Walt takes one last look at the container, at the shadowy mass floating within. What was a living, breathing human being just hours ago is now a twisted, dissolving hunk of flesh.
You did this.
He can still hear Victor's choking gasps, still feel the blood spattering his face, still see Gus's cold, black eyes boring into his own. Accusing. Condemning.
This is your fault.
He can still hear Gale's slightly nasally voice singing softly to himself as they cleaned the equipment, can still smell the Sumatran coffee beans that he roasted every morning before a cook.
Everything is your fault.
Jesse seems to have gotten over the initial shock by now, but occasionally his face will go blank, his eyes vacant, and Walt has to touch his shoulder or say his name to bring him back. Back from the horror of the past to the horror of the present, where they clean the lab in silence, scrubbing blood from the crimson floor.
Part of him wants to put an arm around Jesse, to apologise somehow. The other part can't stop thinking about what he said before, to Mike, when he thought he was facing death.
"I'll give you Jesse Pinkman!"
That was just a ploy to buy time, he thinks. He would never betray Jesse. But the more he tells himself this, the less convincing it seems, and the more scared he becomes. Not just of Gus, or Mike, or the cartel.
He is scared of himself. Of what he is becoming. Of what he has already become. And, most of all, he is scared of the fact that for the most part he doesn't care.
...~...
Author's Note:
I hope the Sumatran beans were accurate, I was too tired to download the episode to check so I used Google instead. If it's something else feel free to stab me with a box cutter.
Anyway, just one more to go!