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The coldness of the night wraps 'round me like a blanket tight
It gets inside, you see, and kills the fire inside of me
Oh, I dream of you through all my shades of blue
Oh, I still love you through all my shades of blue
- Ruen Brothers, All My Shades of Blue
“ Om namo narayanaya…om namo narayanaya …”
“I was– saying! The ugly guy came in again today, and he’s set up all this equipment. He’s cooking, I knew it. I knew it!”
“ Om namo– ”
“Shut up! You can’t Buddha your way out of talking to me, you prick!”
“-- narayanaya …”
Howard did not open his eyes throughout Lalo’s diatribe. He had a list of personal rules he adhered to when it came to his nemesis, and he never broke:
- Drown him out whenever you can;
- Never refer to him as anything but Eduardo;
- Focus on escaping this Purgatory, and leave Eduardo Salamanca, The Man Who Killed You, to Hell
“One day I’ll figure it out, you know. One day I’ll learn how to get physical with you, and I’ll break your fucking nose!”
There was the sound of Lalo smashing his fist impotently against one of the low metal tables. It wasn’t a very loud sound, for he had only just learned to make any impact at all in the last year. But there was a sound, and it echoed through the cavernous circle of hell in which they guarded their broken and sleeping bodies.
Howard cracked open an eye, and flinched to see Lalo’s fist swing directly at him. He braced for the impact, as ever. And as ever, there was none. Whatever unholy law of physics bound them to the superlab, neither could hurt the other.
And how they had tried.
In the first few weeks, Howard had raged at Lalo. His own philosophy had been to lead a gentle life, and Atticus Finch was his hero – walk a mile in their shoes, he reminded himself whenever anyone baffled or hurt him. The stance had been tested by Jimmy McGill, and obliterated with a bullet to the skull by Lalo Salamanca.
Some people truly did belong in Hell.
And if this was not Hell (why, he wondered through the long dark nights, why, why, why ? Howard Hamlin wasn’t Catholic, but maybe he should have been and then he would know what minor infraction had sentenced him to this waking torment) then he would be the jury and executioner, and deliver his own punishment to Lalo.
But each time their bitter war of words erupted into violence, nothing happened. Howard’s clenched fist would aim for that irritating, grinning face, and pass through cold air. Lalo tried strangling him, and was left with his fingers clutching nothing – any pretence at violence made them shift a little, a couple of yards from where their victim had been standing.
“It’s fucked up,” muttered Lalo. “What are we gonna do without violence?”
“This!” snarled Howard, and launched a roundhouse kick at his companion.
As his foot touched the Earth again, Lalo regarded him peevishly from across the room. “Stop doing that,” he groused. “Now I gotta walk all the way back over to you to fight.”
The first year passed so slowly.
***
“You know,” said Lalo thoughtfully, leaning his folded arms onto the bridge railing. It was a good vantage point to watch any living person who came into the lab, so they stood there often.
Howard looked at him askance, for it was rare that Lalo had a thoughtful tone to his voice. “What?” he asked, despite himself.
“You do all that omomomom bullshit, and I prayed to every Saint under the sun, but we still end up here. Where’s the sense in that?”
“My dabbling in Buddhism is not comparable to you killing and thinking it’s gone with a simple Hail Mary,” said Howard tersely.
Lalo shrugged. “Seems to me like you must have been more like me than you realised. To be in the same category as me and all.”
“I was never like you in life,” said Howard with quiet malice.
“And yet you’re down here with me, my friend,” said Lalo, spreading his hands. “Looks like God doesn’t differentiate between a Salamanca and an asalariado . Must be all those times you skipped church.”
“You wiped out my – life! Like I was nothing,” he gasped, his face flushed. “Like nothing mattered!”
“It didn’t matter, did it?” said Lalo. “You wanna know what I saw, polla ? Some insignificant man in a suit. Oh sure,” he purred. “Maybe a little good looking, and very well dressed for his boring life of coffee and paperwork. And maybe you were important to all the other little men in suits, and the ladies in their sensible skirts.” He raked his gaze over Howard’s form, still dressed in that suit, a little dishevelled. Almost like he could be touched. Lalo gathered himself again: “But you saw me, and you knew how insignificant you were .”
“I saw your gun ,” he said bitterly. “Without it, what are you? A cheap man who bothers me with the minutiae of a drug den.”
Lalo aimed a punch at him, and glared to see the fist fail to connect. He schooled his face into that grin Howard hated, calculated to annoy. “Yes,” he said. “And it brought you to me.”
“Oh, go to hell,” said Howard. Funny how he always managed to look stung, after a year of trading insults.
But he had shown his hand: this was the longest they had spoken together in months, and needling Howard passed the time suitably for Lalo. He closed in. “I’d do it again,” he said huskily. “I would do it a thousand times, take your life from you, make you mine over and over again, forever.”
“Would you listen to yourself!” snapped Howard. You don’t own me, you have nothing to do with me, you grubby little–”
“Then why are you stuck here, with me? Forever?” Lalo rubbed at his nose thoughtfully. If he had a cold, it would be more interesting. He could have picked it. He sighed. A man couldn’t even pick his nose in Purgatory. “You want to know what I think?” he said. “I think there’s a plan. I think it was, c’mon, destiny that night.”
