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Summer nights in Albuquerque were meant to be soft and warm, the perfect weather for late cookouts and star gazing until it was time to go to bed. But Mike and Jimmy usually stayed inside and watched tv, eventually abandoning that to crawl under the covers and watch the ceiling. Sure they talked, mostly about what they did that day and what they'd be doing tomorrow, but it seemed like a wedge was being driven between them. Jimmy might as well be lining a wall of pillows in the middle of their bed, because that's what it felt like for the past couple months. Jimmy didn't hold onto Mike like he used to, a constant space between them as they laid in deafening silence. He would just mumble a 'goodnight' and turn his back to Mike, curling up in a way that told the older man that his touch was unwelcome.
For a while Mike didn't know what it was or what had caused it, but even his skills as a PI couldn't uncover what had changed with his lover. Yeah he looked through his phone records and tailed him a few times, he wasn't proud of it. He just wanted to know why Jimmy was so distant these days. The lawyer was still his usual chatty self during work, putting on the facade of Saul Goodman like a costume and shedding it as soon as he got home. And then it was back to being a silent and unavailable Jimmy, mentally unpresent even as he sat only inches away.
Usually Jimmy was only that still and quiet when he slept; and that was just most of the time. Sometimes Mike would wake up to Jimmy shifting and mumbling under his breath and- bless his heart- Mike would try to figure out what Jimmy needed before realizing that he was speaking nonsense. Mike knew that something needed to change when he felt like he got more attention from Jimmy's sleep talking than when the lawyer was actually conscious.
What was happening to them? The private investigator was supposed to be the silent type but Jimmy was bringing it to a whole new level. Their conversations held no weight and the lawyers' touches were few and far in between, it all happening without warning. Don't even mention intimacy; Jimmy apparently chose a celibate lifestyle without consulting his lover.
One night it just wouldn't leave Mike alone.
He kept staring at Jimmy's sleeping form in the dim bedroom, looking at the way he was curled up almost defensively. His back was to him like usual, Mike giving a sigh as he wished he could speak to Jimmy. He wanted to know what was wrong, but each time he asked, Jimmy would act like nothing was different. But Mike knew it wasn't all in his head; something was wrong . It reminded him of Matty, how he started acting differently just days before he died. He wouldn't let that happen again, not to someone else he loved.
Hours passed like this, Mike watching the way Saul's chest rose and fell with each breath. He couldn't help himself from inching closer, careful to not disturb Saul's sleep as he held onto him. His touch was light and gentle, just wanting to feel Jimmy closer to him than he'd been in ages.
But he noticed him tense, Saul's chest rising and falling without much rhythm, not as slow as it should be. His heart was beating faster and harder too, Mike feeling it when he pressed his hand to the lawyer's chest.
And that's when he realized that Jimmy wasn't sleeping. He was pretending to sleep.
The thought of Jimmy pretending to sleep at 1am; it worried Mike. It left him uneasy as he tried to figure out what Jimmy could be hiding, wanting to call him out. But he knew that would be like pulling teeth when he could just wait and see for himself. He held on a bit longer before turning away and resting, treating it like a stake out as he waited to see if Jimmy would make a move.
Sure enough he did.
Eventually he felt a small shift followed by a larger one, Jimmy hesitantly sitting up and glancing at Mike. He slowly got out of bed, his movements so quiet it seemed like he knew which parts of the floor would creak the least. There was a shuffling noise as Jimmy grabbed a set of clothes before slipping out the door, heading to the living room. There was no jangling of keys or the turn of an engine after he left, Mike peeking out the bedroom window to see that his Cadillac was still parked up front.
So it turns out Jimmy was leaving at night- or maybe Saul was, Mike didn't know anymore. He'd witnessed times where Jimmy couldn't detach himself from his lawyer alter ego, like a momentary identity crisis. It usually didn't take much for the manic behavior to be coaxed out of him, but it was still upsetting to witness the loss of identity. Mike didn't follow Jimmy though, staying in bed and waiting for his return.
It felt like an eternity, but he didn't hear the bedroom door creak open until a little after 5 AM. Jimmy's footsteps were far less cautious this time around, approaching and crawling onto the bed.
