Chapter Text
“What're we doing here man?” Jesse whispered harshly at Mike, awkwardly stepping over a person curled on the floor.
Mike spared him a wry glance, saying nothing as he passed a heavily graffitied wall and headed deeper into the trap house. They walked in silence through rooms crawling with addicts, the air damp and musty. Having been given no information since being dragged from his house twenty minutes before, Jesse felt noticeably on-edge as he followed behind. He had just started picking at his knuckles when the older man turned around and gave him a hard stare.
“You okay in here?” He checked, raising an almost hairless eyebrow.
Jesse scoffed, “yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
True, being in such close proximity with his past self set him on edge - but he could handle it. He hadn't used in months, and that was mostly thanks to Mike himself as well as the insane hours he was doing at the lab keeping him busy.
Mike continued his search with steely eyes until he found a bedroom on the first floor, coming to a stop in the doorway. The only sound was disjointed music seeping through the walls from another room, and the occasional laugh or whisper from the various people haunting the space. Jesse looked around Mike and stared at the occupants in the room in confusion; seeing most of them strewn across the bed and floor.
And then he saw him. Crumpled by a stained pillow, Ignacio Varga was lying listlessly on his side and staring out at nothing. He wore his usual black pants, leather shoes shining on his feet, and sported a red vest that revealed sore track-marks on his forearms.
He found that he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight, Jane’s lifeless eyes peering back at him whenever he looked at Nacho’s vacant expression. This warped vision of the man clashed in his mind, warring with the up-tight and closed off version that Gus had assigned to him months ago. Looking over at Mike didn't help, as Jesse saw a crushingly familiar disappointment lingering on the man's face. There was a deeper sadness that he hadn't seen before, one that felt unnatural and had wild concern clawing at his stomach.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Mike stepped forward, and was left to stand helplessly as he made his way over to Nacho. With a scarily blank face Mike reached down and patted Nacho’s cheek, his other hand swiftly pocketing the man’s phone which had been beside him on the blanket. When he received no reaction he gripped his broad shoulders and shook - lighter than he'd ever shook Jesse awake.
“C’mon kid, that's it,” He muttered under his breath.
There was a thin groan, and Nacho’s eyes slowly found Mike. He blinked up at him, little recognition showing on his face before his head lolled to the side and they started to slide shut. Mike shook him again.
“Come on, come on,” Mike grumbled, pulling at Nacho’s arm and fixing him with a hard stare when he caught his attention.
“M-Mike?” Somehow, despite him being almost ten years his senior, Jesse found that Nacho sounded like a child. He wondered how long ago it was since he'd felt that lost himself.
“Yeah, it's me, Varga, you need to come with us,” Mike kept pulling the man up, steadying him when he slumped to the side.
Nacho breathed out a chuckle, one that sounded miserable even to Jesse, and let himself be dragged. His vacant expression barely twitched when Mike gave up and heaved him into his arms.
He straightened out with a grunt, Nacho’s arms hanging limply as he let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Mike finally glanced over at the now gaping Jesse in the doorway and nodded back towards their exit.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” He carried Nacho out the room, straining under his weight.
Jesse found himself rushing to catch up, the temporary muteness wearing off.
“Yo, man, why didn't you tell me he was a junkie? That's like, really not cool!”
“He isn't.” Mike stressed, sighing when Jesse gestured towards the man in his arms in exasperation, “He’s in recovery.”
“Looks like it’s going great,” Jesse deadpanned, raising his arms in defeat when faced with Mike's glare.
They made it out of the house and into the blinding sun, the washed out light highlighting Nacho’s deathly pale skin. He had let his eyes fall closed again, deep shadows beneath them making his face look gaunt, usually trimmed facial hair having grown into week old stubble.
Jesse slid into the car while Mike laid the man down in the back seat, stretching with a grunt before ducking into the driver's seat and starting the engine.
“Do me a favor, don't tell anyone about this. Understand?” Mike asked sternly, icy eyes glancing back at Nacho.
“What’s there to tell? Gus not approve?” Jesse scoffed, finding himself glancing back as well.
