Walter White stared into his reflection in the cloudy mirror of the staff toilets. It was almost surreal seeing his younger reflection staring back. He guessed he must be about forty now - it was amazing how much difference ten years could make. His face was less lined, his eyes less weary and tired, and his hair was still there, thick and full.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lessons. Finally! Walter hadn't been able to focus on his work all day - it seemed unimportant, considering this all might be a dream anyway, and he might just wake up at any time. He'd forgotten how annoying high school kids were. Were kids in the '90s worse behaved than modern day kids, or was it's just Walt's annoyance making them seem worse? All he knew was that every paper airplane and every rude remark made him want to slam their smarmy little faces into the desk. Mr White wasn't used to being disrespected anymore.

He waited in the classroom for Jesse to come. Why was he the only other one who remembered the future? Was there other people who remembered? Walt tried to recall the last thing he could remember before he woke up in 1999. He'd finished another monotonous cook with Todd, he was on his way home and...then what? Had he crashed and fallen into a coma?

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Jesse. God, it was weird seeing him as a teen again.

"So, you worked out what the hell's going on yet?" Jesse asked, hopping up onto one of the tables.

"Where'd you get that?" Walter asked, pointing at the newly formed bruise on Jesse's cheek. He raised his eyebrow slightly, his expression almost mocking.

"Walked into a wall," Jesse said, not caring that it was an obvious lie. "So the plan is we just, like, research if the stuff we know about the future is real in this reality too?"

"That's the gist of it," Walter replied. "Now, we don't have Facebook to help us, and Google isn't nearly as effective in this day and age, so it might take a little more research- "

"Got it," Jesse said, picking up a vial and playing with it absentabsentmindedly. "So you still think this is a dream?"

"Yes, that's the most logical explanation- " Walter began, about to explain his reasoning again. But Jesse interrupted him.

"What if it isn't? What if, like, Gale and Gus don't even exist, and we just dreamed the whole future up? What then? Do you think maybe we should, like, get our brains checked out?"

"No," Walter said quickly. "I highly doubt that we both had the same dream, Jesse. I know I've lived up until 2010. I didn't dream that up. We didn't dream that up!"

"But we're not in a dream now, either. I can tell. Fuck, this is more complicated than Inception," Jesse scowled. "Admit it: this doesn't feel like a dream."

"Maybe not," Walter conceded after a long pause. "But as I said, it's the only logical explanation."

"But wouldn't it be awesome if the past ten years, like, didn't even happen?" Jesse said, grinning unconsciously at the thought.

"You may have sold-out your potential, and ruined your life in every other way. But I'm finally successful in 2010. I have the best product around. My empire will soon grow to be bigger than Grey Matter's!"

"It's a meth empire, Mr. White - what's to be proud of there? No matter how much you dress it up, shit is still shit," Jesse said, his old anger with his teacher quickly flaring up. "Yeah, and don't forget the people who died. All the bodies you - we –- built your empire on. Gale, Drew Sharp - I mean, Jesus, he was just a kid, and he got killed just because we wanted some methylamine."

"It's a tragedy. But it had to happen, all of it. Jesse, since Drew Sharp I can't sleep, I- "

"Cut the bullshit. You think you're asleep right now!" Jesse shouted. He wiped his eyes, not allowing himself to cry. How come every conversation with Mr White had to turn all emotional these days? "And you killed Mike!"

Walter looked for a moment like he was about to shout, but instead, he let out a low sigh and slowly walked across the classroom towards Jesse, until he and his former student were face to face.

"I didn't kill Mike. I need you to believe me on that, Jesse," Walter said, their faces inches apart. Jesse instinctively pulled away, hating the feeling of the older man's breath on his face. At that moment, Walter looked so sincere and honest that Jesse almost believed him. Almost. But then he remembered the nine guys killed in prison - something Mike would never allow. Jesse sighed and hopped of the table. He was so through with this bullshit.

Walter scowled when he saw Jesse leaving, without even giving a response. "Where are you going?"

"Research, investigate, whatever!" Jesse said, before Walt could protest he added "It's not like we're even partners anymore - you said it yourself."

"Jesse! We're the only two people who- "

"I'll catch you later!"

"Jesse!"

But he was already gone. Walter sighed. Why did that boy have to be difficult? Couldn't he see they'd work better as a team?

Just then, Mr. Shaw, the head teacher, came in. "Hello, Walter," he said in a fake-friendly tone. "Was that Jesse Pinkman storming out of your class? That boy's becoming a problem. You need to be firmer with your students, or they'll walk all over you."

"I'll bear that in mind," Walter said tightly, in no mood for a lecture.

