Jesse's been through a lot of shit in his life. He's been stuffed in the trunk of a maniac drug dealer's car. He's had his face and body beaten more times than he can count. He's been evicted by his own parents. But none of it—none of it—made him as furious as he is now at Walter White.

If Saul wasn't in immediate danger of dying, Jesse would drive over to Walt's house and fucking kill him right in front of his wife and kids. Walt should thank his lucky goddamn stars right now.

Jesse's shaking from a high-pressure cocktail of adrenaline, panic, and rage as he pulls Saul out of bed. "Ricin?" Saul chokes out. "You're—you're kidding, right?"

"Mr. White poisoned you," Jesse says, anger curling around the words. He digs a pair of shoes from underneath the bed and tosses them at Saul. "C'mon, let's go. You're not dyin' on my watch."

Saul shoves his phone and wallet into the pockets of his sweatpants, then Jesse's hauling him out of the house. He half-drags half-carries Saul to his car and gets him inside. His chest hitches with frantic breaths. It takes him a couple tries to get the key in the ignition, because his hands are trembling and his concentration's ripped to shreds by panic.

Saul's going to die. He's going to die and Jesse can't stop it. Just like Jane...

He doesn't understand why the world's blurry and wobbly and shaking until Saul lays a hand over his tattooed arm. "Jesse. We're gonna be fine, alright? Just breathe."

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut to force the tears out, because if Saul's going to die it's ridiculous not to be able to see him clearly in these precious few moments. The thought makes sobs rip through Jesse's lungs.

"Hey, hey, c'mon, kid, you can do this," Saul says, his hand now swirling circles over Jesse's back.

Jesse gulps deep breaths, trying to ease the panic and dread and get himself under control. Saul trusts him. Saul is alive, they're together, and Jesse has a chance here that he didn't have with Jane. There will be time to slip off the edge later.

Fear paralyzes, but anger is proactive. Anger gets shit done. So Jesse finds the ball of fury in his gut and lets it fuel him. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then he turns the key and starts the car.

"Can you talk me through it?" Saul asks as Jesse's pulling out of the driveway. "How do you know it's ricin?"

Jesse finds his voice. "We were gonna use it to knock off this guy Tuco. It was Mr. White's idea." He grits his teeth at the memory. "He told me how it's practically untraceable and takes a couple days to set in. No one would know we offed the guy 'cause it'd look totally natural..." His hands tighten on the wheel. "Like the flu."

Of fucking course Walt wouldn't show up at Saul's office to apologize; he was there to administer the poison. Bastard. Motherfucking two-faced piece of—

"So he punched me in the face and poisoned me?" Saul sighs and slumps in his seat. "How? How did he—I would'a been suspicious if he showed up bearing chocolates or somethin'."

Jesse forces his breathing steady, remembering to focus on the anger. "He must have put it in something. Did you have anything on your desk he could've dosed or—"

"Son of a bitch!" Saul thumps his head back against the headrest. "The coffee. He must have dosed it while I was out of the room. Goddamn it." He breathes out, closes his eyes. "This isn't even a cool way to die." Saul winces almost immediately, like he realizes he's slipped up. "Not that I'm—"

"You're not gonna die!" Jesse snaps, fresh tears welling in his eyes. "Not if I tell them it's ricin."

Saul stares at him. "Whoa, no, no no. Lemme stop you right there, kid. You mention ricin in a hospital and the Feds'll cream their pants at the idea of talkin' to you without a lawyer present."

"Do I look like I give even a fraction of a shit right now, Saul?"

Saul studies Jesse's face. "No, you really don't, but you'll change your tune once you're in lock-up."

"At least you'll be alive."

"I have a better idea: let me float the ricin thing. It'll sound way less suspicious coming from me."

Jesse gives him a dubious look.

"C'mon, I got tons of guys who'd like to take a whack at me," Saul says. "Yes, I realize exactly how that sounds."

"Alright, so you say you think it's ricin. That, what, some client with an axe to grind poisoned you?"

