.

That, he told himself sternly, was not something he could think about further. Not for another second. It would only cause distraction and errors, and apparently to no end at all.

"I see," he said in a slightly strange voice. He glanced at his hands, loosened them, recovered. "My family," he added as a half-hearted explanation. A voice inside whispered savagely that that was the truth, but he smothered it out and stood, brushing his hands down his pants.

"Then as you said, Jesse: we appear to be finished. I have no cooks, no laboratory, and I have been forced to leave my distribution behind." He spared a thought for Mike and Lydia, who he supposed had quite a lot of work ahead. And to lose the Czech Republic deal... He stifled another weary sigh. "I suppose the restaurant business here must be in demand, at least?"

[hostage]

Jesse noticed Gus's discomposure, but family explained it all to him without question. His missed his own little family. Andrea. Brock. The family he knew he had to stay away from, now, because being anywhere near them would draw them into the line of fire. He hoped they never appeared in Siren's Port.

He hoped the same for Gus's family.

"- Oh, yeah," Jesse answered, a bit thrown. He hadn't expected Gus to start sharing plans with him. "Restaurants are great business. Especially if you get in with AGI. I mean... That's what I hear. I ain't affiliated with either side." He was so relieved to hear Gus talking about moving on, giving up the meth business. It was the best he could hope for, all of them focusing on their new lives. If Mr. White and Gus were both going straight, good for them. Second chances and everything.

[businessman]

"I see," Gus replied neutrally; what little he'd heard of the AGI and SERO situation made it clear he was going to have to hear a lot more before he made any comments one way or the other.

He came to a decision of another kind, though. One that would fill a few immediate goals at once. "I can't take your money, Jesse," he demurred, holding up a hand to forestall any further protests. "But if you would like to become an investor in Los Pollos Hermanos, I think you will find yourself richly rewarded in due time. Even without my other... enterprises, the restaurant has always done very well for itself."

[hostage]

"Okay," Jesse answered immediately, without a second thought. He'd never found a way to clean that money, anyhow. This would be perfect for both of them. "I mean, yeah. That sounds good. I never, um, invested before."

[businessman]

"I can arrange the details with your lawyer," Gus told him smoothly. This part, at least, was entirely easy. He could more or less have this conversation in his sleep, and so he turned the rest of his brain to thinking over what he'd already seen and heard, and what there was to do from here.

"We will, of course, need to establish some degree of legitimacy to the funds, and a buffer between you and I, even if you're no longer involved with anything illegal..." He paused, raised a brow. "Are you?"

[hostage]

A lawyer. Right. He would have to get one of those. Somehow, he'd managed to go months without needing one.

"Um..." The question was a difficult one to answer. Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, brow knitting together. "Not illegal, but not... something I want people knowing about. Not something I could call a source of income on paper."

There wasn't anything else he wanted to explain, as the whole thing was completely irrelevant. Mostly irrelevant. But Gus remained silent, so he added feebly, "It's just, um... Like kind of like a weapons trade thing? I don't think there's laws against it, but there's a lotta people who'd be mad about it. You know."

[businessman]

Weapons trading, but not illegal? Gus frowned at that, his mind working quickly. What kind of weapon could be traded legally, yet still provoke so much ire?

It clicked when he remembered what the blonde greeter had shown him. Mary. Mary, who could produce fire from nothing... that was quite a weapon, indeed. "I see," he said quietly. "Then yes; I think some legal interference would be a good idea. Who is your lawyer? I'll have them draw something up." He paused sardonically. "Unless Saul is here as well, of course."

[hostage]

"He's not," Jesse said with a shake of his head. "I actually, uh, haven't got one yet. Haven't needed one -" A miracle, after six months of being here. "- but I can get one."

[businessman]

That caused another look of genuine surprise, although Gus realized the grim truth a half a second later: Jesse and Walt had needed Saul after only a few months, but according to the background he'd done on both, Jesse had been living more or less under the radar before that.

