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[mcgill]

[The man seated uneasily in front of the camera probably looks familiar to anyone who knew or knew of Saul Goodman, ex-defense attorney and daytime TV judge extraordinaire. He has the same face, mostly, save for the abundance of hair on his head (which is sticking up just slightly, like he's been exposed to a stiff breeze or, in his case, static electricity) and fewer wrinkles around his eyes than anyone who got close enough to him might remember. And his smile, just like Saul's, is playfully crooked — though it's laced with a nervousness that doesn't really fit the image Saul projected whenever he had an audience. This man isn't as confident as his older lookalike, that much is clear, nor is he as brightly dressed. (A white dress shirt and a bland, striped tie are all that's currently visible.)

But he has that same ol' sparkle in his eye, and he straightens up a bit as soon as he's ready to speak, which is a habit anyone would recognize: that sudden shift from casual to professional Saul made any time he approached the bench or a business meeting.

And as for his voice — that's the same, too.

This is almost definitely Saul Goodman, but:]

Hiya. The name's Jimmy McGill. James, technically, but — I prefer Jimmy.

[He lifts his hands into view. Saul's trademark (fake) Rolex and gold pinky ring are missing, but that's because they're obscured by a pair of heavy-duty electrical gloves.]

I've got a little problem on my hands, pun only halfheartedly intended. [A laugh, one quick huff of air. Saul's laugh: Heh.] Seems the powers that be decided I should have the ability to manipulate power itself. Electricity, I mean. More specifically — [A brief pause, a swallow. He tries to play it off; there's no reason this word should bother him.] Electromagnetism. So, since I have no idea how to control an honest-to-God superpower because they're not really real where I come from, this is... uh, it's an issue. Anyone got any tips? Tricks? Ways to wake up, maybe?

[He smiles again, this time thin-lipped and a little desperate. It looks like he's on the verge of panic.]

Please?

Comments

[mcgill]

[NOPE. BYE.

There goes Jimmy, all but vaulting over the back of the couch. He springs to his feet and backs up, bumping into the couch, then a side table. The only thing that stops him is the wall, which he looks determined to get through, what with the way he's pressing back against it.]

Okay, okay, you — that's not mine. That's — not. Nope. No. Sorry, I can't take it. I didn't —

[His hair's starting to stand on end again. It'd be kind of cute, if it weren't so weird.]

That's not mine. Whatever I had — whatever Saul had, it should stay wherever it wound up. Whoever it wound up with. You keep it. You keep it, and you take it outside, because a kid lives here, and that — [pointing with one shaky hand at the pistol] — doesn't need to be in this house. Or my life, because I don't need it. Any of it. It's not mine. Okay?

[hostage]

[Jesse watches Jimmy's reaction with measured patience. He expected something like this. Saul had mentioned he used to be a very different person, and Jesse's witnessing that right now, and he has all the sympathy in the world for it.

He picks up the pistol and pops out the magazine, holding both of them up for Jimmy to get a good look at before he sets them back in the bag. All safe now.]

Take the money and get outta here. Soon - like real soon - somebody's gonna come looking for you. And he's not gonna believe you don't remember him, so you gotta be gone before he finds you.

[mcgill]

[Jesse's idea of safe is pretty twisted if he follows up a display of safety with something like what he just said. Jimmy starts to laugh nervously, glancing around as if the person in question is already lurking somewhere in the house.]

Yeah, sure. Okay. And go where? Do what? Hide?

[He looks back at the money, quickly and silently counting. That's a decent chunk of change. When Jesse says it's his, though, does he mean his like a gift from Jesse, or his like... his?]

What the hell was I wrapped up in?

[hostage]

The less you know, the better off you'll be. And the same goes for me. Take the money, take the boat or the car or whatever, and get outta town. And don't even gimme a hint about where you're headed, 'cause he can make me talk. You understand?

[mcgill]

Are you serious right now?

[A rhetorical question; Jimmy knows Jesse's serious.]

And just where, pray tell, am I supposed to go? I don't even know anyone! Except... well, you, I guess. [He rubs the bridge of his nose.] Jesus. This whole situation is bad enough on its own, and now you're trying to run me out of here like I have any clue what's going on in this place? And framing it in a way that makes me think we both might wind up dead if I don't cooperate? No. No, you're gonna talk.

[Wait. Hold on. Something's just dawned on him.]

Shit. It's Tuco, isn't it? Or Nacho. One of them.

[hostage]

[Who the fuck is Nacho and - Wait, Saul knew Tuco? This far back?

Nevermind. That's not important. Jesse holds up a hand, waving off Jimmy's words.]

It's not Tuco and it's not... Nacho or whoever, okay? It's my partner, this guy named Walter White. Who also used to be your client 'til things went south between you two. I don't even know all the details, man, 'cause I wasn't there to see it. But the last time he found out I was protecting you, he -

[No, it's not going to help anything, getting into all that. Jesse runs his hand down his face.]

