Author's Note: Although Gus presents himself as a cautious man, his actions often do not reflect this. Would a genuinely cautious man really execute Walter while Jesse is still on the run (and thus remove an important incentive for Jesse to not go to the police, where he could inform on Gus in exchange for witness protection)? Would he allow two street-level gangbangers to see his face? Would he hire Jesse as a replacement for Gale at Walt's insistence, even though (a) Jesse is a massive liability, (b) Gale can already do a 96% cook so Walt is not actually necessary, and (c) Walt has cancer and hence is not likely to stick around in the long run anyway?
So, in this fic I explore a slightly more cautious Gus, starting in season 3. At this point:
* Walt has been hired to work in the superlab with Gale as his assistant and has just completed a few days at work.
* Hank has beaten Jesse into the hospital, and Jesse has told Walt and Saul that he intends to destroy Hank's life, and continue cooking the blue meth, and will make a deal to inform on Walt if he gets in trouble with the DEA. (Gus is not aware of this.)
* Skyler has asked Walt to do what he can to help Hank, and Walt has spent the last day subtly sabotaging and gaslighting Gale to make him seem unqualified, much to Gale's dismay. (Gus is not aware of this.)
* Gus has told Tuco's cousins not to go after Walt, but that he was fine with them going after Hank Schrader instead. (Walt is not aware of this.)
"This is not an easy decision for me," Walter told him over the phone. "But it is one that I have to make. I'm sorry. This whole Gale situation, he is... he is just not working out."
Gus blinked in surprise. Gale was not working out? He was very familiar with the young chemist's competence and unassuming demeanour, and he had been convinced that Gale's obvious admiration for Walter's skill would tickle the man's ego. What on earth could be the problem?
"In what way?" He inquired.
"He messes up instructions, gets timing and measurements wrong... we lost an entire batch because of this."
That... did not sound like Gale. Perhaps Walter was very poor at explaining? But he'd been a teacher for almost twenty years; he should have at least some skill in that department, surely?
"You desire a different assistant?" He clarified.
"Yes, and soon."
"That will not be easy," he explained. "I can put out inquiries, but I have no other qualified chemists on my payroll." Not that he had any intention of replacing Gale. The whole point of hiring Walter in the first place had been for Gale to learn his methods!
"Well..." Walter began. "It may sound unorthodox, but I think our first, and best, option is Jesse Pinkman."
Ah. So that was what was going on. Walter wanted to bring his junkie friend into the business. He probably wasn't giving Gale a proper chance, as he wanted to find reasons to replace him. In fact... could it be that he had deliberately not explained things well? Had he ruined a batch worth tens of thousands of dollars in ingredients on purpose?
"Hello?" Walt asked on the other end of the line. Apparently he had been silent for too long.
"Out of the question," he told him. "If Pinkman can learn, so can Gale."
"Now look," Walt argued. "There is a short-hand that exists between us, experience together. At a level that, quite frankly, I'm just never going to reach with Gale."
"This is not negotiable," he spoke. "I do not work with junkies."
"Look, Mr. Fring," Walt said firmly. "When I accepted your offer, I was told the lab is mine. And I know best how to run it."
So this was a hill Walter was willing to die on? That was... problematic. He could not afford a major disruption in production – not now, when the Salamanca twins were preparing their move on Hank Schrader that would most likely lead to the cocaine supply from Mexico being cut off!
He could humour the man, perhaps. Let him bring his little addict buddy in, keep production going and then have an 'accident' happen to the boy in a month or so. But it would be risky – he did not want someone incautious like Pinkman to know the location of his lab. One person whom he could not fully trust was quite enough to have at the heart of his business.
Or he could lay down the law for Walter. Yes, the man might decide to leave, and with him Gus would lose the chance of having a truly pure product that would propel his business over any possible competition for years – but he could still go with his original, safe plan of having Gale make the product he was familiar with. He already had the supply chain in order for this plan; it would take at most a few days to get the alternative ingredients.
"If the conditions of my business are not acceptable, you are free to leave," he told Walter, ice seeping into his voice. "But I expect a two week notice." It went without saying that he wouldn't get paid if he just left right away.
Walter spluttered a bit. He clearly had not expected that, after the amount of effort Gus had invested in getting him into the business.
