I am Jesse Pinkman

Chapter 5: The Teacher Comes Knocking

Jesse sat on his couch, feet up on the coffee table, flipping through a chemistry textbook.

A month ago, the sight would've been laughable—Jesse Pinkman studying chemistry? But this wasn't Jesse Pinkman anymore. Not really.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

He already knew who it was.

He let it ring twice before answering.

"Yo."

A pause. Then, a voice he'd been waiting for.

"Jesse," Walter White said. "We need to talk."

Jesse smirked. Right on schedule.

Two Hours Later – Los Pollos Hermanos Parking Lot

Walter sat across from him, hands folded, a forced calm in his expression. He hadn't shaved that morning. His face looked more tired than usual, the weight of his diagnosis already pressing down.

"You've been busy," Walter said. "I've been hearing things."

Jesse leaned back. "Yeah? What kinda things?"

Walter studied him, calculating. "There's a product on the streets. New. Purer than anything before. Some people are saying it makes my—" he hesitated, "—makes Heisenberg's blue look second-rate."

Jesse shrugged. "Sounds like a 'you' problem, man."

Walter exhaled through his nose. "I know it's you."

Silence.

Then Jesse grinned. "Okay. So let's say it is."

Walter straightened, his intensity sharpening. "Then I want in."

Jesse had expected this, but he still let the words hang in the air. Walter White—Mr. I Am the Danger—was sitting across from him, asking to be part of his operation.

He had the power now.

Jesse took a slow sip of his drink, then set it down. "Why should I let you?"

Walter blinked. That wasn't the response he expected.

"Because I'm a trained chemist," he said carefully. "I have experience, knowledge—"

Jesse cut him off with a laugh. "Yo, that's cute. But you know what else I got? The best meth anyone's ever seen. And I don't need some high school teacher slowing me down."

Walter's jaw tightened. "I can help you scale up. You can't do this alone."

Jesse tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to consider. The truth? He had already planned for this.

"Alright," he said finally. "Let's say I bring you in. You're not the boss. You work for me."

Walter flinched, just slightly, but Jesse caught it. The old man's pride was bruised.

"You'd be making a mistake," Walter warned.

Jesse leaned in, lowering his voice. "Nah, you made a mistake thinking you were gonna walk in here and be the genius again. This ain't your show, Walt. Not this time."

Walter stared at him, expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he nodded. "Fine."

Jesse smirked. "Good. Welcome to the team."

The Next Move

Walter shifted in his seat, clearly still adjusting to the new dynamic. His pride was eating at him, but Jesse knew he wouldn't walk away. Not now.

"So," Walter said, lacing his fingers together, "where exactly are you producing this meth?"

Jesse studied him, then casually leaned forward. "Why? You wanna check my work?"

Walter frowned. "No. I want to make sure you aren't being reckless. High purity means high visibility. It won't be long before the wrong people start asking questions."

Jesse knew he was right. That was why he had already been thinking ahead.

"Right now, I'm working out of a few rotating spots," Jesse admitted. "Never the same place twice. Keeps things clean."

Walter sighed. "Inefficient. That might work when you're cooking small batches, but if you plan to scale—"

Jesse smirked. "If?"

Walter ignored that. "You'll need a dedicated space. A controlled environment. A real lab."

Jesse sat back, acting like he was considering it, even though he had already made up his mind days ago.

"Alright," he said. "You got a suggestion?"

Walter hesitated. "There's an old industrial laundromat I know about. Could be useful."

Jesse shook his head. "Too much foot traffic."

Walter thought for a moment. "A self-storage facility?"

Jesse scoffed. "Too risky. They check units all the time."

Walter's frustration was growing, but Jesse wasn't going to let him take control of this conversation. This was his business now.

"Relax, man. I got a spot in mind," Jesse said, lowering his voice. "A foreclosed auto-body shop. Empty, no utilities, but big enough to work with."

Walter considered this. "How secure?"

"I got a guy who can make it look abandoned," Jesse said. "Nobody will come snooping around."

Walter exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. That will do for now."

Jesse grinned. "Damn right it will."

Walter shot him a sharp look. "I assume you have an equipment list?"

Jesse reached into his jacket and slid a folded sheet of paper across the table. "Already made one."

Walter opened it. As he read, his eyebrows lifted slightly. Jesse watched the moment it clicked—this wasn't some street-level meth cook's list. It was scientific.

Jesse's formula. His process.

Walter looked up at him, expression unreadable.

Jesse just smiled. "Told you, man. This ain't your show anymore."