Walt parked on the street rather than in the driveway. He took a deep breath.
"Right."
He almost drove away again. It was an act of will to get out of the car and up to the porch.
He was doing this. He was really doing this.
"Okay."
He had debated whether bringing wine was a good idea. It was meant as a peace offering on the off-chance that she let him inside; a memento of happier days. But was it presumptuous to bring it? Did it imply he expected her to invite him back in after, so far as she knew, he'd abandoned her without a word?
"Courage," he urged himself … and knocked.
Barbara opened the door. Her eyes went wide and her expression was so vulnerable, before she closed it off and frowned.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately.
He wasn't sure how long she'd be willing to hear him out, so he had to cover the most important points first.
"I shouldn't have left you, especially not the way I did. I can't know how much that hurt you, because I wasn't here. And I know it's been a long time, and I realize I don't deserve a second chance, but I … I woke up, and I had to see you again."
He didn't realize he'd taken a step closer until she slammed the door in his face.
Walt peeled himself off the glass. Well. That was … clear and decisive. If Barbara was willing to see him again, she still wasn't willing to do so yet.
If he wanted to earn back Barbara's trust, he had to start with respecting her boundaries. So he left.
Barbara pressed herself against the wall by the door, a storm of emotions whirling inside her.
"He … came back."
I left the end of the scene alone, because Barbara reacting with anger was believable, and I think turning him away while she processes how she feels about his return was a good move. It was just his dialogue that seemed off. One would think, either as somebody who trained for centuries in emotional manipulation and how to make people like and trust you, or as somebody who knows he messed up and wants to make it better, Walter would recognize this moment as time to say, "I'm sorry".