"Sleep on it," Gus ordered. "Let me know your decision in the morning. But if you decide to stay, I do not want to hear of this again. And Walter?"
"Yes?" Walter sounded uncertain.
"Since I respect you, I will give you this warning, but only once." He had projected an image of friendliness to Walter, but it seemed that this only made the man believe that he could get away with playing him – not something Gus was prepared to tolerate. "Do not lie to me ever again." He snapped the phone shut.
"Do not lie to me ever again."
Walt's heart was pounding in his chest. That sounded like... like a death threat. Oh god, what kind of man was Gus? And was he serious? Was he prepared to just... let the lab go to waste, with no one to cook? It must have cost millions upon millions – there was no way he meant it!
But Walt was very aware that he didn't know all that much about Gus. The man was positively inscrutable. He could try calling his bluff, but... that could easily mean he did lose the job. It was a lot of money to just throw away, and he had signed the divorce documents assuming that he would have that money.
But how else was he going to get out of his current mess? This plan had been by far the best way to get Jesse back under his control; to save Hank and to stave off further problems. Was there anything else he could do?
He started to think. What made Jesse tick? What did he want? How could he be manipulated into changing course?
He visited Jesse in the hospital, sitting next to his bed. God, he looked terrible. Jesse watched him warily, but said nothing.
"I want to apologise," he opened the conversation. This would probably take some back-and-forth, but he was sure that he could eventually convince the boy to see reason. "You were right. Our business... we were equal partners, and I should not have cut you out. I admit I can be a little protective of my work." There was a lot more to say – Jesse was by far more responsible than he was for the current mess! But he kept quiet on that. Putting Jesse on the defensive was likely to be counterproductive.
Jesse just scoffed. "Damn right you shouldn't."
"But at the same time," Walt pointed out. "It is very dangerous for you to continue in this line of work. Our product has the attention of the DEA, and they know about you. Sooner or later they will get you. So, I have an alternative proposal. A buyout. Half a million dollars for your share of the business, if you stop cooking and drop the charges against Hank."
Jesse just narrowed his eyes. "Half a million, while you get three? Gee, thanks. Not interested. I've got my plans, as I already told you. And nice try, saving your asshat brother-in-law."
"Right," Walt said. "Your plans. Let's think this through, shall we? You get arrested, and offer to make a deal. How do you think that's gonna play out?"
"They want the great Heisenberg, and I'm gonna give him to them. How about that?"
"But you're going after Hank, right? One of their own people?" He pointed out. "You know that law enforcement protect their own. Oh sure, they want me too, but at that point they will probably want you more. I wouldn't bet on them offering you a deal where you go free. Maybe they'll just knock ten years off your sentence, so you only go to prison for, oh, twenty years or so. Remember it was you who handled the distribution."
Jesse was not cowed. "Bullshit. It's the blue crystal that gets them all excited. Plus, I bet they'll be very interested in your employers."
"Which I have no intention of telling them about," Walt said. "Frankly, I have no death wish." He didn't know how Gus would react to someone informing on him, but after today's phone call, he did not have a good feeling on how that would go down. However, making Jesse feel that his life was in danger might also be counterproductive, so he quickly moved on. "But say you're right. You convince them to drop all charges, and in exchange you tell them about your high-school chemistry teacher, who incidentally is related to the guy who just beat you up. I wouldn't be so sure that they'd believe you, but suppose that you manage to convince them, and they arrest me. What about the new charges, when I tell them about you dissolving a body? You think you can convince them to also drop those? Plenty of witnesses saw the hole left by the bathtub in your house."
Jesse did not look so sure now.
"And even supposing, miraculously, you get a deal that makes everything go away, and it all works out – there is absolutely no chance that they will let you keep the money. So now you're broke, homeless, and your get-out-of-jail-free card is gone. Plus, you're known as a snitch, so your street cred is also down the drain."
"Screw you, man!" Jesse yelled. "Screw you! It'll be worth it to put you behind bars!"
"I know you don't mean that," Walt said. If Jesse really meant it, he could just go straight to the DEA, not wait to be arrested – although he didn't mention that to Jesse just in case he was wrong. "You're really willing to destroy your life over this?"
