Part 21

[A/N: Um, revised. ;) ]

"I want you to leave Skyler alone," White growled into the camera, an aged, thin, decrepit lion still protecting his Pride with more than a few, ferocious bites left within him. For a moment he summoned up the ghost of the shining, shadow man, the presence inside that could always win if allowed any cost, and enjoy the wayward carnage along the way. It was the enemy's blood, the addicting power would justify, and the rewards would only go to another if he did not take them. Those that died would have done so under any circumstance, that was the life they had chosen, or the lot they were given, like himself. His reluctant mentor agreed in spirit. "A man can only be as civilized as circumstance allows," were Fring's words. Gustavo would also be quite pleased at his student's current predicament. "We are all consumed in the end."

"Skyler?" Artie flippantly tossed the name. "Well, we still need someone to corroborant your stories, as you well know. Wifey is usually the best source. You've been so truthful all along this ride. We think your son and her still hem you in a little bit, huh? Keeps your hands inside the roller coaster? Without them, you would have done a lot of worse things, not that what you did wasn't pretty high caliber."

White's snarl continued. "We have nothing to do with each other anymore. We haven't for a long time. I just want you to give her some of her life back. The way she's living, it's killing her." He looked over at his sister-in-law. "I can smell her cigarette smoke on you, Marie. She's chaining them again, isn't she?" He set his mouth into a grim line. "What else is she doing? Drinking? Anti-depressants? Can she even afford a doctor? She hasn't seen one in a long time, because of me as well. She was afraid of what she might blurt out if she began talking." Some complex emotion formed slowly on his face, despite the hardness he wanted the DEA agents to see. His voice lowered, softened. "Will you tell me how they all are, Marie? Please?"

She parted her lips momentarily, surprised at the question. It demanded a decent answer. "They're…"

"It doesn't matter how they are," Artie angrily interrupted. "You put them there, not us. We have no guilt about it." He paused a moment, straightened himself from fiddling behind the camera, huffing slightly. Still, he wanted to make sure things looked good to his superiors, show that he was handling things correctly and to their overall advantage. "Maybe I'll look into opening some of her accounts again, talk with the auditors. I suppose some of the work she did was legitimate. What else?"

"I saw on the news how much reporters were hounding her. I want you to keep them away from her."

"That's not our jurisdiction, Freedom of the Press n' all that. I suppose it's still America, despite how dirty it's getting." He opened his hands toward Walter, gesturing as if presenting the Blue Meth King his invisible, silent crown.

"You can still do something more, encourage the local authorities to patrol around there, sit in a car once in a while. Discourage them."

"It seems to be dying down already. What they really want is in here. And maybe Ms. Schrader will share a few, choice things to the press and draw their attention away from Lambert."

"MRS. Schrader. I'll always be Mrs. Schrader. Don't you start forgetting him already." Her eyes began turning dark, dangerously, stormy dark. The whole point of her being here had changed, and she felt manipulated by all sides. She wanted, no needed, to get control back.

Annoyed at the filmed outburst, Artie continued. "Lay off your 'ex-wife' and kids. Okay, that's not so hard. What else are you going to tell us? I need some more info. in trade."

White muttered something even the myriad of electronics couldn't quite pick up. The agent pulled his head forward, listened closer. "What was that?"

"Jesse. Stop looking for him."

"Oh, him. Now that's a little harder. He was some cog in this whole operation of yours, wasn't he, a five million dollar cog? What could he have done to earn all that? I mean, he just started out as a short order cook in his high school years, being pulled in with some little bags on him back then. What did you change him into? His story would be very interesting to hear, personally."

White looked at them, an unreadable mask. Didn't they have Jesse's DVD? Did his clan destroy that bit of evidence after all? As vicious as they were, they could also be extremely thorough. Like Gus. Like him. Did they wipe off his fingerprints after a cook as well - standard maintenance duty for Todd?

White answered. "You know his background. He couldn't think his way out of a paper bag. He was just another drifting soul in the meth world. But he could sell, and he knew a few people in the beginning. That was his value. Other people started to use him and others to get to me. He also began stealing from me. You don't steal from me."

"So he stole five million from you?"

"I don't know what other people paid him to try to get to me."

"And then he just threw it away?"

"He was unstable, like all my distributors. All he cared about was getting high. I'm sure he was very high when he did that."

The agent whistled. "Wow, five million is like pocket change to you people. You really had something going, didn't you? So he's not out there cooking some version of your Blue?"

"Like I said, you don't steal from me. No, Jesse will never cook another batch of anything ever again. I saw to that personally."

"Is that your confession that you've killed him?"

"I'm not saying anymore today until you show me your willingness to carry out my demands."

