Jesse stood in the kitchen later than evening, feeling much better after a good nap. He still needed that shower, as his attempt that morning hadn't gone off as planned. Since he couldn't take a traditional shower for a few days while his, what did Mr. White call it? Perineum? heals up, he decided the kitchen sink was the next best option. He filled a small bucket with soapy water and began to scrub his neck and shoulders. They hurt. His back hurt too, in addition to his obvious wounds. He rang a soapy sponge out over his head in an attempt to wash his filthy hair before bending his whole head under the faucet. His aunt used to do this to him when he was a kid. Gypsy Bath, that's what she called it, he remembered. She had done it to him a million times, as he had had an affinity as a kid for getting filthy right before church or some other formal event.

He set about scrubbing his own hair, head bent under the faucet. It wasn't easy to do as an adult to begin with, but add in the fact that most of his muscles were sore and his skin bruised, he was having an uncomfortable time of it. When he heard the door close, he jumped, banging his head on the faucet, causing him to fall and spill the bucket of soapy water.

"Craaaaap," He moaned loudly.

Walt turned the corner, confused to find his friend sitting on the kitchen floor in nothing but boxer shorts, surrounded by a mess of soapy water.

"What happened here?" He asked, brow furrowed in intense curiosity.

Jesse waved a hand dismissively, "I was trying to wash my hair in the sink….I can't take a shower cause the stiches and bandages and shit…..they said I can't cause I'll get soap in it and it's all ….you know …sore."

Walt chuckled nervously, "Well next time let me know, I'll help you. Or at least take you outside and hose you down in the yard."

Jesse thought ruefully that that might have been a better idea.

"Go get dressed," Walt instructed, "I'll clean this up. I brought stuff to make chili- is that good?"

Jesse nodded awkwardly and scurried upstairs to change his clothes. When he came back down, he looked much more like himself, wearing sweatpants and a loose zip up hoodie.

"Now, here is something you can cook with chili powder," Walt joked, laying out ingredients.

Jesse smiled, glad Walt wasn't pushing him on anything personal. Yet, he reminded himself, certain that Walt would eventually start prying. He cracked a beer and handed one to his older friend, which Walt accepted gratefully. The two cooked in relative normalcy and an hour later they were eating in the living room. Jesse had just finished his chili when Walt said,

"How was it?"

"Good," Jesse answered honestly, munching on a piece of garlic bread, "You can cook, yo, maybe you should have been a chef."

"More money cooking meth than chili," Walt mumbled, swallowing a mouthful, "Hey, I brought something you might like."

"What's that?" Jesse asked as Walt rooted around in the paper grocery bag he'd brought.

"This is some nice aged Scotch," Walt produced a bottle, "Go grab some glasses."

"Oh, nice," Jesse took the bottle and inspected it. He didn't know the first thing about Scotch, but could tell by the look of it, it was fancy.

He went back into the kitchen and began looking for some regular glasses, as all the ones he had were plastic and probably not appropriate for scotch. Finally, he found two small glass salsa jars he kept meaning to recycle and began rinsing them, hoping he could pass them off as actual glasses. Silently, he debated if the scotch was a pity gesture, in which case he should just dump it out now or if Walt was genuinely being friendly. Weirdly, in all the time they had been working together, Jesse realized he knew very little about Walt in a social setting. It wasn't like he got invited to his backyard barbecue's or anything.

Jesse brought the "glasses" into the living room, thinking distantly that he would like to go to one of Walt's barbecues. Unless his brother in law was there, boy does that guy ever have a stick up his butt for me. He handed a jar to Walt nervously, but if Walt noticed that his Scotch glasses were salsa jars he didn't let on. Instead he poured a little in each glass.

"Um, do you want like some ice or something?" Jesse asked.

"No, I like it this way. Neat."

"Yeah, neat," Jesse said.

"No," Walt laughed, "Neat means no ice."

"Right, no I knew that…"

Walt smiled and Jesse sat back in the living room chair identical to the one Walt was occupying. He took another sip, the stuff was really smooth. He silently vowed that now that he had money, he should learn a little about Scotch.

"Before?" Walt asked calmly, looking up at Jesse.

"Before what?" Jesse demanded.

"At the hospital today," Walt traced the rim of his glass with his index finger, "You said the scars were there before."

Walt could see Jesse's defenses go up immediately. He grabbed the remote off the table and squeezed it angrily, accidentally pausing the music they had had on in the background.

"So?" He asked, trying to keep it together.

"So, nothing," Walt coaxed calmly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…I just wanted to put it on the table."

"Put this on the table," Jesse gestured to his crotch, immediately realizing how inappropriate that was in the context of this conversation, "You're damn right I don't have to tell you. And there's nothing to tell. So just leave me alone, you nosy bitch!"

Before he realized he was doing it, he had thrown the remote control against the wall behind Walt's head. Walt continued to sip his scotch and didn't bat an eye. Jesse stood in the center of the floor, trembling with anger and confusion, waiting to see what Walt would do.

"Alright, Son," Walt said smoothly, "Here's how this is going to go. You can finish throwing your little fit, then sit back down and have a drink with me and we'll decide where to go from here. Okay, it's up to you. If you don't ever want to bring this up again, that's your decision. Take your time."

Jessie scratched his head and stood awkwardly shaking for a minute before sitting back down. He wrapped his arms around himself, realizing he was strangely cold. He had been wearing a hoodie earlier but must have ripped it off during his fit of nervousness, as it was now balled up across the room by the remote. Walt wordlessly took Jesse's glass and poured each of them another Scotch. He stayed quiet waiting for Jesse to calm down, certain he would tell him to never bring up the subject again, and that would be the end of it.