Something haunted flashed across Mike's face, sobering Jesse instantly. He pulled the car out of park and started down the street, a snarl curling his lip, “Lets just say Gus is not too forgiving when it comes to Ignacio.”
That stunned Jesse into silence once more, the feeling of what being on Gustavo Fring’s bad side would mean sending a chill down his spine. He couldn't imagine what Ignacio had done to be put on that bad side, and he found wandering had his stomach knotting up even worse. This whole situation felt horribly close to home, like he was staring at himself collapsed in the backseat. It made an odd amount of sense - if he thought about it - that Nacho would be an addict. He had only had negative interactions with the man himself, neutral ones at best, because they were at complete odds with each other. In fact, Jesse marveled at the idea that Gus might prefer him over Varga when the man had a perpetual stick up his ass and was a stickler for the rules. They were practically made for eachother. But he had noticed Mike softened more than once when Nacho appeared, a vague and restrained fondness creeping into his voice. What he’d ever done to earn that softness was lost on him.
Mike opened his mouth to speak - no doubt to give Jesse other warnings to heed by - when a broken sound came from behind them. Both men glanced back to see Ignacio curl up tightly, dragging his hands up to press into his eyes, and begin to let out broken sobs. He cried very distinctly, with choked gasps and wet chuckles that had Jesse feeling immediately out of his depth. Seemingly at a similar loss, Mike takes a hand away from the wheel and reaches back to tightly grip Nacho’s forearm.
“You're alright. Just relax.” He says calmly, sounding sure enough that Jesse felt reassured too.
“So sorry, por favor, Lo siento,” Came Nacho’s breathy response, his eyes still fixated on nothing as tears ran down his face.
“Nothing to be sorry for, kid,” Mike huffed.
Nacho’s face crumpled, another sob wracking his frame as he whispered, “ Lo siento, Papa. ”
Jesse balked in surprise, looking over at Mike and seeing raw grief on his face.
“Why did he say that?” Jesse couldn't help but ask, hands twisting in his lap.
“He’s high. He doesn't know what he's saying.”
“Yo, I know that you know what's going on - come on man! Do you really think I’d use this against him!? Like yeah he's a dick but he's not that bad.”
He saw the cogs turning in Mike's head, as the man let go of Nacho’s arm. The car turned onto Jesse's driveway and came to a stop and Mike pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat.
“It’s an anniversary today for him - technically it was two days ago but the kid’s been on a bender and it’s my responsibility to look out for any trouble. This is one of my guys, I don't take that lightly - alright?” The older man scowled.
“Whose anniversary?” Jesse ventured. Nacho’s earlier words came to mind and he winced, “How did his dad die?”
Mike tensed his jaw, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Looking away he gritted out, “Fring has had harsher methods of keeping his men in check in the past. Ignacio knew the consequences.”
“ So he killed his dad!? That's so fucked! ” Jesse yelled in shock, memories of grief tightening his throat. His aunt’s flowers leaned in the light breeze beside the car, Jane’s laugh swallowed by the passing traffic.
“Keep. Your voice. Down,” Hissed Mike, looking reflexively around them. “I never said it was right. But that’s how it is.”
The information left him reeling as he listened to Nacho’s sniffles in the backseat. Mike turned away to stare through the window. A new thought dawned on Jesse and immediately filled him with dread, and he forced it out before he choked.
“Mike… does Nacho even want to work for Gus?”
The older man let out another deep sigh, wearily dragging a hand over his face, before answering, “I don't think he ever had much of a choice. It's complicated.”
“Right…” Jesse gulped, missing pieces slotting together in his mind to complete a much crueler image of Ignacio’s life that he was certain the man would never have given him willingly. “And what happens now?”
“Now, I find a way to get him home undetected and you go in your house and tell. No. One,” his voice was deathly serious, and Jesse gulped in reply.
The next thought in his head was, admittedly, a bit insane even to himself. But Jesse found himself saying it anyway, all the while hearing Ignacio's subdued cries in the back.
“What if he sobered up here? At mine?”
He saw Mike grimace before seemingly weighing out his options.
“... It's better than his house. Fring’s got it bugged.”
Jesse spluttered, “is my place bugged!?”
