Chapter Text
“Hey, Juan. Bring these upstairs.“
Lalo crossed the living room, a faintly irritated look on his face.
His man was lingering aimlessly by the front door, carrying two large boxes, looking as clueless as ever.
He shot his boss a look.
“Still don't understand why Nacho doesn't have to be here,” he muttered under his breath.
"Ah, come on." The Mexican spread his arms, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"It's a homecoming for him. – Give him some time with his old man, huh? Hasn't seen him in a while."
Juan sighed. “Yeah, I know… Just saying…”
But his boss only shook his head, gesturing toward the stairs.
"Now stop complaining. Get this stuff upstairs already. Or do you want this to take all day?"
Rolling his eyes, Juan finally set off.
For a moment Lalo watched him trudge up the stairs as though the boxes weighed a hundred pounds.
Dios mío, this guy...
But then he took a breath and let his gaze drift around the house. Satisfied.
Barco had found this place. A good catch, for sure.
Fairly centrally located. A quiet, unassuming street. Plenty of space around it. … A spacious garden hidden behind a tall wooden fence, well protected from prying eyes…
Yeah. This would work.
Inside, moving boxes still sat scattered throughout the house. They hadn't quite finished unpacking yet. But the place itself was nicely done. Cozy, even.
And the layout was good. An open floor plan downstairs. A separate office in the back. Plenty of room upstairs.
Well, …it wasn't the hacienda. … But for the next few months, it would do nicely.
And besides, he hadn't come here to get comfortable. He had work to do.
The months ahead would be crucial…
A small smile played at his lips. – After all the back-and-forth, Gus had played along surprisingly well in the end. He had to admit.
The Salamancas controlled a couple of corners of the city again. Not much. But enough. Enough to get started. … Access to Gus's distribution network, too.
His Tío would have been pleased…
After Tuco's death, they'd lost Albuquerque completely. And Gus hadn't wasted any time making himself at home.
But now things were finally moving in the right direction again. The Salamancas were back in the game.
One foot in the door. ... All you needed.
The smile on his lips sharpened.
Gus was in real trouble.
And he knew it, of course.
But he still thought he'd only lost a battle. – Painfully, sure. But recoverable.
What he didn't understand yet was that he was going to lose the whole fucking war.
That much was certain.
It was only a question of time. A question of patience. And finesse.
And then, there was the boy…
Lalo smiled.
With him finally at his side...
Gus would drown before he even realized how deep the water had become.
***
Jesse took a deep, urgent breath.
He was standing in the lab. For the first time in weeks. For the first time since they had returned from Mexico.
He looked at the huge tanks, the equipment, the... Fuck. It felt fucking strange to be here again. Like stepping back into a past life he had almost forgotten.
The ventilation system droned quietly somewhere above him. – The air felt dry. Smelled clean. Filtered. Untouched in an uncomfortable way.
His gaze wandered up to the heavy, airtight iron door.
Suddenly his chest felt tight…
"Jesse! Stop staring into space. Are you planning on standing there all day? Get dressed. What are you waiting for?"
Mr. White moved past him. Already dressed in full lab gear, he bustled around the lab with quick, hurried steps.
He didn’t even look up. Just talked like a man giving a lecture no one had asked for.
“We need to catch up. We're almost out of inventory. … Weeks behind. We'll have to pull some double shifts…”
He barely paused for breath.
“And don't even start asking for weekends off.”
Jesse sighed.
He looked at the chemist, shoulders slumped. Still not moving.
Mr. White finally turned toward him. He raised his eyebrows, gesturing impatiently.
“Hello? Anybody home? Earth to Jesse.”
Jesse closed his eyes for a second. He let out a sharp breath. Jesus Christ...
Then he finally raised his voice. “Ah damn it, Mr. White... You really wanna just go right back to work? Just like that? Just act like none of that happened, or what?"
He shook his head.
"Could we just let that sink in for a minute? Fuck."
The chemist frowned, as if genuinely not understanding what the hell Jesse was talking about.
"Seriously, Mr. White." Jesse‘s voice rose a little. "All that fucking shit that went down? That could've gone really bad, for fuck's sake. Don't you even get that?“
He rubbed a hand across his face. ...God, he felt so fucking tired.
"And all because of Gus, man. This guy keeps dragging us into one mess after another. Ever since we started working for him," he pressed.
"And now you just wanna go back to business? I mean, shouldn't we at least..."
Now it was Mr. White who looked genuinely baffled. He took a step closer.
"Shouldn't we what, Jesse?" he asked.