"I had this Uncle," Jesse blurted, surprising himself as much as Walt.

When Walt looked up at him, Jesse downed the rest of the Scotch in his glass and held it out, not even attempting to hide his shaking hands.

"This Uncle," Jesse continued while Walt poured, "His name was like Ed or Ted or something. Everybody called him Booker. He wasn't really my Uncle, it was my aunt's boyfriend, but they were together for like ten years."

Walt let him ramble, curious if he would make it through the story, as his voice was husky and he seemed to be choking on his words.

"What happened?" Walt asked, hoping his words wouldn't break the spell and cause Jesse to clam up.

"He was handy, so he was around our house like all the time cause my parents had less money then and couldn't fix shit…cause they were all like intellectual, you know? Anyway this one day I was playing in my room and he comes in and uh….he wanted to do something, like play a game or something…it wasn't a game I'd heard of….he said we had to….take off our pants. I did it and I don't know why, cause I didn't like it already, I just thought I'd get in trouble, cause my parents didn't like it when I was defiant. That's what they said all the time…."

Beads of sweat were running across his forehead. He tried to wipe them away but seemed to be losing that battle.

"He put his…he did things…he raped me," Jesse forced himself to say it, "It was weird, I didn't get what was happening at first. And it hurt really bad too, like no mercy or anything. I just kept saying I didn't like this game..I didn't want to play…"

He had stood up and started pacing, twisting his hand around his wrist and periodically biting his knuckle, maybe to keep from screaming or crying. Walt definitely sensed he was close.

"How old were you?" Walt asked gently.

"Um…young…like nine or ten."

"Did you tell anybody?"

Jesse nodded, "Not at first. He said I would get in trouble and my parents wouldn't love me anymore…cause what we did was bad. Finally I told my Mom and she didn't believe me. Like, where would a ten year old learn that if it wasn't true?" His voice cracked, "I mean, think about it, it's not like I'm the kind of kid that reads. Anyway, she told my dad. He got really mad. Like really mad. He wasn't a violent guy but he straight up slapped me in the face. Said I was lying."

Walt's face fell, he could see the pain in Jesse's eyes and wasn't sure how to reach him without scaring him off.

"That's not the worst part though. I know they knew it was true because they would never let him go near my little brother. They were super protective of him. The guy never came back to our house but if we were over at my aunts my parents watched my brother like every second. Even like stand outside the bathroom and wait for him so he wouldn't be alone with this dude even for a second."

"Did they watch you too?"

"No," Jesse's face twisted in agony and he was visibly shaking now, "No, that's the really fucked up thing. He left me alone for awhile but it happened again when I was like twelve. Then when I was fifteen I was sneaking beers while we were over there cause my parents were so busy watching my brother I thought it was a like a golden opportunity. When I closed the fridge the asshole was there and for some reason I thought he was going to yell at me for stealing his beer….he didn't though, he dragged me out into a shed and ….raped me…hard, like three or four times. Ass bled for days….just like what happened yesterday…."

Jesse paused, suddenly seeming to realize he had shared more than he set out to. Walt stood up slowly.

"Geez, I knew you when you were fifteen," He said softly. It was weird to think of now- him teaching Jesse in high school chemistry, before he had cancer, before they were meth tycoons. How crazy the world was, "If I had known all that was happening…."

"I mean, I guess I deserved it…"

"No, Son," Walt took a tentative step towards him, "It's not your fault. This guy was…"

"Did you hear me?" Jesse demanded, rocking back and forth on his heels, "I said I was fifteen. That means I was big enough and smart enough to do something about it. Or just crack his damn skull open. But I didn't. I couldn't cause I was some kind of damn pussy. I thought I couldn't do anything cause I'd get in trouble. No one would believe me, even though my damn parents. They knew, they had to know, they just didn't care. They only ever cared about my brother…."

Jesse stopped talking abruptly, wiping away a strand of tears. His chest heaved as he looked up at Walt suspiciously, uncertain how he would react.

"Damn, Jesse, I'm sorry," Walt said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He tried not to wince, it was just such an uncomfortable situation and for some reason the comforting touch made him feel that much more vulnerable. Walt squeezed his shoulder gently, applying just enough pressure to pull Jesse a little closer. He ran his hand slowly down Jesse's back, waiting to see if Jesse would be okay to hug him.

"You're safe here, you know?" Walt continued, reaching out his other hand to draw the young man into a full hug, "I'm sorry this all happened to you and if you ever feel like…."

"I hate this," Jesse breathed as Walt held him against his broad chest, "I hate feeling this way, I hate that you know about this. I just hate all of it."

Slowly, Jesse wrapped his own arms around his friend, pulling himself tighter into the embrace. He had to admit, the warmth from Walt's body was comforting to him, particularly since he himself was freezing. Walt put his hand on the back of Jesse's head, pulling him in and resting his chin on the top of the younger man's head.

"You're okay," He promised as he let his friend cry it out.

When at last Jesse had no more tears to cry, he backed up and wiped his face.

"What now?" He asked, eyes still red and watery.

"You tell me," Walt said.

"I guess we…pour another scotch, sit back down and watch some TV or something."

"That sounds good," Walt began to pour some scotch into Jesse's glass.

"I'll get the remote," Jesse moved around Walt to get the wall, "I kind of…threw it…a little."

"Just a little," Walt laughed, sitting on the couch instead of the chair were he had been before, curious to see if Jesse would sit next to him.

Sure enough, the young man flipped on the TV and sat next to Walt on the couch.

"What do you want to watch?" Jesse asked, "Discovery channel?"

"Sounds good to me," Walt said, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind Jesse, "You know I saw this great show on here the other day."