"I know kids can be hard to control, but it's your job," Mr Shaw said, suddenly dropping a pile of paperwork on Mr White's desk. "The secretary is sick, but you're good at dealing with paperwork, right? Good. You're a lifesaver. Much appreciated."

Walter glared down at the paperwork. It could take hours to do. Did he really used to let himself get pushed into doing all the dirty work for these people? "I'm not a secretary,"

"You know, Mr. Matthews, the head of science, is retiring soon. And it's up to me who takes that position next."

"I'm not doing it. I need to get home to my..family." Walter said, holding Mr. Shaw's glare. Actually, seeing his family again would be nice. He'd forgotten how sweet Skyler could be and what a cute kid Walt Jr was. Even if this was a dream, it seemed so real he treated it as reality.

"I'm leaving this with you, Walter- "

"Fine. Leave it with me. See what happens," Walter growled. Mr. Shaw looked astounded at his personality change.

"Walter, are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine," Walter snapped, already walking out. "Now I'm going to see my family!"

Mr Shaw watched him leave, speechless. "So you finally grew a backbone, huh, Walter?" he muttered to himself.

Jesse was just leaving the school grounds when a familiar battered car blaring music pulled up on the sidewalk next to him.

"Hey! Get in, little dude! What took you so long, man?" the man inside asked. It took Jesse a moment to recognize him as the eighteenyearold Skinny Pete. He'd forgotten how the guy looked before he went to jail and his long-time meth use really took his toll. Combo was riding shotgun.

"Well, don't just stand there, yo! Get in," Skinny Pete said. Jesse climbed in the back. Seeing Combo alive made him feel relief and guilt all at once. He looked so different as a teen. Just a nervous little fat boy looking dead out of place next to Skinny Pete, who was smoking, the cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth. That's how it starts: you want to be in the stoner group just to fit in somewhere, but once you're in, you can't get out.

"Whatever, man," Jesse said. He wasn't sure why he was even going along with them - he just needed something to distract himself from thoughts of Mr. White. Besides, these guys would probably have beer; that'd calm him down, right? He'd had a shit day, having to put up with the general weirdness of being in high school, and being knocked around by the older, bigger kids (that legit happened). A nice cold beer and maybe a joint or two was exactly what he needed.

"All right, let's go!" Skinny Pete half-shouted, starting the car and driving off, swerving to narrowly avoid hitting a tree.

"Shit! Dude, are you drunk?" Jesse asked. "Let me take the wheel before you kill us, man!"

Pete just laughed. "Relax! You don't even have your license yet. I'm fine, yo!"

"I swear to God, if you get us killed, you're dead- "

"Chillax, little dude, you're in good hands," Skinny Pete said. Combo giggled nervously.

"Where we going, anyway?" Jesse asked, leaning back in the seat and smelling the familiar smell of alcohol and weed.

"Emilio's," Pete replied, and Jesse felt his blood run cold with dread. Emilio. Last time he had seen him, the guy had been pointing a gun at him with every intention of using it - No. The last time he'd seen Emilio, Jesse had been lowering his dead body into a bathtub full of acid and watching it corrode.

Walter got straight on the computer as soon as he got home. As he was drumming his fingers impatiently waiting for the damn thing to load already, Skyler walked in.

"Walter, I thought I said we should sell that computer. It just wastes electricity and we really need the money. You know. For Junior," Skyler said, her voice authoritative. The chemistry teacher sighed. He hated being poor.

"Yes, dear,"

"Are you okay, Walter? You seem a little off today," Skyler mused, walking over to him. "Have you been getting enough sleep? Have you been eating properly? I know how cranky you get when you haven't had a proper meal."

"I'm fine, honey," Walter replied, brushing her off. He knew Skyler meant well, but he just found it patronizing. Skyler fixed him a skeptical stare.

"Whatever you say, Walt," Skyler said. "Just get cleaned up. Marie and Hank are coming over later."

"Yay! Uncle Hank!" came a familiar high-pitched voice from behind the door. Skyler laughed.

"Junior! What have I told you about listening in?" she chided, as Junior giggled. Walter just sighed. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the boisterous Hank. This was his dream; shouldn't he just be able to do whatever he wanted? He stared at the desk, trying to will a stack of money into existence, but nothing happened. Nothing. Suddenly, Skyler was behind him, hands on his shoulders, whispering in his ear.

"I know you think I nag, but we need the money. The doctor said good physiotherapy could really improve junior's prospects right now," Skyler said, her voice low so their son couldn't hear from his spot on the landing. "I think maybe we both need to take second jobs."

