Breaking Bad fic: The Vagabond Who's Rapping
Title. The Vagabond Who's Rapping (3/3)
Fandom. Breaking Bad
Characters. Jesse and the NA leader.
Summary. Last part of my post-Felina Jesse fic. Jesse is desperate to leave his life of crime behind him and yet crime is the only means of survival that he knows. What will it take for Jesse to break free from the person he has been?
Warnings. Bad language. Relentless angst as always.
Disclaimer. Breaking Bad is not mine, but I needs must have my own Jesse resolution.
Beta. Thanks to bessiemaemucho and celeryy515. Both total champs!
Author's Note. Sorry the final chapter has taken me so long. Hope the double length makes up for the wait. Oh also for this chapter specifically I'd like to give credit to selenak who gave me the idea for a fic where Jesse goes to his NA leader.
Chapter One. Yonder Stands Your Orphan
Chapter Two. The Empty Handed Painter
“Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you,
Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you,
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door,
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore,
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.”
Chapter Three: The Vagabond Who's Rapping
It was a long walk to the guy’s house.
The NA leader didn’t drive anymore, Jesse remembered him saying so one time in group. He’d told them that driving was one of his triggers. And yeah, Jesse didn’t think he would trust himself behind a wheel again if he’d once backed a truck over a six-year-old. Jesse was just glad that he didn’t have to approach the guy in the parking lot. He needed this walk to build up his nerve. More than once Jesse feared that he would lose the guy on the late night streets. Then before he was prepared for it...they were at his house.
Jesse held himself back, lingering in the safety of the shadows, watching the guy search for his keys on the porch. He wondered what the hell he was thinking.
“You need to run,” said the voice in his head, Mr White’s voice. “Junkie idiot. I’ve just saved your life again...and you’re going to throw your last chance away?”
Jesse shook his head. No, he wasn’t screwing up this time. He had to believe that this was his first step towards recovery. He knew the steps well. He could admit that he had impulses that he was struggling to control. Only it wasn’t his drug addiction that was the trouble this time. No, his real problem was his compulsion to break the law; the habit that Jesse had fallen back into too many times, the thing that had ruined his whole life and the lives of so many others around him. Jesse really wanted to stop but he knew his situation had become unmanageable. How many crimes had Jesse come close to committing in the last few days? Pick-pocketing, prostitution, car theft and drug use...yeah. Jesse knew he was desperate. He knew he was on the verge. He could admit it and that was step one. Step two was believing in a power greater than himself, a power that could restore him to sanity.
“Run, Jesse...” Mr White’s voice was still hissing in his head.
Jesse knew that particular voice would only drive him further into madness. He wasn’t doing what that voice wanted him to do anymore. Not ever again.
“Hey,” Jesse blurted to the man he hoped might be his higher power.
Jesse winced as his voice came out raspy and ragged. He watched as the guy froze at his door and then slowly turned around, suddenly sensing the presence behind him...the broken, barely human shadow that had followed him all the way home.
“Who’s there?” the guy called out.
Jesse stepped into the dull glow cast by the porch light.
“I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coming here. I didn’t know where else to go...” He swallowed before adding, “You can call the cops if you want.”
The guy on the porch stood blinking, his mouth hanging jar.
“Jesse Pinkman,” he said at last. “My God...”
Jesse managed a faint smile. At least someone still recognised him.
“Sorry,” he said again. “I, uh...I forgot your name.”
Jesse couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He’d gone to a lot of meetings and he remembered so much of what the guy had said. How come he couldn’t remember his name? Jesse had always just thought of him as the leader...like he was a priest or something.
The guy placed a hand to his chest. “Neil. It’s Neil.”
“Right, Neil,” said Jesse. “I’m real sorry for coming, Neil.”
Jesse couldn’t apologise enough for his presence at the guy’s home. Neil looked scared. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and his hand hovered over his chest as if to shield himself and fuck...why did he look so scared? Jesse hadn’t come any closer.
“Jesse,” said Neil. “Could you please show me your hands?”
There was a quiver in his voice. He thinks I’ve got a gun, Jesse realized. He thinks I’m some crazy fugitive come to rob him and put a bullet in his head...
All the stuff Jesse had said on his confession tape...it was probably public knowledge by now. Neil would know he was a murderer. He would know all about Jesse shooting people in their doorways. Jesse quickly took his hands out of his pockets and showed Neil his empty palms. Then he stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the porch.
“I’m not going to...I’m not armed,” said Jesse, his voice trembling worse than Neil’s. “I don’t have anything but the clothes I’m standing in. If you don’t believe me, then like I said...call the cops and get it over with. I...I can’t do this anymore.”
Neil slowly crouched down, picked up the jacket and patted it down. The rolled up notebook, which was still in the pocket, slipped out and fluttered to the ground. Neil raised his head, looking back up at Jesse. He sighed and then beckoned him near.
“You’d better come inside,” he said.
Jesse nodded, relieved. He really couldn’t have run. He barely had the energy left to walk. He shuffled inside the house and winced as Neil snapped on the lights, blinding him with their harsh yellow glare. He was shivering all over. In the quiet of the living room he could hear his teeth chattering. Neil stood close by, talking to him softly.
“I’m glad you came,” Neil assured him. “I know it was me who asked you to leave during that last meeting. I had to protect the flock, as it were. And protect myself. You were going after my triggers too. But I didn’t want to give up on you, Jesse.”
Jesse nodded, feeling dizzy and struggling to focus on Neil’s kind words.
“This is a nice home,” he said, vaguely attempting to be a polite guest.
Jesse’s bleary eyes moved from the soft couch cushions to the beige wallpaper to the mirror above the mantelpiece. There was his reflection again; that pale, scarred werewolf creature he had turned into. Jesse stared into his own bloodshot eyes. Shit. He looked like he was dying. Maybe he was? Jesse felt himself swaying, the room spun and...
Neil caught him by the elbow, steadying him before he fell.
“You need to sit down,” Neil instructed firmly.
Jesse nodded and allowed himself to be led to the dining table. He flinched as Neil reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead. He told Jesse he had a slight fever. Then he stepped into the adjoining kitchen and opened his fridge. A moment later, Neil brought Jesse a large bowl of tofu and mixed bean salad and a tall glass of water. Jesse tried not to eat and drink too fast. He tried not to look like some hungry feral animal, but man...this vegan health food crap was the best thing he could remember tasting in a long time.
Jesse took a breath, pausing between desperate mouthfuls.
“So are you going to call the cops?” he asked.
With Neil’s care and hospitality, Jesse could feel himself relaxing. But he didn’t want to get too comfortable if he had to brace himself for the cops hauling his ass to jail anytime soon.
“Should I?” Neil asked. “Do you want to talk to them?”
Jesse cringed, remembering the hard twin stares of Agents Schrader and Gomez.
“I...I’d rather talk to you,” he said.
Neil nodded, taking a seat opposite him. “That’s good. Opening up is always good. You still need to drink more of that water, Jesse. Why don’t you let me talk first?”
“Why? You got something to tell me?”
Neil nodded. “Yeah, it...it’s about Andrea.”
Jesse tensed, laying down his fork and reaching for his glass.
“She’s dead,” he muttered. “I know that.”
Neil squinted with a look of keen suspicion but he didn’t question him.
