[03] Video

[kingpawn]

[ The video feed starts with Walt in a room in his Heropa home, an open box on the bed filled with Kaylee's things -- coveralls neatly folded and tucked inside, wrenches and other tools laid delicately on top...the whole process seems exceedingly painful for him as with each item he pulls out of the closet, the efforts become slow and labored. ]

I don't know who knew Kaylee Frye. If you didn't, you should have. I've never met anyone so genuinely cheerful and kind. She was the sunshine in this dark, cloudy world.

[ There's a very sad, forlorn smile. This feels more like a funeral, like saying goodbye to someone who passed away. And in some cases it's worse -- them vanishing to another universe, never to remember their time here, never to be seen again. ]

She helped me when she didn't have to. She cared when she shouldn't have. She took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. And what did she expect in return? Nothing.

[ With a long pause, it's very clear Walt is trying to maintain his composure. A breath in and a breath out. ]

I hoped I was wrong. I hoped to god I was wrong. That her disappearance was only temporary. But it's been a few weeks, and there's been no sign of her returning. I will miss her. Every day I will miss her. I already do.

This world -- it's done nothing but take things away. From me. From everyone else. Can you honestly say you've gained anything from being here?

[ Walt goes to reach into the closet for one of the final items and his hand twitches back. The sadness in the lines of his face increases as he pulls out a wrapped present -- a card reading: To Mr. White.

That's when Walt can't hold it back anymore. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls the square-shaped present to his chest and cries. ]

Comments

private.

[kingpawn]

I'm never fastened to any rules. The game we play obviously doesn't work if you're the target.

So maybe then, the real target should be myself. I remove myself from the situation. Permanently. And you lose. Every ounce of progress, every minute you invested into me -- gone. Erased. Meaningless. And I go back to what I wanted, what I've always wanted. Well beyond 'unique meaning' and being 'held in singular esteem.'

Death.

private.

[slightlyoffchilt]

You won't die here, Walt.

[He says with such iron-enriched conviction -- but even Chilton can't be sure. Two people from his own universe had seemingly died, and while that was a statistically small number, Chilton felt unease. Those were two people important to him.

Just as Walt was important to him.]

You can't. You don't deserve it, not after what you've done to so many people. This is your punishment -- without reprieve. This is your purgatory.

private.

[kingpawn]

[ Chilton's assurance. Chilton's conviction only serve to make Walt want to do it more. To call that bluff. To put the threat of loss into him. He set Kaylee's items down, took his communicator and walked to his room. Slow. Casual. And then he reached into his drawer to pull out a gun, pressing the cold barrel against his temple. ]

Wanna find out. I might not be your feces smearing patient, but I can paint the walls with my blood pretty good from one shot. And that would be all over your hands.

private.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[The blood drops from Chilton's face -- it's a dramatic ploy, a bluff that Chilton would normally sneeringly call. But not with Walt. Not with the man whose emotional volatility was irreconcilable. Not when Chilton thought there was a sixty percent chance Walt would pull that trigger.]

No. Walt, no.

Think of Jesse, for god's sake.

private. CW: implied suicide but it's just a fakeout because Chilton sux

[kingpawn]

[ Chilton's words did cause a momentary fall in his resolve -- the briefest of considerations. And for one shining moment, it seemed as though he was going to listen to reason. His grip on the gun loosened, his arm almost slackening.

He looked at Chilton, long and unmoving. His face showcased all of the sadness, all of the regret and remorse for things that he did -- both to Chilton and to the other people he cared about.

Walt closed his eyes and remembered standing in a position like Chilton, watching as Jack pressed the gun to Hank's head. It would be poetic justice. To end this same way. ]

You're the smartest guy I ever met...

[ Walt began, reopening his eyes to look at Chilton -- the words having double meaning. ]

And you're too stupid to see...

[ His grip tightened. As did his resolve. ]

I made up my mind ten minutes ago.

[ BANG!! It all happened too quick. The drop of the communicator at the sound. The fall of Walt's body, feed picking up the angle of Walter White's bloodied, unmoving fingers before it cut. ]

CW: implied suicide but it's just a fakeout because Chilton IS GREAT!!

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He gasps -- it sounded so real. It looked so real. The authenticity of the shot, that undeniable gunfire -- it was genuine. The blood, the collapse. The cold horror of a soundless loop.

Walt wasn't speaking. Walt wasn't moving, and for all that Chilton could see in this angled video Walt was not breathing.

Chilton did what his instinct commanded: he cut the feed. He took three, four deep and deliberate breaths. And he called Will Graham.]