Jesse's life was never the same. He could barely remember the last time he felt happy that year. His life was a mess after Heisenberg. Jane's death, Gale's, Fring's, Mike's.

He felt empty.

And just when he decided to stop cooking, Walt used his manipulation game again. Mike died, and Jesse knew it. He knew it was Walt, the reason for Mike's death. He needed a plan.

They were cooking and working with Todd and his uncle's gang, even though they didn't have direct contact, they helped cover it up, they bought it, Lydia brought methylamine. The business was up and running again, and this time they owned it. According to Mr. Walt.

The smell of burning oil and dust was almost suffocating in Jack Welker's compound. Jesse Pinkman lit a cigarette with trembling hands, trying to hide the discomfort he felt at being there. Walt had said it was "just business," but everything about the place—the clang of the doors, the heavy laughter of the henchmen, the cold way they stared at him—made his skin crawl.

That's when he saw her.

She was leaning against the warehouse wall, knees bent, eyes fixed on the floor as if afraid to look at anyone, wearing a white flowered dress, innocent compared to everything around her, her arms scarred. Todd walked past her and, with that strange smile, patted her head like a dog. She didn't react, just shrugged and waited silently until he walked away.

"Who is she?" Jesse asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Todd just laughed. "Oh, her? Just some girl of Kenny's."

Jesse felt his stomach churn. Something about that girl bothered him deeply. It wasn't just the fact that she was there, scared and broken, it was the way the others seemed to take it all for granted, as if it were part of the business. Jack, with all the talk about buying meth, appears and sits down. Kenny was there, next to the girl. And Jesse knew that he couldn't do anything about it.

"So... Tell me what you have. I'll bught" Jack says tô Walter, as he puts out a cigarette and takes another.