Chapter Text
As the dirt road jostled the vehicle, Mike shouted his commands into the phone squeezed tightly between his shoulder and cheek. Telling whoever was on the other side to ready two stretchers. How the cook was caught in a bullet. Beside him, Jesse. Squirming in his seat. Sloppily applying pressure to his wound. Hissing and wincing as he squeezes against his bruised ribs thanks to his fight with Walter. Hell, not like he’s ever been shot before. He’s just following instructions given to him. Mike wants to scold him, but now wasn’t the time. The kid acted fast after being shot at. It was admirable, but stupid. Who knows how much blood he lost in prioritizing protecting Mike and Gus. The first bullet missed Mike, but Jesse sprung up as if it hadn’t.
What was he supposed to do?
Get mad at Jesse for being more concerned about their lives than his own?
“We’re almost there, kid. Just keep pressure.” Mike states as calmly as he can as he hangs up the phone. Trying to assure the younger man.
Jesse lets out an attempted chuckle. Huffing out with little strength. “I am keeping pressure, asshole.” He bites out defensively through a tensed jaw. Of course, the pushing of each syllable only makes Jesse ache more. Classically annunciating that curse at the end.
The defiant tone makes Mike cock his head in agitation. Maybe if he weren’t such a little shithead, he wouldn’t be exerting himself being a brat. Walter’s not gonna like when Jesse comes back with a new scar. Even worse, he’s really not gonna like the recovery time. That man will find some way to blame Gus. Guess he would be part to blame since he’s the one who brought Jesse. But he at least knew the risk with plenty of preparation.
Soon enough, Mike approaches the tent. The doctors stood outside with a pair of stretchers and other supplies. Had Jesse not been so important in being the cook, there’d only be one. Mike pulls the car up to the medics and hastily parks. He’d been in this line of work long enough to remain professional. Though, as much as he hates to admit it, Jesse being in this condition was certainly racking Mike’s nerves. Mike opens the rear door first and assists in getting Gus on the first stretcher. Unfortunately, he is still the highest priority for everyone here. Next, Mike pops open the passenger seat.
“Hang on, Jesse.”
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The hours ticked by. Gus and Jesse were stable. That much was relieving. Mike was sat by Jesse. He knew better than to worry himself too much. He had faith in the crew to take care of everyone properly. Though, something that wasn’t unnoticed for sure were the bruises along Jesse’s body. Mike let out an extended sigh and raised a brow. He’d noticed them hours earlier, but looking at them again still sent the same dead feeling. Walt did a number on the kid. Jesse had told them before they came here. Some disagreement turned into a fight over Jesse coming to Mexico.
“How is he?” Gus asks as he steps into the tent. There’s a slight stagger to his step, but Mike knows he’ll be fine.
Mike sighs and looks back to Jesse. “He’ll live. What are we gonna tell Walter?” Mike asks calmly. Already aware Jesse can’t travel with them for at least a week.
Gus thinks silently for a moment. He’d considered the threat of Jesse being harmed, but hadn’t planned that far ahead. That’s right… He’d have to keep Walter in the lab longer than intended. Gus’ eyes drift to Jesse’s bruises. Small adjustments in his expression almost mirror Mike’s initial response. “Walter did all this?” He walks over to the boy and gestures to his bare torso. There were slight staggers to Jesse’s breathing. An anxious wreck even in his unconscious state. “Walter is just going to have to suck it up and work until Pinkman can return. He’ll hate it. He’ll have to understand.”
As usual, Mike nods in understanding. “Well.” Mike huffs before standing up. “Guess we ought to be on our way.”
A raised hand halts Mike in his tracks. “I want you to stay with Pinkman. Ensure he travels back safely.” Gus orders softly. “I can’t risk him getting lost.”
“Could always send for him.”
“You really think Pinkman would make whoever's job easy? He trusts you. I doubt he’ll listen to anyone I send here.”
It was a fair argument. Annoyingly right. Knowing Jesse, he’d chat off the ear of whatever unfortunate soul Gus sends out. Not like he won’t also chat off what's left of Mike's ear, but at least Jesse knew Mike. Jesse is also frustratingly defiant. For being as fiercely loyal he is, he also handles authority very poorly. There have been plenty of times he hasn’t listened to Walter, even. Mike sighs in defeat and looks back to the young cook. He did mighty well today. There was a shared amount of pride both men held towards him today.
The kind of pride a pair of parents feel to their disobedient son after he finally begins to excel. “And if Walter tries something?” Mike asks. “My guys are good, but Walt's unpredictable.”
“I have Tyrus keeping a very close eye on him. He’ll behave.”
Behave. Mike laughs a bit at that. “Walter? Behaving? Those are antonyms at this rate.”
Gus tilts his head in acknowledgment before taking his prize from his wallet. A reward after successfully winning against the cartel. Don Elardio. A small exchange between Gus and the doctor goes through before Gus gives Mike a departing wave of his hand that the other returns. Then Gus is gone. On his way through the desert. Though, Mike still feels anxious for Gus being on his own. He knows the man can handle himself, but it doesn’t ease his worry.
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The beaming white light greets Jesse as his eyes squint open. The rustling of the bed alerts Mike who looks up from his joined hands hanging between his knees. Jesse sucks in a harsh breath before hissing as he tries to sit up. “Settle down, kid. You’re gonna be here a while.” Jesse turns to look at Mike and that signature little crease that’s most visible in his left brow deepens. “Just lay back down and relax.”