"Huh…? You want to let it sink in? Let what sink in? That this bastard cost us weeks of our lives? Should we waste even more time celebrating that? Letting it …sink in?”
He made air quotes around it.
But then he paused.
When Jesse didn't answer, he simply looked at him for a moment, his head tilting slightly.
“Jesse…”
His voice softened a little.
“Just let it go, all right? We got our lives back. We're free again. That's what matters now.”
He held Jesse's gaze, drew a breath.
“It's no use turning it over and over in your head, okay?”
Jesse held his gaze for a moment longer. But then his eyes drifted away.
...And Mr. White just moved on again.
"There's nothing to fix, Jesse."
He gestured around the lab.
“We'll just go back to how things were. Everything's back on track.”
He turned away, as if that settled everything.
"And now get to work. … And stop thinking so much, would you? That's never really been your strong suit, has it?"
***
Gus sat behind his desk at Los Pollos. Perfectly still. Listening.
He didn't want to miss a word of Mike's report.
The deal he had been forced to make with Lalo was painful. – Any deal with a Salamanca was ...painful.
He needed those bastards out of the city again. As quickly as possible. And for that, he had to stay focused.
Not miss a single opportunity to strike back.
He drew a slow breath. “… And you think something happened between them?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you ever see them together?"
Mike cleared his throat.
His face was still bruised. A nasty cut ran across the bridge of his nose. He wasn't fully recovered yet. His face ached, and so did his old bones.
But duty was duty.
“Didn't need to,” he said.
A short pause.
"But no. Didn't see anything. That son of a bitch split Pinkman off from us early. Couple days in.“ Another pause. "But didn't matter. I know how to read people. Didn't need to see much.”
Gus nodded slowly.
His gaze drifted past Mike, fixed on nothing in particular.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he nodded once more. As if reaching a conclusion.
"All right. That's all for the moment," he said. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off. You look like you could use it."
Mike let out a breath. "Yes, boss."
He rose slowly and turned toward the door.
Before he reached it, Gus spoke again.
“Ah, and one last thing. When you pay Eduardo a visit next week, take Pinkman with you.”
Mike stopped.
He slowly turned around, a frown creasing his brow.
For a moment he studied the man behind the desk… Unease creeping into his expression.
"You don't want to give him the kid, do you?"
Gus met his gaze calmly.
Leaning back in his chair, he drew a slow breath. Then he sighed.
“Lalo Salamanca doesn't exactly have many weak spots. – Unfortunately.”
“But boys…” He tilted his head slightly. “Well. Let’s call it an open flank, at least.”
He folded his hands.
"And if you know about such a thing, it would be poor judgment not to use it, don't you think?”
He held Mike's gaze.
“So, why don’t we keep Pinkman close to him. Let's see what happens… Who knows. Might prove useful at some point.”
Mike exhaled through his nose.
For a moment he looked as though he might say something.
But then he just gave a curt nod instead. He turned. And without another word, he left the office.
***
"Yo! Bro! Where have you been? Tried to call you!" Badger yelled across the parking lot.
After they finished up at the lab, Jesse had swung by their usual spot. Just to see if his boys were around.
Of course they were. … They always were.
Skinny got up from the bench too. "Hey, what's up, brother?" He spread his arms, grinned from ear to ear.
As Jesse approached, Badger pulled him into an enthusiastic bro-hug.
But when he felt Jesse flinch, he immediately let go. His grin vanished, mild concern flickering across his face.
"Hey, yo. What's up, bro? You okay?"
Jesse just nodded, touching his left arm.
"Yeah, it's nothing.” He waved it off with a shake of his head. "Just had a little trouble with my shoulder. No big deal."
Without another word he just brushed past them, headed for the bench, and sat down on the backrest like he'd never been gone.
His friends exchanged a glance, then followed him over. Pete settling onto the backrest beside him, while Badger perched on the concrete table across from them.
For a moment they kept it still. But then Skinny frowned.
“Nah, seriously, bro! Where the hell have you been?” he pressed. “We were worried. … We were starting to think someone had ditched you in the desert or something.”
“Ah… no.” Jesse just shook his head. “All good, man. Just been busy,” he muttered, shrugging it off.
“Busy? – Man. We haven’t seen you for weeks. You didn’t take one fucking call. What the hell was going down?” Badger wouldn't let it go.
Jesse sighed. … He didn't want to talk about what had happened.
Actually, there was only one thing he wanted right now…
Getting completely fucking wasted…
He looked at his boys for a moment. His gaze hollow.
"Seriously, guys. Not much to tell. Just forget about it, okay? It's all right." A slow breath. " Just … give me a bowl."