Howard scoffed. “It was nothing more than – chaos. Some childish game engineered by a childish man who got himself bundled up with the cartel, and my death as a result. He leaned back against the vat, and regarded the laboratory of hellish reds and blacks. “There is no malevolent design here, except that of man.”
“And where do you think man comes from?” Lalo shot back. He pointed towards the ceiling. “It’s all a higher purpose.”
“If God exists,” said Howard evenly. “Then you’re of the devil.”
“You are very unwise,” said Lalo with a smile which did not reach his eyes. “You want to watch what you say to me, my friend.”
Howard did not reply. In fact, he did not reply for several months after that. Instead, he doubled down on his meditation.
***
Eventually, Lalo broke through the om defence. He tried every chant and song, but a bizarre and infuriating children’s song drowned out any peace that a mantra could give Howard. It started up the second Howard closed his eyes and assumed the position for meditation:
Compañía, brazo extendido!
Chuchuwa, chuchuwa
Chuchuwa, wa, wa
Chuchchuwa, chuchuwa
So they came to an angry accord: no more meditation, and no more brazos extendido.
But if Lalo had expected this would mean companionship through the long silent days and nights, he was mistaken. With no project, no mantra to ground him, Howard began to drift.
When it first began to happen, he fancied it might be heaven. Or the Asphodel Fields. Or anywhere except some cold dead laboratory under Albuquerque. He walked through meadows of cornflowers and hydrangea, white and lilac roses. He could almost feel the fresh summer air, although the world around him was the silent and grey-blue skies of that peaceful pre-dawn hush of late summer.
He would allow Lalo to chat away to him aimlessly, and his eyes lost focus, and he drifted. For several months he walked those fields, although like a man grasping for meaning in a fever dream, he gradually lost those pieces he enjoyed. Without a body, he couldn’t quite remember what it felt like for a draught of cold air to embrace him. Was the texture of grass more akin to the steel drums of the laboratory, or the hard cold floor? The flowers gradually became less and less distinct, the solid world fading into shades of blue.
And still, when Lalo was too much, when the pain (dulled now, but sharp at turns if he concentrated) was too much, he drifted into the Blue.
“What’s it like?” Lalo asked one day, a sulky tone curled around his words. “What’s it like when you go --- wherever you go.”
“It’s hard to explain.” Howard pursed his lips, thinking. "An arm around your shoulders when you need it. And I… for a moment everything is still. Calm." He shook his head, shaking away the image of a beckoning hand. “Do you ever feel it? The Blue.”
Lalo shook his head. “No. One minute you are here. Then you get this dopey look on your face and it’s like-- it’s like you just fade away.” Lalo sniffed, turning his head. “It’s fucking creepy.”
“Well. We are ghosts.”
“Yeah, well some of us are more committed to it, I guess,” Lalo said with a sneer. “Sometimes…”
“What?”
“Sometimes you are gone for days.” Lalo fixed his stare upon him. “And I don’t know if that’s you done. Trippin’ the light fantastic with chubby little cherubs.”
“I don’t think it’s Heaven,” said Howard quickly.
“Oh? Then what in your expert opinion is it?” At Howard’s wordless shake of the head, he tutted. “Figures. You’ll never get your harp, if you don’t believe, Howie.” He glanced back at Howard, from the corner of his eye. “You’ll stay, right? For a bit.”
For a moment the drift lowered over him, the familiar warmth tugging and pulling. The soft feeling against his skin. “Yes,” he said and it moved on, releasing him. “I prefer to stay for now.”
But the sensation against his skin remained, although centred onto one point alone. With a glance down, he looked at his hands and Lalo’s finger which was gently pressed against his own, knuckle against knuckle and feather light. Stunned, he tore his gaze back up to Lalo, who seemingly had not noticed. “I’ll stay,” he repeated.
Lalo drew his hand away.
***
Staying didn’t always seem like the better choice: time passed slowly in the lab.
Howard liked to consider himself elevated above the corporeal, but the truth was: life was boring without a body. He couldn’t eat, sleep, swim, fight, drink, anything . There was his mind, and exploring the dungeon-lab, and… Lalo.
***
“... So savoury, so spicy, so Salamanca… you would drown your own brother just for a taste.”
“What are you doing?” Howard asked, watching Lalo bend and click the air. “Are you imaginary cooking again? I can’t watch you cry and curse imaginary onions again. That was purgatory.”
“That was lamb barbacoa, and you weren’t complaining when I cooked you my famous tacos, no?”
“You watched me without blinking for several minutes. I started to feel impolite.”
“Ay, impolite he says, while he lets it go cold. And who asked for seconds? Hmm?”
“After four hours of watching you frown and fake stir, I’d have done anything to break the monotony. Can we just start the movie?”
“Relax! It’s only popcorn. Can’t have a movie without popcorn. And these - DING- “ Lalo jumped, clutching his heart. “Puta!”