“Andrea came to see me at group,” said Neil. “That was maybe...around a week before it happened. She was asking me if I’d seen you. She was worried because she’d heard you were using again. And that’s not all she was concerned about.” Neil drew his arms tight around his chest, leaning back in his chair. “This was right after the news about Walter White broke. Andrea told me the man had come to her house...that he had been looking for you. She said she had tried to help Walter White to contact you and that she feared she’d made a mistake.” Neil shook his head sorrowfully. “Andrea told me everything, Jesse. After the others from group went home, she just broke down in tears and admitted she’d been taking money from you to help pay her rent. She said she had kept on taking your money even after the two of you had broken up. She said she’d been so determined to keep Brock in a good neighborhood that she’d just...turned a blind eye to where your money might be coming from. She seemed to regret the whole thing, saying that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if you’d been putting your life in danger just to provide for her and her son.”
Jesse’s fingers tightened around the glass. He couldn’t believe Andrea had cared enough to cry over him. But what was worse was that Mr White had been at their house. He’d said he was sorry about Brock but that was another lie and he’d been at their fucking house. And that was why...shit, that’s how Todd had known. Jesse always thought it had been him who had screwed up. That he must have mentioned something to Todd about having a girlfriend with a little kid before he knew what a psycho freak Todd was. But no, it had been Mr White using them as bait again. He was the reason why Andrea had been...
“I should’ve gone to the police,” Neil went on. “I didn’t want to get Andrea in trouble. I didn’t want her to lose the house, but maybe she’d be alive if I’d...”
“No, it wasn’t your fault,” Jesse blurted. “They still would’ve...”
He closed his eyes, his throat clenching, unable to say it.
“Jesse,” said Neil’s voice, breaking into his thoughts. “Do...do you know who it was that killed her? I mean...was there some reason for her being shot?”
Ever since I met you, Jesse thought, everything I have ever cared about...
“He told them. That was the reason. And they...they made me watch.”
Tears squeezed through Jesse’s pinched eyelids. He felt Neil’s hand on his arm, squeezing hard and then shaking him a little. Jesse startled and looked at him.
“We don’t have to talk about that now,” Neil said hastily.
Jesse nodded, grateful he wasn’t being pushed too hard, yet humiliated that he was clearly such a broken shell that Neil feared the pressure would shatter him.
“Andrea wasn’t the only one who came asking about you,” Neil added.
“Yeah? Who else?” said Jesse, thinking that maybe Badger and Skinny had noticed he was missing and maybe made some half-assed attempt to find him.
“Your parents,” said Neil.
Jesse stared at him in disbelief, his heart throbbing.
“It was just a few days after Andrea’s death...” Neil continued, “...they said on the news that you had been killed too. Some guy who used to work as a bodyguard for that TV lawyer, the Goodman guy who’d also gone missing. He said Agent Schrader had shown him a photo of your body...that you’d been shot in the head, same as Andrea. It was assumed that you had both been murdered by the Heisenberg cartel, cleaning up witnesses.” Neil’s eyes were sad and distant, like he was drifting back. “We were all very upset about it in group. Brandon and Peter had this wild theory that you had faked your own death and run away to Alaska, but we assumed they were just in denial. I guess one of our members must have gone to pay their respects to your family because soon afterwards your mom and dad came to see me at the church. They didn’t actually know you’d been attending meetings.”
Jesse swallowed, hardly daring to ask.
“What did they say?”
“The usual things that parents say to me when a kid in my support group dies too young. Was it our fault? Did we give up too soon? Is there anything we could’ve done differently?” Neil sighed, clearly having heard these laments too many times. “When they finished crying they invited me to a private memorial service they were having for you at their home. They told me that it was something your brother had wanted to do.”
Jesse shook his head. He knew Jake would be older now, but he was still picturing his tiny kid brother in a dark suit directing a little funeral service in their backyard, giving some perfectly written little eulogy for the dumb druggie family outcast and then playing a sad tune on the flute or the violin or whatever else he had learned by now. Poor Jake, thought Jesse. He’d spent his whole life helping their parents to get over their first son.
“And you went?” Jesse asked.
Neil nodded. “I went.”
He said no more than that and Jesse felt it would be too creepy to ask for further details on his own memorial service. Neil took the empty glass and salad bowl from the table asking if Jesse was still hungry. After talking about Andrea, Jesse really wasn’t. That was when Neil said that Jesse could go upstairs and shower if he wanted. Jesse almost started crying again with gratitude. Even if Neil called the cops while he was showering, Jesse still felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to get arrested while he was covered in grime and stank of a week’s worth of sour sweat. It had been days since his escape but Jesse still had that meth lab smell in his nostrils. He wondered if it would ever really fade.
Neil guided Jesse up the stairs, through his bedroom and the accordion door that led to his shower. Neil folded the door behind him, giving Jesse some privacy while he peeled away his black shirt and combat pants, shedding them like an old skin. When Jesse stepped under the gushing water it felt...shit, it felt like a baptism. Like God was reaching down to wash him, to warm him, to give him this one last moment of mercy. Neil’s coconut shampoo smelled so good Jesse could have eaten it. He clutched a creamy bar of soap in his hands and scrubbed himself raw. When he was done washing, Jesse just let his hands slide over his own naked skin...this weak helpless body that he had been wanting to escape for months. It was all still here. He was in one piece. It was safe to be naked again.
After drying, Jesse wrapped himself in the bathrobe that Neil had left for him and he stood before the mirror that hung over the sink. He forced himself to look at his hated reflection. He scratched at his bearded cheeks and his fingers traced the lines of his old wounds. He wished he could rip out the hair and the scar tissue and find his old face again underneath. A moment later there came a knock and Neil’s voice called to him.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, still looking in the mirror, locked in a bitter staring contest.
Neil stepped into the bathroom and stood behind Jesse, staring with him.
“Could use a shave, huh?” said Neil.
“Yeah,” Jesse said again. “Like...could I?”
Neil raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
Jesse knew what he was getting at. The beard was a good disguise; easier to hide his identity with it covering his face. But what did that even matter now? Jesse just wanted to look in the mirror without scaring himself. He just wanted to be clean.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said.
Neil nodded and brought him a razor and foam. He didn’t leave Jesse alone this time. He stood very close as Jesse spread the foam over his cheeks and chin.
“What?” Jesse said after a moment. “Are you gonna watch me?”
Neil smiled a little, though his eyes were sharp and serious.
“Jesse, I have to be sure you’re not going to do anything else with the razor.”
Jesse swallowed and nodded. Suicide hadn’t actually occurred to him, not since that first night when he had been tempted to just stay in the desert, entombed in Todd’s car. It made Jesse nervous that Neil felt his situation was so dire that suicide might be a big temptation. Jesse’s hand trembled as he reached for the razor, grasping for this last bit of freedom and dignity. But he was shaking so hard. Jesse knew he was going to cut himself new scars if he tried to shave in this state. Neil placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Will you let me?” he said softly.
Jesse nodded, bitter tears stinging his eyes again. He lowered himself onto the toilet, gripping the lid and trying to hold himself still as Neil stroked the blade over his cheeks. The guy was a delicate barber to be sure, but Jesse still squirmed, desperate for the ordeal to be over with. There were still those painful associations with Todd coming to his cell to cut his fingernails and trim his beard with electric clippers, like Jesse was a mangy dog that needed grooming. Neil seemed to sense Jesse’s discomfort and finished up as quickly as possible, then handed him another towel to wipe his face clean. Neil crouched and picked up the heap of clothes, Todd’s old clothes, which Jesse had discarded on the floor.
