Title: When Things Explode.

Summary: The dust hasn't settled yet in the aftermath of Heisenberg's death, but Walter Jr. has questions and there's only one person alive who can answer them.

Warnings: Heavy angst and canon-typical everything.

Notes: This is set after the end of Breaking Bad and it's not canon compliant with El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie. Basically, this is an exploration of what could have happened if Jesse was caught or even handed himself over to the authorities.

Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad any of its characters.

...

Jesse stared at the plain grey wall, fingers tapping restlessly against the table as he waited. He already had lost count of how much time had passed since he was left alone when there was noise at the door again.

He had never liked being alone: not when he was just a little kid clinging to his mother or his aunt, nor when he was a stupid teen getting high with his friends. All his life, Jesse did his best to avoid being on his own, but now he found he truly loathed being alone. Of course, not being alone any longer meant he had to talk about that asshole and all the shit that went down between them, so Jesse wasn't sure what he wanted right now.

Not that it mattered, really. Whatever happened now was out of his hands. Just like it had been pretty much his whole damn life, it felt like- except the illusion of actually having a fucking choice was gone now too.

Jesse lifted his head, risking a quick look, and then dropped his gaze back to the metal table when he caught sight of a tall, dark-haired boy with crutches entering the room.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

He didn't look up again even as he heard a scrap of metalas the boy sat at the other side of the table with some difficulty before assuring whoever came in with him he was okay. Jesse heard the door being closed again and didn't have to look to know they were alone.

Jesse hunched his shoulders further under the weight of the boy's gaze and kept his mouth shut and eyes down. At least Mrs White wasn't in here too, staring down at him with her cold blue eyes filled with contempt. He supposed he should be grateful for that or whatever.

The thick silence in the room was broken only by the rattling sound of the handcuffs around his wrists as he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. It was a sound he had grown all too familiar with in the past months, but at least this pair wasn't as tight and heavy as the ones before.

Fuck. He really couldn't go there right now. Jesse scrubbed his face with his hands, the ridges of old scars sharp against the calloused skin of his palms. The small movement turned the sound of the handcuffs even louder.

"Do you know w- who I am?" The boy finally spoke.

The words were enough to pull Jesse out of his thoughts, but he had to swallow hard before answering the question, blue eyes flicking upward for just a second.

"Yeah, I do."

The kid -Jesse was almost sure his name was Walter too, he thought with a pang- said nothing else, brows furrowed slightly and sharp gaze still on him. He squirmed in his seat, ducking his head further.

In the end, it was Jesse who broke the silence next. Honestly, whatever this shit was, he just wanted to get it over with. "So I guess you're here to talk about your dad, right? He-"

"No." The word was quick and firm, with no hint of hesitation.

Jesse blinked in surprise. His mouth hung slightly open for a moment before slowly closing. What the hell was there for them to talk about if it wasn't about that fucking prick?

"Aunt Marie said- she said you were helping Uncle Hank. That you were there when-" Junior looked away.

'When my dad got my uncle and his partner killed' He finished the sentence in his head when the kid didn't. Jesse didn't blame him one bit for not being able to say the words.

He couldn't even begin to understand how much the kid's life had been turned upside down in the past months, all courtesy of his fucked-up dad, but he couldn't help but wonder how it felt to find out the man who raised you was a fucking monster. To know the man you thought you knew was someone else entirely. Someone bad. A remorseless killer.

Hell, even Jesse had been shocked and hurt when he realized the whole truth, and he at least had some idea what the asshole had been up to from the start.

Poor kid must be a right fucking mess right now. Christ. Did he know Mrs White was kindda involved in this fucking mess as well?

"Yeah." Jesse cleared his throat. "Yeah, I was there."

"What- what happened?"

"Are you sure you wanna hear all the details? It ain't pretty." Jesse almost rolled his eyes as he said it. They were talking about the kid's asshole dad fucking getting his uncle murdered by a bunch of fucking Nazis. Saying the story wasn't pretty was the fucking understatement of the century.

