For The Rats (One-Shots)

To Torture Jesse Pinkman

A Boy Named Jesse-- Introduction. 

Break his heart.

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Many years ago, a man named Jesse was just a boy. A boy who wore several layers of clothes.

It is humorous to think that mere months prior to now, Jesse had still looked like a kid. He was youthful and goofy, energized. But Jesse grew inside a cocoon built from pain and suffering. He evolved in the darkest way. And now? Curled up on a cold cement floor, a beige tarp 10 feet above him rippling in the wind, Jesse Pinkman was a man. Maybe more... but nothing less than.

And isn't it troubling to see the layers he would wear in the New Mexico heat? Even in captivity, in his little cage, like he couldn't cover himself enough to stay sane. All this growth, this spiritual journey, yet he still wore a T-shirt over his sleeves.

See, Jesse is the perfect victim now, because he's been one already.

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A bald man drags Jesse out from under the car, the younger clawing desperately at the dust and dirt. His futile attempts to shake the hands off him leave him thrashing as he's lifted into the air and shoved to the ground on his knees.

The leader, a tall swastika bearing man with slicked back hair and beady eyes, struts over and stands behind his target. Jesse's pleading eyes search his ex-partner, who stood before him in the desert dust, but only to receive a glare in return. A cold, hard glare.

Jesse's head tilts slowly to the side, pieces coming together slowly. But it couldn't be what he thought.. but it could. Mr. White didn't have the balls to kill him himself, so he had Jack's gang do it for him.

Jack raises his gun to the back of the drug dealer's head. Jesse hears the fatal click behind his ears.

"Good to go?" Jack checks.

Jesse's old partner nods grimly, his eye contact not wavering. Jesse cocks his head again in disbelief, his lips parting slightly while the man behind him shrugs. Jesse prepares himself, and then--

"Hey Uncle Jack," someone calls from behind the car.

All eyes turn to the speaker. It was Todd, a young man about Jesse's age with short blond hair and a little scruff growing on his chin. His voice was slightly nasally. Jesse knew him from the bug service that used to cover the meth lab. Jesse never liked him, the guy ruthlessly killed a kid. They had their differences, and Tod's presence was... not something Jesse liked. 

Todd walks to his uncle, glancing briefly between Walt and Jesse. His Jesse.

"He was out here with those feds, right?" the young man starts. "Working with them.. shouldn't we maybe find out what he told 'em first? Cause I mean, he had to have told them some stuff that.. might not be too good for us."

Jack seems to consider this.

"And I bet we could get it out of him back home," Todd reasons, to which Jesse's heartrate chokes. He locks eyes with Walt, watching the old meth cook allow this to be Jesse's fate. 

"I mean, I could do it. Me and him we got," the blonde gestures loosely toward the man on his knees. "we got history."

Jesse shakes his head slowly, giving Walter, his ex-partner, mortified eyes. The chemist ignores the look. Paranoid asshole.