“I can lend you some jeans,” said Neil. “And I have some of those green shirts to spare. You know...the green shirts they give to members at the rehab centre.”
“Yeah, thanks,” said Jesse. “Um, please can you throw those other clothes out?”
Neil looked down at the stinking black bundle in his hands.
“How about we burn them?” he suggested. “You know I love a good campfire.”
~*~
The hour was close to midnight and it was quiet on Neil’s street. The neighbours must have either been sleeping or watching TV in their homes not knowing that New Mexico’s most wanted fugitive was huddling before a fire in a garden nearby.
“Does your face feel better?” asked Neil, piercing the silence between them.
For the last fifteen minutes, they’d simply been sitting together, staring down at the smoking black clothes. Jesse wished the flames could burn up his memories just as fast. It was going to take a lot more than this fire to help him feel better, but watching the clothes burn at least made him feel calm. Jesse rubbed his newly smooth chin.
“Yeah...better,” he muttered. Without the hair on his face, he could feel a little less like an escaped animal that needed to be caught and caged again.
“You look better,” Neil assured him. “You look younger…” He paused for a moment and tilted his head before asking, “How old are you, Jesse?”
“Twenty-five,” Jesse answered automatically. Then he paused, reconsidering. “No wait, that can’t be, um...I mean, how long has it been since...”
“Since you went missing? Close to six months.”
“Right,” he said. “Twenty-six then. I’m twenty-six now.”
He’d had a birthday, Jesse realized. He’d had a birthday in there.
“I was thirty-two,” said Neil tentatively.
Jesse frowned. “Thirty-two? Thirty-two when what?”
“When I went to prison,” he finished.
Jesse swallowed. He’d assumed Neil would be calling the cops on him at some point but his heart still sank to hear it confirmed. So yeah, he’d traded his freedom for a hot shower and a decent meal. Jesse guessed he probably wasn’t the first.
Still he was distracted by the perplexing thought of Neil in prison. He just wasn’t the kind of dude that you pictured wearing an orange jumpsuit.
“You…you were in jail?” said Jesse.
Neil nodded. “Yeah, Jesse. I killed my six-year-old daughter while I was high on cocaine. They don’t let you off with a slap on the wrist for that.”
Jesse winced. He was amazed that Neil could even say those words without breaking down and screaming. Jesse knew this kind of guilt, the worst kind - the guilt that some innocent kid was dead and it was your fault, however accidental or unintended. Jesse didn’t dare imagine how much worse it would feel if the child was your own.
“How much time did they give you?” Jesse asked.
“A lot,” Neil answered evasively. “I didn’t help myself by getting out on bail only to drink every day until my trial...” Neil shook his head as if in pity and confusion at his former self. “It’s funny. I was so worried about losing my freedom. But even before I lost my little girl and my wife too, through divorce…even before that, I’d been spending most of my days shut up in my house, pissing my life away. I wasn’t prepared for drying out in a jail cell but later I came to see that it was what I needed.” At this point, he smiled. “I couldn’t believe how clear my head felt afterwards. I could think again. I could write. I wrote three books while I was in prison, Jesse. I was working on the fourth when I got paroled.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah...jail works wonders. I can’t wait to go. Look if you’re gonna dime on me, just do it. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”
“I haven’t called the cops yet, have I?” Neil pointed out. “If I went for the phone now...you could probably knock me on my ass and be out the door before I could stop you. This isn’t a citizen’s arrest, Jesse. It was your choice to come to me. You said that you wanted to talk. I was your NA group leader and I don’t like failing people who come to me for help. It’s my vocation, Jesse. And my vocation is most of what I live for.”
Jesse nodded. He could understand that. Yeah, it made sense that Neil lived for his work these days. In the house, Jesse had noticed the guy had plenty of books on his shelves, but no photographs. He guessed that Neil couldn’t get another family after he’d fucked up so badly with his first one. Jesse knew that feeling only too well.
“Just give me some real advice, would you?” Jesse pleaded.
Neil held his stare. “I’m not saying it wasn’t hard. I was inside for a long time. The nature of my crime didn’t exactly make me the most popular person in there. I had to go into protective custody more than once because I kept getting beaten up in the general population. So yes, Jesse, it was hard. But it was something I had to go through.”
Jesse snorted a laugh. “You think I give a shit how hard it is? You think it scares me? Look, any jail is going to be the sunshine holiday camp compared to where I’ve been these past months. So don’t expect me to be scared. But don’t try to sell me any silver linings either. Don’t tell me what I can look forward to when it’s over. If they put me away, I’m never coming out. I mean...you’ve heard about the stuff I’ve done, right?”
Neil raised his eyebrows. “Actually I haven’t.”
Jesse frowned. “The confession tape I did....the cops found it, right?”
“Oh yeah...that. Well, what they didn’t clarify in those initial news reports was that they found the disk in broken pieces. Just pieces in a shoebox under one of their beds. I think the police were optimistic at first. They thought they could repair it and get the answers they needed. But since yesterday news on your tape has all gone quiet.”
Jesse frowned as he struggled to remember exactly what Todd had told him about that confession tape. He knew that they had stolen it from the Schrader house. He’d had to listen to Jack and his friends mocking him over all the things he’d said. He’d had them calling him a crybaby and a rat every time he saw them. He had a vague memory of Todd telling him he was going to melt the disk in acid. But it looked like that had been a lie. It seemed like Todd had kept the shards of his confession as his own secret treasure.
“So...they don’t have anything on me?” asked Jesse.
Jesse should have been relieved over this, but part of him felt instantly sick and shameful. It was the same part of him that kept thinking about Drew Sharp’s parents and how they still didn’t even know what had happened to their missing kid.
Neil shrugged. “They may have fragments, I suppose. Even if they fix the tape I think it’s questionable if it would be admissible in court. It’s my understanding that Agent Schrader was working outside the system trying to bring his brother-in-law to justice.” He paused for a moment and then added, “But the tape’s existence tells them that you were a former criminal associate of Walter White’s who came clean and was prepared to turn police witness. And I’d say the police knowing that works in your favor, Jesse.”
“No, actually, it doesn’t,” said Jesse. “Maybe if the Great Heisenberg were still alive and the cops could keep me from getting whacked long enough to do some witnessing...maybe they’d have offered me a good deal. But he’s dead now. They’re all dead. Those evil Nazi fucks, Gus Fring and crazy-ass Tuco...they were all killed before the cops could get them in lock up. Now I’m the last perp left standing. So I’m not the guy who gets off for turning snitch. I’m the guy they’ll nail it all on, okay? I’m, like...the stray goat.”
“I think you mean scapegoat,” said Neil, though he didn’t refute the point Jesse was making. “You may be right,” he conceded. “I’ve heard the prosecution have been going after Skyler White too and that also seems to be because she’s all they’ve got.”
Jesse frowned. “His wife? They’re trying to pin it on his wife?”
This he could hardly stomach. After all the times he’d listened to that asshole insisting he was doing it for his family...and in the end he’d just gone on the run and left his wife to carry the can? He’d left his kids to potentially look at their mom through bars? He’d left them to drown in the shit-storm he’d created? The guy had cancer and he would have croaked before he did any real time...but he’d been too pussy to go to jail for them?