Junior hesitated for the first time since he entered the room, but it didn't last long. "I do."

Jesse nodded. He had no idea if hearing what happened would be good for the kid or not, but he was here now, and if he wanted to know this shit Jesse was gonna tell him the truth. He deserved that. But first, he needed to figure out how much he was gonna say and how. The kid didn't need to hear all the gross and gory details.

"Your dad-"

"He's not my dad. N- not anymore."

Fair enough, Jesse thought grimly. It served the asshole right that even the family he kept using to justify everything he did wanted nothing to do with him now. Hell, Jesse had mostly stopped thinking about the asshole as Mr. White too.

Mr. White was the nice, nerdy teacher who tried to get him to learn something in high school and the desperate dying man who started cooking meth because he wanted something to leave to his family when he was gone. The monster he had slowly turned into wasn't that man.

Still, Jesse wasn't stupid enough to think it would be a good idea to voice any of the names he used now in front of the kid. He tried to lift his cuffed hands to rub the side of his neck, but was stopped by the chains holding them secure to the table.

"You're right. I was, ah, helping your uncle and his partner agent, uh,"

"Gomez. Steve Gomez," Junior prompted earnestly, leaning forward as he listened.

"Yeah, him." Jesse flicked his eyes away for a second. The man had been nice to him, a lot nicer than Schrader had ever been, and he felt a little guilty for forgetting his name. Jesse hadn't been all there when he met him, but the Agent seemed like a good guy. The kid obviously knew him too so that made him feel even worse. "Anyway, we, uh, we had a plan to get him, you know? That's why we were out there in the fucking middle of nowhere in the desert."

Jesse could still remember every detail as if it had happened yesterday. All the pieces they had to move to get the prick to lead them to the money, the phone call they used to trace his location, and all the shit that went down once they were all out there.

He cleared his throat before continuing. God, he wished he had some fucking water or something, but there was no way in hell he was stopping to ask for it. "Mist-" Fuck. "He thought it was going to be just me out there with him, so that's why he called these Nazi assholes he knew to, you know, take care of me."

The kid showed no reaction to the words. Jesse guesses hearing his dad had been planning to off his ex-partner in the meth business meant nothing compared to everything else he must have heard by now. Whatever. Not like he needed pity or nothing from the kid.

"So, uh. He was in handcuffs and everything when those psychos showed up and started shooting." Jesse shifted in his seat and forced himself to get going. Just get it over with. Like ripping a band-aid or whatever. "I don't know how long that lasted. It felt like forever, you know? I could barely hear a damn thing when the shots stopped."

The kid obviously didn't care about that, but he didn't rush him or anything, and Jesse was grateful for that. He needed a sec before getting on with it.

"Uh, Agent Gomez died in the shootout, and I think Schrader was shot too, but not too badly." Jesse swallowed. They were getting to the bad part now. "Your- he tried to convince them not to kill your uncle, you know." Even if the asshole didn't deserve any consideration from him, the kid needed to know that. Even if his dad was a total dick and still to blame for what happened, he at least tried to save his brother-in-law. "He even told them not to come when he realized Schrader was there with me, but they showed up anyway."

Jesse averted his gaze when he realized the kid's eyes were filled with tears. Shit. He had always been an easy crier, and the last thing the kid needed right now was to see him burst into tears just because. He licked his dry lips before continuing. "He pleaded with them and offered them all his money and everything, but even he must have known deep down they weren't gonna let him just leave or whatever.

"Schrader sure as hell knew that. He didn't beg or like, try to bargain or anything. He actually told the asshole pointing a gun at him to go fuck himself."

There was a huff of laughter from the kid. It sounded wet and broken rather than amused, but Jesse found the corner of his lips twitching upward for a split second too. That was one of the most badass things he had ever seen someone do in real life. More badass than anything Heisenberg had ever done for sure. Schrader had been an asshole, there was no question about that, and Jesse had hated his guts for a long time, but there was no denying the man had balls of steel or that he had been damn good at his job.

