"Is there something we need to talk about?" Walt had asked Jesse earlier that afternoon in the lab after a strained and unusual invitation to ride go-carts with him.

Although Jesse had managed to come back with a snotty quip about Walt's black eye to get him to back off, Walt could see that the kid was not well. Even as he denied anything was wrong, Jesse's hands were shaking, his eyes were red and it almost seemed that he was trying not to cry. Walt didn't believe him for a second, but backed off and let the kid go home, not wanting to discuss it in the lab in front of Gus' cameras. They had just barely avoided being killed and he didn't want to give Gus reason to rethink the decision to let them live.

Still, as he drove home he couldn't stop thinking about it. He stopped at the store, picked up a case of beer and returned to his lonely condo, where he sat in the living room and stared at the wall for awhile. He couldn't stop thinking about Jesse though, as he was sure he was using again and growing more concerned by the minute. That kid sure does have a way of getting himself into trouble, Walt thought dismally, I guess maybe we're not so different.

Remembering what Don Margolis had told him in the bar about family, he sighed and got up, leaving his half-finished beer. He knew he was going over there; there was no use putting it off.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Jesse's door. He could hear loud music blaring and see the lights from his sound system. Walt was immediately taken aback when he realized that Jesse wasn't alone. There was a broken ashtray on the front porch, cigarette butts strewn everywhere as well as a pair of dirty pants and a shoe trailing off the doorstep- neither looked like something Jesse would wear. Walt tried to peek in the window to see what was up. Hopefully, he had just had Badger and Skinny Pete over, but there was an awful lot of movement in the house for just those two. Something told Walt that he wasn't going to like what was inside.

He couldn't see much through the closed curtains and finally resigned himself to knocking on the door.

"Jesse," He called, knocking louder, "Jesse, it's me."

He knew Jesse wouldn't answer but was hoping maybe Badger would. After a minute of no response, he realized he probably couldn't even be heard over the music and tried the handle. Much to his surprise it popped open easily. That wasn't good, Walt knew, with as many threats to their lives as they'd had in the last few weeks, you'd think he would at least keep his door locked.

Walt stepped in and his jaw dropped. Instead of crashing a wild party as he had begun to expect, the house was in complete disarray. Graffiti covered the walls, the floor was littered with torn clothing and beer bottles, cigarette butts and drug paraphernalia of all kinds. Walt stepped in carefully, not really wanting to touch anything and turned off the sound system. And he had been right; his young friend was not alone. There were several homeless people talking in the corner, as well as a couple more passed out on the floor, hopefully alive. A naked man was lying on the living room floor, staring up at Walt.

Just as Walt was about to call out to him, Jesse came stumbling down the stairs. He froze when he saw Walt. He didn't move but his eyes registered fear- for he knew how utterly he had disappointed his mentor. Not knowing what to do, Jesse remained frozen, blue eyes boring into Walt's dark ones.

"Oh, Jesse," Walt said at last, then repeated it in a more sorrowful tone, "Jesse."

Jesse was wearing a bright blue shirt which seemed to make his eyes even more blue. He stood perfectly still, minus the shaking in his arms and the slight quivering of his face, waiting for Walt to say something else.

Walt frowned, taking stock of the place. A lone scream from the kitchen distracted him momentarily, and when he returned his gaze to Jesse he saw how much trouble his friend was in. He looked like a little boy in that moment, the way Walt Jr. used to look at him when he knew he was in trouble but still needed him to fix whatever mishap he'd gotten into.

Finally, Walt took a few steps toward Jesse, hoping he would meet him in the middle but he didn't move. Walt closed the distance between them himself and put a hand on the young man's shoulder. Jesse looked at his hand, then back at his face, but didn't speak.

"You're not okay, son, are you?" Walt asked softly.

He expected Jesse to lash out but instead he just shook his head. Walt squeezed his shoulder.

"Will you let me help you?"

Jesse bit his lower lip and nodded.

"Good," Walt nodded, putting his other hand on Jesse's shoulder, forcing him to face him squarely, "It's going to be okay, just go upstairs to your room and throw a few changes of clothes in a bag. No drugs."

The word where hung on Jesse's lips but he didn't ask. Instead he slowly shuffled up the stairs.

"That's it, everybody out!" Walt called, "Get out of here now!"

When Jesse heard Walt's footsteps on the stairs about ten minute later, his heart jumped into his chest. He was already feeling nervous and strung out from all the drugs, but knowing that Walt was going to be mad at him only served to increase his anxiety. Maybe he wouldn't be mad, Jesse reasoned, but decided his pity was even worse. Maybe he should just tell him to fuck off, but then again, it was obvious to everyone including Jesse that he was not handling this well on his own.

"Well, I think that's the last of them," Walt said, entering the room, "No more hobos."

Jesse looked at him questioningly.

"You'll want to lock the house up good tonight, in case anyone comes back. Go on and throw some clothes in that bag," Walt paced the room, "Where's your cash?"

"Closet," Jesse mumbled, the first words he'd said all night.

Walt quickly found the bag of cash and grabbed it forcefully, "You'll get this back when you're better."

"What are you gonna do?" Jesse asked, his voice hoarse.

"We've got to get you clean, son," Walt said, sitting on the edge of Jesse's bed, "Look what you're doing to yourself. You've got homeless people living in your house. These people don't care about you, Jesse, they're just here because you're taking care of them."

"Oh, and you do?" Jesse snapped.

"I do," Walt said openly, surprising the young man who was rearing for a fight, "And that's why I'm taking care of you."

"Are you taking me back to rehab?" Jesse stared into his pathetic duffle bag, with only one change of clothes, the only remotely clean thing he had left.

"No, I can't," Walt said, "Gus would….well, we can't do that. I'm going to take you to my house and I'll get you clean."

"Um….I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. White," Jesse said sheepishly.

"No? And what's your idea? Stay high forever so you never have to deal with this?"

Jesse shrugged, too embarrassed to tell Walt that that was exactly his idea.

"That's not what I mean, Mr. White," He explained, "It's just that I've been rolling for a really long time…like days….I haven't slept in….I don't know….when a person comes down off of something like that, it's really…..it's not pretty."

"You think any of this has been pretty?" Walt snapped, "You think watching you shoot heroin with Jane was pretty? You think killing Krazy 8 and dissolving him in the bathtub was pretty? What are we talking about, here? Sweats? Night terrors? Aches and pains?"

"Yeah, that, muscle cramps, nausea, vomiting, acting crazy, panic attacks, you name it," Jesse said, "You don't want to do that. You can't do that, you have responsibilities, yo."

"You have responsibilities too, yo," Walt hissed, "Here's what we're going to do. We're ahead of schedule already. I'll go in tomorrow and finish it up. You will stay in my house and not leave and not talk to anybody. That should buy us three or four days to get you over the worst of it."

"And then what?"

"And then…." Walt hadn't thought that far ahead, "And then we'll see."

He didn't want to threaten to keep Jesse at his house for a long period of time, for fear he might resist going with him now. Hopefully once he'd gotten clean he would see the wisdom in not putting himself through this again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. White," Jesse said, tears running down his face, "I fucked up."

All his anger melting away, Walt stepped toward Jesse and wrapped him in a hug. He could feel how thin and frail the young man had become.

"Yeah," He agreed, placing his large palm on the back of Jesse's head.