"And you stay in the waiting room or go home if the chairs hurt your ass, but don't you dare think about paying Walt a visit."

That's not happening. "He fucking poisoned you! You're not even pissed?" Jesse can't understand why Saul wouldn't want someone avenging his possible death.

"Hell yeah, I'm pissed. But going over there and doing something violent isn't gonna fix anything," Saul says.

"It'll make me feel better."

"That's not who you are, Jesse. You're not a murderer." He says it with enough conviction that Jesse almost believes it.

"Justifiable homicide," Jesse says through his teeth.

Saul shakes his head, gazes at him with faraway eyes. "Don't. He's not worth it."

Jesse wants to say, "You are," but the words catch in his throat.

#

Jesse can't smoke in the waiting room, so he goes out to his car for a cigarette. He turns up the radio to drown the cacophony of thoughts in his head. He watches the ash burn at the tip of the cigarette. Smoking doesn't calm his nerves like it should. For the briefest of moments, he wonders if a hit of crystal would do the trick. Something—anything—to make him feel good and just fucking forget for a while.

Skinny Pete or Badger would have some. It wouldn't be too hard to stop by and ask for a hit. But of course they'd want to know why all of a sudden Jesse's using again, so he'd have to come up with some bullshit reason to satisfy them. Because the truth would just make them tighten the purse strings.

"No way, dude," Badger would say. "You've been doin' so good! Don't break your streak! Wouldn't Saul be, like, totally bummed?"

Yes, Saul would be undoubtedly disappointed in him, though he'd try not to show it. But Jesse doesn't much care, because he needs something to calm him down right now or he's going to explode.

A plume of smoke shudders out of his lips. Fucking asshole Mr. White. If Jesse can't get a hit of crystal to ease the way his veins pulse in anger and hurt, then giving Walt a piece of his mind ought to be a worthy second place. He jerks the radio down and digs his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find the number before his brain really registers it.

Walt answers on the first ring. Like he was waiting for Jesse's call. "Jesse?"

Jesse struggles to keep his voice even. "You motherfucker. How fucking shameless do you have to be to try to kill your own lawyer 'cause he has what you want, huh?"

Walt decides playing dumb is a good strategy for this conversation. "What? What are you talking about? Did something happen to Saul?"

"I know you poisoned him with ricin," Jesse hisses. His voice shakes around the words. "I know you slipped it in his coffee on Monday when you went to 'apologize,' so cut the shit."

"Jesse, Jesse, just—just calm down. I assure you I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Saul. I paid him a visit on Monday, yes, but that's all I did. I didn't poison him, or whatever you're insinuating—"

"You are so full of shit!"

"Why, Jesse? Why would I try to kill Saul?"

"To get back at me!" Jesse wails, his control slipping. Sobs rack his chest and punctuate nearly every word. "Because I won't cook for you! And this is your way of ripping my heart out before you're dead and gone!"

"What could I possibly gain from any of this?"

"Me! You think if you get Saul out of the way that I won't have anybody left but you, right?" He squeezes his eyes shut and lets the tears roll down his cheeks. He has to get control of himself or else Walt's going to use his vulnerability to manipulate him. Walt will play mind games and trick Jesse into believing anything but the truth.

"Jesse, Jesse, just—listen to me," Walt begs. "Saul is high-profile, and he's done too much good for both of us. If what you're saying is true, it doesn't make sense for me to kill him."

"What, 'cause you're a stand-up guy all of a sudden?"

"Because this is a business, and I conduct myself in a professional manner. I do not go off poisoning people who do things I disagree with."

"Right, you just punch 'em instead."

Walt sighs. "That was a lapse of judgement. But I swear on my life, that is as far as I'll go."

Jesse feels anger flare up again like a rash in the face of Walt's lie. "No, no, see, I know you. I know how you operate: you plan shit. You were stalkin' me for about a week before you tracked me and Saul down. The whole ricin thing with Tuco, the fulminated mercury, keepin' Badger outta jail, your explanation for why we were gone when Tuco kidnapped us... You're the genius, Mr. White; do the math. You wanted Saul dead, and this is exactly the way you'd do it," Jesse says, seeing red. "Like the flu, right? He'd never know. Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out? That I'm an idiot?"