“Mrs White...she didn’t even want any of this,” Jesse insisted. “She, like...she kicked him out of their house. She sent their kids away from him. She hated him so much she was literally waiting for him to die. She was, like...a victim in all this, okay?”
“Yes, a lot of people have been saying so,” said Neil. “And you know, Jesse, after your supposed death, I read a few articles speculating over whether you were a victim of his too.”
Jesse shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly he felt like he was back in the old interrogation room again with Schrader’s eyes staring right into the pits of his soul.
He really did a number on you, didn’t he?
Jesse snorted again. “I...I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, he was your teacher, right?” said Neil. “You know I was a teacher once too. I used to teach English at a high school back in Virginia....I have to ask myself, what kind of teacher would tutor one of his students in making the perfect crystal meth?”
“No look...I was already in the business. He might’ve blackmailed me into partnering with him, but he didn’t force me to cook. I wanted to be as good as him.”
“But our teachers can be a powerful influence, Jesse. A dangerous influence if the teacher abuses their position. Were there things he did force you to do?”
Jesse didn’t know how to begin answering that question.
Neil hunched forward. “Jesse...your problem dog?”
Fuck. Jesse screwed his eyes shut, his heart racing. With everything else that Neil knew he guessed it wasn’t too hard to figure out. If the guy had been an English teacher then yeah, he wouldn’t have much trouble seeing through Jesse’s flimsy metaphors.
“I...I didn’t want to...” Jesse stammered. It was the first time he’d said it. “I told him that I couldn’t do it. But he said I had to...I had to save his life.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Please don’t ask me why I had to save that evil scumbag’s life.”
“I won’t ask,” said Neil. “But I’d like to know more. You know, I can remember him visiting you at the rehab center. He paid for your treatment, didn’t he? I think I might have mistaken him for your father at first. I’m guessing the two of you were close?”
Jesse shook his head again. “I...I don’t even know anymore. Honestly, I think it was all just a lie. Like...like I think he was just using me the whole entire time...”
Neil fell silent for a moment. Then he asked, “Jesse...was it Walter White who sold you to that Aryan Brotherhood gang? Was it some form of revenge?”
Jesse flinched. “What do you know about that?”
“Only what I’ve heard on the news. There was some woman called Lydia who died in a hospital in Houston in the early hours of this morning. She’d been poisoned and she claimed that Walter White had been her killer. It was too late for the doctors to save her, but they say she made a full confession on her deathbed. Apparently she was seeking police protection for her family, fearing what revenge Walter White might take...even after his death. One of the things she admitted was that you had been held against your will and forced to manufacture meth for them. Though the police might’ve worked that one out for themselves...they found the chains, Jesse. The police know what those men did to you.”
“Yeah, so what?!” Jesse snapped. It was bad enough that he had been made a slave without people knowing about it and pitying him for it. “You expect the cops to give a shit?! I’m the bad guy, aren’t I? I cooked a lot of meth when I wasn’t being forced to, so being leashed to a lab is exactly what I deserve. That’s what they’ll say! That I got what I earned. And they’d be right. I...I’ve accepted that. It’s all about self-acceptance, right?”
Neil winced to hear his own words being spat back at him.
“Did you really think that’s what I meant by self-acceptance, Jesse? Did you think I’d want you to accept that every bad thing that happens to you is a punishment you deserve?”
Jesse shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean...it makes sense...”
“Wow...” Neil said flatly. “Looks like you’ve had more than one shitty teacher.” He moved around the fire and placed his hand on Jesse’s arm. “There’s one thing that you really do need to accept, but I realize it might take time. What those men did to you...it wasn’t something that you deserved. It’s not something that any human being deserves.”
Jesse tried to interrupt. “You don’t know what I...”
“You didn’t deserve to be tortured,” Neil insisted. And when he said it, when he actually said the word, Jesse flinched and tried to pull away. But Neil held on tight to his arm. “You can’t hide the fact that they tortured you, Jesse. It’s all over your face. It was in your voice when you told me they made you watch as they killed Andrea.” Neil’s hand moved from Jesse’s arm to his shoulder. “Whatever you’ve done wrong...it doesn’t justify the wrongs that have been done to you. You have to learn to separate the two and I...I don’t know if I can help you with that. I only have experience in counselling people through drug and alcohol recovery. I’m out of my depth with victims of torture. There are serious physical and psychological problems that come from your experiences and...I think you need help, Jesse. Professional help. Honestly, I’m afraid that you won’t survive without it.”
Jesse opened his eyes, letting his tears fall and meeting Neil’s stare.
“Seriously...” Jesse rasped, “...who’s going to help me?”
“Mental health care is a requirement in the prison system,” Neil persisted. “I can’t say there haven’t been cases of neglect, but I know a fair number of human rights groups that would raise a stink if a person like you went without therapeutic treatment. You’re not a person who can easily be ignored, Jesse. I mean...you’re kind of famous.”
Jesse frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Neil hesitated before saying it, “Let me put it this way...earlier today I was reading an article that was speculating over who was going to play you in the movie.”
“Shit,” Jesse blinked. “I mean...what the hell?”
“This is a high profile case,” Neil continued, “The most infamous this city has seen. Before this week not a lot was known about Walter White...he was an alleged drug dealer who had gone on the run after allegedly murdering his DEA brother-in-law. His wife couldn’t give the police anything more than that and this Heisenberg legend was all just urban myth. Until that business with the machine gun, of course. Now it’s the big story. And everyone knows you’re the one who can tell that story. It means you’ll be getting a lot of attention and not all of it will be negative. It means you’ll have your pick of the lawyers. That old news story about you throwing millions of dollars out of your car window? That tells people you’re not the usual sort of criminal. It might make for a strong defence.”
“You mean, like...special treatment? That’s not really fair...”
Neil sighed. “Jesse, there’s a great deal about your situation that isn’t fair. Please allow for some of the unfairness to work to your advantage. Listen, I can’t say for sure what is going to happen. I can tell you the reform system worked for me and so I have some degree of faith in it. But I can’t make any promises.” Neil stared into the fire. “Personally I’d like to think that the police have piled up enough dead drug dealers that they don’t need a scapegoat. I think what they really need is the truth. And not just to wrap up their case files. I’m sure there are a lot of families still waiting for the truth about what happened to their lost loved ones. You might be the only person left who can give them that truth.”
Jesse thought again about Drew Sharp’s parents. He thought about Mike’s granddaughter and Hank Schrader’s wife. He...he thought about Brock. He wondered if the truth was too terrible.
“What if I can’t?” Jesse asked, shuddering. “What if I can’t do it?”
Neil exhaled and then answered, “You could still run. If you want to leave right now, I won’t stop you. You could do what it takes to survive. You could keep your secrets and never tell anyone your real name. You could hide your pain and guilt from the world, so nobody ever knows what you did or what you’ve been through. But that’s another kind of prison, Jesse. One I’ve been inside myself. And I know which prison is worse...”
Jesse stared down at the smouldering ashes of their fire. The dancing orange flames had long since died away and the air was chilly around them. He shivered, rose to his feet and stamped out the last of the fading red embers. Neil stood up with him.
“Jesse, what are you thinking?” he pressed.
