Fix Me, Fix You: A Jesse Pinkman Story

Chapter Twenty-Two

~

The day after Christmas, clouds littered the sky, generating a cold and hazy atmosphere over Louisiana. The hidden sun kept its warmth and light as the wind breezed through the trees. The frigid weather kept the Quinns inside for a lazy family day.

Linda hovered over the stove in the kitchen, cooking a hot vegetable soup, while Coop slept on the couch in front of the TV that played a holiday movie. Jesse and Jolie sat on the loveseat, snuggled into each other, halfway watching the movie and halfway watching Lia and Lucy as they sat on the floor playing with their new miniature guitars (bass, electric, and acoustic) and microphones that they received from Santa Claus (along with a mini drum set that is only to be played on when their aunt approves).

It reminded Jesse of their hurricane days, quiet and dark through the house, but the holiday spirit was evident, which made the environment a little happier.

He sat sideways on the couch, with one leg hanging off of the cushions, as Jolie sat between his legs. With one arm wrapped around her waist from behind and her back pressed up against his torso, she rested her head back against his shoulder.

"I could get used to days like this," she said quietly. "This is perfect."

He kissed the side of her head gently in agreement then rested his cheek against her hair, a sign that they were growing more and more comfortable with showing affection to each other around her parents and the girls.

Ever since they had given their relationship the green light, things had been better than ever, which he didn't even think was possible.

But a bad taste still lingered in his mouth at his deceitfulness. It haunted him more and more lately, especially as he and Jolie grew closer. He knew the longer he waited, the worse it would be.

But how do you just blurt out your past as a meth manufacturer and distributor?

Oh, and a murderer.

~

Swirls of smoke from their cigarettes and fog from their breath spun together and floated into the early morning darkness as Jolie and Jesse stood on the porch, sneaking their morning cigarettes. He sat on the railing, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and she stood beside him, facing him, watching his forehead wrinkle with his intense internal thoughts.

Though she was obviously very fond of his looks, it was his golden personality that typically won her over. Yet as she stood there watching him closely, observing every movement he made, she took the time to appreciate his physical attractiveness. His buzzed haircut... His slight facial stubble... His passionate grey-blue eyes... The curve of his soft lips... The subtle little scar below his eye...

"How'd you get that scar?" She wondered softly, pointing below her own eye to specify said scar.

Jesse glanced up at her, a little surprised at her random question. His scars had healed nicely once he escaped and was able to properly take care of them, but he knew the one under his eye was still fairly noticeable. He wondered why she never asked before. Surely she had seen it. But why did she wait until his past was haunting him again to bring it up?

"I was, uh," beaten and forced to cook meth for a bunch of psycho, racist, white trash criminals. "in a pretty bad fight a while back."

Lie.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You were in a fight? I can't picture that happening."

He let out a laugh, almost sarcastically, as he looked back down at the cigarette burning between his fingers. He took a long drag, filling his body with smoke and chemicals. How sadistic that he had managed to fool the beautiful blonde into thinking he wasn't even capable of getting into a fight. Not even a fight! When he was more than capable of the worst sin – murder.