Jimmy didn't smell like perfume or cologne from a one night stand; he smelled like sweat, alcohol, smoke, and hotdogs.
He smelled exactly like The Dog House.
The Dog House was a cesspool of biker gangs, criminal activity, and prostitutes. Nothing good ever happened there between 1 and 5 AM, that's for damn sure. There was a sinking feeling in Mike's stomach as he realized this wasn't Jimmy Mcgill or Saul Goodman.
This was Slippin Jimmy; the trickiest alter ego out of the three. He didn't pull little schemes so "everyone wins", or to get real cash. He took advantage of people and staged intricate cons just for the thrill and beer money. He was reckless and impulsive about it too, an unpredictable whirlwind as he got himself into trouble every night. It was hard enough keeping a rein on Saul at times, but at least that sleazy lawyer still had standards and boundaries.
Mike was so busy mulling over his predicament that he almost didn't notice the way Jimmy's breathing hitched, face buried in his pillow. But as Mike tuned in, he heard Jimmy crying. Slurred nonsense and deep sobs dripped from his mouth, his tone making Mike believe that they were pleas. Who was he begging to, and what was he begging for? It took a lot to make the older man feel ill, but this was doing it as he hesitantly came closer. He softly enveloped Jimmy into a protective hold, seeing how he tensed and tried to quiet his crying. Maybe he thought Mike was still sleeping at first, but he made his consciousness known as he started to wipe away Jimmy’s tears. That only made him cry harder as he knew he'd been found out, but Mike didn't care.
It was out in the open now and they could finally deal with it, no more lying or hiding.
"Jimmy? Where'd you go?" Mike asked gently, but not too soft to make Jimmy think everything was ok.
He didn't answer, trying to disappear in Mike's arms and avoid the question.
"Tell me where you went." Mike firmly reiterated.
He pulled away enough so that Jimmy couldn't hide his face in his chest, but still held on to comfort him.
"I just went out to smoke." Jimmy said, voiced a bit rough from the crying.
His speech was still slurred too, Mike able to smell more alcohol as Jimmy talked.
"Don't think you can lie your way out of this one. We are having the conversation." Mike said, "You were drinking too, I can smell it. And the stench of that damn hot dog joint."
Jimmy sniffled and tried to turn away, wanting to shut down and ignore Mike's questioning.
"I went out for a hotdog and some beer, so what?" He said almost coldly, but obviously using it in defense as Mike sensed the hurt in his voice.
Mike wouldn't let him get away so easily, asking, "You went there looking for trouble again, didn't you? How many times now?"
He needed to know how many times Jimmy had snuck off in the middle of the night, just to hang out with people twice his size and power with no backup or means to defend himself with.
Jimmy couldn't look Mike in the eyes as he mumbled, "I lost count…"
His voice broke a little, laying defeatedly beside Mike and looking torn. Mike sighed lightly, his disappointment evident but he kept from losing his temper.
"You told me no more Slippin Jimmy. He's not needed anymore because Saul's making money, right? So why now?" Mike asked, watching Jimmy.
Jimmy only gave a half hearted shrug as he closed his eyes, "I don't know…"
Mike sighed and sat up, turning the lamp on and making Jimmy wince at the brightness. He hid his face in his pillow to stop the oncoming shame as Mike looked him over. He was in one of his track suits, which was always a sign that he was up to something.
Mike thought about how Jimmy had started to cry, asking, "Are you hurt?"
Jimmy shook his head but didn't stop hiding, not until Mike reached to feel the bulge in his pocket. He grabbed the older man's wrist and tried to stop him, shifting away.
"Mike, don't-"
"Jimmy I don't give a damn how drunk you are, I'll beat the hell out of you if you don't knock it off." Mike threatened, losing his patience as he pried Jimmy’s hand from his wrist.
He dug into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled dollar bills. It was mostly ones and fives, but it added up to more cash than Jimmy would usually carry around. As he unfolded the bills, he saw that they had been folded around a few credit cards too.