“I...I think I’m tired,” he said.
Link to Part Two
Fandom. Breaking Bad
Characters. Jesse and the NA leader.
Summary. Last part of my post-Felina Jesse fic. Jesse is desperate to leave his life of crime behind him and yet crime is the only means of survival that he knows. What will it take for Jesse to break free from the person he has been?
Warnings. Bad language. Relentless angst as always.
Disclaimer. Breaking Bad is not mine, but I needs must have my own Jesse resolution.
Beta. Thanks to bessiemaemucho and celeryy515. Both total champs!
Author's Note. Sorry the final chapter has taken me so long. Hope the double length makes up for the wait. Oh also for this chapter specifically I'd like to give credit to selenak who gave me the idea for a fic where Jesse goes to his NA leader.
Chapter One. Yonder Stands Your Orphan
Chapter Two. The Empty Handed Painter
“Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you,
Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you,
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door,
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore,
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.”
Chapter Three: The Vagabond Who's Rapping
It was a long walk to the guy’s house.
The NA leader didn’t drive anymore, Jesse remembered him saying so one time in group. He’d told them that driving was one of his triggers. And yeah, Jesse didn’t think he would trust himself behind a wheel again if he’d once backed a truck over a six-year-old. Jesse was just glad that he didn’t have to approach the guy in the parking lot. He needed this walk to build up his nerve. More than once Jesse feared that he would lose the guy on the late night streets. Then before he was prepared for it...they were at his house.
Jesse held himself back, lingering in the safety of the shadows, watching the guy search for his keys on the porch. He wondered what the hell he was thinking.
“You need to run,” said the voice in his head, Mr White’s voice. “Junkie idiot. I’ve just saved your life again...and you’re going to throw your last chance away?”
Jesse shook his head. No, he wasn’t screwing up this time. He had to believe that this was his first step towards recovery. He knew the steps well. He could admit that he had impulses that he was struggling to control. Only it wasn’t his drug addiction that was the trouble this time. No, his real problem was his compulsion to break the law; the habit that Jesse had fallen back into too many times, the thing that had ruined his whole life and the lives of so many others around him. Jesse really wanted to stop but he knew his situation had become unmanageable. How many crimes had Jesse come close to committing in the last few days? Pick-pocketing, prostitution, car theft and drug use...yeah. Jesse knew he was desperate. He knew he was on the verge. He could admit it and that was step one. Step two was believing in a power greater than himself, a power that could restore him to sanity.
“Run, Jesse...” Mr White’s voice was still hissing in his head.
Jesse knew that particular voice would only drive him further into madness. He wasn’t doing what that voice wanted him to do anymore. Not ever again.
“Hey,” Jesse blurted to the man he hoped might be his higher power.
Jesse winced as his voice came out raspy and ragged. He watched as the guy froze at his door and then slowly turned around, suddenly sensing the presence behind him...the broken, barely human shadow that had followed him all the way home.
“Who’s there?” the guy called out.
Jesse stepped into the dull glow cast by the porch light.
“I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coming here. I didn’t know where else to go...” He swallowed before adding, “You can call the cops if you want.”
The guy on the porch stood blinking, his mouth hanging jar.
“Jesse Pinkman,” he said at last. “My God...”
Jesse managed a faint smile. At least someone still recognised him.
“Sorry,” he said again. “I, uh...I forgot your name.”
Jesse couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He’d gone to a lot of meetings and he remembered so much of what the guy had said. How come he couldn’t remember his name? Jesse had always just thought of him as the leader...like he was a priest or something.
The guy placed a hand to his chest. “Neil. It’s Neil.”
“Right, Neil,” said Jesse. “I’m real sorry for coming, Neil.”
Jesse couldn’t apologise enough for his presence at the guy’s home. Neil looked scared. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and his hand hovered over his chest as if to shield himself and fuck...why did he look so scared? Jesse hadn’t come any closer.
“Jesse,” said Neil. “Could you please show me your hands?”
There was a quiver in his voice. He thinks I’ve got a gun, Jesse realized. He thinks I’m some crazy fugitive come to rob him and put a bullet in his head...
All the stuff Jesse had said on his confession tape...it was probably public knowledge by now. Neil would know he was a murderer. He would know all about Jesse shooting people in their doorways. Jesse quickly took his hands out of his pockets and showed Neil his empty palms. Then he stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the porch.
“I’m not going to...I’m not armed,” said Jesse, his voice trembling worse than Neil’s. “I don’t have anything but the clothes I’m standing in. If you don’t believe me, then like I said...call the cops and get it over with. I...I can’t do this anymore.”
Neil slowly crouched down, picked up the jacket and patted it down. The rolled up notebook, which was still in the pocket, slipped out and fluttered to the ground. Neil raised his head, looking back up at Jesse. He sighed and then beckoned him near.
“You’d better come inside,” he said.
Jesse nodded, relieved. He really couldn’t have run. He barely had the energy left to walk. He shuffled inside the house and winced as Neil snapped on the lights, blinding him with their harsh yellow glare. He was shivering all over. In the quiet of the living room he could hear his teeth chattering. Neil stood close by, talking to him softly.
“I’m glad you came,” Neil assured him. “I know it was me who asked you to leave during that last meeting. I had to protect the flock, as it were. And protect myself. You were going after my triggers too. But I didn’t want to give up on you, Jesse.”
Jesse nodded, feeling dizzy and struggling to focus on Neil’s kind words.
“This is a nice home,” he said, vaguely attempting to be a polite guest.
Jesse’s bleary eyes moved from the soft couch cushions to the beige wallpaper to the mirror above the mantelpiece. There was his reflection again; that pale, scarred werewolf creature he had turned into. Jesse stared into his own bloodshot eyes. Shit. He looked like he was dying. Maybe he was? Jesse felt himself swaying, the room spun and...
Neil caught him by the elbow, steadying him before he fell.
“You need to sit down,” Neil instructed firmly.
Jesse nodded and allowed himself to be led to the dining table. He flinched as Neil reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead. He told Jesse he had a slight fever. Then he stepped into the adjoining kitchen and opened his fridge. A moment later, Neil brought Jesse a large bowl of tofu and mixed bean salad and a tall glass of water. Jesse tried not to eat and drink too fast. He tried not to look like some hungry feral animal, but man...this vegan health food crap was the best thing he could remember tasting in a long time.
Jesse took a breath, pausing between desperate mouthfuls.
“So are you going to call the cops?” he asked.
With Neil’s care and hospitality, Jesse could feel himself relaxing. But he didn’t want to get too comfortable if he had to brace himself for the cops hauling his ass to jail anytime soon.
“Should I?” Neil asked. “Do you want to talk to them?”
Jesse cringed, remembering the hard twin stares of Agents Schrader and Gomez.
“I...I’d rather talk to you,” he said.
Neil nodded, taking a seat opposite him. “That’s good. Opening up is always good. You still need to drink more of that water, Jesse. Why don’t you let me talk first?”
“Why? You got something to tell me?”
Neil nodded. “Yeah, it...it’s about Andrea.”
Jesse tensed, laying down his fork and reaching for his glass.
“She’s dead,” he muttered. “I know that.”
Neil squinted with a look of keen suspicion but he didn’t question him.
