"Well, isn't that just precious," Mike's voice jolted both men out of a sound sleep.

Though neither remembered falling asleep after talking late into the night, they sat up and realized simultaneously that they must have both drifted off. They had been completely passed out, sitting in the bed, propped up on each other. Jesse lifted his head off Walt's shoulder in quiet embarrassment.

"What are you doing in my house?" Walt demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Mike stated calmly, "Saul told me about your little tea party and I thought I should come by and check on things."

"We're fine," Jesse insisted.

"This isn't…what it looks like," Walt stammered awkwardly.

"You'll notice I didn't ask," Mike continued solemnly "Anyway, Gus wants to talk to you. Now. Let's go."

"Right, just let me change," Jesse stood up.

"Not you, Princess. Walter."

The two men looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"It's okay, Mr. White," Jesse said at last, "I will be fine here."

"Are you sure?" Walt asked, concerned.

"Yeah, it's…fine."

Walt struggled into his pants and jacket and followed Mike out the door.

"He's sick," He explained as he got into Mike's car.

"Still didn't ask," Mike said matter-of-factly.

Mike took Walt to Los Pollos Hermanos and took a seat in a corner booth, sending Walt up to get a soda. Walt ordered from the cashier, staring into the camera as he knew Gus was sitting in his office watching him. Waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Walt sipped his soda nervously while Mike came and sat across from him and waited.

After what seemed like hours, Gus came out and approached their table.

"Hello, gentleman, is everything to your liking?"

"Actually, sir," Mike spoke up, scooting over in the booth so Gus could sit down, "I have a complaint about some of the chicken I had here last week."

"I'm sorry to hear that sir," Gus said, loud enough for anyone listening to hear, "I would be happy to hear your concerns."

He sat down next to Mike and lowered his voice.

"I wanted to check up on our situation."

"And what situation would that be?" Walt asked, in his best intimidating Hiesenberg tone.

"You know very well what I mean," Gus gave him a withering look, "Don't waste my time. I know your partner is sick. I just wanted to make sure he is getting better."

"Jesse is fine," Walt insisted, "He is at my house. He is clean. The situation is handled. He is no danger to you, me, or our…mutual interests."

"Good. See that it stays that way," Gus said, in his usual calm, but threatening tone, then stood up, "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen."

Mike waited until Gus had returned to the back before standing up.

"That was it?" Walt asked, "That couldn't have been a phone call?"

"You know Gus doesn't like phone calls," Mike said calmly, "Do you want to go back and check on your problem child now?"

Walt wordlessly followed Mike out to the car. When he returned to his condo, he found Jesse sitting on the couch, reading a book.

"Great Gatsby," Walt observed, "Good choice."

"I found it," Jesse shrugged, "I was bored. Cause there's like nothing to do in this shit hole."

"Glad to see you're feeling better," Walt snickered.

"So, what did he say?" Jesse asked eagerly. He had been wracking his brain the whole time they were gone, afraid that Gus would want to kill him now that he knew about his situation.

"Not much," Walt shrugged, "Just concerned about you."

"Oh," Jesse realized that Mike was still standing in the doorway, and Walt would likely not say anything with him here.

He waited for Mike to leave before exploding,

"What, Mr. White, what's happening? Cause if I'm about to wind up shot in an alley someplace I need to know that."

Walt laughed. It was good to see the kid concerned for his own well-being again. He must be starting to think rationally after all.

"You're fine, Jesse," Walt assured, "He's not going to kill you. He really was just checking up on your …health. I'm sure it was out of concern for his own interest, but I told him you were fine and that I would make sure you stayed that way."

"Oh, so I'm your responsibility now?" Jesse demanded.

"Don't," Walt held up a hand, "I'm not doing this for Gus, you understand. Well, a little, but mostly I'm doing it for you. Calm down. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, for now," Jesse crossed his arms.

"Well, are you ready to start cleaning up that house of yours? I figured we could get a jump on it before we have to go back to work."

"We?" Jesse asked confused.

"Yes, we," Walt said casually, "You didn't think I was going to get you clean just to send you back to a drug infested dump, did you?"