"Are there going to be more in the near future?" White just stared at him.

The DEA agent thought for a moment, let out a heavy breath, began turning off the recording equipment. Another agent had gestured to him that they had hit the allotted time allowed by the doctor. Setting up the room, and how White would be restrained, had taken a longer bit of it than they thought. They'd do it better next time. He looked back at Walter. "We'll think about it. You start thinking about all the things you have to tell us. You'll have to have a lot more endurance for those sessions." Artie smiled at him, wished he wasn't in such a lenient country when it came to crime and punishment and criminal rights. He imagined hanging White from his cuffs, blood draining from his arms, his face, his entire upper torso, until he came around to the right attitude. He was so smug, someone would have to break that. Ah well, if things went right, maybe something could be arranged. Prison was such a useful place for those sorts of deals. The nurse approached White's bed to check him and have him taken from the room.

"I want to talk to him a few more minutes," Marie asked, "just some things that have nothing to do with these people, family things." The nurse eyed her warily, but with sympathy. This wasn't discussed during their procedures meeting, so she was a little concerned. The agents had their backs to them.

"How are you feeling, Mr. White?" the nurse asked her handcuffed patient.

"I'm okay, Rose, just a little tired, and maybe a little sore. I'm not used to sitting up so long, I guess. I would like to talk to Marie for a few minutes more, if that is okay."

"Alright, I won't be far," Rose replied.

Marie pulled her chair the remaining inches until her knees touched the metal sides of Walter's bed. She drew them aside slightly so she could get in even closer.

"You know, Skyler's all I have left," she said softly into Walter's ear. "You've hurt her so much, there's almost nothing left of her."

"I hope she can salvage something. Maybe with just a little more time, maybe in a few more months…" He thought of his old pals, the Schwatzes, sitting anxiously on their new, temporary pile of money.

"What could happen in just a few months? Anything truly good? Anything that could fix all this?" She looked at him, looked at the deep wrinkles on his face, the yellowing skin of approaching death, the deep sadness in old eyes wisened too late. "Are you still trying to think your way out of this?"

"I want to salvage what I can, too. But not for me."

"Well, it would be for you too, but I won't hold that against you. You already have so many sins." Marie so wanted to touch him, one, little, stinging touch, hidden under her gloves. In a way, her med tech job showed her how to do it. It would be incredibly fast and… wouldn't that solve so many things? She was still undecided. They would need her again, there would be a few more chances. Even White would want to see her, if just for a progress report on her sis. "I've also hurt Skyler for the past few months, maybe longer if I were truthful with myself." She drew back slightly, didn't mean to let that sentiment out. She was tired, sleepless, her thoughts annoyingly buzzing everywhere, yet… how did it get so bad between her and Sky? They had been honestly close sisters, but maybe that was all in her mind? She had been thinking, no obsessing, about all of her recent losses, of events, ticking them off on her fingers endless nights, her way of counting sheep. She always attributed their younger fights to mere jealous, normal, sibling rivalry. Her prettier, smarter sister, so good with numbers, but not with people. Helping comfort people was Marie's specialty, usually, or maybe for everyone except sis? And she was the more successful monetarily, she had so many more luxuries. Why was she always so jealous again? Was it because she really was trying to provide direction, to point things out people didn't want to see, to help? It was like her med job, she had to find out the bad early to keep it from growing. Yet, maybe her own snarky remarks weren't so kind, but Skyler could take it. She could take anything.

She's been absorbing my shit for years.

Because she loves me.

What she had mistaken for superiority, for snobbery, for hardheadedness toward her from her sister, was strength.

And, despite the horrifying, overwhelming fear and hurt that has left that only sister destroyed in a way Marie has never seen, Skyler still holds love enough for their father.

Marie's heart was hammering in her chest. It probably had been for a while, but she didn't feel it until now. "I don't want to hurt her anymore, or your children. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I won't do that. I need to talk to her again." Marie slide her chair back, quietly stood up to go.

"Wait, Marie?" She looked back at him. "I didn't do it. I tried to help him. I offered everything I had. But I was still responsible for what happened."

Marie had a quick image of her husband's body somewhere, bloodied, alone, in darkness and waiting for some comfort from being cold and forgotten. Her imagination wanted to show her more, but she cut it off before she couldn't contain it all, before she would reach out and kill him.

Back in the present, she saw and almost felt Walter quietly shaking. He will confess all to them without showing the remotest feeling, but there was some plea in him he wanted her to know.

"Tell Sky I finally said it to you. I was responsible," he repeated.

"I know. Our family is not going to be hurt anymore. I'm not sure what to do to ensure that."