Walter nodded. He remembered that it had been about now that his family's financial situation really started going down the toilet. Even with both of them working and saving, they could only ever afford mediocre physiotherapy for Junior, but the kid would never complain; he'd just tank through his problems with the resolve of twenty armies.

"Go take a shower, they'll be here soon," Skyler said. Walter got up, his head still full of thoughts of money and finances. Those problems followed him even in his dreams, didn't they?

Jesse had already finished a can of Skinny Pete's lukewarm beer by the time they got to Emilio's. He needed it just to face the guy. He wondered if he should just go, but this was probably the only was he could get himself a joint. Smoking a joint was technically research, right? He figured, if he could get high, then this wasn't a dream. You don't get high in dreams.

They pulled up outside Emilio's familiar bungalow, and all too soon Jesse was being pulled by Skinny Pete into the house.

"This'll be the bomb, yo. He's got a whole pound of weed!" Skinny Pete said as he stood outside the door, grinning. "We'll just sit back, burn one, and let the good times roll. Yeah, this'll be an all-day party."

"What about school?" Combo asked timidly, biting his lip. His eyes shone with both apprehension and anticipation. Jesse wanted to grab him and tell him to run – to leave while he could, before he got into drugs and got shot in the neck by a ten-year-old when he was only twenty-six.

"Fuck school, man," Skinny Pete said as the door swung open, revealing Emilio.

"You weren't followed, were ya?" he asked. "No police, no wires! I'm only lettin' you guys in 'cause Jesse said you're cool."

"The cops have better things to do, man. We're just a couple of nobodies to them," Jesse said, walking in and trying not to look at Emilio, knowing if he did, it would only make him feel even more uneasy. He wondered once again why the hell he was even coming here. Oh, well. It's just research, he reminded himself. If I can get high, then this can't be a dream, 'cause you don't actually get high in dreams, right?

"Whatever," Emilio said, shifting his eyes around as if he expected the cops to jump out at any second. As soon as they were all inside, he slammed the door shut and led them back to his bedroom. It stunk of weed, just like Jesse remembered. A few other guys were already sitting around, their eyes red-rimmed. They seemed ridiculously young to be druggies, but Jesse realized he probably looked younger than all of them.

Emilio tossed Jesse a thick wad of notes, held together by an elastic band.
"As promised, there's your share for helping make that last batch of meth. It sold real well, real well. We should make this a full-time thing," Emilio said, grinning.

Jesse stared at the money in his hand. Damn...he'd forgotten that he'd already gotten into shake-n-bake meth-making at, like, fifteen. There was at least $100, probably only a tiny fraction of what the meth had sold for, but still..

"It's money, dude, it's not gonna bite ya," Skinny Pete said, nudging Jesse, who just kind of nodded. "Emilio, brother! You gotta get me in on some of the action!"

"Yeah, we'll see," Emilio said, lighting a joint. "Weed's under the bed, beer's in the fridge. I got some smokin' hot babes comin' over later. Let's party!"

"And this is the red car - he's the fastest because he has go faster stripes," Junior said as he sat on the floor next to his father, his toy cars sprawled about on the floor. Walter nodded stiffly, unable to really engage with his son. The mess annoyed him, and speaking to Junior as a child was just so...odd. At that moment, the doorbell went, and Skyler opened it to let Hank and Marie in.

"Uncle Hank!" Junior cheered, immediately hobbling over to his favorite uncle, forgetting he was even playing with his dad. Walt felt that familiar feeling of jealousy stirring in his stomach. Why did his son always prefer Hank? Even in dreams? This was a dream, wasn't it?

"Hey there, champ!" Hank enthused, bursting into the house, beer can in hand. "Hey! Guess who did a drug bust! That's right: me! It was intense! -Skyler, lookin' good!"

"Wow, a real drug bust! Did you get guns?" Junior asked, as Skyler welcomed them in.

Dinner was awful. First, the oven broke, so they had to order food in. Then he and Skyler didn't have the money on them to pay for it, and the company didn't accept credit cards for some reason, so they had to borrow off the Schraders. The entire night, Hank made digs about Walt's lame teaching job and how much of a nerd he was. Hank didn't mean any harm, he said it all in good fun - it was banter! But right now Walter found it infuriating, and he struggled to play along. Pretty soon he was sick of Hank's bragging and his boisterous laughter.

"No offense, Walt, but you work with kids, and I'm out there fighting hardcore criminals. I don't think you know what it means it have a stressful job," Hank laughed after Skyler had asked Walt why he was acting so strange and he'd replied 'stress from work'.

"You try teaching chemistry to teens that don't care. It's a lot more stressful than you'd think," Walter said, clenching his jaw.