“Eduardo, why are you feigning surprise? You made the ding noise.”
“Howie, will you lighten up and take this bowl. God, every day with you!”
Wordlessly, Howard cupped his palms and took the imaginary bowl that Lalo offered him. And for a moment, he could see it: yellow and inviting, tinged at the tips, heat burning his palm where the tupperware grew in warmth. He could swear the toasted and sugary smell hit his nostrils and took him back to a land of cinemas, and laughter and chatter and people.
“Okay. so it’s your turn and please God, no more art films or things where people hang out with rabbits and don’t get locked up for being whackjobs.” Lalo set himself on the floor, patting around as if softening cushions. “How about something with a little romance? A little pzazz.”
Howard frowned to himself, absurdly setting the imaginary snack between them as he joined Lalo on the floor. “What about something with Audrey Hepburn?”
Lalo considered, grin crooked. “Nice. Yeah, I could look at her, I guess.”
“And Gregory Peck?”
“Even better!” Lalo nudged an elbow in his direction. “Although, gentlemen prefer blonds.” He tapped his lip. “Oh, hey --”
“I’m not doing another musical, Lalo. I‘m not having another evening of you critiquing my falsetto.”
“Fine, fine.” He rolled his hand with a tiny flourish. “Proceed.”
“Okay. Okay.” Howard closed his eyes, finding the memory from his childhood. A rainy Sunday afternoon, curled in his mother’s lap while his dad was at some work event or another, they were legion in number. Her fingers in his hair, as they watched the old black and white play out before them. The scent of iris and jasmine lingering in the air. Soft sighs and laughs and perhaps muffled sobs at all the right parts as that finger played loosely with a strand on his head. Centering him. Anchoring him.
Keeping him safe.
A flash of colour just on his periphery. Almost blue in its hue instead of the darkness to which he had grown accustomed. He blinked, and it was gone.
“A long time ago, in the City of Rome. A princess came to visit…”
***
If there were any comfort in the long drifting darkness, it was that Lalo was constantly in a good mood. Even when his smile was plastered on and his joviality clearly fake, he never let the mask slip. A man could get used to it.
And then one day, a very suave man dressed in a business suit appeared at the door. And Lalo’s smile disappeared from his face; his very countenance was one of hateful rage.
It was the first time Lalo had shown anything approaching real anger. It shouldn’t have intimidated Howard, but the very hairs on the back of his neck stood up with the prickling intensity and roiling hatred in the air. “Eduardo,” he muttered. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, shut the fuck up,” said Lalo. And he was silent and angry for the rest of the day.
***
The next morning, Howard sat down next to him at the far corner from their graves, where Lalo had glowered at nothing all night, muttering low in Spanish.
Howard had allowed an overnight sulk but did not believe in breaching the sacred rule of Ephesians 4:26-27 , and so Lalo needed a friendly chat.
“You know, “ said Howard at length. “I do believe that is the quietest night’s rest I’ve had in years.”
“This your idea of a pep talk, huh?”
“It’s talking , period.”
“I don’t want to talk about chicken man.”
Howard blinked. “Excuse me?”
But Lalo was on a roll. “Ay!” he said, and sat up angrily. “You know what that bastard chicken man did?”
Howard hesitated. “Something to do with chicken?”
“He killed me!”
Howard gaped. “...So?”
“ So ?”
He pointed a finger at himself. “You expect me to side with you on this one?”
“Oh, you’re gonna drag that up now, huh? Fuck out of here, let me think in peace.”
Howard shrugged. “He must’ve had good reason.”
“No, no. He killed me before I could kill him.”
“Well, that sounds like self-defence. The Court would side with him.”
“What Court! The angels? You think Chicken Man will go to heaven, pendejo? No, he’ll burn in hell. Fucking chicken man.”
“Who – and I will likely regret asking this – is Chicken Man? Your arch nemesis is someone called Chicken Man? Are you a wrestler?”
“Oh, stop with the act! You know Chicken Man.”
Howard stared.
“You know, that loser who runs Pollos Hermanos.”
“That’s just a cartoon,” he explained patiently. They’re not – the logo is just a logo. It’s not owned by an actual chicken and his brother.”
“Huh, a comedian! I see you looking around, catching the Judge’s eye. Ah, yes. The Defendant is loco, huh? What a cheap joke. But you know I mean Gustavo Fring.”
Howard shook his head. “Who is Gustavo Fring?”
“The Black man who was here yesterday,” said Lalo, spreading his hands wide. “You know, from the adverts?”
“I don’t really watch television.”
“But you’ve had his chicken, right?”
“I don’t eat junk food.'
Lalo smiled slowly, eyes crawling up Howard. 'That? I can see.'
Howard preened. “I box, you know.”
His companion didn’t answer for the longest time, merely regarded the cold silent laboratory solemnly. At length, he said: “If I could just feel something, for one day–”
He let the sentence trail off, and was silent once more.
***
Men came and went in the huge underground chamber, delivering supplies, setting up what looked like laboratory equipment, and left. Long hours stretched with nothing but the dim low lights and the low thrum of electricity as company.