"You don't get it, do you? My life is already destroyed! Ever since I met you, everything I have ever cared about is gone! Ruined, turned to shit, dead, ever since I hooked up with the great Heisenberg! I have never been more alone. I have nothing! No one! All right? It's all gone! Get it? No. No, no. Why would you get it? What do you even care, as long as you get what you want? Right? You don't give a shit about me."
Walt sat in horror as Jesse unleashed on him. Did he really feel that way? Had Walt really hurt him that much?
"Half a million dollars, Jesse. No – let's say a million. You can build a new life with that. Go to college, you're still young! You can do anything you like."
"Yeah, like I'm good at anything? Cooking's the only thing I'm good at, and even that you called garbage!" He sniffled.
"Your meth is good, Jesse," Walt assured him. "As good as mine." It wasn't, of course, but Jesse obviously needed some validation. "That's the problem. If it looked like a knock-off product, the DEA wouldn't care so much."
Jesse seemed to be fighting himself. Then, he relented. "I'm not settling for a million. You got three, right? Equal partners should mean equal pay."
"I have to work for three months to get that money," Walt protested.
"And this is not work?" Jesse bit, gesturing towards his face.
It was frustrating, but he had accepted that he might have to spend a lot to solve this problem. "Fine. One and a half million dollars. I get paid every two weeks – you get half each time." It would be a convenient excuse to meet up regularly, so he could keep some line of control over Jesse; stay up-to-date with what the boy was doing, and steer him away from any new stupidities. "And you will stay on the straight and narrow – no more cooking anything - and drop all charges against Hank."
"You said a buy-out," Jesse argued. "What does your psychopath of a brother-in-law have to do with it?"
"It's about staying out of trouble," Walt answered. "You go after Hank, the DEA goes after you. This is not negotiable."
"Fine. How about I take just a million, and I keep out of trouble, but the son-of-a-bitch does go down?"
"No," Walt said firmly. "It's a package deal."
Jesse still looked mutinous, so Walt just got up. He figured he'd achieved as much as he was going to today.
"Think about it. Please let me know your decision."
Jesse was still considering his options the next day, as he was sitting in a wheelchair outside the hospital, waiting for Skinny Pete to come pick him up.
He should probably take the money. He didn't really intend to snitch – he was no rat! – and Mr. White was probably right about the amount of trouble cooking would cause. And one and a half million... it was a life-changing amount. But his body still ached all over, he could only see from one eye and from what the doctors had said, he was lucky not to have brain damage. He really, really wanted the bastard who had done this to him to suffer.
An ambulance came in, sirens blaring. It stopped, doctors rushing out from the hospital talking rapidly, and they pulled a very familiar figure out of the ambulance. As in a daze, Jesse followed them as they took Hank Schrader into the hospital, speaking their medical jargon which included something about four different "entry wounds" and punctured lungs. He stopped as they went deeper inside the hospital, feeling both baffled and satisfied.
Someone, it seemed, had avenged him.
He walked back outside, calling Mr. White as he did. Voicemail.
"Hey," he said. "It's me. I'm taking the deal."
Let's hope Mr. White didn't try to back out if his brother-in-law died.
Gus watched the news with some satisfaction. Things had gone well, mostly. The Salamanca twins had made a great spectacle of themselves before being disabled and killed respectively, and the DEA was in an uproar and likely to be quite distracted from any new operations that might be set up in the next week or two. True, Hank Schrader had gotten more severely injured than he had expected, which would surely upset Walter, but he had accepted that possibility beforehand.
In fact... The lab didn't have cellphone reception, did it? He took out his phone and called the secure landline in the lab.
"Yes?" Walter's voice asked.
"Hello," he answered.
"Sir, about yesterday..." Walter began, but Gus quickly interrupted.
"We can discuss that later. Your brother-in-law is in the news. He has been attacked, and is in the hospital. I expect your family is probably trying to reach you. If you do not respond, it will raise questions of where you are. Go now. You can take the day off."
Walter didn't respond, but simply ended the call. Gus waited for a minute to give Walter time to run out, then called again to give a clearly confused Gale his instructions.
Walt ran up the stairs, ignoring Gale's alarmed questions, flew out the door and into his car. He listened to his voicemail as he rushed to the hospital, hands shaking at the messages first from Jesse, then a panicked call from Marie and then Skyler and Walter Junior asking him to come. He ran into the hospital, through the throng of DEA agents who pointed him the right way, to find his family sitting together in a tense little waiting room, where he joined them.