Hank laughed again, making Walter's blood boil. "Seriously, though, you can't even compare a couple a' moody teens to getting attacked by some crazy druggies on a daily basis. Now that's a man's job!"

Walter forced a laugh "Whatever you say," he said. He hated being reminded that he was just a teacher in this reality. Hank was right: it wasn't manly. It was pathetic. Once again, Walter ached to have his drug empire back and be Heisenberg. He needed the power.

"So then...so then...we're like high-fiving cause we robbed the train, and then Todd. Fucking Todd pulls a gun out on this kid and shoots him. Point blank in the face. Fuck, yo, it was fuckin' grim," Jesse said, leaning against the wall and taking another drag. The others laughed. It was late in the evening, and the boys were all sitting and lying haphazardly around the room amongst discarded beer cans and packs of Cheetos, while Eminem blared from the old radio. A thin mist of marijuana smoke veiled the room.

"What're you talking about, man?" Combo asked. His face broke into a drunken grin. "Oh, man - Jesse is totally wasted!"

"Fuck off! I'm not. Stop laughing! This is serious shit – the kid died!" Jesse said. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. Combo was right: he was totally wasted. He hadn't meant to get this out of it; he had just needed a little buzz. He'd only had a few beers, a few shots, a bit of weed. But his teenage body hadn't built up the high tolerance level his adult body had, or some shit like that. At twenty-five, Jesse could function on far more hard-core drugs than these, but as a teen, not so much.

"Yo, is this like a movie you saw or somethin', dawg?" Skinny Pete asked, sipping on his beer. "Some train robbery movie, shit."

"No, dude, it's real...or it was real," Jesse said, nodding. "Ah, man! I'm so glad that all those people didn't die. I didn't want to shoot that Gale dude, I really didn't! And Mike was awesome, I don't know why that dickhead Mr. White ever killed him. He did kill him, I know it. Emilio, bro, you're awesome. I'm, like, so happy that I didn't melt your body in acid. That wrecked my house, man."

The rest of them carried on laughing at Jesse's apparent craziness. Emilio looked half-disturbed, half-amused. "The fuck you talking about, Jesse?" he said, chucking a beer can at his blue-eyed friend. Neither of them cared when it hit him and the beer splattered on his shirt.

"I'm just sayin' I'm sorry for, like, melting you in acid in the tub, and not just 'cause it wrecked my house," Jesse murmured, his mood suddenly morose. "An' I'm sorry for Krazy 8 too - he was a bastard, but, like, we shouldn't've kept him in the basement with a bike-lock around his neck for so long...fuck, dude. But he did worse things. He used to rip guys apart with his dog, man."

"Who the hell is Krazy 8? Man, you crazy. I told you to slow down on the shots," Emilio said, rolling over to lean his head on Pete's shoulder. That's right, Krazy 8 didn't have his nickname yet, Jesse realized. In this time, he was still Domingo, the kid who helped his dad out down at Tampico Furniture.

"It don't matter any more..." Jesse said, staring up at the ceiling and closing his eyes, willing himself to stop running his mouth. He knew he was talking too much, and what he said didn't make sense, but everything was just kind of spilling out. He couldn't help it - his brain felt almost disconnected to his mouth.

"Your mental, man," Pete said, still smirking. "Your gonna end up batshit crazy like your aunt."

"Hey, fuck you, man!" Jesse shouted, suddenly feeling irrational anger surge over him. Before he could say more stuff he could regret, he stood up, wobbling to his feet and almost losing his balance. Suddenly the room was no longer familiar and comforting; it was suffocating, and he had to get out of there.

"Where you goin', yo?" Pete asked from the floor as Jesse stumbled out.

"Home. I gotta get home," Jesse said, feeling the world spin beneath him. This was ridiculous! He'd only had a little bit of beer and a couple of joints! He heard Emilio shouting for him to come back, but instead he staggered out of the house into the street. He didn't even think about where he was going. His head was all over the place. Of course, straight back on the drugs –- I'm such a fucking loser. Fuck it! This is probably a dream anyway. I didn't even tell Aunt Jenny I was going out. Whatever. I didn't even take that much! Shit. Why am I such a fuckup?

(a/n: I was going to add more to this chapter, but I was taking way too long to finish it, so I just decided to upload this ;_;...

Anyway, thanks for all the comments – they really helped me get the motivation to write this :D So thanks! I still miss Breaking Bad, but reading/writing fanfiction is helping with the withdrawal!

Anyway, please comment to tell me what you think!

Edit; Thanks to TrudiRose for taking the time to edit this chapter, it means a lot :)