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Free Falling	By : CertainUncertainty Category: +S through Z > Saints Row Views: 1633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Saints Row: The Third or any of its characters, nor do I make a profit from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Jamien hated drinking excessively. Sure, there were days when he'd pound down 40's and smoke a blunt before doing a mission, but he'd learned since then that being inebriated actually made it harder for him to shoot accurately. It stopped him from second guessing himself, but prolonged shootouts. Besides, it was harder to enjoy things when well and truly wasted. It made his memory fuzzy. According to Pierce, there were plenty of things that Jamien later wanted to remember. Really, really good things.
He tossed back a shot of vodka and put another toothpick in his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he resumed carefully digging out the bullet that had lodged itself in his shoulder.
"Seriously, a doctor is out of the question?" Pierce asked, cringing as more blood poured from the wound.
"We can't take a chance that STAG is watching the hospitals." Shaundi explained, diligently wiping away the blood for Jamien.
"Yeah." Jamien grunted. "This is just a flesh wound. I'm not dying."
"But you could." Pierce turned away, unable to stomach any more gore.
Jamien laughed. "You're such a pussy! We've been doing this for years, man. Why does it bother you all of a sudden?"
Pierce shrugged. "I guess it's different when you're doing it to someone else. Seeing you do it to yourself... Well, it makes me wonder just how insane you are."
"Hey, but you trust me with your life, right?" Jamien poured another shot with his free hand then held the glass up to Pierce. "Need a drink?"
Pierce gladly accepted it. "I thought you were a Jack Daniel's fan."
"I am. So much so, that if I start, it'll be sometime next week before I stop." He grinned. With a wet pop, the bullet hit the counter of the bar where they sat and Jamien let out a groan. "Fuck, that hurt." He rotated the shoulder that he'd kept still for hours and sighed.
"Geez, it's after midnight. That took you about four hours. You okay?" Shaundi asked pressing the wound with gauze to try to slow the blood. "You probably shouldn't have had any alcohol, all it did was thin your blood. You could bleed out."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jamien waved dismissively. "I thought about smoking a little weed but then I thought," he tilted his head back thoughtfully, "would it really work? Could I possibly get high enough to dig a bullet out of my body? I mean, sure, it would take the pain away, but would I be able to function properly? Then I realized that I function better drunk than high."
"I'm amazed you thought it out." Shaundi shook her head. "It's slowing down..." She kept patting.
"No, you should be amazed she didn't wake up while I stitched up her shoulder." He pointed to the girl who laid on the couch on the other side of the bar, still unconscious. "Pierce would have woke up screaming." He let out a mock shrill scream.
"Would not." Pierce frowned.
Shaundi frowned, eyeing the girl. "She's still around? Why didn't you dump her off somewhere?"
Pierce poked her, testing to see if she'd wake. "Is she still alive?"
Jamien poured himself a glass of vodka and Red Bull. "Yes, she's still around. I couldn't just dump her off somewhere and she's unconscious. There's no telling what would happen to her. And, as far as I know, she's still alive." He sipped his drink. Pierce put a finger under the girl's nose, felt her breath, and nodded in agreement.
"Get rid of her. She'll only slow us down." Shaundi shook her head and crossed her arms. "What happened to Candi? That stripper you like so much? If she sees you have a new piece of ass-"
Jamien didn't like that at all. Who the hell was Shaundi to tell him what to do? Before he realized it, he'd pulled his .45 Shepherd out and laid it on the bar counter. "Call her a piece of ass again, Shaundi. See if I won't shoot you."
Shaundi stilled, frozen with shock. "You'll shoot me? For what? She's nobody!" She gestured to the girl.
Jamien shrugged. "It's not about her. It's about your nose being in my damn business. If I ask you for you opinion on things outside of the Syndicate or STAG, then you can open your mouth and speak freely." He waved a hand in front of him and bowed slightly. "Otherwise, shut the fuck up. If I want to drag her around like a little doll, that's my fucking business. You don't hear me and Pierce bitching about your little dating show that you spend so much time doing."
Shaundi crossed her arms. "That's not fair. You told me to keep doing the show for the money."
Jamien picked up his gun, looked at it, then walked around the bar. "And you had no problem running back to it and leaving the shooting to us boys, now did you?"
