Work Text:
In the dimly lit kitchen, Walter methodically scrubbed the dishes, the rhythmic clinks resonating in the quiet space. Jesse Pinkman, standing awkwardly by the sink, shuffled his feet and fidgeted his hands, contemplating whether or not to offer his assistance. Skyler, simply wanting to get rid of her empty wine bottle, observed the scene unfolding before her with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
She assumed Pinkman left their house soon after her jab at Walt. Walt wants to use her guilt about the “Ted Situation” to lie to her sister? So be it, she’ll throw it right back at him. He wants to flash this new life in her face by bringing this hood into her house? Bring it on. As long as it’s just her around, Skyler can take it.
She reflected on her children. The fear for their safety gnawed at her, prompting her to send them away with Hank and Marie. Walt was once the dreamer who spoke of a family with three children, but that now seemed like a distant memory. Skyler couldn't imagine what life would be like with a third child, involved in this chaos that had engulfed their lives.
Pinkman interrupts her thoughts, breaking the silence. “Need any help?” he asks.
Walt, without looking up from his task, replied, “I’ve got it covered, Jesse. You don’t need to stick around.”
Jesse scratched the back of his head nervously. “I mean, I’m not doing anything, ‘feels weird just standing here.”
There was a stiff pause, and Skyler seized the opportunity to quietly slip into the kitchen entranceway, concealing herself in shadow. She watched the two of them working together, a strange sense of fascination gripping her.
The tension between the two men was palpable, a remnant of the conversation she had walked in on earlier. Yet, as they worked side by side, the pressure seemed to dissolve, replaced by an unexpected synchronicity.
It was odd to witness. Skyler almost couldn't fathom the sight before her. Walter and Jesse, polar opposites in so many ways, collaborating as if they were an off pair of dance partners. There was a silent communication between them, like they had performed this routine countless times before. Maybe they had, she mused, and the thought sent a chill down her spine. This energy contrasted sharply with the combative conversation she had interrupted before the wretched dinner.
As they fell into rhythm, Jesse’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he started drying a wet plate. Skyler couldn’t help but notice the familiarity in his movements, a chore that might have been instilled during a more innocent time in his life. This made her think of the small talk of green beans and the car wash. Despite his nervousness, he was polite.
Even with his obnoxious clothing choices and his stupid MyShout page, Jesse appeared to be an almost timid guy. Skyler was reminded of when she first met Pinkman outside of his house, simpler days of assuming he was only selling marijuana to her husband. He was fidgety then too. Hank once described Pinkman as “a cocky, little pissant”. That image, combined with her own personal experience, left her struggling to understand how he managed to stay in this business this long without getting himself killed. The word ‘subordinate’ flashed in her mind.
Walt, on the other hand, seemed to take charge without missing a beat. There was an air of confidence around him, a cocky attitude that Skyler once found attractive in his younger years, with the promise of stability and success, now instilled misfortune and misery. The pride he took in his actions, even mundane ones like doing dishes, fueled a fire within her. This wasn’t who she married, wasn’t who she fell in love with.
As Skyler observed from the shadows, she began to feel a twinge of jealousy. Not for Pinkman, but perhaps the connection she sensed between this young man and her husband—the side he shared with a seemingly incongruent partner. This feeling disgusted her. This life disgusted her, so why was she jealous?
“Do you know what I've done for this family?” Walt's words echoed in her mind, and she found herself questioning the depth of their connection. What dark secrets had they faced together, and what horrors had they witnessed that forged this unusual bond? Somehow, she can’t seem to find it in her to blame this young man, this kid, for her husband’s moral downfall.
Jesse, sensing Skyler's gaze, turned to look at her. Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. His gaze was different, carrying a weight that she hadn't noticed before. It wasn't a defiant or rebellious look, but rather a glimpse into a deeper, more vulnerable part of him. There was sadness in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding that lingered for just a moment.
Skyler, taken aback by the unexpected depth of emotion in Jesse's gaze, felt a sense of confusion wash over her. His eyes seemed to carry a burden, a pain that transcended the immediate situation in the kitchen. In that look, she sensed a connection beyond the surface, a shared acknowledgment of the complexities surrounding them. His apparent grief hinted at a story, a narrative of struggles and wounds that lay beneath the surface.
Just as quickly as the moment began, Jesse broke eye contact and instead laid his eyes on the wine bottle she held. He reached a hand out, offering to take it from her. She stared at the outstretched hand for a second, before meeting his gaze once again. That was enough for Skyler. She turned away, bottle still in hand and retreated back into her bedroom.