“No. Don't be paranoid,” the older man said, turning away and climbing out of the car.
Pressing his fingers to his eyes and groaning, Jesse followed him out until they both stood beside the back door. Mike ventured inside and half dragged Nacho from the backseat, the younger man's head lolling to the side. Jesse got his arm over his shoulders and they both carried him to the door, stiffly making their way into the house and depositing him onto the sofa. He flopped down, spaced out, eyes lifting to rest on their blurry figures.
They both stared at him, seemingly at a loss, before Mike shook himself and made his way to the door. Jesse panicked, following him.
“Where are you going!?”
“Damage control. I'll be back soon. Watch him.” Was Mike's parting words before he marched out the front door and closed it behind him.
The house was immediately filled with overwhelming quiet, and Jesse felt himself reeling once again at Ignacio splayed out on the couch. He searched his house anxiously, grabbing a sick bowl and bottles of water before returning in a wide circle and sitting heavily on his easy chair. Turning on the TV for background noise took up frustratingly little time and he spent extra minutes switching through channels, eventually settling on cartoon reruns. A quick look around had Jesse rising to his feet again and he started collecting take-out wrappers and empty cans, shoving clothes into their respective corners and suddenly feeling deeply embarrassed about Ignacio judging his house when he sobered up.
Tackling the kitchen took a while, making a dent in the mountains of dirty cups took longer and Jesse found himself endlessly grateful that he'd switched to paper plates at some point in the last month. He stopped by the couch once, just to check, and couldn't stop himself from gently tilting Nacho's face to the side in case he threw up - blocking Jane from his mind as it tried to miserably fixate on their last night together. His fingers rested on Ignacio's rough stubble, and he pressed until he felt the warmth of skin, an acknowledgement that blood was pumping normally beneath the surface, before he allowed himself to let go and continue his cleaning.
Vague murmurs sounded from the couch, causing Jesse to turn back to Nacho questioningly.
“Hmmm..Lalo don't - no, no” the man whined lightly, pressing his nose into his bicep and humming.
“Okay man… I totally know who that is,” Jesse said, sighing deeply before running a band through his hair. “We need, like, company right now. How are you less fun when you're high?”
He creeped around the couch, dropping down beside Nacho and leaning over to glance at his half-closed eyes. The man unsteadily returned his gaze, pupils constricted into tight dots that quickly darted over Jesse’s face. Ignacio lifted a hand just barely to graze his fingertips across the fabric of the couch, breathing slowly. “Sorry,” Ignacio whispered, going back to looking at nothing.
“No- it's… It's really okay,” Jesse shifted uncomfortably in response. “I’m sorry about your dad, I was never that close with my parents but it would fucking suck if they were killed, y’know?”
Nacho closed his eyes, scrunching them tightly as another wave of grief wracked his body, “ I ruined him. M- my papa. I killed him.”
“Hey, Gus killed him, man.”
“It was my fault. Me. ” His voice broke, and he curled up smaller to hide his face.
Jesse sighed, feeling overwhelmed, and practically collapsed with relief when Ignacio’s head slumped and his chest started to rise and fall in rhythm with sleep. He rose to his feet and continued his cleaning up, feeling phantom itches shiver their way up his arms and a hollow chill in his blood. The grating sensation of ice in his veins made his hands tremble, the occasional glances that he stole of Nacho’s bruised arms didn't help his nerves, and it was with grim determination that he took out his phone and decided to call for backup.
Skinny Pete and Badger arrived twenty minutes later with pizza's in tow, one of the boxes being immediately claimed by Jesse who started to wolf down his food. The duo made their way towards the TV only to pause at the edge of the couch, where Nacho was shakily lifting his head at their arrival.
“Uh, who's this guy on your couch?” Badger frowned.
“Just a- colleague. Of mine. I'm on secret orders to watch over him.”
“This dude’s wasted, man.” said Skinny, chuckling. “You got any of what he's having?”
“What? No. N. O. You guys are staying here to keep me sane while I wait this asshole out. And neither of you ever saw him. Got it?” Jesse stressed, staring imploringly at the two men until they both started to nod in response.