Only after five minutes of waiting did it occur to him that Gus evidently knew who his brother-in-law was.
Gus visited the hospital in the early afternoon. Bringing a large number of meals from Los Pollos Hermanos to the assorted agents waiting there helped to cement his image as a supporter of law enforcement, and it conveniently created a distraction that allowed Mike to sneak in and give Leonel Salamanca a lethal injection. He sat with Walter's family for a while, stressing his desire to help, then turned to leave. However, Walter – who had appeared quite uncomfortable during his visit – clearly had other ideas. He followed him out, and started asking questions in the middle of a room filled with DEA agents. How Walter could believe himself to be cautious... Fortunately, Gus had some experience in controlling situations like this. He managed to reassure Walter that his family was not in danger, and left without the DEA agents being any the wiser.
Walt spent two days with his family before returning to the lab. Perhaps one day might have sufficed, but when he had called Gus in the evening to confirm that he would continue to work for him, Gus had told him that he could stay as long as he needed to ward off suspicion from his family and the DEA. So, he had not hurried. Truth be told, he could use the time to think – Hank's revelation that someone had called him before the shootout, combined with the assassin recognising him, and Gus' thinly veiled threat from the day before... it all combined into a pretty dangerous picture.
He was in far deeper over his head than he had thought.
As he prepared the cook in the morning, he noticed that one of the tanks was not as cold as he had expected it. Someone had been cooking here?
He turned to Gale. "Did you cook without me?"
Gale looked nervous. "I'm sorry, sir. I hope I didn't overstep. Mr. Fring said that I should, because you needed another day with your family."
"I'm not angry," Walt clarified. Just confused. "I didn't know you could do this on your own."
"I can't," Gale quickly said. "Not at anywhere near a decent quality, anyway." He laughed in a self-deprecating way. "Only 96% percent, and it's a pseudo cook, not methylamine. It's just... a backup procedure, that's all."
And suddenly the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
"I asked to see you in order to clear the air," Walt told him. They were sat opposite each other in one of Gus' outbuildings. "There are some issues that could cause a misunderstanding between us, and I think it's in our best interest to lay the cards on the table."
He seemed nervous, and struggled with his words a bit. Gus pretended not to notice.
"That is the best way to do business." He was quite curious what Walter had to say.
"My brother-in-law," Walter began. "Moments before he was attacked, someone called to warn him. I believe that same person was protecting me. Those two men – the assassins – I believe I was their prime target, but that somehow they were steered away from me to my brother-in-law."
He paused for a moment, as Gus carefully kept his face blank. He had not expected Walter to figure this out. That could go poorly.
Walter continued. "Because of this intervention, I am alive. And yet, I think that this person was playing a much deeper game. He made that phone call because he wanted a shootout, not a silent assassination. In one stroke, he bloodied both sides; set the American and Mexican governments against the cartel, and cut off the supply of methamphetamine to the Southwest. If this man had his own source of product on this side of the border, he would have the market to himself. The rewards would be... enormous."
Had someone been talking to Walter? Or was this really a guess? It must be the latter; anyone who knew anything about his business would know that the product from Mexico was cocaine, not methamphetamine – despite grudgingly allowing the sale of some local product, Don Eladio was adamant about not diffusing the main business of the cartel with something that others might copy. No, it must be a guess. Had Gus really been that transparent? Or was Walter much more perceptive than he had shown so far?
Walter shifted in his place, moving his shoulders forwards, towards Gus as if to confront him.
"We're both adults. I can't pretend I don't know that person is you. I want there to be no confusion. I know I owe you my life. And more than that... I respect the strategy. In your position, I would have done the same."
That... was surprising. If Gus had known that Walter would figure out his role in the events, he would have expected his primary response to be dismay about his brother-in-law being put in danger. Perhaps he was bluffing – he was clearly nervous about this conversation, although he was hard to read beyond that. Regardless, it seemed that there was more to Walter than met the eye. He might make foolish decisions on occasion, but clearly the man was no fool overall. In fact... it reminded him a little of his younger self.
"One issue which troubles me," Walter continued. "You hired me for three months – I assume intending that Gale could learn my methods. I don't know what happens when our contract ends."