"You're pickpocketing again." Mike observed out loud.
Jimmy felt the shame radiate through him as he defeatedly nodded and held back more sobs. The guilt had been eating him alive for weeks, this now a painful yet therapeutic release. He gave a few weak protests when Mike checked his other pockets but didn't fight it anymore, laying in a pool of self hatred. Mike found a few watches, cell phones, and rings as he kept searching. It made that Hello Kitty cell phone in Saul's desk seem far less innocent, Mike wondering if he stole it from some little girl. He couldn't help but scowl and shake his head at the scummy petty theft. It was so pointless.
"Goddamn it, Jimmy…" He said under his breath, "Look at all this worthless shit, will ya? What's the point?"
Jimmy mumbled, "I'm sorry, Mike… I just backslid, that's all."
Mike huffed, "You've been backsliding for two months, I could tell something was wrong."
He went to take the suit off of Jimmy but he sat up to get away, " I'm fine ."
"Lay back down." Mike ordered, "You're done getting out of bed for the night… Besides, you reek of smoke."
Jimmy looked outraged, Mike swatting his hand away as he unzipped the top, slipping it off of him. He froze when he saw the bruises and marks on Jimmy's arms, raising his t-shirt lightly to catch a glimpse at the ones on his torso. Jimmy flinched but slowly relaxed as Mike traced a hand over them. Some were old while others looked fresh, but they all ranged from grey, purple and light blue.
"You said you weren't hurt..." Mike said, a bit of betrayal in his voice.
Jimmy relaxed under Mike's touch, saying, "They were just a few scuffles, nothing I couldn't handle."
Mike sighed and slowly pulled Jimmy's pants down, revealing more marks on his thighs. These areas were more sensitive, the bruises varying from dark purple to yellow. Mike wanted to track down whoever did this to Jimmy and blow their brains out. But at the same time, he knew at one point he would've knocked the lawyer around for pulling some shitty con on him too. Maybe that's what hurt the most, Jimmy was doing this to himself.
Mike left his boxers on, but something told him they hid more marks of abuse on his hips and sides. He soon had Jimmy in just his underwear and t-shirt, all his treasures sitting on the bedside table in plain view.
"I'm ok." Jimmy tried to reassure Mike, his voice weak.
Mike got back under the covers, holding Jimmy close even as he didn't believe him. Jimmy wasn't ok but Mike could make him ok, he just had to stay diligent.
"No more sneaking off like that, ok?" Mike said in a tone that told him not to push it.
Jimmy nodded as he relaxed in Mike's arms like that's what he needed this entire time, even if he was the one keeping his distance.
"I'm sorry, Mike." He repeated, voice still heavy as he was recovering from his crying.
Mike gave him some peace of mind now after driving home the fact that Jimmy needed to change, nodding lightly.
"I forgive you, but that doesn't mean you get to do it again. No more ." Mike said, "I want you to say it."
Jimmy sighed lightly before nodding, "No more Slippin Jimmy, just- consider him dead and gone..."
It wasn't that easy, but Mike knew the lawyer needed to fool himself at first. He didn't give Jimmy any more of a hard time though, instead turning the light off and holding Jimmy like he used to. Mike knew what an unsafe habit was like; Jimmy would have to carry this weight from day to day until the screaming urge faded to a whisper.
Jimmy was loyal to the end and always eager to help, the PI remembering the look in his lawyer's eyes after he helped stake out Los Pollos Hermanos.
"Who's got your back, huh? … Me, that's who."
Mike had Jimmy’s back too, but in a different way. Jimmy wasn't aware that Mike knew how to tell when someone was faking, even if he wasn't looking at them. He could hear it in their breathing and feel it in their pulse, too quick no matter how much you tried to slow it down.
So that's how Mike helped Jimmy stay in line, waiting in silence until his breathing finally slowed and his heart settled into a steady rhythm. Some nights it took 30 minutes and others it would be a few hours, but Mike didn't complain or tell Jimmy that he knew he was pretending. The lawyer would wait but Mike would wait longer, having years of experience. He needed to be there to protect Jimmy from himself; hold on and never let go.