Chapter Text
“Just tell me what to do. Whatever it is, I'll do it.”
Jimmy hates being honest and upright with his brother, because he knows he would eventually use it against him. But he has no choice, he needed to be bailed out of prison – leaving Slippin’ Jimmy and the Chicago sunroof behind.
It tastes bitter-sweet on his tongue as he gulps down the chamomile tea with a heavy heart and leans back on Chuck's couch, his eyes roving around the familiar living room.
Five years since he had last seen his brother – since he had been able to walk down a path of his own choosing, only to be back here again, squeezed between tight walls and throbbing guilt, stripping him of his freedom.
“I need to know that you’re being honest, Jimmy. I need to know that you will change.” Chuck slurps his own tea, a biting sound that crawls under his skin, because he knows that's not all – things with Chuck are always tied to ropes.
He’s pressing his lips to a narrow line, following the movement of Chuck’s dark eyes hovering above him. “Yeah, of course.”
“I’ve talked to mom again,” Chuck looks down at the ground when a dark shadow crosses his gaze, like a thundercloud on a summer's day, bearing the heaviness of the rain. “We both agree you need to start fresh.”
Jimmy leans forward, placing his mug on the table and soaking in the oppressive air – he always liked the scent of rain, but it carried a note of bitterness, of disappointment, this time. “I know. That’s been the deal to bail me out, remember?”
And as their gazes meet in a storm of thunder, their words hang between them like an unanswered question – it was only a matter of time who would set the punctuation mark.
“I’ve talked to Howard this morning,” Chuck’s voice is croaking, choking the words out like an unpleasant memory. “We want to offer you a job.”
“A job?” And in the depths of his imagination, a dormant thought of his youth awakens, something he had always admired so much about his brother. Something he had hoped to do himself.
For a brief moment he allowed himself to be astonished, to wonder, and dwell on things that were buried deep inside of him – but the harsh reality was unfurled in Chuck like a sharp mirror, cutting off the moment before Jimmy could lose himself in it. “You’re going to take up a legitimate job in the mailroom of HHM and you’re going to live with me for the first months.”
And as if something bursts inside him, the thought gets lost in the tense air, but Jimmy doesn't feel relieved — he feels like something's missing. “Okay. Sure.”
“And on top of all that,” smugness twitches at the corner of Chuck’s mouth as he takes another sip of his tea and finally leans forward again, eyes hissing. “Do not dare to make a fool out of me, Jimmy. I’m risking everything for you. This is your last chance.”
It’s a stern warning, Jimmy can sense it through closed windows, the eagerness buzzing through the room, threatening to swallow him – it’s just that every darkness needs a little switch of light. “Come on, Chuck,” he giggles slightly, bowing his head to the side, “This guy? Wouldn’t dare to ruin it.”
Without another word, Chuck stands up and leaves the room, the gravity of his thoughts still lingering on Jimmy’s shoulders. He didn’t believe Jimmy could do it.
But he promised. Whatever it is, Jimmy would do it – he would be all in, head first, ready to dive in the ocean of his sins and learn how to swim at the constant threat of being pulled down.
It meant leaving Cicero behind and moving to Albuquerque – Jimmy’s living hell on burning earth, living with his brother under the same roof again. And it meant working in the mailroom of his brother’s empire, obfuscating in the shadow of his brother’s achievements, rotting in a dark basement, transporting mail with winged sandals and a “devinine trickster” stamp.
But he would do it. It was his only chance at a new beginning.
____
He’s counting the stairs as he trudges them down, clocking thirty-five until the wooden door jumps into his view, swinging open with a loud crack.
He just manages to dodge, as a woman backs out of the door, pulling a mail truck behind her. “Woah, easy tiger.”
She turns her head to look at him as she passes, starry blue eyes glaring at him, stress gathering between the small crease on her forehead. “Time is of the essence. The other truck is behind the files, bring it up to three.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The words leave him almost like a light breath, floating between them like butterflies on a warm summer day and he can't quite say what it is that draws the big smile onto his lips.
And before she turns the wagon around and her back on him again, he thinks he sees her crystal eyes darting over him, and a faint smile gracing her cherry red mouth – but he could be wrong, for she's so engrossed in her work, in her thoughts, that she doesn't even realize he's new, that it's his first day at work and he has no idea what she had just said.
“You better get to work, Mr. McGill doesn’t like lousy workers,” she calls as she follows her usual route, and for Jimmy, it sounds like the line of a poem, because it’s teasing, served with sass and sweet as cinnamon and he wants nothing more than to form the next verse in a perfect rhyme.
In the distance, her blonde ponytail swishes as she strides into the elevator, leaving Jimmy standing awe-struck in the doorway, heart pounding and soaked in fascination.
___
He makes a game out of it – following her every movement, her quick steps, the melody of her deep voice, as he distributes the letters to colleagues, takes a close look at their name tags and faces.
It’s funny, cause he doesn’t know her name, doesn’t know her role – she seems to be the only mystery, closed in the envelope of her story, and even if he is surrounded by letters, it is hers that he wants to open and read, about which he wants to learn more.