Shaundi took a step towards Jamien, but Pierce stopped her. "Hey, now. We've all had a long day. We're all on edge. Let's just calm down and go back to our corners, okay?" He looked back and forth between them. "..Okay?"
Shaundi and Jamien stood still, staring each other down before Shaundi turned and walked away, muttering under her breath. Pierce let out a sigh of relief. Jamien knew better, knew it wasn't over. Over the past few years, Shaundi had changed drastically. From being a slutty, drunken pothead to an overbearing, smart ass diva, Jamien often found himself wondering which lieutenant he preferred. The jury was still out for lunch on that.
A soft moan got his attention. He turned around to see his "doll" coming around.
"Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty." Pierce smiled brightly. Jamien chuckled and leaned against the bar, knowing Pierce well enough.
The girl held a hand to her head as she sat up slowly. "What happened?"
Pierce shrugged and looked to Jamien. He had opted to jump off the opposite side of the building with the other Saints. It'd taken hours for them to meet up again after shaking off STAG. Jamien pulled out a pack of Newports. "You passed out."
The girl frowned. "I don't pass out."
Jamien nodded as if he totally agreed and lit a cigarette. "You did when we jumped off of the building. You screamed for maybe ten seconds then passed out. It's impossible not to notice when someone becomes dead weight in your arms."
The girl shook her head. "You dragged me off of that roof!"
Jamien shrugged and smiled innocently. "It was either that or let you get killed."
"Which wasn't a bad idea at the time." Shaundi added.
Jamien cut his eyes at the woman, mindful of the gun that was still in his hand. "I'm so tempted right now, it ain't even funny." He was aware what his time with the Saints was doing to his mind. There had once been a time that didn't care what his bullets did to the people around him, as long as he got what he wanted. For a while, that's all that mattered, getting what he wanted. Then someone who trusted Jamien with his life died, by his own hand. It took a lot for Jamien to make sure that side of him didn't resurface, didn't recklessly claim another life.
Shaundi didn't respond, opting instead to sit in the lounge area and watch TV. The girl stood, barely able to do so on her own. "Can I go home now?" Jamien said no at the same time Shaundi said yes, so the girl looked at Pierce for his input.
Pierce shrugged. She looked between Pierce and Jamien a few times before turning towards the elevators. Jamien caught her in two wide steps, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning her back around. "You don't want to stay? We're having so much fun now."
She looked up at him and for the first time he noticed how brown her doe eyes were. She looked away suddenly, her caramel cheeks tinted red. "I have to get stuff for my dorm room. School starts next Monday and I have to be ready."
That surprised Jamien. "Dorm? You're in college?"
She nodded. "I'm in my junior year. Pre-med."
Jamien couldn't think of one person he knew personally who was in college...or had even once gone, to learn, not sell drugs or buy them. He looked at her, really looked at her. The contrast in their skin, her caramel one to his slightly tanned one. Her coffee colored eyes to his blue ones. Her chestnut brown hair to his black. Her womanly curves... "Nice. An educated woman." He hugged her to him.
She frowned up and immediately tried to pull away from him.
"What's the matter?" Jamien asked, amused.
"You're a Saint. I don't want you touching me." He couldn't mistake the disgust in her voice, like he had an STD or something.
He pouted. "But everyone loves the Saints. Except STAG. And the police. And other gangs. And people who've been accidentally shot or ran over. Hm. That's actually quite a lot of people."
She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. And he thought Shaundi's angry face something... "You don't need me. Let me go."
"Please?" Shaundi shouted. A lamp exploded near her head.
"Damn." Jamien lowered his gun. "I must be tired. I missed."
"I'm leaving." The girl headed for the elevators once again, but Jamien grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.
"No, you're not. You haven't even told me your name."
"Why do you care about my name?"
"I told you my name. It's common courtesy to tell me yours."
"I didn't ask for it. I asked to be let out of the car."
"And if I had, you'd be dead."
"If you hadn't stole the car I was in, I wouldn't be here arguing with you over names."
"Is this what college does to people? Enable you to argue better?"
"Denitra." She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"What?"
"My name is Denitra." She looked at him with a scowl. "Now can I go?"
"Nope." He smiled. "Since Shaundi's hell bent on me letting you go, I'm gonna keep you, just to show her who's the boss around here." He patted the top of her head and walked around her, stealing a glance at her backside. "Hungry?"
He had to admit, he'd like having her around.
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Free Falling