Misc.

better call saul 3

bullets ripped through joel henderson and abruptly breathless he went tumbling down. 

gus had told him to keep an eye on the cartel. simple, you'd think. besides, certain members of the cartel tolerated joel. he was...versatile that way. 

everything was supposed to be clear. 

supposed to be.

and yet, here he was caught in a shootout somewhere way out in the new mexico desert, far from any sort of on hand medical attention should he need it, and dear god he was about to. 

there was one that tore through his shoulder, another one hitting a spot eerily further in near his collarbone. a third bullet seared past his stomach, a final one finding a home by his ribs. 

startled, he dropped his gun, and time felt like it slowed down. adrenaline rushed through his brain and his chest heaved. joel's shirt blossomed patches of red, like a screwed up watercolour painting, and he lifted his hand to his shoulder, seeing his fingers come back shiny and red.

someone pulled him behind a truck, throwing him out of harm's way. 

joel's head hit the gravel unceremoniously and lalo salamanca was over him almost instantly, holding him close.

a dead boy of fring's would cause outrage.

the twenty-something year old felt someone pull him up, and a sort of fire burned through his wounds. reality came crumbling back down on him like an avalanche, and within seconds he was buried in and choking on tons upon tons of snow.

joel screamed raw and in pain. his hand clenched the wrist gripping him by the shoulder. he kicked at the dirt, trying anything he could to weasel out of the hold lalo had on him.

"stop, put me down." he gasped.

"shut up. shut up right now your life depends on it." lalo hissed at him.

behind a broken down truck, they found a moment of safety.

lalo salamanca, pressed a hand firmly down on the gunshot wounds to stem the flow of blood oozing from joel's chest and the boy yelled again in agony. a bloody hand grabbed lalo's shirt and writhed in his arms, clawing at his shoulders with the same ferality of an abused dog. 

it was a painful scene to witness. he screamed more through tears, grabbing lalo's collar with his free hand. 

"stop it PLEASE god stop it." he sobbed, barely processing himself be pulled up into the backseat of the car and lalo yelling "drive!" to nacho. 

joel layed bleeding out on nacho varga's back seat kicking and screaming while lalo goddamn salamanca tried desperately to do everything in his power to keep the boy from dying in his arms. 

he was delirious with pain. 

joel had been beaten before, stabbed, even. but this took the cake. this took the cake by miles, running off with it in the distance and singing a funny little mocking song while it did so. joel wanted sleep. he wanted to close his eyes and make it all go away, but the moment he closed his eyes he was abruptly woken by lalo shaking him.

"¡ey! quédate conmigo pedazo de mierda." 

"please." joel whimpered, slipping into the dark again. he felt lalo shake him once more but he was too far gone to comply with salamanca's wishes. something heavy and warm flooded his brain and faint notes of gunpowder, smoke, and palo santo danced across his mind before he dove too deep to come back up for air.

-

the bullets were taken out. 

the blood flow was stemmed. 

joel was nauseous by the time it was over. he wouldn't stop whimpering lalo's name and in  a potential stupid act of pity the man stayed, sitting on the floor covered in the blood of a man young enough to be his son. 

eventually, joel woke up long enough for them to get him into the car and for lalo to drive him home. 

joel invited him in. 

he was sweaty and feverish, and struggled to take two steps forward. leaning heavily on the man who had been by his side all day they made it to the bathroom and carefully, he let lalo change the bandages on his arms and hips. his fingers were gentle, carefully tracing the outline of the bandage, making sure it was sticking properly. 

joel, in his strange delirium felt a warm washcloth run over his torso, cleaning some of the extra blood off, and putting a clean shirt on him before helping him saying "come on amigo, lets go to bed huh? you'll feel better in the morning." 

the soft feeling of safety lingered in bed with joel all night and he had never felt more comforted in the world, though he knew the irony of the situation was astronomical.