Part 22

"… the real thing about murder is that it's scalding hot, burns everyone it touches. Do you want to burn, darling?" -the memory of A.S.A.C. Schrader

Skinny Pete was wandering up and down the hospital corridors, looking for a few unattended needles or nice prescription bottles laying atop pushed aside tray tables. A good number of his days were spent here or at other local hospitals, there were so many mostly clean or fresh goodies just waiting for him in these places. He could sell off clean needles for a premium, he had built up a good reputation over the years and clients trusted him. They especially wanted to see him over the last couple of years, and constantly asked why he couldn't seem to get much of the Blue for them anymore. He had become a user more than a needed distributor of that tasty snack. Everyone was vastly disappointed over that.

Skinny Pete wore his better, junkie clothes, and made sure everything had deeper pockets and no holes. Wards had gotten smart getting rid of medical wastes, putting collections away in locked areas and hiring companies to incinerate or otherwise dispose of everything. They weren't so smart about guarding items before they got to the special bins, though. People were just too busy to be concerned about such minor things. Pete's arms ached when he saw all the nice needles still sitting pristine in their unopened plastic bags inside an unlocked, glass cabinet. He was able to nick two bags and be out of the room before a stringy, grey haired nurse returned to fetch some other item out of the empty examination room. It was probably a single guy being examined and taken to another testing room because no forgotten purse was left behind among the quickly felt pile of clothes, and unfortunately no wallet. No biggie, there were plenty of rooms, like looking for honey in an abandoned beehive. The ward ignored him, some even smiled briefly, as he slowly, nonchalantly, moseyed along the corridor, faking a slight limp.

He walked in on Jesse just as he was struggling to get out of bed.

"Sorry man, lost," Skinny P. muttered. That was his standard line when he walked into a non-empty room in a hospital. He thought he had better go up, or down, a floor soon so no one would realize how thoroughly he was scoping everything out. He tried to duck out quickly.

Jesse looked at him with such a wild, wide-eyed stare that Pete just had to stare back a minute, if only for defense in case the crazy man went for him. He then squinted in concentration. "Yo, is that you Jesse? Realz? You suppose to be in Alaska! I didn't believe Badge when he tole me sum'ing else."

He bumped-walked over to try to hand off to Jesse, but saw the slings and casts in time. "O, you messed up again. Damn!"

Jesse was almost out of the slings, though one was still clinging stubbornly onto a wrist, but he couldn't even push up with his arms to sit up on the bed.

"Hey, okay, I can help you wit' that. You wanna get up, right?" Skinny Pete put his arms around Jesse's shoulders and pushed him forward. He then helped him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Jesse tucked his legs and grasped the sharp-edged metal with them to keep his balance. His arms were useless for anything.

"O man, you sure you wanna get out of this? You look like you still need some more days baking in those things."

"I need your clothes," Jesse rasped out, thinking quickly, but also as the cold air hit him after Skinny threw off the remaining, warm bed sheets that had clung on.

"Damn, man, my clothes?" Pete answered, bewildered. "Not even a 'good morn'ng,' bro?"

Jesse seemed to be having trouble talking, had begun coughing. Pete was able to grab the half empty bottle of water he saw on the tray table and give Jesse a long, slow drink, while still trying to help balance him.

Gasping, Jesse replied. "I need to get out now, Pete. Sorry, man. My clothes are somewhere, might be in some locker, might be burned. I need more than this shit I have on."

Skinny P. looked at Jesse's hospital gown. "Hmm, actually," he thought for a moment, "that's cool. If I have a gown on, I could wander around the hospital floors all I want, even get into a few more places, until they kick me out. No pockets, though." His eyes wandered off again. "Damn, I knew I should've tried it before, but shit, you know, Hospital Gown. Splits and all 'dat."

"Keep the hoodie. I just need the shirt and pants. Take all that shit out of the pockets and put it in a garbage bag. Stash it somewhere."

"Yeah, okay. Cool. Deal." He started taking all his goodies out of his pockets, except for the hoodie, and dumping them into the empty bag in the trash can in the room. All the clothes he had on today were oversized, to make sure the goods would show less. That was fortunate for Jesse, because though he had lost a lot of weight, Skinny Pete's clothes could still be damn skinny. With his help, they exchanged outfits quickly if extremely awkwardly, on Jesse's part anyway. Pete, who didn't have a spare ounce of flesh on him, acted like this was an everyday occurrence. He acted like every weird thing was a daily occurrence. Because it usually was.

