"This isn't the way to your condo."

Walt wearily eyed Jesse in the rear view mirror from the driver's seat of his Pontiac Aztec and sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Despite knowing better, he'd been hoping for a quiet ride back to the condo with just one quick detour… He started to realize that neither 'quiet' nor 'quick' would be possible. He also started to wonder whether he should have given Jesse a choice about the detour before simply heading that direction.

"Mr. White."

Walt didn't answer. He considered changing direction and simply heading to the condo to avoid another fight. After all, just being able to pull away from the curb of Jesse's house had turned into a struggle. That was mostly his fault for suddenly recalling and voicing that legally a six year old should not ride in the front passenger seat. Telling Jesse that he had to sit in the back was immediately met with whining and stubborn refusal. Fortunately after only a few wasted minutes of arguing and a series of empty threats, Jesse eventually accepted that the car was going nowhere until he sat in the back and acquiesced.

The more he thought about it, Walt was also pretty sure that a child Jesse's current age wasn't even supposed to be in a moving car without a car seat… He couldn't remember if it was based on age or weight. But either way, Jesse was small. Walt decided not to bother mentioning it, knowing Jesse would simply get more upset, and there was nothing they could do about it anyway.

Though as he now glanced periodically at Jesse in the backseat, he observed how poorly the seatbelt he had insisted he wear actually fit him. The main chest strap of it was already pushed behind him. Laws had changed since Walt. Jr. was this age, and Holly was still at the earliest stages… Walt didn't know much, but if anything, laws about child safety had gotten stricter…

"Yo, are you listening? This isn't the way," Jesse interrupted Walt's thoughts with the repeated statement, voice insistent. This time the sentence was clearly a complaint, or an accusation, knowing Walt was keeping something from him.

"We're stopping somewhere first." Walt realized his tone was involuntarily curt, and he could also feel his patience was waning. While it was obviously Jesse inside of this child's body, he was also starting to realize there was a bit of six-year old in Jesse's personality as well. The whining, especially. Walt knew it was mostly Jesse's chagrin over his current state but at times it seemed like he was intentionally being difficult. Walt was pushing himself stay even-tempered, but he was growing tired too.

Jesse was shifting in the back seat now to better see out the window. "So then where are we going?"

Walt glanced in the mirror again to see that Jesse had actually unbuckled the ill-fitting seatbelt and taken it off completely. He now leaned up against the car door, on his knees to see out the window.

"Sit down, Jesse," Walt began stiffly. "The last thing I need is to get a ticket for you in my car."

"Yo, ticket for what? I'm not sitting in the front, so chill," Jesse responded irritably. He pressed his nose against the window.

"You're not restrained and you're supposed to be."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means sit," Walt answered tersely. "Now."

"And wait, I know this road… If you're taking me to Saul, then-"

"Then what?" Walt cut him off. While his initial reaction when Mike suggested contacting Saul was admittedly skepticism, he also acknowledged that he had zero concrete facts about this kind of situation, and any additional details, even from Saul, could potentially be useful.

"Why?" Jesse asked.

"Why not?" Walt looked at him again in the mirror and gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. "For God's sake, Jesse, stop whining and will you sit down?"

Jesse finally seemed to sense Walt's impatience and settled back in his seat with reluctant obedience. "You said it yourself, Mr. White," he answered, voice small but stiff. "For bail bonds, legal representation, and fucking time travel, right?" He shook his head. "It's bullshit. Listen, if we go there, he's gonna make fun of me just like Mike did and-"

"No one's making fun of you. He might even know something," Walt answered, annoyance briefly lifting at Jesse directly quoting something he'd said to him earlier, even if it had been a rebuke. At least this was proof he listened sometimes.

"You didn't seem to think so before."

"I didn't," Walt admitted. "But Saul has a lot of… interesting clients," he continued, briefly pausing at the stop sign in front of him. "He might have dealt with this before." He shrugged. "And we're literally minutes away."