It was not the first time it had occurred to Gus that Walter White really was at the heart of most of their problems. Before, it might have stirred him to feel some pity for Jesse; now, if he did, he quashed it himself. "Yes. I ask that you do," he said smoothly, without a flicker. "This is going to be a legitimate business, after all. It can't be funded with money that appears suspect."

A false name was definitely in order... Maximino already had a scholarship, but Gus allowed himself to briefly wonder if he might not like a restaurant stake, too.

[hostage]

Jesse nodded at Gus's every word. "Yeah, no problem. Absolutely. I'll get on it right away." As in, he would literally leave this building and go straight across town to track down the best criminal lawyer he could find - or ask Mr. Gold for a recommendation - as soon as Gus dismissed him.

[businessman]

At least Jesse was obedient in the wake of cold-blooded homicide, Gus noted dryly, nodding. "Then it seems we have everything in order, yes?"

[hostage]

Jesse almost nodded again, but he was clearly conflicted. That wasn't everything. Just saying he was sorry and throwing money at the problem... It didn't do anything to begin to repair the damage his future self would do to this man's life. Jesse needed to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Because once Mr. White figured out that Gus was here, he would do something about it. Probably real quick.

"No, wait," Jesse said before he'd even fully decided. "I should... I should give you something. Just in case." Because Mike wasn't here to protect Gus and that was Jesse's job now, for so many reasons.

[businessman]

It was, again, a rare lapse for Gus: forgive him, he'd just woken up from being dead and he was not yet used to being in a world with superpowers. "I told you," he demurred. "I can't take your money. I have more than enough to start out with. I've gotten by on less."

But then the just in case caught up with him and his eyes narrowed curiously. In case of danger... not a gun, then. Not a box cutter. "No. What kind of something?"

[hostage]

Jesse wasn't sure just how much the greeters down at the field had said to Gus, if there had been any at all. If he knew nothing about this world's supernatural activity, then he'd probably just assume that Jesse was high the moment he began to talk about it. So Jesse began cautiously, "I can make it so he can't kill you."

[businessman]

Gus, too, was more careful this time, cautious not to show his reaction to the very unusual promise. "Your... abilities," he said slowly, giving the matter a justifiably skeptical pause. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes -- even if he had, in fact, in Albuquerque, he never would have believed it. Waking up from the dead, however, tended to open a man's mind, even one as closed off as Gustavo Fring.

"That's what you mean?" he confirmed. Weapons trading. Very interesting.

[hostage]

Oh, good. There was some corroboration, then. "Yeah, that," Jesse said, nodding. "It's, um... It doesn't hurt or anything. I just shake your hand and then you have it. The power, I mean. It won't make you immortal, but it'll make it so you can recover from most anything. Bullets, bombs... I mean, you could survive an atom bomb with this thing. There could be nothing left but like energy particles and you'd still reform like nothing happened."

It sounded a little crazy, saying all that out loud to Gus, so Jesse added, "I swear it's real. I can't show you because I can't use it. I can only give it. But it's for real."

[businessman]

This time, it took a great deal more work to keep his expression neutral. Had it only been surprise, or -- unlikely -- gratitude, he would have simply let it through and allowed himself the moment of so-called vulnerability, but his true feelings in this case were far too dangerous to let Jesse see. Even more, perhaps, than they usually were.

He heard the words immortal and recover, and the only thought that passed through his mind was, I want, with a desire almost as insatiable as the one that had seen Don Eladio dead. The hunger that would one day see Walter White dead.

"That's very generous of you, Jesse," he murmured, affecting astonishment instead. "But there must be... a friend, a loved one. Someone you would rather bestow with such a protection."

[hostage]

"Yeah," Jesse admitted. He would rather be giving this to anyone in the world but Gus Fring. "None of them ever died because of me, though. And if he's going after anybody, I don't think it'll be them.