And Lalo.
Lalo liked to find a vantage point up on the bridge and survey what was going on below, like a demented foreman:
“Ah, yes. Put that over there, wiggle that ass. Oh, gordito is back! I missed him!”
Their favourite character on the platform of perdition was the bustling middle-aged scientist who excitedly tended to the laboratory equipment. Gale, they soon learned.
Gale was given to listening to opera and spindly renditions of The Threepenny Opera and Italian folk music. Howard enjoyed his presence; the room was filled with light and infectious happiness when Gale was in his element. He didn’t walk with a purposeful stride, or cast mean looks at the thin air which made Howard step back in remembered fear; he was just a good and happy man, strutting his hour for their benefit.
When the workmen had delivered the supplies, and a new recurring cast member had appeared for the day (“Hey! It’s old man Walter!”, Lalo had cheered), the door was shut on the tableau before them. Walter and Gale enjoyed some whispered conversation below. Lalo jumped with catlike ease from the bridge to the floor. "Okay, Howie!” he said briskly, and slapped Howard's arm as he made his way by him. "Did I miss anything?"
"They’re making the coffee,” said Howard. He stared raptly, adoringly, at Gale.
Lalo pulled a face. "This guy gets worse. What else is on TV?"
"No! Look, Eduardo! He has a contraption!" Howard pointed excitedly. "For coffee!"
"Oh, my God!” drawled Lalo, stalking over to where Gale jabbered away with a man they had seen before. "I love this little weirdo. What in hell is a quinic?"
" Shh ! I'm missing it!" Howard flapped a hand at him, as Gale continued to explain about leaching tannins and correct temperature levels
They watched in hushed silence as Walter took a sip.
"He fucking loves it! Look at him. My man, Gale, you --- Wait? That’s the secret ingredient– coffee?” spluttered Lalo.
"What did you expect it to be?" Howard asked with a smirk, as the two men made their way away and into cooking meth apparel.
"Well, I don't know! Something a bit more show stopping than that!" He worried at his lips and looked over at Gale and Walt. "Do you think that they-- ." He waggled his eyebrows. "Share morning coffees?"
"Don't be absurd!" Howard replied. He glanced over as Gale lovingly patted at Walt's head like an attentive nurse to an efficient surgeon. "Umm."
"Right? This guy is definitely writing Walt's name surrounded by hearts in his book margins. I'm just saying."
“I suspect you are a closet romantic, Eduardo!"
"How coincidental. I think you have closet tendencies yourself.”.
"Droll." Howard rolled his eyes. "You know, I was always quite partial to tea, personally.”
“You always find new ways to disappoint me. It’s like a special talent.”
“What’s wrong with tea? It’s comforting!”
“There’s a reason they dumped it into the sea, sweetie. If you have to douse it in lemons, and cream and sugar to make it not taste like boiled piss then maybe you should just accept it wasn’t meant to be consumed.”
'You, my friend, are a philistine. Cheryl was the same. She couldn't even abide the smell of an Earl Grey, she…" Howard bit his lip, realising his error. "Yes, so anyway, I--"
"Who's Cheryl?" Lalo smiled, sensing Howard's immediate discomfort. "A secretary with daddy issues? One of your partner's bored housewives?"
"Must you be so crude all the time? She was… is? She was my wife."
Strangely, Lalo looked surprised at the information. Almost chastened. "Oh." He turned away. "I hadn't realised."
Howard tilted his head and held up his hand, wedding ring gleaming in the afterlife.
"Yes, Howie. I have eyes, stunning ones, but I figured that was a prop or something." He waved a hand. "Something to stop the little briefcase men gossiping about your many, many trips to Fire Island." He looked back, briefly making eye contact before finding a fascination with the floor. "Plus, you've never mentioned her."
"Because… she doesn't belong here. Not in this world. No matter what happened between us. I can't - won't - have that."
“Oh!" Lalo immediately perked up. "What happened? She play away?” Lalo winced. “Ah. You bad in bed, huh? Figures. You look like a pillow princess.
“A pillow wh--- no, I am not bad in bed!”
“Wow. No need to brag.” Lalo bumped his shoulder. “But I’m a visual learner so…”
“Tempting,” said Howard, rolling his eyes -- and ignoring the tinge of truth in that. “No. No one cheated. Not like that." He frowned, it felt cheap to her, to discuss her with Lalo. But in another way, the tiny crack in his armour was comforting. Almost like The Blue's confidante air when it came for him. "No one cheated. But I did betray her. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was -- God, I guess helping people.” Howard shook his head, and stared down at his open palms. “I acted without thinking about us, the future that we had spent so long building. Everything we had talked about.” He glanced up and at Lalo’s puzzled face, and gave a small bitter huff of laughter. “I needed to buy out my old partner. I used my own money. Our money. I thought overall that I was --- that I was the hero, I guess. And I hurt her. I didn’t trust her to see the same as me and I just --- I wanted to be a good guy. And I hurt my wife in the process. Because I stopped thinking of us as a team. That was the beginning of the end, I think.”