It was a fair question: am I going to die? In fact, in most cases, people did not walk away from a high position in the drug business alive. Walter really did know too much. However, Gus' business was not like most cartels; he would not have offered a temporary contract if he was not in principle prepared to honour it. Walter had cancer, and therefore was unlikely to be an issue in the long term. If he did get exposed, he had relatively little to gain from a deal with law enforcement, and far more from an arrangement that Gus would quietly help his family. Hence, if he proved sufficiently trustworthy, Gus had been prepared to let him peacefully retire. But of course, that wouldn't help him much if his own past came back to haunt him... He had made quite a few waves.
"What would you like to happen?" He asked.
"You know why I do this," Walter replied. "I want security for my family."
Interesting. He didn't say that he wanted to walk away in peace. It seemed that a lot had changed in the two weeks since he'd had to convince Walter to join his business.
"Then you have it," he promised. "Three million for three months. That was our agreement. Extended annually, twelve million a year." Having two cooks would be much better than one, after all. It would guarantee continuity if one of them got ill, and would allow the lab to be used at maximum capacity if he could expand his territory. More importantly, having a good chemist at hand who actually understood the business could be very useful in his dealings with the cartel. Gale would never agree to make poisons or weapons, but Walter? There might be some potential there. He made a snap decision to sweeten the deal. "Call it fifteen. Open-ended. Would that be agreeable?"
Walter would never be able to spend that kind of money, but that wasn't the point. It was all about what it represented: yes, there was the security of never being without money, but more importantly it was a validation of Walter's value to the business. A man like Walter would care a great deal about that. And of course, it went without saying that Gus would protect his valued employee, which included protection for his family.
Although Walter didn't look entirely sure at the prospect, he agreed to the deal without protests.
Things went smoothly, in the weeks that followed. Walter and Gale produced at a consistent timing and quality, and there were no more ruined batches – except once, when they couldn't start on time due to some "contaminant in the lab" that Walter seemed reluctant to explain, but the pair made up for this by making an extra batch in the weekend. While there were some initial complaints among his dealers about the transition away from cocaine, the quality of the new product quickly stilled most of their protests. The Juarez cartel was hit hard by their losses in the wake of the increased attention following the attack on Schrader (including the death of Juan Bolsa) and had no power to interfere – if they had even noticed yet. There would be trouble later, Gus knew. But he was prepared.
He also worked a bit on his relationship with Walter, inviting him over for dinner. It would be good to build trust, and it allowed him a context to give Walter some necessary advice. And it worked – at least, building trust did. Soon, Walter reached out to him with a problem.
Unfortunately, the problem was Jesse Pinkman. The little junkie was causing problems again, planning to poison two of his dealers in revenge for killing one of Pinkman's former friends. And despite his advice, it was clear that Walter still hoped for a non-lethal solution, which was not how Gus would prefer to deal with the reckless idiot that knew far too much about his head cook. But, making the little junkie fully understand that he was in over his head and on very thin ice could be a reasonable alternative. He had learned it was unwise to use intimidation as a tactic to make people do things, but to not make them act it was still fair game.
Jesse was sitting in his car with Wendy, waiting for the dealers to show up so they could receive their poisoned burgers from her, when two men he'd never seen before showed up and roughly pulled him out. Wendy quickly fled when she was told to walk away, even as Jesse was thrown to the ground, his arms tied behind his back, and a blindfold forced over his face. He was dragged into what was probably a van, and left lying on his stomach as it drove off.
Why yes, he was scared shitless. What the hell was this about? Had someone found out what he was going to do? Or was this something completely different? Were they gonna rip him off? Torture him to find out who Heisenberg was? Was this somehow related to Tuco?
He only had one small comfort: they had gone to the trouble of blindfolding him. That meant they were probably gonna leave him alive – or at least they wanted to keep their options open. But that still left a lot of unpleasant possibilities on the table.
The car stopped, and someone pulled him to his feet, dragged him out of the car and pushed him to his knees. Sand – was he in the desert somewhere? Oh god, he was getting definite Tuco vibes here.
A cold voice spoke near him. "I heard that you had a problem with two of my employees."
Ah. So it was about this. Was this Mr. White's mysterious employer?
"I have had my eye on you for a while," the voice continued. "Do not mistake my inaction for tolerance. You can only push so far before inviting a response. Attacking my men... I take that personally."