The job is easy, doesn't exactly tax him, doesn't even begin to fulfill him, but it's her presence that gives him a certain kick throughout the day, that sweetens the bitterness of his new existence.
Not until the early evening does he get a chance to talk to her – entering the mailroom excitedly, he can’t grasp a sign of her, except for a carelessly tossed packet of cigarettes on her desk telling him where to possibly find her.
Stealing a cigarette from the pack, he tucks it behind his ear and sneaks to the back exit of the hallway that leads him to the parking garage and to none other than her: leaning against the wall, dark blue high-heels emphasizing her long legs, dressed in black linen trousers - a gray blouse completing the outfit.
The cigarette dances between her fingers as she takes a hard drag and the tip turns golden – the glimmers of which getting lost in the billows of smoke.
“Oh hey. Didn’t see you there.” He walks over to her, as if dragged by her mere presence, unable to stay away.
She doesn’t even move her head, as she takes another hit on the cigarette, blowing out the smoke in tiny circles. “Hey yourself.”
A familiar warmth swaps over him, as his body crashes next to her against the wall, sucking in a deep breath of the heavy air that lingers between them. In the distance of the parking lot, he can make out his brother’s car, black as the night, the red lights distorted into a scary face. Swallowing down the image of the vigilant presence in his life, he pulls the cigarette from his ear and lets it tumble between his fingers. “You have a lighter?”
With a quick movement, she puts her cigarette in her mouth and rummages in her pocket for the lighter – as she leans towards him, he protectively wraps his hands around the cigarette, and it’s now that he can see her eyes sparkle more clearly, the soft texture of her skin glittering in a flash. With a second click, a yellow-orange flame ignites between them, burning the tip of his cigarette and piercing through their unfamiliar closeness.
Breathing in a heavy load of toxins, filling his lungs with the bitter-sweet poison of temptation, his shoulder gently brushes against hers for a second. “Departement four is a lot, huh?”
She shrugs his remark away, as she exhales, tracing the fainting plumes of smoke coloring the night in silver-gray. “You get used to it.”
“Yeah, I don’t have a chance anyway.”
“You seem enthusiastic about your new job.” She eyes him from the side, her gaze dwelling on him for a second longer than usual.
He takes the opportunity to lock eyes with her, taking in her mesmerizing beauty and the tough, colder side of her. It’s something he isn’t used to, but it’s something that warms up his freezing blood. “It’s more of an obligation if you know what I mean.”
Nodding her head, she seems to have solved some kind of formula, her lips twitching, as if contemplating her next words carefully. “You’re Mr. McGill’s brother.”
Her statement draws him back to the cigarette, inhaling all his questions with the acerbic taste of smoke and tobacco. “News travels fast around here.”
“It’s not every day that we have such high company.”
“Well, seems like you have to get used to my face now.” Jimmy thinks he’s dreaming, talking to someone who seems to be on the same page, and yet, being so full of mystery, of secrets – secrets he would like to unveil.
She smiles into her next hit, cherry red marks coloring the place where her lips rest, letting the smoke go deep into her lungs. “Would make the work in the cold basement a little more fun.”
“Can’t deny that, Ma’am.”
An honest laugh escapes her and Jimmy lets it go to his head in an instant, reminding himself to come back to this moment tonight, when he couldn’t sleep. “So, what did you do to end up here?”
Regarding her with raised brows, he shifts a little closer to her, almost forgetting the cigarette in his hand. “Oh, wow. We’re getting all personal now.”
“Just wanting to get to know my new colleague.”
“Speaking of which, what is your name?”
He mirrors her next move, taking another drag, as he watches her smoke, the question still floating between them like an invisible string, tying them back to a special moment in time. “Kim. Kim Wexler.”
“Kim,” he chews her name, twists and turns it on his tongue, and he quickly feels the beauty of it, the validity of it. It’s a part of her story, it’s a beginning. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Oh wow,” she bites back a laugh, altering it into a daring smirk, “does this usually work?”
“Depends on the goal.”
“And your name?” Her gaze carries anticipation, even if she doesn't quite let it show - like the sun shining through the curtains on a summer morning, too bright to be invisible but not clear enough to illuminate the room.
Using all his charm, he mimics his brother's voice and movement, raising his eyebrows and deepening his intonation. “McGill. The name’s James McGill.”
And at the sight of her smiling look he finds satisfaction, he finds understanding - like waves they drive in the same direction through the deep sea of the dark world. “Nice to meet you, James McGill.”
“You know what?” He leans closer, shoulders bumping into each other again, but she doesn’t seem to mind the sparkling shock that’s rushing through their arms. At least, he doesn’t. “You can call me Jimmy.”
“Jimmy?” Her cigarette is back in her mouth, but she turns her head slightly to the side to exhale the smoke, her shoulder still touching his.
“Yeah.”
With a light flick, she lets the cigarette fall to the ground and crushes the stump with the heel of her shoe, before intermingling their eyes and putting on a cold face again – as if she were closing the door she had just started to open. “Well, then let’s go back to work, Jimmy.”
He breathes the next words into the vastness of the parking lot, almost hearing them echo back as he follows her with brisk steps, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. “Whatever you say, Miss Wexler.”