Appropriate Response
The buzz of the cattle-prod is all Jesse can hear, ringing in his ears. He should have known better than to confront Gus on his own. He should have gone to Mr. White, should have asked for help instead of recklessly bursting in. But he'd been so furious, so blinded with rage, that he hadn't even considered his lack of a weapon. He'd burst in and – and he'd screamed in Gus' face, told him he'd never cook for him again. Gus had looked at him and asked why – Jesse had snarled, "You know exactly why." And then it had all gone black.
As he opens his eyes, slowly coming back to life, he can see Gus and Tyrus standing in front of him.
"I told you I would give you an appropriate response," Gus says, walking across the office – that's where they are, Jesse remembers, the Los Pollos Hermanos office, and Jesse ludicrously gets the thought that he's on the world's worst job interview. "Here is my appropriate response. Tyrus?"
"Yeah?" The hulking, dark-skinned brute steps forward.
"You see, Jesse, if you recall that I told you that that piece of shit," he swallows the word, "Hector Salamanca killed someone close to me." He steps forward, hands at his sides, his piercing eyes gazing directly into Jesse's pierced ones. "I had with that man, a shall we say, unique relationship. Therefore, I have certain… misgivings about using… certain acts in a violent manner. Do you understand?" Jesse doesn't, but he nods anyway. "Tyrus, on the other hand, has no such qualms. Which is quite… useful." He jerks his head towards Tyrus, and suddenly all becomes clear, it all clicks into place and Jesse really wishes that it hadn't.
"You can't be serious," Jesse exclaims, his voice quiet with a flush of disbelief mixed with fear.
Gus simply nods again, his eyes leering on Jesse, as Tyrus grabs him, shoved him on his back against the cold floor.
Gus walks over and grips the door handle, testing it and finding it locked.
Jesse wonders if he could make enough noise, enough – something, but he can't figure out what time of day it is, was the restaurant open when he'd walked in and demanded to see Gus? Closed? Or in the process of closing? And how long was he passed out?
He wishes he could remember, could get his mind straight and wishes he wasn't shitting bricks right now.
"No," he says firmly, at least he's trying for firm – it comes out shaky instead. He can feel Tyrus' hands begin to roam over him, pawing him as roughly as he does everything else; the man has no finesse or gentleness whatsoever and Jesse finds himself drawing away from the situation by thinking that he feels bad for Tyrus' girlfriends. He wonders if he has to cattle-prod them to get them into bed. He considers hissing the taunt, but doesn't. Instead, he turns his head, looks directly at Gus and growls, "You poisoned Brock. You deserve to die."
"You're mistaken," Gus replies simply. "I did no such thing. Your boy is probably just ill. Children pick up bugs all the time. Maybe something you brought back from our trip to Mexico." His lips curl into a smile, and that's the last thing Jesse can remember before his mind goes blank.
He's told that he's done, fired, and that Gus has a new chemist, as he's dropped off on Walter White's front lawn.
"I hope he appreciates this… deal you have made, but Walter was never a very compassionate man," Gus tells Jesse as he walks back to his car. Jesse hears the door close, the engine start up and then the sound of Gus driving away.
Jesse stares at the lawn for a long time, breathing in the smell of the grass and the mud, before slowly sticking his hands in front of him and pulling himself upright, hobbling over to Mr. White's door. He knocks, then hits the bell, before leaning in to press his head against the cold metal door, deciding he'll rest there a while. He feels the door give way a moment later as Walt opens it, looking on in a few seconds of confusion before the expression changes to alarm.
"Jesse! What happened to you?"
Jesse shakes his head.
"No," he echoes weakly. "I'm not going to talk about it. I just want to sleep." Walt ushers him inside and he takes a few steps, collapsing vertically on Walt's couch.
The older man gently puts his hand on Jesse's shoulder and whispers, "My bed? Probably softer…" He reaches under Jesse's arm, picks him up and half carries him upstairs. He lays the man in his bed and pulls a blanket over him before lying down next to him; Jesse's arms jolt out and he clings to Walt.
As Jesse closes his eyes, he whispers, "It was Gus."
Walt sucks in a breath and considers his response.
He slowly wraps an arm around Jesse and holds him close, protectively, and says, "Jesse. My Jesse. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Gus for you. But I need your help."
Jesse opens one eye and whispers, "You have a plan?"
Walt nods.