"He told you," Jesse deduced. He had been careful; there was no way this guy could have known. "Didn't he? The bloody snitch – oof!" He doubled over as someone punched him in the stomach, hard. Through the haze of pain, he heard a gasp somewhere nearby, and a voice that he thought sounded like Mr. White. But it cut off too quickly to be sure.
"You have one friend in my organisation," the cold voice spoke, coming closer. "That man you call snitch. When I heard what you intended to do... If it were not for this man, and the respect I have for him, rest assured that I would deal with this in a much more... decisive manner." There were a few moments of silence, allowing Jesse to recover some of his breath. Then the voice continued. "You will drop this matter. You will stay away from my men, and keep the peace. Is that clear?"
Two emotions were warring for dominance in Jesse's gut: fear and anger. When he'd been shoved into that van he had started on fear, but at this moment, anger won out. "No."
"What did you say?" The voice came from his front, but as it spoke, he felt cold metal pressed to the back of his neck. Well, fuck that. If he was going to die, it would be worth something.
"No," he repeated. "They use kids. Those dealers of yours – they make eleven-year old kids do their killing for them! You're supposed to be some kind of reasonable businessman; is this how you do business?" He turned his face to where he thought Mr. White might be. "Mr. White, are you okay with this?"
He braced himself for another punch, or a shot in the neck, but neither came. Instead, there was a long, tense silence. Then the gun was withdrawn, as the voice spoke again.
"Very well. No more children."
Jesse sat still in confusion. What, really?
"And you will keep the peace?"
After a few moments, he nodded. "Yes... I will keep the peace." He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he would take it.
Nothing more was said. There was just the sounds of footsteps moving away, then cars leaving. Still nothing. Were they just going to leave him here?
But no, suddenly someone was fiddling with the ropes binding his hands. The moment he was loose, he reached up and pulled off the blindfold.
It was Mr. White, kneeling next to him. Because of course it was.
"This was your idea?" He bit. "You thought that, maybe, I was missing the experience of being on my knees in the sand with a gun pressed against my head? Oh, I dunno, maybe I needed a reminder?"
"I didn't know he was going to do that!" Mr. White protested. He seemed about to say something, but then thought better off it. "Let's just go, alright?"
He had half a mind to just walk, but he didn't even know where he was, and they seemed pretty far out in the middle of nowhere. So in the end, he got in Mr. White's car. But he wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of responding to any of his sermons about the end result justifying the means.
Insolent little shit.
Gus wasn't angry, as such. Why waste anger at the dirt under your foot? But he was offended. And quite satisfied at the thought of Pinkman's upcoming punishment. If the idiot wanted this gang to not use children, they would not use children. It was obvious that it had not occurred to the boy that the only way anyone could leave such a gang was in a body bag.
Yet, as he drove on and calm settled on him, he did start to feel some niggling doubts. Walter had come to him willingly. He was finally starting to show some loyalty and trust. The best way to cement that loyalty going forward was if the outcome of this intervention was something he would consider positive.
If his dealers killed that child they worked with, and Pinkman proceeded to get himself killed in some ridiculous revenge-attempt as he was bound to do, Walter would be upset. Gus expected that he would get over it soon enough, though. He would probably feel some measure of satisfaction when Gus had those dealers executed for "misinterpreting" him, and Walter would eventually recognise how much better off he was without a massive liability like Jesse walking around, threatening his safety with every new stunt.
Yet... It wouldn't make Walter any more likely to bring problems to him in the future. Actually giving Pinkman what he wanted here would. Walter hadn't spoken out, but Gus could see that he did dislike the idea of child dealers; just not enough to leave his job. He could give Walter his desired outcome, with some effort. Jesse was a liability, yes, but not directly to him; the boy didn't know anything significant about his business. He was a risk for Walter, yes – but he knew that in the man's position, he (or his younger self) would want to be allowed to make his own mistakes. Was the risk of losing Walter due to Pinkman getting himself arrested so large that it warranted giving up a prime opportunity to gain Walter's trust?
He made a decision, and called Victor, who was on the way to give those dealers their orders in person.
"There is a change in plans."
Mike watched as Jesse Pinkman angrily strode out of his girlfriend's home, but intercepted him before he went into his car.