The kid was crying openly now. He barely made a sound, and even if his dark bangs covered most of his face, Jesse still saw the tear tracks. He felt his own eyes well up, but he looked away, refusing to let them fall. Jesus, he hadn't even liked the kid's asshole uncle.

Jesse distracted himself by looking at the two-way mirror to his right and wondering who was out there. Probably a few officers and detectives. Maybe someone from the DEA. The FBI. He swallowed hard when it crossed his mind that maybe Mrs. White or Mrs. Schrader were out there too. He looked away quickly, his gaze dropping back to his folded hands atop the table.

Junior sniffled and scrubbed his face clean with the back of his hand before speaking again. "Was- was it quick?"

"Uh, they shot him in the head, so you know," he said awkwardly. "It was, uh, over pretty quickly."

Jesse wasn't ashamed to admit he had wished many times that the same thing had happened to him that day in the desert. Just a quick and painless shot. and everything would have been over. No pit, no cooking, and no fucking Todd.

He kind of felt guilty for thinking about that with the nephew crying in front of him and the widow probably out there watching them too. Except, with Aunt Ginny dead, there was no one else who would have given a damn if he had been offed too. Like, sure, Badger and Skinny would maybe feel bad about it, but it's not like they had been all that close for a while now. And yeah, his parents probably would feel bad too 'cause even if he was a total fuck-up he was still their son, but he was sure they mostly would have felt relieved that they wouldn't have to keep worrying about how he was gonna fuck up next. The only other person who may have cared even a little was Mike, maybe, but he was gone too.

Jesse made sure to keep any mention of Mike to a minimum and never with relation to any of the more fucked up shit they did. He couldn't come out and say Mike hadn't been involved at all because they fucking knew he had been, but his granddaughter shouldn't grow up thinking his grandfather had been a fucking psycho like the rest of them. He owned the old geezer at least that much after everything he did and tried to do for him. Jesse kind of wished he could talk to her in a few years just so he could tell the kid her grandfather had been a good guy, super smart and fair and square, even if he was involved in some bad shit.

How many times had Mike warned him about that fucking asshole and told him to get the hell away from him? If only Jesse had been smart enough to listen to him instead-

But there was no point in thinking about that, not now. Whatever happened happened, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Jesse looked back at the miserable and teary kid in front of him and found himself talking before he even knew what he was doing.

"He totally lost his shit after they shot Schrader, you know," Jesse said quietly. "Like screaming and weeping and all that shit."

Junior started at him with puffy bloodshot eyes, face scrunched up. "W- why do you say that?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "Just- he was a total asshole, okay? He really was, and he did a lot of bad shit- like a lot of it, but he didn't mean to get your uncle killed or nothing."

Junior's lower lip quivered before he pressed his lips together, gaze hardening. "Doesn't matter. It- it was his fault anyway."

Jesse shrugged again. No way he was gonna defend that asshole now. Besides, the kid was right. It was all the bastard's fucking fault anyway.

"W- what about you?"

"What?" Was the kid asking if he cried and shit after Schrader was killed? Even if he didn't know the history Jesse had with his uncle that made no fucking sense.

"Did they s-shot you as well?"

Right. He told the kid the Nazi psychos were there to off him, so of course, he had to be wondering why he wasn't three feet under as well. "Uh, no. I, uh, I was hiding under a car when all that shit went down."

Junior gave him an incredulous look. "A- and they didn't find you?"

"They did find me in the end, yeah." Jesse could feel resentment and hurt fill him as he remembered the moment that fucker had given him up without the slightness hesitation. Like he didn't care. Like he meant nothing.

Even after everything Jesse knew about him and the things he had done, a part of him had expected him to change his mind and call the whole thing off. Maybe beat the crap out of him to get even or whatever. Instead, the fucker had twisted the knife in the most painful and horrifying way he could before letting those psychos take him.

