You were a big help to Jesse and Walter. A great asset.

You knew Jesse, inside and out. You’ve held him while he’s slept at least a hundred times, and you’ve nursed him back to health when he gets too high at least a hundred more.

You were an enigma to him. You were just… there, whenever he needed you. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t even talk much. You just sat and listened. It was, in hindsight, the reason he liked you so much.

Jesse didn’t want to admit that it hurt, seeing and hearing you sleep around with that DEA agent, some loser named Peter who used his gun and status to make up for his lack of personality. You were doing it for a reason, though, and that was to protect Jesse. You didn’t want him to cook meth, and knowing he would never listen to you anyway, you decided you would do everything in your power to keep him out of jail.

You shuffle through the sand, up towards the RV. You knock on the door, glancing around at the horizon, the sun already starting its descent. Your head spins around when the door to the RV opens.

God, you look so beautiful it makes Jesse’s heart ache and his pants tighten. The way the wind blows through your hair, the way your eyeliner is smudged perfectly around your eyes, the way those denim shorts hug your ass—fuck, Jesse, focus. He clears his throat. “Hey, baby.”