“I’m sorry, man. She sounds like she was a colossal bitch.”
“No,” said Howard softly. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Fair enough,” murmured Lalo. “Then again, if you took my money, I’d have shot you in the face.”
“You did shoot me in the face!”
“Oh. Oh yeah, haha!” Lalo slapped his knee, making a crude squirt noise with his mouth and imitating a splash against the wall. “That was pretty funny.”
Howard sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t hell?”
“You wound me.” Lalo held a hand to his chest, face contorted in mock hurt “But I’ll power through.” He regarded Howard for a moment, before giving a nod and gripping his shoulder. The touch was grounding. Almost a comfort. “You aren’t in hell, Howard. I think you probably were a hero. A naive, one thrust and done tea drinking dullard -- but yeah, you were probably a hero. I don’t find that hard to believe.”
A tiny piece of stone in Howard’s chest gave a twinge, crumbling slightly at the words. He felt lighter. Better. Swallowing over a lump that found its way to his throat, Howard gripped at Lalo’s hand that still held his shoulder tight.
“Why then,” asked Howard, quietly. “Why are we here? Is this forever?”
Lalo narrowed his eyes and looked away, but his fingers tightened slightly in their grip. An evident tremor.
“Something changed, though, didn’t it? I can--- I can feel you, now.” Howard continued, looking at their clasped hands. “Change can still happen. Even here.”
“Yeah. But why make sense of it? Maybe The Fates knew I’d bend you over the nearest available surface so they were acting as chaperones.” Lalo plastered a grin on his face, but one that walked with a limp. “Who knows. Why care?”
“Can you be serious?” Howard said, shrugging away from Lalo’s touch, a hot blush rising. “And the first thing you tried to do to me was strangle me, if I recall.”
“Nothing but a little bit of foreplay, my friend. Esh. Your poor wife.” Lalo pulled his face into contrition. “What? I was defending her, not insulting her. I bet you used to listen to the traffic reports to rouse yourself up.”
"I did n---" He glanced over at Gale and Walt, eyebrows raised. "I think you may be right."
"That you are vanilla in the sack?"
"No! About Gale. I'm… I'm pretty sure he's just started reciting poetry."
"Fucking yes! Okay, it's your turn to make the popcorn." Lalo scrambled away, laughing and shooting over his shoulder. "Come on, Howie, what if he proposes and you miss it!"
Despite himself, Howard felt himself begin to laugh.
The afterlife was certainly more absurd than he ever could have believed.
***
Lalo kicked his feet against the table where he was perched. “Okay, new set! Jesse, Walter or Mike.”
“Mike?”
“Wow, Howard. I knew you were a dirty bitch.”
“What--I meant -- which one is Mike again?”
“Human Eeyore. I’m pretty certain he would have been the one who picked out this lovely spot for us.” Lalo tutted. “That’s a good point. I’d kill Mike, fuck Jesse and marry Walt. But I’d kill Walt, too. Just later.”
“I don’t actually recall agreeing to this game,” Howard sighed. “And Jesse is young enough to be my son. And yours. ”
“Don’t make it weird and gross. You’re the one who has a grandpa kink.”
“I don’t – I wish you would let me think… “ Howard clapped a hand to his eyes, blinking against the stinging fatigue, or at least a facsimile of it so convincing that he could feel the haze just on his eyeline. “What was I-- “
“Do you -- holy shit, I can smell something!” Lalo jumped to his feet, grabbing at his chin and spinning wildly. “Can you -- can you smell that? It’s like ---” he sniffed. “Jasmine. That’s jasmine and --.”
“Iris,” finished Howard, struggling to see Lalo through the blurred shimmer. “ Chanel No’ 19 .”
“This is something! God, it’s borderline stray cat stink but least it’s something! I need Gale to get in here with a cup of Joe so I can bury my head in -- are you even listening?” A voice from another room now. Another world. “It’s here, isn’t it? Look, you don’t have to go, you know. Just tell it to take a walk. Just st--.”
There was no way to describe to Lalo just how vital this drugged feeling of peace and nothingness was – the laboratory dissolving into nothingness as the Blue swirled and crept in like fog on a San Francisco morning. It rendered everything dreamy and soft and filled with yearning.
Howard. His name whispered by a long ago love. My Howard.
He followed and followed and followed…
***
“Where were you?” said Lalo. “You’ve missed out on a very good day.”
“I was drifting again, Eduardo,” said Howard softly. “I was lost in the Blue.”
“You gotta be careful with that,” murmured Lalo. He placed a warm hand on Howard’s shoulder and massaged it firmly.
Howard didn’t pull away or flinch. Lalo was the only thing solid and real to him now, and the Blue gradually dissolved from his fogged circle of vision.
“What– is there someone attacking them? Chicken Man?”
“A fly,” laughed Lalo. “This pair of idiots have been chasing a goddamn fly all morning.” He stopped massaging Howard’s shoulder, but grabbed at his arm.
Howard returned the gesture, clinging to Lalo like a drowning man. The last tendrils of the Blue had dissipated now. “How long was I gone?” he swallowed.
