Chapter 1

Mike had always known that Walter Hartwell White had hubris. From his first meeting with Gus, he needed to have things run his way; everything had to be to his liking. There was no such thing as a compromise for Walter. He tried to save him once, but that time was over. He had grown far too corrupt. He had orchestrated Gale's death just to save his sorry ass. He had killed their old boss just to take his position, just to have his throne. He had wrapped that poor Pinkman kid under his thumb. Walter thrived on power. God only knew what else he had done.

And with every passing day, every other stunt, it made Mike loathe this man all the more. His skin crawled whenever he looked at him. He had hated himself for accepting Walt's offer to work with him. And what had it brought? Nothing but chaos. Just like everything he did. How had he ever pitied this man?

Mike had put up with a lot of bullshit, but none of the past bullshit was even close to the amount he got from Walter White. He was only glad, and a little apprehensive, that this would supposedly be the last time he saw that awful man. He'd just grab the money and go. That was the plan. Grab the money and go.

He saw Walt's car pulling up to the meeting place. He hated that it was this remote, but it was necessary so the DEA wouldn't find him. Mike watched Walt very carefully, getting out of the car with the getaway bag. Mike was on the alert. He knew that Walt would try to do something, one final farewell gift.

Walt walked up to Mike. "Hello, Walter." Mike said to him.

Walt paused. Here we go, thought Mike. "Before I hand this over, I need something from you."

"And what's that?"

"The names of your nine men."

Of course. It always had to be something. "Why?" Mike asked tiredly. "You're never gonna pay them off. What's the point?"

"The point is, Mike, it affects me. It affects Jesse, too, and we deserve to know."

You don't deserve shit, Mike thought. But he tried to keep calm. He grabbed the bag from him, and tried to give him one last piece of advice. "The only thing left to do now is leave town. You understand?"

But of course he couldn't. "'Leave town?' Wow. Yeah, I just can't up and leave like you, Mike. I've got a family. I've got people who depend on me."

Mike wondered exactly how many of those people would miss him. None, he thought. He certainly wouldn't. "Goodbye, Walter." Mike began to walk away.

But before he could go far, he heard Walt, that bastard, yell back at him: "You're welcome!"

And something about that made him snap. Maybe it was just the way he said it; maybe it just rubbed him the wrong way; but something about those two words were the straw that broke the camel's back. Mike was done with Walter. He would have the last word.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mike said, turning back towards him.

"I want those names, Mike. You owe me that much." Walt said forcefully.

"I don't owe you a damn thing!" Mike spat. "All of this, falling apart like this, is on you!"

"Wow…" Walt muttered, showing the annoyance on his face. "Wow! Oh, that's some kind of logic right there, Mike. You screw up, get yourself followed by the DEA, and now, suddenly, this is all my fault? Why don't you walk me through this, Mike?" He said sarcastically.

"We had a good thing, you son of a bitch!" Mike shouted, unleashing the months of pent-up anger he had been keeping down. "We had Fring! We had a lab! We had everything we ever needed. It all ran like clockwork. You could've shut your mouth, cooked, and made as much money as you ever needed. It was perfect! But no, you just had to blow it up! You and your pride, and your ego! You just had to be the man! If you'd done your job, known your place, we'd all be fine right now!"

Walt was left speechless, silent in his rage. Mike saw a dangerous look in his eyes, but he didn't care. Mike walked away, back to his car. He sat down and closed the door. He didn't want to take any chances. He checked the bag to see if everything was there. There was the money, a new driver's license, new passport...but where was the gun?

Oh, no. He didn't. Mike looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Walt, walking from his car with the gun in his hand. He had taken the gun.

"Oh, no you don't…" Mike said. Quickly, without even thinking, Mike backed the car up, trying to throw Walt off guard. Walt was forced to jump out of the way, landing on the ground. Mike knew when it was time to go, and that time had come. He put the car into drive and stepped on the gas pedal hard. The car sped away.

He heard a gunshot, and the whistle of a bullet speeding past. Thankfully, Walt was shaken and didn't have good aim. The bullet didn't even touch the car. Mike slowed his driving only when he was certain that he was away from Walt.

He looked back in the rear-view mirror just to reassure himself that Walt wasn't following him. He wasn't. Goodbye, Walter, Mike thought. If we ever met again, it would be a lifetime too soon.

When he reached Santa Fe, Mike thought that it would be safe to call. He parked in a gas station and went to the payphone. He had almost not had any quarters on him, but he had saved them for just this moment that he knew would eventually come. And it had.

Mike inserted the quarters into the payphone slot and dialed the number. He waited while the phone rang, and after three rings an adult female voice picked up.

"...hello?" said the speaker on the line. It was his daughter-in-law. Catherine. Mother of Kaylee.

"Put Kaylee on the phone." Mike said simply. He didn't have much time.

"...Mike?" Catherine said. "Where are you? There were police at our house...asking questions about you. You're a fugitive. You...you left Kaylee all alone at the park…Mike...what-"

"Shut the fuck up and put her on the line." Mike growled. He never liked Catherine.

Startled, but unsurprised that he wouldn't give any answers, she called Kaylee Ehrmantraut to the phone. When she told her it was her Pop Pop, she ran to the phone.

Kaylee excitedly picked up the phone from her mother. "Hi Pop Pop!"

Mike smiled at the other end of the line. "Hello, sweetheart. I'm sorry I had to run off earlier."

"It's okay," Kaylee said, "the nice police officers helped me get home."

"That's good…" Mike said. He felt himself tearing up. Tearing up? Could he still cry? He tried to hold it back and spoke to his granddaughter. "Hey, listen, Pop Pop's going to go away on a vacation for a little bit."

"Where are you going?" Kaylee asked. "Are you going to the beach?"

"Yes," Mike laughed. "I'm going to the beach. But I'm going to have to be there for a while."

"Can I come too?" said Kaylee innocently.

"Now, you have to go to school!" Mike said affectionately. "You're still young! When you're older, then you'll be able to go around on vacations to the beach more often."

"When will you be back?"

Mike paused. He felt a horrible pain in his stomach. "It depends on how much fun I'm having…" he forced himself to say. "But...I promise...I'll be back, sweetheart. I'll be back soon."

"Okay." Kaylee said. "And then later you'll take me to the zoo, right?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Mike said. "I've got to go now. You be a good girl, okay?"

'I will."

"Okay, good." He swallowed. "...goodbye, Kaylee."

"Bye!" She hung up.

Mike stood there for a minute. He placed his head in his hands. He cried for a minute. Then, he went back to the car. He would come back for her. He still needed to find a way to give Kaylee the money. But for now, he needed to hide. Away from Albuquerque, away from the DEA, away from Walter White. He needed to go away for a little bit until everyone forgot about him.

And Mike knew exactly the place to go.