Walt doubted that Saul had ever seen something like this before. If he himself hadn't seen or heard of anything like this in his career of science, he found it difficult to believe that a scumbag lawyer could offer much. Though being without any other alternatives, it wasn't a bad idea to leave no stones unturned.

Worse case scenario, Saul would offer nothing. And he would probably also laugh at the situation.

Unfortunately, Walt had already parked outside of Saul's strip mall office when he admitted to himself that the worse case scenario was also the most likely.

As if fate had decided to throw them at least one grace, it was one of the few times that Saul's waiting room was rather empty, and they walked right into his office.

Saul was on the phone sitting behind his desk when they entered, Walt leading the way with Jesse trailing behind him. He waved them in with a quick gesture of his hand as he wrapped up his phone call.

"Joe, I know," he said into the phone, rolling his eyes. "Look, this can wait. And I'll… Look I have clients here…. And-" He paused, listening. "Okay. Good. Tomorrow then."

Saul hung up the phone and pushed back his chair to stand and face Walt and Jesse. "Well, holy shit." A smile appeared on Saul's face and he shook his head, eyes on Jesse. "So Mike wasn't lying after all..."

Jesse expression darkened.

"He already called you?" Walt asked, surprised. He walked over to take a seat on the couch.

"Yes, he did," Saul acknowledged, briefly adjusting the purple hankerchief peaking out of the pocket of his suit jacket. "I had to check my calendar to make sure it wasn't April first. I really thought the old man was just pulling my chain. I mean… Come on. This?" He smirked again at Jesse. Jesse remained standing, a few feet away from Walt. "Not that I've ever known that man to crack a smile, never mind make a joke."

Jesse narrowed his eyes as Saul walked closer to him.

"I mean, wow, right? Look at you!" Saul exclaimed, incredulous. "So God damn small. Is this Alice in Wonderland or something? Did you fall through the rabbit hole?" He laughed and shook his head. "If only the cartel knew that a kindergartner was cooking meth better than them, am I right?"

Walt cleared his throat to speak, but before he could get the words out, Jesse acted first, moving forward and landing a direct kick to Saul's shin. The man cried out with a curse, bowing over in pain, as Jesse quickly distanced himself to the other side of the coffee table.

"Jesse!" Walt berated. He met Jesse's eye, but Jesse glared at him with an incensed blue stare, accusing him. Yes, Walt thought to himself, glaring back. I brought you here, and I knew this would probably happen.

Saul was still rubbing at his shin with a scowl on his face. He finally stood straighter, pushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "Thanks for the bruise, Kid," he said coarsely. "I see the innocent exterior is just a ruse. You're still just a little shit, huh?"

"Look, bitch – If you can't help, then just say so!" Jesse shot back indignantly.

"If I can't help?" Saul echoed. "Kid, I wish I could. But believe it or not this is one of the few things that I've never had come through my office before. And that's saying a lot considering what I've had walk through these doors."

Jesse's glare again turned to Walt.

"What else can I say?" Saul winced again and shifted his leg. "Mike said your plan was to give it a couple days? Well, do that, and then let's talk. And listen; maybe you actually discovered the fountain of youth in one of your drug-induced hazes. Now if you figure that out, give me a call."

Walt watched Jesse silently grow more agitated as Saul continued to be sarcastic and stood up from the couch. "Alright. Thanks, Saul. I think we're done here."

Saul gave Walt a small smile. "If I hear of anything or have any sorcerers walk through my door, I'll let you know." He glanced at Jesse and then back at Walt. "And… Good luck."

Once they were finally at his condo, Walt dropped Jesse's duffel bag beside the couch and acknowledged that the rest of the night, or day, or next two days, would not be easy. Jesse had been unusually quiet after leaving Saul's office, which he first found to be a relief, but now realized should be a worry.

So Saul didn't have any answers – that shouldn't have been a surprise. Though hindsight reminded Walt that he'd known that would be the case, and probably should have avoided the trip altogether…

Now Jesse seemed to be sulking by default, and Walt found himself already irritated.

