Chapter Twenty-Five

December rolls into January before Jesse and Brock have any time to put their construction plan into action.

Meanwhile, more requests come in from Brock's teacher to enroll him in therapy, and Jesse eventually gives in.

He finds one that comes highly recommended, and makes an appointment for the following week, before trying to brush it out of his mind.

Walt readies himself for his upcoming semester as an adjunct. He's forgone PowerPoints in favor of old-fashioned writing on the chalkboard.

Jesse manages to, with much prodding and begging, convince Walt to go to an oncologist. The doctor doesn't bat an eye at their arrival together as a couple, and that makes a wary Jesse warm to her.

"Well, Mr. White," Dr. Kemp begins after she's poked and prodded him for a while. "I'm sorry to say that the prognosis seems about the same as your doctor in Albuquerque told you. But I do want you to keep checking in, because, though this is medicine, there isn't any one-hundred percent way to predict the future. There is always still hope. It's no reason to not take care of yourself."

Walt blinks.

"That's all well and good," he tells her, "But I'm going to die. Why bother spending my last months choking down pills and worrying about exactly how badly I'm doing from this week to the next?"

Jesse puts his hand on Walt's shoulder, out of instinct, maybe to remind himself that the man's not leaving him just yet.

"Mr. White," Dr. Kemp replies, "All I can do is recommend that you keep to this regimen, and we can try and work around and make things as comfortable for you as we can. Ultimately, however, it's your decision whether to listen to me or not."

Jesse sighs as they leave, though it's not news to him that it's impossible to make Walt do anything that he doesn't want to do.

Jesse sits in the waiting room at Dr. Diamond Parker's office, fingers together as he twiddles them, sighing out, looking around at the other kids and their families, wondering what brought each of them here. Has he really screwed up badly enough with Brock to warrant him needing to come here?

"Mr. Pinkman?"

Jesse rises and walks into the room, where Brock is sitting on the floor playing with a set of toy cars.

The psychologist is a tall, slender black woman with her hair pulled into one long braid.

"Hey, Brock," she calls, "Would you be okay with playing in the other room while I talk with your dad?" After a few moments, Brock acquiesces and moves into the new room, a little conference room off to the side, cut off by a door but visible through a large pane of glass. Jesse can see that there's a large TV and another array of toys available.

When Brock is out of earshot, Jesse inquires worriedly, ":Is he okay?"

"Take a seat, Mr. Pinkman." Jesse does. "I hope I can set your mind at ease – Brock's doing fine. Now, any child can benefit from therapy, don't get me wrong – and Brock does have things going on in his life that he might need to talk about. However, every child does – nowadays, so many children are dealing with things like divorce and separation, and it can be hard on them. But Brock seems happy, well-adjusted, and very intelligent for his age. He seems to have a good relationship with you, too, and it's not very common to see such a good bond between a stepfather and stepson – in a lot of cases, there's some resentment there. As far as I can see, not the case here." She smiles at Jesse. "However," she pauses, "I did want to say that I think you might benefit from talking to someone, professionally."

"Me?" Jesse raises an eyebrow.

"Well, Brock told me about your partner and his illness. It can be very hard to go through something like that alone."

Jesse looks down at the ground, figuring she doesn't know the half of it.

"I probably do need therapy. Like, goddamned years of therapy," he admits, "But it'd be way too late to start now. I got screwed up years ago."

"It's never too late to start," Dr. Parker tells him, "It's up to you, but if you would feel comfortable with it, I could see you both, or arrange for someone else from my practice you feel comfortable with. We work with both children and adults."

Jesse looks around.

"Would I get to play with the toys?"

"Sure. If you want to."

Jesse smiles.

"I'll… Uh, think about it."

Jesse bounds into the house, humming the theme from Rocky.

"They're finally committing you?" Walt comments dryly from his spot on the couch, and Jesse laughs.

"Nah, then I'd be humming 'They're Coming to Take Me Away'!" he quips. "Nah, the lady says Brock is just fine." He reaches down and tussles Brock's hair. "Which, of course, we knew all along." He grins. "On a totally different note," Jesse begins, then hesitates, before putting his hand on his chin. "Somebody in this household is turning, what, fifty-four, at the end of this month. You wanna do anything?"

Walt looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

"Just nothing with strippers, Jesse."