“Andrea came to see me at group,” said Neil. “That was maybe...around a week before it happened. She was asking me if I’d seen you. She was worried because she’d heard you were using again. And that’s not all she was concerned about.” Neil drew his arms tight around his chest, leaning back in his chair. “This was right after the news about Walter White broke. Andrea told me the man had come to her house...that he had been looking for you. She said she had tried to help Walter White to contact you and that she feared she’d made a mistake.” Neil shook his head sorrowfully. “Andrea told me everything, Jesse. After the others from group went home, she just broke down in tears and admitted she’d been taking money from you to help pay her rent. She said she had kept on taking your money even after the two of you had broken up. She said she’d been so determined to keep Brock in a good neighborhood that she’d just...turned a blind eye to where your money might be coming from. She seemed to regret the whole thing, saying that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if you’d been putting your life in danger just to provide for her and her son.”
Jesse’s fingers tightened around the glass. He couldn’t believe Andrea had cared enough to cry over him. But what was worse was that Mr White had been at their house. He’d said he was sorry about Brock but that was another lie and he’d been at their fucking house. And that was why...shit, that’s how Todd had known. Jesse always thought it had been him who had screwed up. That he must have mentioned something to Todd about having a girlfriend with a little kid before he knew what a psycho freak Todd was. But no, it had been Mr White using them as bait again. He was the reason why Andrea had been...
“I should’ve gone to the police,” Neil went on. “I didn’t want to get Andrea in trouble. I didn’t want her to lose the house, but maybe she’d be alive if I’d...”
“No, it wasn’t your fault,” Jesse blurted. “They still would’ve...”
He closed his eyes, his throat clenching, unable to say it.
“Jesse,” said Neil’s voice, breaking into his thoughts. “Do...do you know who it was that killed her? I mean...was there some reason for her being shot?”
Ever since I met you, Jesse thought, everything I have ever cared about...
“He told them. That was the reason. And they...they made me watch.”
Tears squeezed through Jesse’s pinched eyelids. He felt Neil’s hand on his arm, squeezing hard and then shaking him a little. Jesse startled and looked at him.
“We don’t have to talk about that now,” Neil said hastily.
Jesse nodded, grateful he wasn’t being pushed too hard, yet humiliated that he was clearly such a broken shell that Neil feared the pressure would shatter him.
“Andrea wasn’t the only one who came asking about you,” Neil added.
“Yeah? Who else?” said Jesse, thinking that maybe Badger and Skinny had noticed he was missing and maybe made some half-assed attempt to find him.
“Your parents,” said Neil.
Jesse stared at him in disbelief, his heart throbbing.
“It was just a few days after Andrea’s death...” Neil continued, “...they said on the news that you had been killed too. Some guy who used to work as a bodyguard for that TV lawyer, the Goodman guy who’d also gone missing. He said Agent Schrader had shown him a photo of your body...that you’d been shot in the head, same as Andrea. It was assumed that you had both been murdered by the Heisenberg cartel, cleaning up witnesses.” Neil’s eyes were sad and distant, like he was drifting back. “We were all very upset about it in group. Brandon and Peter had this wild theory that you had faked your own death and run away to Alaska, but we assumed they were just in denial. I guess one of our members must have gone to pay their respects to your family because soon afterwards your mom and dad came to see me at the church. They didn’t actually know you’d been attending meetings.”
Jesse swallowed, hardly daring to ask.
“What did they say?”
“The usual things that parents say to me when a kid in my support group dies too young. Was it our fault? Did we give up too soon? Is there anything we could’ve done differently?” Neil sighed, clearly having heard these laments too many times. “When they finished crying they invited me to a private memorial service they were having for you at their home. They told me that it was something your brother had wanted to do.”
Jesse shook his head. He knew Jake would be older now, but he was still picturing his tiny kid brother in a dark suit directing a little funeral service in their backyard, giving some perfectly written little eulogy for the dumb druggie family outcast and then playing a sad tune on the flute or the violin or whatever else he had learned by now. Poor Jake, thought Jesse. He’d spent his whole life helping their parents to get over their first son.
“And you went?” Jesse asked.
Neil nodded. “I went.”
He said no more than that and Jesse felt it would be too creepy to ask for further details on his own memorial service. Neil took the empty glass and salad bowl from the table asking if Jesse was still hungry. After talking about Andrea, Jesse really wasn’t. That was when Neil said that Jesse could go upstairs and shower if he wanted. Jesse almost started crying again with gratitude. Even if Neil called the cops while he was showering, Jesse still felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to get arrested while he was covered in grime and stank of a week’s worth of sour sweat. It had been days since his escape but Jesse still had that meth lab smell in his nostrils. He wondered if it would ever really fade.
Neil guided Jesse up the stairs, through his bedroom and the accordion door that led to his shower. Neil folded the door behind him, giving Jesse some privacy while he peeled away his black shirt and combat pants, shedding them like an old skin. When Jesse stepped under the gushing water it felt...shit, it felt like a baptism. Like God was reaching down to wash him, to warm him, to give him this one last moment of mercy. Neil’s coconut shampoo smelled so good Jesse could have eaten it. He clutched a creamy bar of soap in his hands and scrubbed himself raw. When he was done washing, Jesse just let his hands slide over his own naked skin...this weak helpless body that he had been wanting to escape for months. It was all still here. He was in one piece. It was safe to be naked again.
After drying, Jesse wrapped himself in the bathrobe that Neil had left for him and he stood before the mirror that hung over the sink. He forced himself to look at his hated reflection. He scratched at his bearded cheeks and his fingers traced the lines of his old wounds. He wished he could rip out the hair and the scar tissue and find his old face again underneath. A moment later there came a knock and Neil’s voice called to him.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, still looking in the mirror, locked in a bitter staring contest.
Neil stepped into the bathroom and stood behind Jesse, staring with him.
“Could use a shave, huh?” said Neil.
“Yeah,” Jesse said again. “Like...could I?”
Neil raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
Jesse knew what he was getting at. The beard was a good disguise; easier to hide his identity with it covering his face. But what did that even matter now? Jesse just wanted to look in the mirror without scaring himself. He just wanted to be clean.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said.
Neil nodded and brought him a razor and foam. He didn’t leave Jesse alone this time. He stood very close as Jesse spread the foam over his cheeks and chin.
“What?” Jesse said after a moment. “Are you gonna watch me?”
Neil smiled a little, though his eyes were sharp and serious.
“Jesse, I have to be sure you’re not going to do anything else with the razor.”
Jesse swallowed and nodded. Suicide hadn’t actually occurred to him, not since that first night when he had been tempted to just stay in the desert, entombed in Todd’s car. It made Jesse nervous that Neil felt his situation was so dire that suicide might be a big temptation. Jesse’s hand trembled as he reached for the razor, grasping for this last bit of freedom and dignity. But he was shaking so hard. Jesse knew he was going to cut himself new scars if he tried to shave in this state. Neil placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Will you let me?” he said softly.
Jesse nodded, bitter tears stinging his eyes again. He lowered himself onto the toilet, gripping the lid and trying to hold himself still as Neil stroked the blade over his cheeks. The guy was a delicate barber to be sure, but Jesse still squirmed, desperate for the ordeal to be over with. There were still those painful associations with Todd coming to his cell to cut his fingernails and trim his beard with electric clippers, like Jesse was a mangy dog that needed grooming. Neil seemed to sense Jesse’s discomfort and finished up as quickly as possible, then handed him another towel to wipe his face clean. Neil crouched and picked up the heap of clothes, Todd’s old clothes, which Jesse had discarded on the floor.
