Chapter Five: Welcome to Somewhere

Jesse feels a soft, almost feathery touch against his cheek and opens his eyes. He's partially surprised that everything doesn't hurt – the last thing he can remember is a big bang and then a fireball of pain exploding inside him. But that surprise is tossed away by that which he feels realizing that, as he looks up – for he must be lying down – the feathery-gentle feeling has come from the cocoa-colored fingertips of Gus Fring, who is crouching before Jesse with a look of expectancy, not without some impatience. Next to him is Mike (Jesse learned a last name for him but it just doesn't suit him somehow, like he really doesn't need one), also crouched and looking at him with an expression of… well, Jesse can't tell, exactly - it's some mix of paternal pride and annoyed concern.

Jesse slowly rolls over and pushes himself to his feet. He doesn't feel woozy or sick, and that realization both surprises him and worries him. He remembers Mr. Pike, his old woodworking teacher, telling the class (after some kid jabbed his finger and wouldn't stop complaining about it) that pain wasn't a bad thing, that "pain is your body telling you that you need to fix something – you should be more worried if you don't feel any pain because then you could die and not even realize it". Jesse doesn't feel – well, that's not quite true, he feels something, feels sensation but doesn't feel pain or discomfort or anything he really thinks that he ought to feel.

"Where am I?" he asks quietly, staring at Gus and Mike. He already knows part of the answer before he does, because logically neither of these men should be here. Logically both of these men are buried somewhere in the Mexican desert.

"Welcome to purgatory, kid."

Skyler returns, sporting a bandage covered in what appears to be clear packing tape. Her husband – estranged, or not quite estranged, or not persistently estranged – is sitting in the same seat, one leg wrapped around the other as if he's purposefully trying to cut off his own circulation. She can sense that he's a bundle of nerves and she is too, but she can't fight the resentment that at least he understands this while she is stuck playing catch-up. She feels as if she is trying to race an Amtrak train on a Segway.

"Are you okay?" Walt asks as soon as she sits down, and she gives him a quizzical look in response.

"I'm fine, Walt. It's just donating blood." She blinks; how can he be worried about her at a time like this? It's ridiculous. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm…"

Skyler cuts off the "I'm fine" before he can finish it.

"There's nothing at stake," she tells him bluntly. She doesn't blink during the words; her eyes lock on to his and she projects into him that she means every word.

Walt stares at her.

"What?"

"There's nothing at stake if you are actually honest with me this time. So just do it," she hisses, "You're not fine, so don't bother to say you are." How can he not understand this? What is he not getting? Just be honest with me. Tell me about Jesse. Tell me how you really feel for him and what you two share because I can tell it's past a simple business partnership. But she can't say the words, can only hope he hears them reverberating in her mind.

"Skyler," Walt lets out a sigh. "Oh, Skyler, I'm…. I don't know what I'll do if he dies."

Skyler stares this time, before she nods. That's going to have to be close enough, she thinks.

"Well, he's not going to," she tells her husband firmly. "Jesse will pull through." Walt's lips twitch into a small smile.

"Well, now that he's got your blood, he's got to."

"Purgatory?" Jesse echoes. "Like as in, 'I'm dead' purgatory? Holy shit." Jesse blinks. Am I allowed to curse in purgatory? He wonders.

"Not quite," Mike replies, "You're kind of on the edge between life and death, kid. You've got to take the grand tour and see if you're going to stay or go." Jesse blinks, looking up at the man, not sure what to say to him. He's not sure what part of this is most surprising; he's not sure what way of reacting will make him feel any less like he is on the razor's edge of losing his mind. And if he really is in purgatory, then his mind is all that he has, now.

"We are here to guide you," Gus explains. "And we are here to help you decide your final place, whether it's here or back on Earth."

"This is a lot to take in," Jesse admits. "I don't know – what, like, to say."

"Then do not say anything," Gus replies. "This, as you have been told, is purgatory. This is where souls go to work out what they've left unresolved in life."

"Like what?" Jesse inquires – what could Gus' unresolved business be? He always seemed to have everything under control. I'm still a little surprised that the poison managed to beat him.

"Depends on the person," Mike replies. Jesse's eyes widen a little.

"What if I decide I'd rather just live?" he asks.

"It's at a cost," Mike says bluntly, "And it's not always entirely up to you."

"Did you both get to decide?" Jesse asks.

"Yes," Mike says, before Gus can answer, though the look he's shooting Jesse is as if the younger man just asked a very inappropriate and rude question at an important dinner. "Mr. Fring chose to stay and I chose to stay in order to assist him." Jesse blinks at the fact that Gus apparently needs henchmen even in the afterlife.

"And why did you choose to stay?" Jesse asks Gus. The unflappable businessman actually looks slightly uneasy, and Jesse realizes that in this question he's gone too far. Even now, even in this bizarre other plane of existence, Gus still gives nothing away, still holds his cards to his chest.

"All will become clear," he replies simply. "Let us begin your journey. We may travel downward from our homes, but not upward. So let us travel downward."

Jesse gulps.

"So you guys mean like… Hell?"

"Yeah, kid," Mike replies, "You might wanna take off that hoodie."