A/N: This is my first Breaking Bad fic. I had posted it on a separate account, but forgot the email and password, so I am going to post it here. This is a side project, so don't worry, I'm still working on The Ivory Tower whenever I can. If you still don't have the link to the new original version and it's sequel, send me a PM. Happy Reading!

Prologue/Chapter 1

The box. It was beautiful. He made it himself. The wood gleamed. He had sanded and stained it with tung oil 'till it gleamed, motherfucker. This box was the best he could do. And it was beautiful, and his. It was-

The omniscient sound of the dusty tarp being thrown aside from his cage knocked Jesse out of his daydream. His eyes refocused, setting on the dirty cement he was sitting on. His ankles ached. They had tightened the chains around his ankles even more than usual. Jesse glanced up, wondering who had come to see him. Todd peered overhead. Jesse immediately looked down, too afraid to make eye contact.

"Hey, up here!"

God, he could just hear Todd's smirk.

Fuck.

"Uncle Jack wants you. 'Common now." Todd beckoned him over and slowly set a ladder down into Jesse's cell. "It's nothing bad, I promise."

Jesse made a grunt of disbelief in the back of his throat, but grabbed onto the ladder nonetheless. He had no choice. The chains on his ankles clanged against the metal ladder as he rose slowly, dreading whatever new torture Uncle Jack had in store for him.

"There ya go!" Todd said to himself as he unlocked the chains around Jesse's feet. He left the cuffs clinging to Jesse's wrists. Just in case. "Let's move." Todd was nice and all, on the outside. But he really was one sick fucker. In fact, the barrel of Todd's gun was prodding Jesse's back right now- to keep him in line on the way to see Uncle Jack.

Upon entering the room, Uncle Jack and his crew all turned abruptly to stare at him.

"You see what I'm talking about you son of bitch?" Uncle Jack seethed. "Does this look like a partner to you?"

Jesse stepped forward and then stopped abruptly when he saw him.

Mr. White.

Walter looked awful. His cheeks were sullen - a side effect of the cancer growing inside him. Mr. White had grown a terrible beard to try and hide his weakness. And he had grown his hair back as well. It looked thin and matted. Horrible. But, while Jesse appraised him, he realized that he probably didn't look much better.

"Commere, take a look!" Uncle Jack pushed Jesse forward roughly. "Commere!"

Mr. White eased forward. Slowly. Cautiously. Jesse could see both resentment and pity in his eyes. Jesse didn't want Mr. White's pity. Jesse could feel his heart pounding in his chest at each step Mr. White took. The look Mr. White had on his face was just short from anger and regret. Jesse saw that look before, it was Mr. White. He had a plan and Jesse could see it in his evil dim lit eyes. Jesse felt his shoulders ease and a still calmness came upon him, and yet Jesse still wanted to fucking murder him, right then and there. But he couldn't. His hands were cuffed and there were eyes and guns trailed on him. Watching him. Like they always do. So he did what he had been doing for the past several months and kept quiet.

"Take a look at him! Have a gander." Uncle Jack said. Jesse's eyes flicked up toward Mr. White. It all seemed like a dream. He had started to become accustomed to the routine of his life. Wake up, eat, shit, cook meth, sleep, cook meth, and sleep 'till it started all over again. But this… Jesse didn't know how to react.

"This is my partner. Right partner? Right buddy?" Uncle Jack mocked him, a cigarette burning blatantly between his lips. "Hard-working, good partner."

Jesse couldn't look at Mr. White anymore. So much pain was etched in every line of his former teacher's face. He was too weak to look. Too scared of facing his past demons and his current ones all at once. Uncle Jack was still rambling about some nonsense when Mr. White suddenly threw himself on top of him. All the air in Jesse's lungs seemed to burst and rush out of him in one sick wave. His head hit the cold, hard floor as Walt tousled with him on the ground, forcing him there. Is this some kind of sick joke? A little re-run of their past exploits and fights? Jesse struggled to get Mr. White off of him but he was practically helpless in his position.

Then bullets spewed in all directions. The sound of ricochets and solid metal exploding inside flesh pounded his ears. Mr. White's body covered him, crushing him. No, protecting him? Jesse turned away as a bullet whizzed by straight above his head, missing his skull by inches. The rain of bullets seemed to go on for hours as Jesse laid there, squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on breathing. Which was hard, considering Mr. White's body was crushing his ribcage.