“I can lend you some jeans,” said Neil. “And I have some of those green shirts to spare. You know...the green shirts they give to members at the rehab centre.”
“Yeah, thanks,” said Jesse. “Um, please can you throw those other clothes out?”
Neil looked down at the stinking black bundle in his hands.
“How about we burn them?” he suggested. “You know I love a good campfire.”
~*~
The hour was close to midnight and it was quiet on Neil’s street. The neighbours must have either been sleeping or watching TV in their homes not knowing that New Mexico’s most wanted fugitive was huddling before a fire in a garden nearby.
“Does your face feel better?” asked Neil, piercing the silence between them.
For the last fifteen minutes, they’d simply been sitting together, staring down at the smoking black clothes. Jesse wished the flames could burn up his memories just as fast. It was going to take a lot more than this fire to help him feel better, but watching the clothes burn at least made him feel calm. Jesse rubbed his newly smooth chin.
“Yeah...better,” he muttered. Without the hair on his face, he could feel a little less like an escaped animal that needed to be caught and caged again.
“You look better,” Neil assured him. “You look younger…” He paused for a moment and tilted his head before asking, “How old are you, Jesse?”
“Twenty-five,” Jesse answered automatically. Then he paused, reconsidering. “No wait, that can’t be, um...I mean, how long has it been since...”
“Since you went missing? Close to six months.”
“Right,” he said. “Twenty-six then. I’m twenty-six now.”
He’d had a birthday, Jesse realized. He’d had a birthday in there.
“I was thirty-two,” said Neil tentatively.
Jesse frowned. “Thirty-two? Thirty-two when what?”
“When I went to prison,” he finished.
Jesse swallowed. He’d assumed Neil would be calling the cops on him at some point but his heart still sank to hear it confirmed. So yeah, he’d traded his freedom for a hot shower and a decent meal. Jesse guessed he probably wasn’t the first.
Still he was distracted by the perplexing thought of Neil in prison. He just wasn’t the kind of dude that you pictured wearing an orange jumpsuit.
“You…you were in jail?” said Jesse.
Neil nodded. “Yeah, Jesse. I killed my six-year-old daughter while I was high on cocaine. They don’t let you off with a slap on the wrist for that.”
Jesse winced. He was amazed that Neil could even say those words without breaking down and screaming. Jesse knew this kind of guilt, the worst kind - the guilt that some innocent kid was dead and it was your fault, however accidental or unintended. Jesse didn’t dare imagine how much worse it would feel if the child was your own.
“How much time did they give you?” Jesse asked.
“A lot,” Neil answered evasively. “I didn’t help myself by getting out on bail only to drink every day until my trial...” Neil shook his head as if in pity and confusion at his former self. “It’s funny. I was so worried about losing my freedom. But even before I lost my little girl and my wife too, through divorce…even before that, I’d been spending most of my days shut up in my house, pissing my life away. I wasn’t prepared for drying out in a jail cell but later I came to see that it was what I needed.” At this point, he smiled. “I couldn’t believe how clear my head felt afterwards. I could think again. I could write. I wrote three books while I was in prison, Jesse. I was working on the fourth when I got paroled.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah...jail works wonders. I can’t wait to go. Look if you’re gonna dime on me, just do it. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”
“I haven’t called the cops yet, have I?” Neil pointed out. “If I went for the phone now...you could probably knock me on my ass and be out the door before I could stop you. This isn’t a citizen’s arrest, Jesse. It was your choice to come to me. You said that you wanted to talk. I was your NA group leader and I don’t like failing people who come to me for help. It’s my vocation, Jesse. And my vocation is most of what I live for.”
Jesse nodded. He could understand that. Yeah, it made sense that Neil lived for his work these days. In the house, Jesse had noticed the guy had plenty of books on his shelves, but no photographs. He guessed that Neil couldn’t get another family after he’d fucked up so badly with his first one. Jesse knew that feeling only too well.
“Just give me some real advice, would you?” Jesse pleaded.
Neil held his stare. “I’m not saying it wasn’t hard. I was inside for a long time. The nature of my crime didn’t exactly make me the most popular person in there. I had to go into protective custody more than once because I kept getting beaten up in the general population. So yes, Jesse, it was hard. But it was something I had to go through.”
Jesse snorted a laugh. “You think I give a shit how hard it is? You think it scares me? Look, any jail is going to be the sunshine holiday camp compared to where I’ve been these past months. So don’t expect me to be scared. But don’t try to sell me any silver linings either. Don’t tell me what I can look forward to when it’s over. If they put me away, I’m never coming out. I mean...you’ve heard about the stuff I’ve done, right?”
Neil raised his eyebrows. “Actually I haven’t.”
Jesse frowned. “The confession tape I did....the cops found it, right?”
“Oh yeah...that. Well, what they didn’t clarify in those initial news reports was that they found the disk in broken pieces. Just pieces in a shoebox under one of their beds. I think the police were optimistic at first. They thought they could repair it and get the answers they needed. But since yesterday news on your tape has all gone quiet.”
Jesse frowned as he struggled to remember exactly what Todd had told him about that confession tape. He knew that they had stolen it from the Schrader house. He’d had to listen to Jack and his friends mocking him over all the things he’d said. He’d had them calling him a crybaby and a rat every time he saw them. He had a vague memory of Todd telling him he was going to melt the disk in acid. But it looked like that had been a lie. It seemed like Todd had kept the shards of his confession as his own secret treasure.
“So...they don’t have anything on me?” asked Jesse.
Jesse should have been relieved over this, but part of him felt instantly sick and shameful. It was the same part of him that kept thinking about Drew Sharp’s parents and how they still didn’t even know what had happened to their missing kid.
Neil shrugged. “They may have fragments, I suppose. Even if they fix the tape I think it’s questionable if it would be admissible in court. It’s my understanding that Agent Schrader was working outside the system trying to bring his brother-in-law to justice.” He paused for a moment and then added, “But the tape’s existence tells them that you were a former criminal associate of Walter White’s who came clean and was prepared to turn police witness. And I’d say the police knowing that works in your favor, Jesse.”
“No, actually, it doesn’t,” said Jesse. “Maybe if the Great Heisenberg were still alive and the cops could keep me from getting whacked long enough to do some witnessing...maybe they’d have offered me a good deal. But he’s dead now. They’re all dead. Those evil Nazi fucks, Gus Fring and crazy-ass Tuco...they were all killed before the cops could get them in lock up. Now I’m the last perp left standing. So I’m not the guy who gets off for turning snitch. I’m the guy they’ll nail it all on, okay? I’m, like...the stray goat.”
“I think you mean scapegoat,” said Neil, though he didn’t refute the point Jesse was making. “You may be right,” he conceded. “I’ve heard the prosecution have been going after Skyler White too and that also seems to be because she’s all they’ve got.”
Jesse frowned. “His wife? They’re trying to pin it on his wife?”
This he could hardly stomach. After all the times he’d listened to that asshole insisting he was doing it for his family...and in the end he’d just gone on the run and left his wife to carry the can? He’d left his kids to potentially look at their mom through bars? He’d left them to drown in the shit-storm he’d created? The guy had cancer and he would have croaked before he did any real time...but he’d been too pussy to go to jail for them?
