II

September 9th, 2010 - Brooklyn

Todd's car had conked out on him five miles ago and he had been walking, hoping that he wouldn't get jumped or picked up by the cops. He was tired, hungry and frankly he looked and smelled like shit. As much as he would have liked to hitchhike with someone, the odds were slim, especially since he was sure his face had been all over the news. However, much to his surprise, he heard the loud sound of a rumbling truck slow down behind him. A man in the driver's seat poked his head out the window.

"I'm headed to Brooklyn, need a lift?"

Jesse hesitated for a moment, positive that the driver would barrel away as soon as he recognized him, or worse, get out his cell phone and call the police – but no. The man simply gestured for Jesse to get inside the cab. He complied and slowly got into the truck. "T-Thanks, man."

"What a coincidence," the man mumbled as the truck. "Thought I'd never see you again."

Jesse glanced at him and gulped. "W-What?"

"Oh, well… I guess we've never met formally… I'm sure you remember Best Quality Vacuum Repair, though," the man said.

He thought for a moment before remembering where he had heard that before. Jesse's eyes widened. Maybe this was his silver lining. Maybe things were starting to look up. "You're the guy that can make someone disappear or whatever, right? Oh, man… Hey… Do you thin-"

Before Jesse could even continue, the truck driver silenced him. "Nope. You had your chance, Pinkman. And besides, I'm on the clock right now."

"C'mon… I don't know what to do… I have nowhere to do, cut a man some slack!" Jesse pleaded feeling all hope slipping away from him – not that he had been expecting to come across the Extractor guy that Saul had set him up to meet all those months ago. He strongly regretted not taking the chance when he had it.

"Sorry, kid, those are the rules," he said simply, shrugging a little. "I'll still give you a lift to Brooklyn, if you want."

Jesse remained silent, mentally trying to piece together his next move. Brooklyn was no Alaska but it was far away from Albuquerque and that was as good as it was going to get for now. If he was lucky, he would stumble upon a homeless shelter that would take him in. He looked back to the truck driver. "Yo, dude… What's the news back home?"

He shrugged. "Not much yet. They said that you're probably in Alaska or something – which we both know is untrue. That means they'll be swarming like bees up there. Looks like you caught a lucky break, kid."

Jesse nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved but at the same time disappointed. It looked as if Alaska was out of the question now that it was crawling with feds. He would be stranded in Brooklyn, now. The rest of the ride was silent until they finally rolled into the city. The truck backed into a small parking lot. "Alright, this is your stop."

"Where are we?" Jesse asked, looking out the window.

"The Lucky Fox, it's a bar."

"What the hell am I supposed to here?"

"Look, consider this an act of charity. I know someone in there who is in the same line of work as me. They may or may not be more generous or understanding than I am, but I can't be sure. I figure this is the best place for you to start," he explained.

"Just go up to the bar and ask for a glass of whiskey on the rocks and once you get it, get a napkin, fold it in half and put it on top of the glass. Simple. Don't put the glass on a coaster either," the man instructed.

Jesse nodded quickly and let out a deep sigh before opening the cab door and hopping out. "Thanks for the lift, man. I really appreciate it…"

"Don't mention it, kid. And by the way, after you do all that stuff, tell the person that Ed sent you."

Nodding again, Jesse closed the door slowly and made his way into the bar. It was dimly lit as most bars were and looked rather high end. All of the furniture was dark wood and leather while quiet music played in the background, though it was mostly drowned out by idle chatter and the sound of glasses clinking. Jesse kept his head down low as he ambled further into the room, taking a seat at the bar.

"Mm, how can I help you, sir?" the bartender asked, wiping down the counter between them.

"Uh… Whiskey, on the rocks," he answered gruffly, turning his head away from the other man.

"Ah, coming right up," the bartender answered, flitting away quickly.

Jesse held his head in his hands until he heard something be placed in front of him. The man who had been serving him was already on the other end of the bar, helping out another customer. There were about three other bartenders working alongside him, all of which looked pretty occupied at the moment. He pulled the coaster from under the drink and set a folded napkin on top of the glass. All he had to do now was wait.

He had been sitting there for a good ten minutes before someone finally came up to him. Jesse didn't look up completely, barely able to make out the person's features. He could tell that it was a woman. She had long dark hair that faded to a lighter brown towards the ends. It was curled loosely. She wore the same uniform as the rest of the employees – a black dress shirt, black pants and a white apron around the waist. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows showing off lightly tanned skin and her nails were chipping dark pink nail polish. All she did was slide a piece of paper across the counter before stalking off to the back. He slowly turned the paper over.