Finally, the bullets stopped. The atmosphere settled into beautiful silence. Mr. White rolled off of Jesse, who could finally gulp in a huge breath of air. Sweet, sweet relief. Jesse looked to the left and saw the wall completely covered in bullet holes. The smell of blood showered over him and filled the entire room. Jesse quickly ran his hands over his body, checking for any damage. He was unscathed. Alive.

And so was that fucker Todd. That piece of shit crawled over to the window and peered out. He saw a machine gun strapped to a garage door mechanism. The source of all the bullets was in the trunk of Mr. White's car. Jesse slowly rose from his place on the ground, staring at Todd's exposed back.

Todd continued to look out the window, puzzled. "Mr. White…"

But Todd wasn't able to utter the rest of his sentence with Jesse's handcuffs around his neck. Todd panicked immediately, throwing Jesse backward. But his hold on Todd's neck did not cease. Todd was really frantic know, and threw himself into Jesse, flinging both him and Jesse backward onto a table. This only made Jesse pull harder on Todd's neck. They both crashed to the ground in a rage of legs and arms and chains. Todd's fingers pawed at Jesse's hands, begging him not to end his life as strangled gurgles escaped from his throat. Jesse continued his hold on him, blocking off any air from Todd's lungs.

Jesse could feel Mr. White's shadow looming overhead. Watching. Jesse refocused back on Todd. He would kill this sadistic bastard and finally break free from this place. The gurgles from Todd's throat soon grew few and far between. Then Jesse heard a snap, and Todd's limbs grew limp on top of him. Jesse shuffled out from under the body and searched Todd's pockets for keys. He found them, and quickly unlocked himself from his chains.

Jesse peered up, his eyes landing on Mr. White, holding a gun and hovering over Uncle Jack, who was still miraculously breathing.

"Wait, wait!" Uncle Jack begged. His chest rose and fell heavily, but he still managed to pick up a cigarette and smoke it between his teeth. The smoke swirled around in the air as Uncle Jack continued to speak. "You want your money back, huh? You wanna know where it is? You pull that trigger and you'll never-"

A shot is fired. The echo pounded in Jesse's ears. He quickly clambered up from the ground and turned to face Mr. White, who was now spattered lightly with Uncle Jack's blood. A silence festered between them. Then, his teacher slowly eased down and dropped the gun, sliding it toward him. Unsure of Mr. White's intentions, Jesse grabbed the gun and pointed it directly at Mr. White's empty heart.

"Do it."

Tears pooled in Jesse's eyes but they did not fall. His finger caressed the cold trigger of the gun. He wanted this. He wanted it so badly, to see Mr. White's brains splattered on the wall. He wasn't the man he used to be-no, not for a long time. He wasn't looking at Mr. White. He was locking eyes with Heisenberg.

Heisenberg gave him a little nod. "You want this."

"Say the words!" Jesse exclaimed. The trigger would feel so sweet and complete if he pulled it just a little bit tighter. "Say you want this! Nothing happens until I hear you say it."

A pause. Then Heisenberg spoke. "I want this."

Jesse thought he was dreaming. Heisenberg wanted to die. Heisenberg wanted to die. He couldn't take it anymore. He glanced down, noticing the red blotch of blood soaking Heisenberg's shirt, then he knew. He didn't want to kill him, but to end his suffering. That motherfucker can bleed to death for all he cared. Jesse wanted to kill him. He wanted to see a bullet enter that man's brain but he just couldn't pull the trigger. This man had taken a bullet for him. For Jesse Pinkman- the meth addict, the drug dealer, the slave. The gun quivered in his shaking hand. He couldn't shoot the man- but he could condemn him. He threw the gun down, where it clattered on the blood-soaked cement.

"Then do it yourself."

Jesse left the building and walked out toward the first car he saw. He could hear Mr. White mumbling in the background, talking on the phone. He briefly heard something about ricin in Lydia's Stuvia but shrugged it off. He didn't care. He just wanted to leave. But something pulled him toward Mr. White yet again. He turned, and came face to face with Mr. White's silhouette in the distance. There was a pause, and the silence stretched on. Mr. White gave Jesse a small, respectful nod.

Jesse was glad that the last memory he had of Mr. White wasn't a bloody one, as much as he hated what his teacher had become. He finally broke eye contact and slipped into the front seat of the car. The keys were sitting in the passenger seat. No one around here bothered to keep them hidden. He started the car and drove away from his prison. He hit the gas pedal hard, lurching forward and setting the speed dial up towards a hundred miles per hour, leaving Mr. White and all the torture that went along with him behind. He smashed through the prison's gates, the ones he so desperately tried to escape from many months ago. But now, no chains held him back.

He was free.