"Hey there."
Pinkman wanted to push past him, but Mike blocked him. Jesse looked up at him angrily at first, but then seemed to recognise him.
"You're Saul's guy."
Mike didn't correct him. "Yeah. I think we should have a little chat."
"What about?" The boy spat.
"Thomás Cantillo. That's why you're upset, isn't it? Him getting arrested?"
Pinkman looked at him in surprise and some alarm. "You know about that?"
"Yeah." He was responsible, after all. On Gus' orders, but Mike had been the one to call the police on the kid. "Saul's been hired as his lawyer. Fully paid. He'll make sure that no one presses the kid for any information that he cannot safely give, and to get him therapy instead of a long sentence. I figured you should know that."
Pinkman was silent as he processed all that. Then he looked at Mike suspiciously. "Why did you figure that?"
"You had something to do with it, didn't you?" Mike didn't reveal that he'd been present for the whole interaction; Gus wanted Pinkman to know as little as possible about his business, after all. "Whatever you might have done, good on you." He meant it, too. He had fully expected Pinkman to die, but he did admire the boy's courage and principles. And truth be told, he agreed. He didn't like people being forced into the game, children or adults. It should always be a choice. "I have a message to give you. You ready?"
"I guess?"
"Here it is. You agreed to keep the peace. We held up our end of the deal. Will you hold up yours?"
Pinkman looked slightly fearful, but nodded. "Yeah. I will keep the peace."
"Are you satisfied with the outcome of my intervention?" Gus asked Walter. They were having dinner together again, as Gus wanted to follow up on their last interaction.
"Yes," Walter responded. "It was... not what I expected to be honest, but I cannot argue with results. I suppose you feared that, if the child was just let go from his gang, he would talk to the wrong people?"
"Among other possibilities. A child like that needs authority. Set them loose after a few years, and they will cause trouble. It's not a matter of if, but when. And yes, that is likely to create difficulties for the whole group."
Walter just nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, Jesse's happy."
"And you?" Gus asked. "What is your opinion on this situation?"
Walter seemed to consider his answer for a few moments, twirling his glass of wine. "I would not presume to tell you how to run your business. However," – and he proceeded to do just that – "Did you know that Gale is a vegan?"
"I did," Gus nodded.
"It's not for health reasons," Walter said, still looking ahead as though he was just telling a story. "I asked. It's principle. He does not want to contribute to a system that hurts innocent creatures."
"I take your point," Gus said after a pause. Gale was shielded, and unlikely to have contact with street-level dealers, but if there were any incidents involving children he might learn of them through the news. Gus believed he could weather that, but... it wasn't really worth it. He had generally not questioned, or cared, how his dealers sold their product, but some methods did clearly have the potential to cause a headache. Making arrangements like he had for Cantillo would require too many resources, but it was a small thing to instruct his gangs to not recruit any new children, at least.
He turned to a new topic. "I heard that you gave Pinkman money last week?"
Walter was silent for some time, then looked at him accusingly. "Are you having your people spy on me?"
"No," he denied. "They were spying on Pinkman. Considering the circumstances, it seemed wise."
Walter did not look too happy, but also didn't protest. He took a bite of his food and chewed for some time before finally answering.
"The money is a buy-out, for our previous partnership. To keep him out of trouble."
"That is very generous," Gus observed. "Although I should warn that large amounts of cash rarely keep people out of trouble."
Walter just sighed. "Yeah, well."
"Are you certain you wish to keep protecting him?" Gus asked after a minute of silence. "He is a liability to you. If he acts out again, and is arrested... he knows too much."
"Jesse is no snitch," Walter said confidently.
"Are you sure?" Gus pressed him. "Absolutely sure? Consider what happens if you are wrong. You will spend the remainder of your life in prison. Your family loses everything. Even if you set something aside for them – the DEA will watch their finances. Are you truly prepared to risk all that for some useless junkie?"
Walter hesitated, but eventually nodded. "I guess I am. I really don't think he would snitch."
Gus sighed, but did not press the issue further. In the end, it was Walter's choice.
"If the worst should happen," he eventually said. "If you are arrested, I hope that you know that I will take care of your family. In a legal way, of course."
Walter eyed him measuringly, clearly understanding the unspoken condition. "Thank you."