A frustrated sigh turned pained groan escapes Jesse as he shifts his weight back down. “Where’s Gus?” Jesse asks. Though, he sounds less worried for Frings safety and more concerned for… something else.
“He’s headed back to Albuquerque. How are you holding up?” Mike shifts the direction back to Jesse. He knows the kid can lack some personal preservation. At least as of recently. Mike’s not an idiot. He’s seen the large shift. Where Jesse from just a month ago would be harder to work with, this darkened version of him is not only tolerable, but downright selfless.
“I’m fine.” Jesse mumbles defensively. Typical. Makes Mike's eyes roll a bit by the absurdity. This kid was insistent, wasn't he? He bit out that same tone during his withdrawals at the diner.
Mike hates to make the comparison so much, but it's so hard when Jesse is exactly like an abused dog. Wound up, agressive, anxious, yet loyal and frustratingly protective of the owner. Owner. Walter could have a leash on the kid and he'd still obey. With those blue and yellow blemishes all over his pale skin, even being beaten won't stop him.
The pair sit in silence for a bit before Jesse starts drumming his fingers against the mattress. Jaw grinding around absently. Trapped in thought. "What's going in in that head of yours, hm?" Mike asks suddenly. Noting Jesse's distant gaze.
Jesse looks over. Less tense or angry than he was earlier. Just tired. A regretful look mixed in there as well. Mike's no stranger to Jesse's darting eyes. He can tell at this rate when the youngsters is nervous about something. How someone views him.
"When can I go back? Mr. White... you know how he is. If he finds out Gus is back, and not me-"
"Gus will handle it. You just worry about yourself, alright?" Mike assures softly. Jesse hated when Mike spoke so softly to him like that. Made him feel torn. Walter has a soft tone like that with him from time to time, but he hadn't heard it much recently.
There was that grinding of his jaw again. The muscles popping in and out of his skin. It really was awful seeing him like this. He only really had two modes to him recently. There was his bark. When he'd sneer with that defensive attitude of his. Baring teeth like he did to the chemists in the lab. Then there was this. A restless, unpredictable mess.
Luckily, he was getting better about it since Mike began taking him on drop-offs, but now he's been shot. That's got to shake up anyone. Especially given Jesse's pre-existing new trauma with gunfire. Damn boy didn't move last time he was shot at and miraculous lived, now that he shot back, he was a receiver.
There was a sense of pride, however. Gus had it too. "You did good, kid. Really good." Mike praises casually. Hoping that'll bring up Jesse's spirits some.
"Is Gus gonna kill him?" Jesse asks through trembling breaths.
The subject being placed back on Walter makes Mike sigh. Closing his eyes briefly. Walter's really got that collar on tight. Mike finally decides to stop trying to be gentle about this. "You were nearly killed today, and your main worry is still Walter White? Jesus, kid." Mike grumbles. "Just think about resting. I'm sure being this antsy ain't gonna help you heal any faster."
"Hey, fuck off man. I'm just curious is all." Jesse huffs and looks at the ceiling. "I won't work for Gus if he dies." He faces Mike again and grits his teeth. "I owe Mr. White my life, so forgive me for asking if my partner is gonna be buried in a ditch somewhere!"
Clearly, all this conversation was doing was riling up the boy further. The doctor comes inside the tent to sort through supplies in the refrigerator. The entrance leads both men to fall silent. Jesse relaxes back into the bed the best he can. The occasional hitch of his breath. It was obvious he was trying to hide how much the wound hurt. The damn fool was even trying to hold back tears after being shot as if Mike would laugh at him. Truth is, Mike would have rather Jesse just let it out and focus his energy on keeping himself from bleeding out.
Not that it mattered anymore. Jesse's alive. Probably more damaged mentally than physically, but he's still alive.
"I owe Mr. White my life" plays back in Mike's head.
In all fairness, Walter did protect Jesse. Multiple times. Whether because he actually cares about Jesse or because of self preservation, he saved Jesse's life. Mike was gonna be the one to take it. Jesse should be more loyal to Walter than him. The fact he's torn just shows Mike how shattered this boys perspective is. Thinking about it, Walter could hold a gun to Jesse's head and he'd still find a way to defend it. It's tiring.
"Your heart rate is still much too high. Do you have any inflictions Fring didn't inform me of?" The doctor asks suddenly. "I know it's traumatic, but calming your nerves will make the healing process much better, I promise." He states casually.
Mike raises a brow to Jesse. Expecting defiance. The same bite he's used to recieving from the boy hound. "I'm fine." Yup, there it was. Though it lacked its usual cut. Just a simple, yet firm assurance. "By the way, uh..." Jesse starts. "Inform? What?" The question makes no sense, then again, Jesse doesn't know what he's even asking here.
The doctor seems to understand the question and gives Jesse a knowing smirk with a light nod. "Gustavo understood the risks he was taking." He nods before leaving the tent with some supplies in hand.
Jesse scoffs and shakes his head. "Dude thought of everything..." He sighs and lays his head back. Exhausted from exertion of his own doing. It's best this way. When he's properly resting.
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It takes quite a long while before Gus is back in New Mexico. He informs some of Mike's men that Mike and Jesse will remain down south until Pinkman fully recovers. With the absence of both men, the guards have to be extra thorough in their protection of Fring.
Walter was unpredictable right now. Having had brought his brother-in-law far too close. Calling the police on Tyrus. It was getting exhausting. As long as Walter didn't know Fring was back, he won't ask too much about Jesse's condition. As far as Walter needs to know, Jesse's still cooking for cartel...
It's only a matter of time before Walter becomes too much to handle in the lab by himself.