Warning: Mentions of domestic violence. People having babies.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Well, listen. As your lawyer, I'm recommending a good old restraining order. I mean, no offense, but look at your face."

Andrea Cantillo Pinkman glares, but doesn't get up. At eight months pregnant, it's too much of an effort, despite how much she'd love to smack the man across the face.

"Thanks a lot, Saul. You're really helping." She drags a hand over her own face. "He's not going to pay attention to a restraining order. I got the cops to take him in, but that will only be for a night or so, unless I press charges, and even if I do… I just kept taking him back before, so what's different now?"

"The twenty-five bruises on your face, for one," Saul replies. "Seriously. I'm being serious. I know we don't have that kind of relationship but… I would call 'bail'."

"What about my daughter?" Andrea asks. "I can't raise her on my own. My grandmother cut me off after Rick broke one of her mirrors." She leans forward. "Should I just give her up for adoption and just move to… Seattle or something? What am I even doing here?"

Saul doesn't get a chance to respond before a third figure bursts into the office. He looks up at the newcomer and shakes his head.

"Hello there, Mike. What can I do for you? I'm sort of with a client right now…"

"I noticed," Mike replies dryly, before looking at Andrea.

"Excuse me," Andrea begins, "But do I know you?"

"No," Mike replies bluntly, "But I know your husband."

"Rick. Oh, no, he's not my husband. He's just my…"

"No," Mike cuts in, "Not that piece of shit. Your husband. Jesse Pinkman."

Andrea raises an eyebrow.

"I just came from the police station. Happened to be doing some other work when I overheard two officers talking about you and your Mr. Wonderful. Not to mention that I've been keeping an eye on you since you moved back here."

"Uh, thanks Mike," Saul cuts in, "But we were just…"

Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white cardboard ticket, before handing it to Andrea.

"What's this?"

"A bus ticket. To Philadelphia. You will be using it, whether you like it or not."

Andrea widens her eyes. She believes him.

Jesse is sitting on the couch watching Chelsea Lately when the doorbell rings. As he makes his way over to open the door, he remembers how Walt had arrived that one day, had walked back into his life and changed it all over again.

He wonders who the hell could be at the door at eleven o'clock at night.

He opens the door anyway, but is not prepared for the sight of Andrea, wearing large black sunglasses, heavily pregnant and dragging a blue suitcase. Her hair is drenched from the pouring rain.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Andrea." Jesse stares at her.

"I… I.." She's dripping, soaked. "I was an idiot. I was so… so wrong. I… I'm sorry." Jesse keeps staring a moment, before he ushers her inside. "Come in, sit down."

Andrea moves in and sits down on the couch.

"You're drenched," Jesse tells her. "Did you bring any change of clothes? I still have some of your stuff upstairs but it might… not fit. Why'd you come back? What happened?"

"I… couldn't stay there anymore. He just got too crazy. He needed to know where I was all the time. He was always putting me down. He kept me hooked on crystal 'til I was pregnant and then he was always going crazy saying I was fat, I was ugly and he just… a few days ago he got drunk and came home and he…" She reaches up and pulls off her sunglasses. Jesse stares in horror. She looks as bad off as Jesse did when Hank and Tuco had gotten done with him. Her eye is black, and there's a huge bruise across her cheek.

"Baby," Jesse whispers. He reaches out and presses his fingers to her cheek, softly stroking it, as if trying to take away the pain and replace it with something warm and safe.

"Jesse," Andrea breathes out.

"Are you here to stay?"

Andrea nods.

"Do you know some scary old man named Mike? He paid for my ticket."

Jesse's heart beats faster.

"Mike… Mike's still…" Mike is still alive. Mike sent Andrea home to me.

He sits down next to her and reaches out, softly touching her arm. She flinches, then settles.

"Is the baby okay?" he asks.

"I don't know," Andrea says softly. "I haven't been to the doctor yet."

"We'll go. I'll bring you," Jesse offers.

"But do you want… I mean are we… will you have me back? Even after all of this?"

"I'll have you back." He covers her hand with his own. "Let's go get you a change of clothes, okay? You'll freeze up. And do you want to see Brock?"

She nods, still seeming a little shell-shocked. He walks to her suitcase and opens it, handing her a stack of clothes. He gently takes her arm and leads her upstairs and into the bathroom, before peeking in on Brock. He's still asleep. He'll wait; he doesn't know if Andrea wants him to come up with a cover story for the bruises.

When she emerges from the room, he asks what she wants him to say.

"I don't know," Andrea whispers, "Car… Car accident? The bus, maybe."

"Okay," Jesse whispers back. "Or you could tell him the truth." Andrea looks uncertain, and Jesse moves into Brock room and gently nudges him awake. "Hey, Brock. I want you to come see somebody." He stands up and heads out into the hall, and lets out a squeal when he sees his mom.

"Are you staying, Mommy?" Brock asks, clinging to her.

"Yes, honey. I'm here to stay," Andrea tells him. "You're getting so big, sweetheart. Have you been having fun with Jesse?" Brock nods and hugs her tighter.

Jesse lets out a sigh and smiles as he looks at the two. His wife and son.

They lay side by side and facing one another in their bed, talking in hushed tones.

"What are we going to do about the baby?" Andrea whispers.

"Whatever you want to do," Jesse tells her.

"You don't… have to be involved with her, if you don't want."

"I think it'd be easier to just love her," Jesse whispers against her ear. She shivers and loops her arm around him. "Can I…" Jesse begins sheepishly, "Talk to her?" Andrea nods, and Jesse reached out, putting a gentle hand on her stomach. "Hi there. You don't… know me yet. But I'm Jesse. I'm going to love you, take care of you, protect you. Always." He looks up at Andrea with surprise. "I think I felt a kick, there!"

Andrea grins.

"I did, too."

"What are you going to name her?" Jesse asks, and strokes his fingers over her stomach again.

"I don't know. I hadn't decided. Do you have any… suggestions?"

Jesse thinks. There'd been a time when he'd been thinking, in his loneliness, if he ever had another child, maybe adopted one…

"Zurine."

Andrea nods.

"That's Spanish for 'white'," she tells him, and he nods, too.

"Jesse, Jesse, Jesse," Andrea cries out as she clings to him with one arm. "Oh God." She closes her eyes and pushes.

"It's okay, Andrea," Jesse coaxes, "It's all right. Hang in there. I love you, Andrea. You're okay, you're okay."

Andrea focuses on Jesse's voice. The epidural has yet to kick in and it's very close to being too little, too late. But Jesse is here, sweet Jesse. How had she walked out on him? She had been so mixed up about Jesse's past drug dealing that she'd wandered into the arms of another drug dealer, and a far worse one.

But now – Jesse is here. Everything hurts but Jesse is here and then suddenly, the pain plateaus and she can hear the sound of crying.

When the daze wears off, she lays there holding Zuri in her arms, with Jesse standing beside her.

"What's her name?" the doctor inquires.

"Zurine Hartwell Pinkman," Andrea replies.

"You're the dad?" the doctor nods his head at Jesse, who nods as well.

"Yup. Can I hold her?"

Jesse sucks in a breath as the baby is placed in his arms. He had thought that Brock was small, but Zuri is miniscule, with perfect little fingers and toes.

"Hey, little one," he whispers. "It's me again. Everything's going to be okay. I love you."