Walt's breathing angrily on the other end, like he's starting to panic. "This is—this is crazy, Jesse! Why would I want to hurt you?"

"Because I love him! And he loves me."

"Whatever lies Saul told you—"

"They're not lies, asshole!" Jesse snaps.

"What has Saul done for you, Jesse? Let you smoke cigarettes in his office? Get you off a couple times a week? Launder your money?" His voice grows dark, contorted with rage. "Everything I did—Emilio, Krazy-8, Tuco—was to save your life!"

Jesse scoffs a humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, it wasn't for free, was it?"

"You'd be dead by now or shooting up in some god-forsaken crack house if it wasn't for me!"

The words hit him like a slap, and Jesse actually winces. It takes him a moment to shake off the sting. "If Saul dies, I swear to God, I'm going right to the DEA and I'm tellin' them everything, Heisenberg."

There's a terse moment of silence on Walt's end. "Jesse, no..."

"I'll lead your brother-in-law right to your little secret lab and blow the whistle on your whole empire. What do you think he'll say if he knew why you really bought that car wash?"

Walt might gasp a tiny sound of shock.

"That's right. I know about everything, and I'm not afraid of you anymore. Saul will help me make a deal. I might never see the inside of a prison cell. But you...nah, you'll die in there. Your dickbag brother-in-law will be screwed. And the Feds'll snatch up your money so fast it'll make your head spin. Your family won't see a damn dime."

Walt's stunned silence makes Jesse smirk.

"You take away the only thing I care about, I'll do the same to you," Jesse says. "I will burn you down." His heart pounds in his chest as he waits for Walt's reply.

"If that's true, if I did poison Saul, don't you think I knew how much to give him to make sure he would die?"

Jesse hangs up, stares at nothing in particular for a moment. He puts the car into drive and leaves the hospital.

#

Jesse's pretty sure this is the worst thing he's ever done. Saul made him promise not to rush off heady with anger, but how can he not thirst for vengeance when the first person he's loved since Jane could slip away from him?

His hands clench around the steering wheel. Walt's house lies merely yards away. Jesse's lost track of how long he's been sitting here. He isn't sure what his plan of action is, just that he wants to destroy Walt, make him suffer. Simply turning him in doesn't feel like enough; at worst, Walt lives the last few years of his life in a comfortable prison cell with three square meals a day. Some punishment. If Saul dies, Jesse could tear the world apart and it would never be enough.

Bile rises in his throat. He could call Walt, fake an attempt at reconciliation, just enough to get Walt to come out of that house. Or he could storm in there now and wreak havoc, because Walt didn't care what effect his actions would have on Jesse's life—why should Jesse extend that courtesy to Walt's family? Fuck Walt and everything about him.

Jesse grits his teeth, fury crashing into him like a wrecking ball. Oh, Walter White will pay dearly for this. He will suffer in ways unimaginable.

Jesse opens the car door. A pair of headlights blink on and blare from a short distance behind him. His heart hammers in his chest, and in those brief seconds of hesitance the driver of the mystery car gets out and stalks toward him. Fear roots him in place. Will he have to kill this person too, or will they kill him first?

The stranger shoves Jesse's car door shut, and that's when Jesse recognizes the man. He'd been the one to clean up the evidence at Jesse's place after Jane died. Mike, Jesse thinks was his name.

"Saul Goodman sent me."

A wild jolt of panic hits him. "He's alive?"

"Why don't we go back to the hospital and see for ourselves?" Mike says.

Jesse's hands clench into fists. "He poisoned him," Jesse says, nodding at the quaint little house before them. "He can't—he can't get away with it..."

Mike nods like he understands. "He won't. And neither will you if you go in there and put a bullet in his head."

"I don't care."

Mike puts his hands on the door where the window's rolled down. "Is killing Walter really worth it?"

"Worth what? If Saul's dead..." Jesse's throat swells, and he swallows back the clotted emotion. "If Saul's dead, there's nothing left for me."

