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Jesse flinched as the car door slammed.

"Softly!" hissed Walt.

He handed the keys to Mike, and watched him walk and turn the corner toward the house.

Walt was grateful that Jesse had been found, but for the amount of money this man was charging, he would have preferred someone that was more - obliging ? Mike was extremely professional, but something about the way he spoke to Walt really irked him.

Walt returned his full attention to the back seat again. "Hey, Jesse? Can you hear me? Come on now," Jesse was slumped forward so far that his head almost touched his knees. He was trembling a little, from the drugs, from the shock - Walt rubbed his shoulders, hoping it provided some sort of comfort... His cell rang. It would be Skyler, asking when he would be home.

Walt had no idea how long this would all take. He took a deep breath and prepared to talk the talk again. "Hello?"

"Hey Dad! Dad, guess what!"

"Junior, heyy. What is it?"

"We broke twenty-nine hundred!"

Walt flinched as he heard the intrusively loud, distinct KA-CHING of the website. It may as well have been a gunshot.

"Twenty nine hundred and sixty eight!," Junior was overjoyed.

Jesse began to stir. "Uugh," Unfortunately, he had chosen now to start making some noise.

Walt shushed him quietly. This should only take a moment.

Walt could hear Skyler call something to Junior distantly.

"Mom says, can you remember to pick up some diapers?"

"Sure." Walt had not remembered to pick up any last night, because that was when...

KA-CHING. KA-CHING.

Jesse suddenly vomited, violently. Everywhere.

Oh my god...

"Dad? What's that noise?"

"It's okay son," Walt gripped Jesse's arm, and with a shock he realised he meant it for both of them. It was too strange, that connect. "It's okay. I'm, um, uh. I'm just busy right now with..."

"... misterwhii...uuh.." Jesse started coughing.

"Je-JUNIOR, I'm Just gonna have quick meeting with a uhhh, a colleague from the school who needs taking care of," He planted a supporting hand under Jesse's forehead and pushed him up a little. "weee're, um, we're talking about a little problem that's arisen, and, well.."

Would Junior buy this? Walt was on temporary paternity leave, it wasn't even school hours, what would Skyler say, what would-

KA-CHING! it cut through him like a knife. Another lie. Another bit of fake charity and another lovely message left for that 'Wonderful Father'.

"Oh my god, it's at thirty-hundred!" Junior was completely distracted with delight.

"That's great, bye." Walt abruptly hung up and switched off. Excuses would have to come later, not now.

"Hey, hey..." He held Jesse's head in his hands, let him keep retching. If they hadn't found him so soon, would Jesse have been sick on the floor of that crack-den? (or whatever the hell it was called) Would he have choked? Would any of the surrounding scum have even thought to try and to help him?

Scum... The girl in the bed...

Walt pushed it away, it was too much to bear. He had to think of Jesse now.

Jesse seemed done with throwing up. He hadn't choked, at least. He would be safe, Walt would make sure of that. He gripped Jesse's shoulders. Just be OK. If Jesse could just be OK, if he could just find a way to make him alright again... Without raising his head, Jesse weakly reached and sought for his hand. Walt took it.

Where was that volatile little shit who had shrieked 'HOMO' at Walt for barely touching him, not two months back? Walt wanted him back. He'd broken him open and found this gentle Jesse who was terrifying him.

Mike opened the door - of course the mess made it's presence immediately known .

"Oh. Thanks, you decorated." He started to pull plastic bags out from under the front seat. Walt waited for Mike to complain about the state of his immaculate car interior , but instead he was handed a pair of plastic gloves and a cloth. "Large right? I only got large. I Shoulda thought to put down a sheet first." He shook his head and grimaced. "Well, I got some of his things, I don't know how much much he'll need, I imagine he'll be there a while," Mike put the bag of Jesse's things into the back seat. He closed the door quietly, this time.

Walt pulled on the gloves. Convenient thing to have, right there... 'I know a guy ', Saul had said to him that morning. 'A fixer.' Since when did this all start, since when did Walt associate out with the sort of people who kept this sort of equipment for morbid tasks at hand?