"So the couch will be your bed," Walt began, keeping his voice as upbeat as he could, masking his frustration. Jesse had spent the night at the condo before, so he wasn't sure why he was explaining what Jesse already knew. He felt the need to fill the silence and try to put some sort of order around the situation.

"You know I have an actual bed at home," Jesse reminded.

"Yes, I do."

"And it's more comfortable than your couch."

"Your point?" Walt gave Jesse a questioning look, and Jesse responded with willful silence. Walt shrugged in response. "Tell me, Jesse. What would you be doing if you were home right now?"

"Do you ever really care what I do when I'm home?" Jesse answered with his typical tenacity. "Huh, Mr. White? So long as I show up to cook?"

"We're not cooking tomorrow."

"So you shouldn't care at all," Jesse muttered.

Walt tried not to get irritated while watching Jesse climb onto the couch, tucking his sneaker-clad feet under him as he settled. "You're making this harder than it has to be."

Jesse sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Mr. White, I'm only here because I know you would have made me anyway. I don't want to be here."

"And? Are you just going to be difficult simply to be difficult?" Walt answered. "In case you didn't notice, I'm not exactly thrilled that you're here either."

Jesse's brow furrowed. "So you should have let me stay home."

"Whether you want to admit it or not, Jesse, you made it pretty clear that you can't be left alone."

"Don't forget that I'm the one that texted you."

"And what did you expect, Jesse? When you texted me?"

Jesse eyed him with a look that Walt could only identify as challenging. His young face was looking more and more exasperated. "Whatever, Mr. White. You have to sleep at some point."

Walt returned the look without blinking. "Are you implying that the handcuffs would have been a good idea?"

Jesse scowled, letting out a "hmph" of protest at the idea.

"It's not too late," Walt warned. Even knowing that Jesse was making threats out of frustration, he wasn't going to become too sympathetic.

"Just fuck off." Jesse rubbed his hands over his face, leaning back into the couch in pure exhaustion. "For five minutes, just fuck off."

Walt decided to move on. Backing Jesse into a corner wouldn't get him anywhere at the moment. "It's getting late. What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing." Jesse's voice was mumbled through the hands still over his face.

Walt sighed, eyeing Jesse with the end of his serenity. Jesse was still a kid at best in his real life. Now he was completely a child, and Walt wasn't sure what to do if this stretched into more than a day. Walt always had a sense of protectiveness over this idiot that didn't seem to know, or want, to take care of himself properly, but this was going to stretch limits.

"Listen," Walt began, moving towards the couch and settling himself on the coffee table in front of it. Jesse was turning himself towards the couch now, and Walt simply reached forward to take his legs and yank them towards him, shifting Jesse closer and facing him forward, probably rougher than he should have.

"Hey," Jesse objected, scowling.

Walt ignored the protest and took one of Jesse's ankles in his hand, grasping his sneaker in his other hand, pulling it off. Then he did the same to the next.

"I can do that," Jesse persisted, twisting his leg out of Walt's grip.

"You want to act like a baby, then congratulations," Walt answered sardonically. "Otherwise, work with me."

Jesse made a face but stayed silent.

"Let's try again. What do you want to eat?" Walt asked.

Jesse studied him, pausing for a moment. Then he slowly said, "I want pizza."

Walt suddenly remembered Skyler lecturing him about how to deal with children. 'Offer choice a or b', she stressed; 'never give an open question'. He now understood. "You realize I saw how many pizza boxes are at your apartment."

"I like pizza. You asked what I wanted."

Walt glanced at his watch and then back at Jesse. He let out a deep breath. "Fine."

Especially in recent months, Walt never slept well. His mind was filled with the 'what-if's' of his occupation among thoughts of his own mortality.

The sudden noise, a crash or bang, that night probably would have woken him regardless of the sleep stage he was in.