Lalo turned to him, his warm brown eyes thoughtful. “We don’t talk about that now,” he childed. “Look – oh, man! They have a fly swatter!”
“This is what counts for entertainment these days, huh?”
Lalo sat, hand under his chin as Walter lowered the fly swatter and argued with Jesse. The fly swatter was sadly abandoned as their talk turned existential.
Howard was rapt.
“I’m bored,” cut in Lalo. “This is boring.”
“That’s because you can’t appreciate nuance,” sniffed Howard. “If you would just see it as a character study, you---.”
“ Borinnnng . God. Do something! I want – explosions, anything!”
“Just – calm down, and let me listen. Do you know how I’ve missed this kind of talk–”
“God’s sake, man. Did you ever get laid? Like once? You can’t have been this much of a pill when you were alive. Now come over here and help me kill this twink.”
“Stop -- stop trying to shake the ladder! This isn’t Ghost. You can’t move anything with the power of your mind.”
“Always with the heckling. And I moved that newspaper last week? You saw it. Clear as day!”
“That was a cross breeze, and you know it. Please, this is just --” They both started as Jesse gave a tiny gasp and the steps gave a lurch, steel creaking an ugly noise against the floor. “Did you just-- “
“Shit, I think I did!” Lalo said gleefully. “Right, come put your back into this. We need it to be a good clear skull crack because I don’t want to deal with a brain damaged poltergeist.”
“Eduardo, will you just -- Eduardo!” Howard snapped, feeling a childish urge to stomp his foot. “Will you just stop?”
“Jealousy, doesn’t suit you, Dolly Parton. There we go -- just a little more, come on--”
“Stop!”
“Fuck!” Lalo shouted, spinning away from Jesse and eyes flashing. “Why do you even fucking care, man, huh?” He laughed bitterly, with a shake of his head. “You going anyway, aren’t you? You going to skip happily off into The Blue and leave me here.” He turned and stared into Howard’s face. “Leave me on my own.”
“You deserve to be left alone,” said Howard. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“Then I’m taking the twink with me!” said Lalo. He narrowed his eyes and splayed his fingers, concentrating with all his might. But Walter had already moved to the ladder, was slurring some sad and meaningless confession, and the weight of his corporeal body outmatched Lalo’s bitter attempt effortlessly. The ladder held firm.
But Lalo still raged, uselessly. He cursed in low guttural Spanish, his form tense and angry as he glowered at Walt. “ Muevete pendejo I swear to God above I will torment you forever– !”
“Eduardo–”
“ I won’t be alone down here you won’t fucking do this to me, you bald ridiculous–”
“Eduardo!” said Howard with feeling, and he reached out his hand and clapped it onto Lalo’s shoulder. Lalo tried to shrug him off, but he only tightened his grip.
“What!” snarled Lalo, and his face was a terrible thing to behold: a parody of impotent wretched fury. “What can you say to fix this!”
Howard let out a deep sad sigh. “I can’t,” he said. He squeezed Lalo’s shoulder. “We can’t do anything.” He swallowed, and met Lalo’s gaze. “Even if we wanted to.”
Lalo regarded him for a long moment, then pushed past him and disappeared into the darkness of the lab.
***
Lalo had been excited all day. Something was happening , and Mike was there, dour and angry, watching over Walter. The air crackled with tension.
Howard couldn’t bear it. He paced around the laboratory, called for the Blue, anything to avoid the roiling anger and Lalo’s increasingly hysterical laughter. He counted his steps as he walked around the lab, as he had a thousand times over . “If you find no one to support you on the spiritual path, walk alone, ” he mumbled to himself over and over, a mantra against this darkness. He would not be pulled down into the darkness with these criminals.
He completed yet another revolution and came upon Mike and Victor listening carefully as Walter spoke something sharp and urgent into a cellphone.
Howard moved closer, curious:
“Listen to me. You’re closer than we are,” said Walter. “You’ll have about a twenty minute lead. They’ve got me at the laundry and they’re gonna kill me. Jesse, do it now! Do it fast. Do it, Jesse. Do it!”
“Son of a bitch !” snarled Victor, as Mike pulled the cellphone from Walt’s grasp.
“Hoo boy !” Lalo screamed with laughter, his hyena laugh echoing through the lab. “It’s on fire now!”
“What’s happening!” gasped Howard, as Victor sprinted along the bridge, right through Lalo.
Lalo grinned. “Oh, I could feel his fear just then!”
“Eduardo! What is happening!”
“No more tarantellas for us, that’s what. Baldy’s going to take out Gale,” said Lalo.
“You – you want that?”
Lalo spread his hands wide. “C’mon, don’t judge. It’s the most excitement we’ve had in months.”
“Stuck here – with that man !” cried Howard, gesturing furiously at Walter.
“They’ll both be dead by the end of the night, chill, Howie.”
“Don’t call me Howie, I’ve told you!”
There followed the most tense and awful minutes. Howard paced the room more frantically. Not Gale. Not gentle, honest, Gale. Not this injustice again .