Mike makes a face. "Don't let him hear you say that. Saul cares about you, kid. And when he pulls through and finds out you killed Walter—no matter how much the bastard deserves it—it'll break his heart."

Jesse squeezes his eyes closed, shutting out the fierce and savage hatred. Every muscle in his body craves retribution. But the reason Jesse's here right now—the reason Jesse fell in love with Saul—is because Saul believes in him. Saul trusts that Jesse's capable of great things, has faith that he's better than this. To kill Walt and prove Saul wrong...

"I can get Walter canned if it makes you feel better," Mike says. "I know his boss—most cautious guy you'll ever meet. If Walter made the poison at work, it would be caught on camera."

And so would Walt's tactic of usurping Jesse's phone to stalk him.

Jesse whines an agonized sound. "If—if it was you—If he poisoned somebody you love—"

"I'd probably kill 'im," Mike says. "But you wouldn't."

Saul had said something similar. Maybe Saul and Mike know Jesse better than he knows himself.

"Now let's go back to the hospital so we can be there for Saul when he wakes up."

Walter White will never know how close he came to being worm food.

#

Saul wakes up slowly, like he's been dead for God knows how long and his body's rusted over from disuse. His eyes flutter open and blink away the medicated, shower-curtain haze of his vision. Glaring fluorescent lights buzz above his head, and there's an obnoxious beeping sound coming from his left. Nausea's no longer burning a pit in his stomach, but it's been replaced with an emptiness that's just as painful. His brain feels marinated in molasses.

Jesse's sprawled out the best he can in a cramped hospital chair, sound asleep at Saul's bedside with his head lolled on his shoulder and the hood of his sweatshirt drawn tight. Saul reaches out with the arm that doesn't have tubes snaking down its length and lays his hand over Jesse's. Jesse flinches awake, and a smile spreads over his face when he sees Saul.

"Time for my sponge bath already?" Saul's voice crackles like old paper.

Jesse grins and drags the chair closer to his bed. "Yeah, you got one of the hot nurses."

Saul smiles. "The hottest."

Jesse drops his head, but Saul can see the way his mouth's turned up at the corners. When he looks at Saul again, he says, "Thank you...for sending Mike, I mean. If he hadn't been lookin' out for me..."

"I hope you didn't think it was because I didn't trust you."

"I wouldn't trust me either," Jesse says with a shrug. "You made the right call."

"So did you," Saul reminds him. "It was ricin."

Jesse's brow furrows. He takes Saul's hand between his own, lips pressed together like he's debating his words. "I couldn't save Jane," he says after a moment, bleakness in his eyes. "I woke up, and I found her. I tried, but she was already..." He trails off, but Saul knows where that sentence was headed. Jesse sniffles and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "If that happened to you—"

"But it didn't," Saul cuts him off. There's no point in going down that road. "You saved my life. If you hadn't been there with me, I'd be pushin' up daisies right now."

Jesse flinches away, the words a hot iron on his skin. He hugs himself like he's cold. His mouth's twisted into a pronounced frown, as if he's struggling to keep his composure.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

Jesse shakes his head. "How come you're not pissed at me? If it wasn't for me, you'd never have to worry about Mr. White comin' after you."

Saul feels his heart break in his chest. That Jesse could ever believe this was somehow his fault... "This isn't on you, Jesse. Walt's special brand of crazy would'a latched on to someone else if it hadn't been you. Don't take it personally."

Jesse doesn't say anything, just looks distressed and conflicted.

"Besides, in my line of work I was overdue for an attempt on my life. At least it wasn't violent."

Jesse rubs a hand over his face. "Just—is this, like, the last straw for you? Aren't you sick of bein' in danger because of me?"

"That's a pretty loaded set of questions."

"Just answer. Please."

"Alright, yes, I am," Saul admits. "But I'm not goin' anywhere. As long as it makes you happy, I'm stickin' around."

Jesse finally smiles. He takes Saul's hand again and says, "Promise me."

Saul thinks they've come full-circle now. "I promise."