Down the stairs by the washrooms, knock on the first door three times. 50k.

Jesse frowned. He didn't have so much as five dollars on him right now. He sincerely hoped that Ed's referral would hold some weight. He glanced around before getting up, slipping the paper into his back pocket. He tried his best to be inconspicuous as he made his way to the washrooms and descended down the stairs. Like the paper had indicated, Jesse knocked on the door three times and stood back.

Slowly but surely, the door cracked open. "Money?"

"…Ed sent me," he mumbled.

There was a beat before the door swung open wide.

"Oh? Well, if that's the case, then you must be pretty speci-"

Jesse furrowed his brow and looked up from the floor to see why the woman had stopped speaking. His jaw dropped.

"Felicity?"

"…Jesse Pinkman – you're supposed to be in Alaska," she mumbled, gesturing for him to come inside, "And I guess that's why you're here."

He remained silent as he entered the small room. It was more like a big broom closet. There was a desk with a computer, a chair and a small photography set up fashioned with a box light and a standard gray background. Felicity crossed her arms and turned to him, ice blue eyes staring into his own.

"…Alaska didn't work out," he muttered, not sure if she knew what had happened yet. It had only been a few days, after all.

She took a few steps back and took a seat on the desk. "You look like shit."

Jesse frowned. "You think I don't know that?"

Felicity shook her head and let out a small laugh. "I'm just fucking with you, Pinkman. I'm glad that you're still alive and kicking."

He scoffed. "Yeah… Well… It's good to see you too."

He couldn't exactly wrap his mind around what was going on right now. A part of him was thinking that he just passed out in the middle of the road and now was having weirdest lucid dream ever. It was surreal. The last time he had seen Felicity Scott was on the day of their high school graduation. She received her diploma and strutted to the back of the crowd and she was never seen again. No one had any idea where she had gone – not even his parents. This had to be some sort of dream. If the real Felicity knew what he had been up to these past couple of years, she would have already strung him up by his balls and scolded him for being so stupid. But no. Here she was, sitting on a table in a dank bar basement, ready and equipped to illegally give him a fresh start and help him, a certified murderer, escape the law and continue living as a free man.

"What brings you to Brooklyn?" she asked as she swung her legs over the table to get behind it.

"Uh… Originally I was driving here… But my car broke down on me a few miles out from here. I ended up walking and eventually hitchhiking in this guy's truck. It just turned out that the vacuum guy – Ed – was the one driving it," Jesse explained.

It felt strange to be so open with someone after all this time but he had known Felicity since he was a kid and that alone seemed to be enough of a reason to trust her. Not only that, but it was obvious that her business did not permit her to spill the secrets of her clients. Jesse watched her tap away at the computer before pulling a camera out from under the desk. "I'll need you to step on the X marked on the floor, please."

Jesse complied, still a bit confused about everything that was happening at the moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets and maintained a stoic face as Felicity attached her camera to a tripod and looked at him through the viewfinder. He expected her to snap a picture, but instead, she straightened up and looked at him, squinting a little. "Where are you staying tonight?"

He raised a brow. "What?"

"Where are you staying tonight?" Felicity repeated, putting her hands on her hips.

"Uh… I dunno… I was gonna get to that when I needed to… Why?" he asked, narrowing his eyes a little.

"Crash at my place," she offered.

"What? Y-You don't have to do that, I mean I'm sure I can find somewhere to sleep tonight-" Jesse protested. "You're… Already doing all of this… I don't want you to get in trouble for harboring a criminal or something…"

Felicity shushed him promptly. "It's fine, really. I have extra rooms, it's no big deal. I just think it'd be better if you get some sleep and I dunno, a haircut? Before I take your picture that is. Like I said, you look like complete shit."

He huffed and shrugged. "If it really won't be a problem then… Yeah, it would be nice to sleep on something that isn't a concrete floor under something that isn't tarp…"

Her brows knitted tightly and Jesse bit his tongue. He wasn't exactly comfortable sharing that portion if this whole ordeal with anyone – especially not someone like Felicity, who always had a bad habit of doting on him. Jesse's parents appreciated that bit about her. They always thought that she would be able to keep him in line. Little did they know that Felicity was able to get just as wild as he was. However, she somehow had the magical ability to never get caught and regain her composure at the most opportune of times while he was always stuck shitfaced when things got serious.

"Alright, good! And anyway, don't want to risk anyone recognizing you," she reasoned as she put her camera back into one of the drawers in the desk. She waltzed right by him and opened the door, throwing him a casual glance. "So? Are you coming or not?"