The cellphone rang. Mike’s face was blank with rage.
“Oh,” whispered Howard. “I think he’s gone. Gale’s gone.” The scene played out around him, chaotic but muted. He was losing focus. He was being pulled away.
“ They shot him ,” said Victor, his voice crackly across the plane that held telephone transmission and the wavelength of The Dead. “ Right in the head. ”
Howard’s world spun on its axis. He swayed.
“Howie. Howard. Don’t. Okay.” Lalo’s voice far away, muffled and lost. “You’re going again. I can’t--- Just stay.”
It was like plunging underwater, how quickly the red lab became nothing but blue, and muffled, and alone. He pushed his way through the Blue, narrowing his eyes, searching for a solid shape: a flower; a person; Cheryl. But the Blue was denser than ever before, a pool thick with chlorine choking all existence around it.
He drifted.
A tug, small but there pulled at him. He heard his name whispered, quiet but urgent. He peered into the Blue, a man seeking a mirage. He closed his eyes.
Slowly, he reopened them.
The lab.
'What is it? What's going on?'
Lalo jumped, turning round. His face was shocked, pleased, worried all at once. Then it smoothed out. Nothing but a trick of the light. “Some crazy shit as always. Think we about to lose our free cable, Howie. Looks like Chicken Man is about to pull some plugs.”
“So he really is dead,” said Howard dully. “Gale.”
Lalo’s eyebrows drew together, pained and uncertain for a moment. The air blew out of him, and he gave a curt nod. “The kid did it. Because of him. ”
As always, Lalo’s demeanour was colder whenever his gaze was on Fring. A little bit of that sardonical mirth that often hung on his lips would fall and leave nothing but a cold husk.
Howard watched with mounting horror as the scene played out before them. “Is he– is he just going to cook?” he muttered.
“Nah, he’s gonna pull some shit now. Just watch.”
Fring began to pull on an orange coverall, his inscrutable eyes fixed upon Walt and Jesse, as the former reiterated that only they knew the recipe, that only they could be trusted, panic crawling over every word.
“You know. I was just starting to like this guy,” Lalo tsked. “He had spunk. Pathetic, of course. But spunky!”
“Something terrible is going to happen,” muttered Howard. “I can’t bear this…”
"Look at him, Howie. You believe this guy. Some Mr Clint Eastwood stuff." He scoffed and walked round Fring as he zipped up the suit and began advancing towards the pair. "Acting like he could he some so- Ohhhh , shit!"
Howard gaped as Fring pulled Victor to him, slashing across his throat in a jagged, savage fashion. Like a forgotten memory fighting to the core, Howard felt bile rush up through him. Clenching his eyes shut, he spun round, bent over as the dying Victor gurgled and spat up the last of his living breath.
"Did you see that? Real sick shit!" Lalo laughed. "Ay dios! This is so gross. Howie come look. There's like total gristle and stuff."
Howard chanced a glance, immediately regretting it. 'Stop that!' He said as Lalo, repeatedly poked at the torn open flesh. 'Now!'
"Oh, man, I swear I'm making it flap!' He gave a high pitched laugh which threatened to fall into full hysteria.
Howard pressed his hands over his ears. “Stop it!” he roared. “Stop it! I can’t stand this–!” Lalo gradually managed to contain himself, and Howard slowly lowered his hands from his ears.
“Wait, waaaait…” said Lalo.
"What?"
“I just thought. You think we about to get a third wheel?” Lalo tapped at his lip. “That's going to ruin the vibe, don't you think?” He shrugged. “I mean, the kid I could handle, he’d be fun to scare. But this guy. Ergh . He never fucking speaks. He’s gonna mess up the whole feng shui in here.” He grimaced. “He can have the corner by the sink, but that’s all I’m gonna give him.”
“Don’t,” breathed Howard, chancing another glance at the corpse on the floor. “Don’t.”
“Fuck’s with you? Seriously, man, you have got to get some balls. Bad enough you float off when things get a little tough, but then when you are here, you are still clinging to ---” Lalo swung his hands. “You are fucking dead, friend. How many times do we need to go through this?”
“It’s different,” he snapped. “You were always like this. I wasn’t. Believe it or not but watching someone get their throat slit wasn’t my usual Saturday night.”
“Howie, I wouldn’t even want to know what you did on your Saturday nights. I assume it involved stamp collecting and warm milk. But that isn’t your life anymore. You have no life - I mean, you had no life before but now you literally have no life.” He smiled to soften his words. “When are you going to get that?”
“Being… being dead doesn’t mean I have to be someone else. Something else. There’s still humanity in me! You don’t understand that because you weren’t human to start with.”
Surprisingly, Lalo looked more frustrated than angry. “We aren’t like before, Howie. We are something else. You have got to let that shit go, or it’s going to be a long eternity, my friend.”
“He wasn’t like them,” said Howard softly.
“Who wasn’t? This guy?” Lalo stared down incredulously. “I can’t even remember him speaking. How the hell did --”
“Gale.”
“Gale?”