"Not -" he corrected himself with a pang, "Not yet, at least." Because that would happen eventually, wouldn't it? Mr. White would realize that Jesse was helping Gus again, and then the whole thing would play out like it did back home. Only maybe worse this time, because Jesse was wise to it. And Walt was infinitely more powerful.

That wasn't the immediate danger, though. Gus was equally capable of killing everyone Jesse loved, and he had every reason to do it that very moment. And - most importantly - Jesse had to fix what he'd done. If he was going to atone, he wanted to do it without bloodshed on either side.

[businessman]

Gus made himself take a deep breath as though he were thinking it over, although recklessly, he was doing no such thing. He would be angry at himself later, not considering all the things Jesse might have done instead at this moment, powers or no powers. The things that he might have done himself, were he in Jesse's shoes.

But oh, there were only a few things that sung to Gustavo Fring, and power -- that was one of them. He took another breath to settle his heartbeat and pushed his cuff back from his wrist, holding out his hand.

"Then I'll do my best not to let this go to waste," he assured Jesse. "If I can help you or your family with this, you'll tell me."

[hostage]

Jesse would also, no doubt, look back on this and wish he had done something very different. But in the present, he didn't question the decision. This was the right thing to do, for every reason he could think of.

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he stepped forward. He would never feel comfortable standing this close to Gus - not after Victor. But he didn't let himself linger reluctantly. He dealt with dangerous people all the time. This was a transaction like any other, with all the usual risks.

He reached out and took Gus's hand, held it for ten seconds at the most, and then let go. That was it. No flashing lights or magic spectacle. Not even an intuitive, psychic feeling that something supernatural had occurred. It was a handshake like any other, if for an uncomfortably long moment.

"That's it," Jesse said. "It's done."

[businessman]

It wasn't exactly a savory experience for Gus, psychic feelings or no. Touching anyone for that long was outside of his comfort zone; touching Jesse Pinkman for that long, moreso. But he remained absolutely still and silent, mouth set in a taut line and waited expectantly--

--for something that never seemed to come. He adjusted his cuff again and resisted the urge to wipe his hand off as Jesse stepped back, eyeing him, then his own hand. "How do you know that?"

[hostage]

"You didn't feel it," Jesse answered, "but I did. I can just tell. When I have something or I don't. You've got it now. It's not something you'll have to think about, either. You won't need to practice. If the time comes, it'll just happen. Just like that."

[businessman]

"I see." Gus looked down at his hands with a faint frown. It was true: nothing felt any different, and if he didn't know what had just happened, he wouldn't think anything had changed at all. He wasn't sure it had.

That was, of course, easy enough to find out, though. He reached into his pocket and fished out the key to the apartment, the one the front desk had given him. "Excuse me," he said politely, unbuttoning his left cuff so he could carefully roll the sleeve up, exposing his arm.

It took more pressure than a knife -- or a boxcutter -- to break the skin, but not too much, and the pain was nothing like a deterrent at all. He sliced a thin, even line right up the center of his forearm...

...And then allowed himself a rare, very genuine smile as the flesh knit itself together again in seconds, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

[hostage]

Jesse took a step back the moment Gus reached into his pocket, but he stopped there and forced himself to remain steady. When he caught sight of the key, he knew what was about to happen and he nearly protested - but that would probably make Gus think he was lying about the whole thing. The image of having his own throat sliced with the dull, jagged edge of a key kept Jesse silent. If Gus wanted proof, Jesse wouldn't stop him.

Normally, Jesse didn't doubt his ability at all. It hadn't failed once since he first learned to control it. But he watched anxiously while Gus cut himself. If the power didn't work, then he was dead. He knew it.

He let out a short breath of relief when everything went exactly as it was supposed to, his shoulders sinking. But he didn't let his guard down, not while Gus remained armed with that key. Jesse was so busy staring at it that he missed the smile entirely.