Hey, Jesse, he thought to himself, remember when you would do almost anything for a hint at getting some better drugs? Remember when you acted, and sounded, just as stupid as that? The little stay in that place shut you up good, huh? And what about now? You're re-addicted, if you didn't notice. What are you going to do about that?

"Yo…, but," started Skinny P. putting on the soft jacket and looking down on himself, his funny masquerade, "wouldn't it be easier if you just crashed at mine? I'm with a sweet thing and she wouldn't mind if you came over, y' know?"

Jesse was slightly dismayed at Pete's idea of a "sweet thing," especially one that would let him stay with her, or vise-versa. He meant it well, and in Skinny P's way, like Badger, very generously. It was what they had. He was tempted for a moment. He deeply wanted something familiar.

"No, man, I have to stay away from everyone. You don't want what's coming at your house."

Pete helped pull Jesse's long, black sweatshirt sleeves over his casts. They stretched out to their max, but covered everything almost to his knuckles. "Are you sure, man? I don't mind helping you. It don't feel right just letting you go into the streets like this?" He looked at him, sadly worried. "It's not right, man… Jesse."

Jesse hesitated, overcome a moment. He had to admit, he was afraid. "N-no, I gotta go."

"Look, you know abouts where I am. If you have to, you know?"

"Okay, Skinny P. If I have to. Thank you."

-000000000000000-

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, Mare?" The Hank in her mind grinned. "Yeah, I hate most sci-fi, but some movie lines still get me. And the real thing about murder is that it's scalding hot, burns everyone it touches. Do you want to burn, darling?"

It wouldn't burn for long, I'd see to that, Henry.

"Oh, it's for eternity, doll. I've learned a few things."

Marie pounded the top of her head with the back of her hard wrist at that thought. She couldn't stand to think of her husband in pain, but the thoughts came unbidden.

I just want to see you buried. I want to see you. I imagine you worse than… than you are? I just hope what I am thinking is worse.

Hank's image replied logically. Well, time keeps passing. I don't want you to see what's left.

You have to be properly buried. They… they say they have a plot for you, the department. I want you closer, but do you want to be with our… people…? She couldn't finish the thought. She was his people. Now that they were going to find him soon, that he promised her that, she didn't know where to….

I want you near me. I don't want to go far to talk to you.

No. I told you long ago I don't want to be cremated. I don't want you to try to "keep me around" in the house or something. Jesus, Marie!

She almost had to laugh a little at that thought. Henry said he wanted to be outside, around a nice patch of well kept grass and maybe under a tree. Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere he would like sitting, where a man of action could finally rest. Somewhere where he could almost imagine having a great picnic with her, more distracted by her beautiful face than wanting to look at the surroundings - a thing which they hadn't done in forever.

But if you try to have a picnic on my grave or something macabre like that, I'll be puking from above. Yeah, I want you to miss me, but never that much, and really, not for long. I loved you Marie, why would I want you hurting like that?

What am I supposed to do? He's right there. He took you away. I want him dead. Why did she feel anything for him at the hospital? She knew better. She was angry with herself. And Skyler would want… what?

If you think it's some sort of revenge for me, like a favor, you know that's not true, right, my girl? It would be for you. It's not going to help me one bit, no matter where you think I am, or even if I just *poofed* out of existence.

But… Henry… Justice. That was your whole life.

No, my whole life was to stop things from getting worse. Justice's a manmade concept - doesn't exist. Revenge, yes. That one's just a very bad idea. It's murder, Mare, no matter who does it. True, murder's also a concept.

What, I don't understand? Justice, A.S.A.C. Schrader? It's why you left me alone.

Because it's not stopping anything from getting worse.

He could still…. She couldn't really come up with what more he could do. Him being alive is hurting Skyler and Flynn.

Him being dead will hurt Skyler and Flynn, no matter what they say or think now. Murder is scalding, it burns everyone. You can't get away from it.

Flynn would never talk to him again in a million years.

Well, closer to 30. And true, he's not going to be alive in 30 years, no matter what. I wonder when I'll see him? The image in her mind grinned. It was a grisly thought. But he's smart. He would request to make something so Flynn could see it 30 years from now. Aren't you glad you didn't take that possibility away, Marie?

Yet.

Maybe I want to see you first, Henry.

I want to see what he did.