After a day of working on the house and dinner at a local bar, Walt drove them back to the condo. Jesse was feeling almost normal again, and was afraid Walt might drop him off at his own house. He was afraid his partner would at least ask him where he wanted to spend the night tonight, and he wasn't sure how to answer. Physically, he was feeling well enough to fend for himself, but although Walt had dumped all the drugs that were currently in his house, he didn't quite trust himself not to go find more. He sighed in silent relief when he saw that Walt was heading back to the condo.

Jesse set up camp on the couch while Walt took a shower and retired to his bedroom. Jesse lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He knew Walt was still up, as he could hear the TV and debated trying to talk to him. Despite the lack of physical symptoms, he still felt scared and alone. Walt's comfort the other night had been a great help to him. He leaned back and began counting the tiny dots in the ceiling tiles, regretting that he hadn't grabbed the play station when they had been at his house.

Maybe I don't have to count all these, he found himself thinking, I could count the number of dots across and down on one tile and multiply them. That would work, right? Yeah. Then I could count the number of tiles and….he trailed off, realizing he sounded like Mr. White, Screw this, just go find another book. He sighed, agitated, realizing that too, was a Mr. White-like activity. Fine, what's a Jesse-like activity? Getting high and fucking up my life…I could do that.

He looked down and realized he had been scratching at his arms during this whole conversation with himself and had now picked some of the skin raw. Maybe he was still having some withdrawal symptoms after all. Or maybe he just had no idea how to handle emotion of any kind when he wasn't using. He groaned and got up to rinse the trickle of blood coming from his arm.

He stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He wanted to use. Bad. It was getting to be all he could think about. What was he going to do when he was on his own and Mr. White wasn't here to stop him? It occurred to him that although Walt was still awake, he probably wouldn't notice if he snuck out and returned before morning. No, he scolded himself, He loves you but not that much. If you waste this help, you will never get another chance.

Still, he had to occupy his mind somehow. He slowly approached Walt's door, uncertain of what he was going to do or say. He had just barely touched the handle when the door swung the rest of the way open. Walt looked up at him from the bed, where he was sitting against the headboard in boxers and a T-shirt. He had seen him, Jesse knew, now he had to say something.

"Do you…uh…mind if I watch with you?" He stammered, reaching both arms around to the opposite shoulder blade, twisting himself nervously.

"Not at all," Walt motioned to the empty side of the bed.

Jesse smiled a little when he realized that Walt had been expecting him. The light on, door halfway open, Walt sitting on only one side of the bed. Jesse didn't know how, but knew Walt had anticipated him coming. That's good, right? It means he trusts me to come to him instead of sneak out and use?

"Did you know I was coming in here?" He couldn't help but ask.

"I had a feeling," Walt smiled, handing Jesse the remote, "Suffice it to say as long as you're not using, I'm happy. And if you want to know the truth, I've been married so long I forgot what it's like to live alone. If you need to stay here a little longer until you get used to being clean, it's fine with me."

"Thanks, Mr. White," Jesse said appreciatively, "I…uh…if you don't mind…I might feel better…about not using I mean…if I were here…you know, just to hang out with someone who isn't."

"As long as you need," Walt smiled at him, "I mean it."

Jesse leaned back against the headboard and the two watched TV in silence for awhile. Jesse was just starting to nod off when he heard Walt yawn.

"Want me to turn it off?" Walt asked, "You look like you're fading fast."

"Yeah, I guess I should go back to the couch," Jesse moved like he was about to get up as Walt switched off the TV.

"Mmm, I don't care," Walt shrugged, "You can stay if you want. Especially if you're going to stay awhile, that couch isn't very comfortable."

Jesse paused for a moment. It was one thing to do it by accident, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be okay with doing it on purpose. He reasoned that it was no different than sleeping on side by side cots in the RV, which were crammed so close together there was actually less space between them than there was now.

"Isn't that kind of…you know….gay?" He demanded, more because he felt he should than because he actually cared.

"Well," Walt yawned, "We've both killed for each other, so I feel like the normal social protocol is kind of out the window anyway. If you want to sleep on the comfy bed instead of that lumpy old couch, it's fine by me."

Jesse sat silently and didn't move, so Walt turned the light off and laid down. After a moment, he heard Jesse wriggle down under the covers too.

"Thanks, Mr. White" He said quietly, "For everything."

"You're welcome son."