“He wasn’t like--”
“There is no them ! ” Lalo spat, speaking as he stepped over the body on the floor. Ignoring the commotion around them. “There is only this. There’s only you. There’s only us. Don’t you get that? All you have is me.”
Howard huffed softly. “And all you have is me?”
The anger drained out of Lalo instantly. “Yeah, Howie.” He reached out his hands, encircling around Howard’s neck, fingertips applying pressure not to intimidate but to console. “So stay here. With me, okay?”
“It’s getting hard--”
“Don’t. Shhh.” He let go and Howard mourned the loss as Lalo looked down at the body bleeding out. “God, he better not join us, he was a real boring bastard. You can do all the talking if he does.” He came and stood beside Howard. “He isn’t coming to movie night, either. He probably likes Bond films.”
“ I like Bond films.”
“God, of course. I should have known. That’s so you. I bet you like John Grisham books, too.”
“It’s that elitist attitude that caused us to disband the book club,” said Howard with a shaky smile, on seeing it, Lalo gave a gentle nod.
“Come on, Howie. Let’s take a walk around the lab. The storage units are lovely this time of year.”
***
Time grew increasingly ethereal, a thing which expanded and filled their universe and yet slipped through their grasp. It seemed neither of them could keep track of the hours and days and months anymore, and when the Blue consumed Howard, he could no longer count on Lalo to mark the time he had spent there.
Lalo’s gaze had grown flatter, wearier each time he returned. The warm brown eyes were guarded and dark. “Where were you?” he would demand roughly, and Howard struggled to answer.
And one day he returned to a dreadful scene; Lalo wild and frantic, dancing amongst Walter and Jesse like a maddened Rumpelstiltskin as they poured gasoline over the floors, the lab equipment, the corpse of yet another victim of the laboratory.
“They’re gonna take our place, Howie!” he cried frantically, clutching at Howard’s arm and pulling him alongside. “Look what these selfish bastards are doing! Our home !”
“What’re we going to do? What now ?” gasped Howard, as much to God above as to the devil clutching at him.
And when the two selfish demons set the laboratory alight, they stood there as helpless and baffled as their first day in Purgatory together.
“Maybe they’ll find us,” said Howard as the fire gained momentum. “Maybe that’s what will make the change. At last.”
“No.” Lalo shook his head, orange and red dancing across his face as the flames rose. “They won’t, Howard. They won’t find us.” He turned to him. “And you’ll go, won’t you. I’ve tried to stop it but -- I think it’s what’s meant to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t do that. We’ve been together too long. We both know that it wants you. You were a mistake. You were never supposed to be here.” He gave an ugly smile. “With me.”
The heat licked at Howard’s skin, but no sting of pain followed. This was a precipice. Lalo was right. The hourglass was racing towards its final journey. He couldn’t explain how he knew. But he knew. The smell of iris began to swim in his senses.
“Eduardo!” He grabbed at the other man’s shoulders, pulling him towards him desperately. “Come with me. Come with me into the Blue.”
“It doesn’t want me. It never calls me,” muttered Lalo. “I’m not pure enough – boring enough, I guess.”
“ Lalo .”
It was the first time he had ever called Lalo that; enough to shock his companion into silence for a moment. And then rage overtook Lalo: “I’m doomed, okay!” he snarled, and pushed at Howard’s chest to turn away, towards the flames. “We both know it! Why would it take me? You think the Santa Maria would ever forgive me? I don’t want her forgiveness – I just –”
“You don’t know that! Where is your evidence, man?”
Lalo threw up his hands. “Oh, you’re gonna make me do this, huh? Okay, well listen to this, fuckin’ Perry Mason! I tried to follow you. There wasn’t even a Hell for me – I reached for the Blue and it didn’t take me .”
“I don’t think – I’ve considered this for so long. I don’t think it is a malicious thing. It’s something else, it’s home.”
“For those who fit, yeah,” said Lalo. He flashed him a Cheshire Cat grin. The smile did not reach his eyes.
“Even a hateful little man like you came from something,” said Howard. “You had hope once. I know you did.”
“Hope!” Lalo scoffed, he took a step towards him, eyes glimmering in the burning light. “What has hope ever gotten me but this?” He gestured to the lab that was long lost to the flames. “This is where I belong. And you--- “ He was having to raise his voice now, the cackling furious in its assault. “You don’t belong here. You never did. So just go. Go before it decides you aren’t worthy, either. Go before it decides that you like me too much.”
Howard swallowed and shook his head, fond, frustrated and exasperated all at once.
The Blue waited.
“Do you know what you’re supposed to say in response to namaste, Lalo?”
“Speak English, motherfucker?”
“No,” he responded patiently, stepping closer. “You say: the Divine in me honours the Divine in you .”
“Implying I’m divine,” snorted Lalo.
“Shall we test it out?”
“How?”
Howard Hamlin took a deep breath. He regarded the handsome and chaotic shade before him, the man who had callously ended his life on a whim one awful sultry night in Albuquerque, and the man who had lain alongside him every night since in this Purgatorial den of criminality and murder, and never once apologised.
“Namaste,” he said. And he reached out his hand.
The End