“Mrs White...she didn’t even want any of this,” Jesse insisted. “She, like...she kicked him out of their house. She sent their kids away from him. She hated him so much she was literally waiting for him to die. She was, like...a victim in all this, okay?”
“Yes, a lot of people have been saying so,” said Neil. “And you know, Jesse, after your supposed death, I read a few articles speculating over whether you were a victim of his too.”
Jesse shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly he felt like he was back in the old interrogation room again with Schrader’s eyes staring right into the pits of his soul.
He really did a number on you, didn’t he?
Jesse snorted again. “I...I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, he was your teacher, right?” said Neil. “You know I was a teacher once too. I used to teach English at a high school back in Virginia....I have to ask myself, what kind of teacher would tutor one of his students in making the perfect crystal meth?”
“No look...I was already in the business. He might’ve blackmailed me into partnering with him, but he didn’t force me to cook. I wanted to be as good as him.”
“But our teachers can be a powerful influence, Jesse. A dangerous influence if the teacher abuses their position. Were there things he did force you to do?”
Jesse didn’t know how to begin answering that question.
Neil hunched forward. “Jesse...your problem dog?”
Fuck. Jesse screwed his eyes shut, his heart racing. With everything else that Neil knew he guessed it wasn’t too hard to figure out. If the guy had been an English teacher then yeah, he wouldn’t have much trouble seeing through Jesse’s flimsy metaphors.
“I...I didn’t want to...” Jesse stammered. It was the first time he’d said it. “I told him that I couldn’t do it. But he said I had to...I had to save his life.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Please don’t ask me why I had to save that evil scumbag’s life.”
“I won’t ask,” said Neil. “But I’d like to know more. You know, I can remember him visiting you at the rehab center. He paid for your treatment, didn’t he? I think I might have mistaken him for your father at first. I’m guessing the two of you were close?”
Jesse shook his head again. “I...I don’t even know anymore. Honestly, I think it was all just a lie. Like...like I think he was just using me the whole entire time...”
Neil fell silent for a moment. Then he asked, “Jesse...was it Walter White who sold you to that Aryan Brotherhood gang? Was it some form of revenge?”
Jesse flinched. “What do you know about that?”
“Only what I’ve heard on the news. There was some woman called Lydia who died in a hospital in Houston in the early hours of this morning. She’d been poisoned and she claimed that Walter White had been her killer. It was too late for the doctors to save her, but they say she made a full confession on her deathbed. Apparently she was seeking police protection for her family, fearing what revenge Walter White might take...even after his death. One of the things she admitted was that you had been held against your will and forced to manufacture meth for them. Though the police might’ve worked that one out for themselves...they found the chains, Jesse. The police know what those men did to you.”
“Yeah, so what?!” Jesse snapped. It was bad enough that he had been made a slave without people knowing about it and pitying him for it. “You expect the cops to give a shit?! I’m the bad guy, aren’t I? I cooked a lot of meth when I wasn’t being forced to, so being leashed to a lab is exactly what I deserve. That’s what they’ll say! That I got what I earned. And they’d be right. I...I’ve accepted that. It’s all about self-acceptance, right?”
Neil winced to hear his own words being spat back at him.
“Did you really think that’s what I meant by self-acceptance, Jesse? Did you think I’d want you to accept that every bad thing that happens to you is a punishment you deserve?”
Jesse shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean...it makes sense...”
“Wow...” Neil said flatly. “Looks like you’ve had more than one shitty teacher.” He moved around the fire and placed his hand on Jesse’s arm. “There’s one thing that you really do need to accept, but I realize it might take time. What those men did to you...it wasn’t something that you deserved. It’s not something that any human being deserves.”
Jesse tried to interrupt. “You don’t know what I...”
“You didn’t deserve to be tortured,” Neil insisted. And when he said it, when he actually said the word, Jesse flinched and tried to pull away. But Neil held on tight to his arm. “You can’t hide the fact that they tortured you, Jesse. It’s all over your face. It was in your voice when you told me they made you watch as they killed Andrea.” Neil’s hand moved from Jesse’s arm to his shoulder. “Whatever you’ve done wrong...it doesn’t justify the wrongs that have been done to you. You have to learn to separate the two and I...I don’t know if I can help you with that. I only have experience in counselling people through drug and alcohol recovery. I’m out of my depth with victims of torture. There are serious physical and psychological problems that come from your experiences and...I think you need help, Jesse. Professional help. Honestly, I’m afraid that you won’t survive without it.”
Jesse opened his eyes, letting his tears fall and meeting Neil’s stare.
“Seriously...” Jesse rasped, “...who’s going to help me?”
“Mental health care is a requirement in the prison system,” Neil persisted. “I can’t say there haven’t been cases of neglect, but I know a fair number of human rights groups that would raise a stink if a person like you went without therapeutic treatment. You’re not a person who can easily be ignored, Jesse. I mean...you’re kind of famous.”
Jesse frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Neil hesitated before saying it, “Let me put it this way...earlier today I was reading an article that was speculating over who was going to play you in the movie.”
“Shit,” Jesse blinked. “I mean...what the hell?”
“This is a high profile case,” Neil continued, “The most infamous this city has seen. Before this week not a lot was known about Walter White...he was an alleged drug dealer who had gone on the run after allegedly murdering his DEA brother-in-law. His wife couldn’t give the police anything more than that and this Heisenberg legend was all just urban myth. Until that business with the machine gun, of course. Now it’s the big story. And everyone knows you’re the one who can tell that story. It means you’ll be getting a lot of attention and not all of it will be negative. It means you’ll have your pick of the lawyers. That old news story about you throwing millions of dollars out of your car window? That tells people you’re not the usual sort of criminal. It might make for a strong defence.”
“You mean, like...special treatment? That’s not really fair...”
Neil sighed. “Jesse, there’s a great deal about your situation that isn’t fair. Please allow for some of the unfairness to work to your advantage. Listen, I can’t say for sure what is going to happen. I can tell you the reform system worked for me and so I have some degree of faith in it. But I can’t make any promises.” Neil stared into the fire. “Personally I’d like to think that the police have piled up enough dead drug dealers that they don’t need a scapegoat. I think what they really need is the truth. And not just to wrap up their case files. I’m sure there are a lot of families still waiting for the truth about what happened to their lost loved ones. You might be the only person left who can give them that truth.”
Jesse thought again about Drew Sharp’s parents. He thought about Mike’s granddaughter and Hank Schrader’s wife. He...he thought about Brock. He wondered if the truth was too terrible.
“What if I can’t?” Jesse asked, shuddering. “What if I can’t do it?”
Neil exhaled and then answered, “You could still run. If you want to leave right now, I won’t stop you. You could do what it takes to survive. You could keep your secrets and never tell anyone your real name. You could hide your pain and guilt from the world, so nobody ever knows what you did or what you’ve been through. But that’s another kind of prison, Jesse. One I’ve been inside myself. And I know which prison is worse...”
Jesse stared down at the smouldering ashes of their fire. The dancing orange flames had long since died away and the air was chilly around them. He shivered, rose to his feet and stamped out the last of the fading red embers. Neil stood up with him.
“Jesse, what are you thinking?” he pressed.
“I...I think I’m tired,” he said.
Link to Part Two