Mike sat back in the front and rolled down the windows.

"So this place that we are taking him, it's good right?"

Walt kept saying 'we' as if he had firmly decided that Mike shared a joint responsibility for the poor idiot.

"It's a very good place." Mike reassured him. "There are a few smaller rehab centres around, but this is a really fancy place up north of town - more 'heavy duty' . They have more training, more staff-per-guest. Got a spa and gym. Very expensive."

"Fine, if that one is the best." Walt didn't even hesitate, "Cost doesn't matter. But, it's all confidential right?"

"All confidential. They all have disclosure laws."

"The police won't know anything?"

"Walter, they won't be interested. If he's not being investigated currently, he won't be for this. They wont share patient information with the police. Only with a court order in a special circumstance, otherwise no."

"Special circumstance?"

Why couldn't Walt just take his word for it? He shouldn't even have mentioned.

"Look, as long as your guy keeps his mouth shut about the business and doesn't try to kill anyone while he's in there, it'll be fine."

Walt scowled, "He won't talk, there's no way-", he broke off when Pinkman made a miserable noise from the back where he'd been strapped in. Walt turned around and put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Hey, you can lie down soon," he said softly. Then, to Mike,"Do you have any water?"

Mike handed him a bottle from the dashboard and waited silently as Walt preoccupied himself with fussing over his partner for a few minutes.

Mike wondered again how this pairing had come to be. What on earth did this inept kid contribute to Walt's elite meth production business - what made him so invaluable?

"You two related?" asked Mike. He meant it seriously.

"Hmm? Oh no, no. He was my student."

Not a grade A student, Mike guessed. Maybe the teacher-student thing made him so protective of the kid. He handed Walt a plastic bag for the dirty gloves and cloth. He'd get the car properly cleaned later. Walt would be paying the bill, of course.

"So, do we just turn up at this place, or do we have to call them first?" asked Walt.

"Well, here's the thing. They wont take him how he is, like this. We need to give it some time, I'm not sure how long that would be."

"What do you mean they won't take him 'how he is'? It's a rehab centre."

Walt didn't have a lot of experience with junkies, for a guy who was working with a junkie.

"They wont accept him as sick as this - that's not their job. They'll just tell you to take him to a hospital. They wont want to be held liable if he suddenly dies."

"So, let me get this straight," Walt took of his glasses and rubbed at his eyes in an exaggerated manner. Mike was learning that Walt was the sort of guy who liked to make a point of letting you know he was irritated, "You, are telling me, that rehab centres do not accept people who are on drugs?"

"That is exactly what I am telling you, recovery only. And you can watch your tone."

"That is ridiculous!" Snapped Walt - he paused and lowered his voice to a hiss, "This whole thing is ridiculous!"

"I didn't make the rules," said Mike calmly, "and this is what you should expect for partnering with someone like him."

"What if he's not OK today? It has to be today, it has to be soon. He can't be left alone!" Walt flipped back again, "I can't exactly take him to my own house!"

"So, take him back in his house then."

Both Walt's hands flew up, he grasped his head as if a disaster had happened. "God no! That's where..."

"Alright, alright. I remember." Mike also remembered not seeing Walt there, but decided not to press that issue. To be fair, Walt was going above and beyond the call of duty with this kid. "We'll give him a few hours to snap out of it, he's okay where he is." How much more could Pinkman throw up in his car, anyway? Although, right now, Walt was proving to be the more irritating of the two. Talking to him was a real chore.

Walt was staring straight through Pinkman now. "It's not just the drugs, it's the shock..."

Not just the drugs. They hadn't been talking about it, but they both knew what the real issue was here.

"I know he's shaken up about the girlfriend. It's very sad. Look, he just needs to get walking and coherent enough to sign the consent forms and it should be okay, we can probably bribe somebody to take him in quickly without too much questioning and fuss."

A thought crossed Mike's mind- Pinkman's girlfriend had died, and the only person he had called was this guy? Was there seriously no one else?

Walt was doing everything this kid's family should be doing right now, if Pinkman even had any. You had to admire that.