Coming back at the last moment and doing what he did that night in the compound didn't even begin to make up for all the other shit the asshole pulled before.

"W- why didn't they kill you?" The kid's voice pulled Jesse back to the here and now. There was no malice or resentment in the words, just honest curiosity.

"They were gonna do that, you know," he told him matter-of-factly. "That was the deal or whatever. They just wanted to know how much I told your uncle and his partner before they offed me. In the end, the fuckers decided I was worth more alive and cooking meth for them," Jesse spat through a clenched jaw, trembling hands curled into fists.

Thank fuck the kid didn't give a fuck about what happened after that. But, even if he did, Jesse didn't think he could talk about it. Not now. Not ever.

Talking about all the shit he was involved in after the night that dick came to Aunt Ginny's house and this whole nightmare started was bad, but Jesse had found that talking or even thinking about what happened after he all but handed him over to fucking Todd and his motherfucking uncle was even worse. He had to tell them something, he knew. Even if all those Nazi fuckers were supposed to be dead now he still wanted to make sure Brock was truly safe, and besides, they found his fucking DNA or whatever all over the fucking compound, so of course they wanted to know what the fuck he was doing there.

So far, they had been happy hearing all the sordid details about Heisenberg and his stupid meth empire (including what went down in To'hajiilee with Agents Schrader and Gomez) but Jesse knew it wouldn't be long before they started pushing for details about the other thing. He just hoped when the time came he would be able to talk about it without fucking losing it.

Jesse scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling tired and drained and hollow. It seemed that was all he was able to feel these days.

The kid wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring down at the metal table, probably already regretting coming here to talk to him. He felt bad for him, having to deal with all this shit when he didn't ask for it. At least his sister was too young to understand what the fuck was going on.

This time he was glad for the silence even if he could feel the boy's eyes on him again.

"I'm sorry," Jesse burst out when he saw the kid reach for his crutches.

"W- what for?"

"Everything, I guess."

Junior watched him for a long moment before offering him a small and jerky nod and nothing else. The kid looked away quickly and worked to get back to his feet without another word or glance in Jesse's direction. The same officer from before entered the room a second later and guided the kid out without a word.

Jesse found himself staring at the door long after it had been closed.

None of this would have happened if Jesse had told the fucker no from the start. He doubted he would have had the balls to approach anyone else, and even if he had gotten all the shit to cook by himself, the rest of the operation would have been a clusterfuck with no connections and all his insane ideas and plans pulled straight from the movies and shit.

He probably wouldn't have even turned Jesse in like he threatened to do- except the fear of going to jail hadn't been the reason why he said yes. The truth was, he had just lost his partner and their lab, so he had been willing to indulge the sad fuck in front of him until he realized cooking and selling meth wasn't for a square guy like him. He figured by that point he'd at least have picked up a few tricks to make his own product better.

That was one thing he had gotten right, at least, he thought bitterly.

Jesse rested his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh. Then, he waited for whatever came next.

...

A/N: I know the chances of this being allowed are like zero, but for the sake of the fic let's pretend that Junior and Marie convince some of Hank's colleagues and friends to intercede and the higher-ups were desperate enough after everything that happened to use this to their advantege as well.

So, even before El Camino came out my head canon always was that Jesse managed to escape from Albuquerque and got to start over somewhere else because he so deserved it. That being said, all the possibilities of what could have happened if he were caught instead were too good to ignore, and that was why this story was born. Well, that and I always wanted to see these two interact.

This fic was written back when I finished watching Breaking Bad, which happened a few years after the show ended. Like many of the fics I started (among them another BrBa one), it was then buried under a bunch of my other drafts and rediscovered when I sorted through my documents a little while back. I don't know if the fandom is active anymore, but since there was no point in just letting them there, I've decided to finish and post them anyway. So, yeah. I hope someone out here enjoyed this!

Title from the song of the same name by UNKLE because why not.

This is unbetaed and I'm not a native speaker, so please feel free to point out any mistake you may find.