...He won't kill you. There's no point in killing you. But he's gonna make sure you're not a threat, and it ain't gonna be pretty.

[mcgill]

[Jimmy listens carefully, brows furrowing. He understands what Jesse is saying, but the concern is lost on him, because:]

How the hell am I a threat?

[hostage]

Look... You know how I'm from your future? He's from my future. And everything that happens there - it's bad. Everything I know about it, I just get in little bits and pieces from him, but I know you and me did something there. So he doesn't like us talking to each other, especially not without him.

[mcgill]

On paper, that makes sense. But — and here's the key thing — I'm not that guy. I'm not Saul Goodman. I'm James McGill, and I don't know you. I don't know Walter White, either.

[hostage]

I get it. Believe me.

[He's had to endure months of being treated like his future self, too. Calling it nightmarish would be an understatement.]

But it's gonna mean shit-all to Mr. White. He's gonna think it's an act or something. And then he's gonna get even madder 'cause you're lying to him.

[mcgill]

Sounds like someone I know back home. [That's said in a mutter, mostly to himself. Jimmy's next question is more audible:] Can't this guy be stopped?

[hostage]

[Jimmy... That's exactly the wrong kind of attitude.]

He was unstoppable before he had superpowers. Don't test him now.

[Jesse nudges the bag of cash with his shoe.]

I can handle things here, but you don't deserve any of this. Go out to California or something. If you run outta money, I can get more to you later.

[mcgill]

[It sure is.]

What makes him unstoppable?

[hostage]

[Because there is no explaining the force of nature that is Mr. White's temper, Jesse focuses on the more tangible things:]

He's not just a criminal, okay? He's not some gangster like Tuco. This guy's a genius. He could build a bomb outta the shit most people keep in their garage.

And his powers? He manipulates chemicals. That includes body chemistry. He could make it so your body starts eating itself away, like acid. Set all your nerves on fire. Trust me, because he's done it to me: You don't wanna know what that feels like.

And it gets worse, 'cause he can fuck with your head the same way drugs do. He's done things to me that I don't even remember the next day, that I only know about 'cause he told me about it later. He's gotten information outta me that way and I couldn't even tell you how. One of my powers is regeneration, so I wouldn't even know how bad it was. It wouldn't leave a mark.

You gotta stay away from him, Jimmy.

[mcgill]

[He listens carefully, eyes going wide as Jesse speaks.

The kid's made his point, but there's something that's left Jimmy confused. And concerned. And feeling... well, sick, to be honest.]

And I'm the one who should be running away? What about you?

[hostage]

[Jimmy, you are missing the point.]

This isn't about me.

[mcgill]

But you shouldn't have to live with... all that.

[That's insane.]

[hostage]

I'm fine. I'll be fine. Stop worrying about me.

[mcgill]

You just told me someone's been torturing you!

[hostage]

Who the fuck cares?

[mcgill]

Does it matter if anyone cares or not? You should care! And I'm sure I — I mean, it's not that I don't care right now, because I do, but... [He trails off, shrugging.] It sounds like we were friends. I'm sure Saul must've cared.

[hostage]

[Jesse flinches at the mention of Saul. They'll never know, will they? Saul did the smart thing and got out of town, leaving Jesse to pay the price for it. And all Jesse wishes is that Jimmy would do the same.

He gets to his feet.]

You don't even know me. Let's keep it that way.

[mcgill]

Except I do know you. You're Jesse Pinkman. You just gave me a bag of money, keys, a gun, and a warning. You're a future client of mine. We get mixed up in some bad shit together, and now you're trying to protect me.

[He knows plenty.]

The only way we could've kept this situation that way, with me not knowing you, is if you would've had someone else drop all this off. But you didn't. Why? So you could tell me everything this guy's done to you and properly scare me off?

[hostage]

[Oh, he's definitely starting to wish he'd sent Joel to drop off the bag, instead. Who knew it'd be so hard to chase Saul out of town? James McGill is truly a different creature.]

I've never seen you turn down a bag of money before. I figured it'd be easy.

[mcgill]

[Oh.

Guess who suddenly can't look Jesse in the eye.]

I made a mistake involving a bag of money not too long ago. [His voice is quiet now, a little distant.] I dunno what happens in the time between now and when you meet me, but... I'm not that guy, not yet. I dunno if I wanna be that guy. My brother —

[No, he doesn't want to talk about that. He shakes his head, waves a dismissive hand.]

Whatever. It doesn't matter. My point is, if I was involved with all this shit that went down, part of it is probably my fault, so it's my responsibility. So unless you can figure out some way to erase my memory and make me forget this conversation ever happened...

[He wants to be bought off, he does. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.]