They grumbled quietly at their occupied seat, each finding a beanbag to spread out on before starting to work through the pizza. Almost instinctively Jesse got out his rolling gear, anxiously glancing at the still spaced out Nacho while picking at stems. The late afternoon light had started to seep warmly through the blinds, lighting Ignacio’s form like a tragic painting. He catches the attention of the room once again, causing Skinny Pete to lean towards him curiously.
“Doesn't look like someone you'd usually work with. He's too- shiny. Looks expensive,” he sniffed. “That ring is like, my rent at least , dude.”
“Yeah man, he's a bit out of your league don't you think?” Badger chimed in.
Jesse pressed his head into his hands, finished spliff pinched between two fingers, and slowly counted back from ten.
“Look, we're so not friends so just drop it, please.”
“Totally, totally,” Badger easily gave in, watching Jesse light up and smirking appreciatively when he passed it to him.
After a few minutes of smoking, just when Jesse's day-long headache had started to clear and recede into a pleasant buzz in the back of his brain, Ignacio groaned and started to sit up. Badger startled at the movement and started precariously leaning back on his beanbag while the others gawked in surprise.
Nacho had his eyes tightly closed, leaning over himself while roughly scrubbing his hands over his shorn head. He turned his head sharply to examine the room and froze at the multiple deer-in-headlight looks that faced his direction, an absent hand lightly scratching at fresh scabs on his forearms. They stared at each other silently.
A moment passed and the man groaned, pulling a face at his environment and properly sitting up and facing them on the couch.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” Ignacio asked, voice rough from disuse. “And who the hell are they?”
Jesse let out a choked response, smoke still drifting around his head, “Mike found you. You're just here to come up.”
He let the statement hang, voice edging on uncomfortable as he forced himself to continue, “hey, man, look I had no idea that you- well you know I just want you to know that if you need anything-”
“Don't.” Nacho breathed, eyebrows twitching down on his face, “ just leave it.”
“Right, of course, well you should probably wait for Mike…”
Already standing up, Nacho barely spared him another glance, “he knows where to find me.”
He practically fled the house, leaving the gaping mouthed trio in their seats.
Jesse shook himself and stood up, rushing to the door to wrench it open and yell out- “You don't even have a car- or your phone! Just wait here dude!”
“I'm fine out here. I'll figure it out.”
“Just STAY HERE! Don't be a bitch!” Jesse yelled, met with the same stoic silence that reminded him why he thought the man was an asshole. “Don't get me in trouble with Mike,” he weedled.
After a moment, Nacho’s shoulders dropped in defeat and he turned towards the front door.
“Just until he gets back. Okay?” Ignacio huffed, hand massaging his forehead and shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Cool, thank you,” Jesse breathed, letting out a relieved sigh.
Nacho inched back into the house, eyeing Badger and Skinny Pete with trepidation. They both avoided his gaze and instead stared intently at the TV, until he passed them and headed further down the hall. Jesse nervously followed, preparing to ask where he was going before flinching at the sound of the man throwing up in his bathroom. He turned abruptly on his heel and joined his friends by the couch, attempting to block out the sound.
Skinny passed him the joint casually, a small frown pinching his face, and they lapsed into silence. The retching dragged out for a long moment before dying down, followed by running water and light footsteps before Nacho appeared back in the room - still looking a bit green.
He collapsed onto the couch and glared ahead at the wall, hands twisting uncomfortably in his lap. After a pause Jesse reached his hand out towards Nacho, joint pinched between his fingers, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Fuck it,” Nacho sighed and took it, taking a long drag before resting his head against the back of the sofa.
He took two more puffs and passed it to Badger, who was caught between gawking at the stranger and sinking into the beanbag beneath him.
~
Nacho felt his head had mostly cleared after an hour, his numbing high having settled into the pleasant familiarity of being stoned. Skinny and Badger had settled into a passionate debate over SpongeBob, while Jesse sat in relative silence and tried to sneak glances over at Nacho when he thought he wasn't looking.
Three prompt knocks made them all jump in their seats, and Jesse practically threw himself onto his feet to go to the front door. He looked through the peephole and huffed, wrenching open the door to reveal Mike's tired face.
The temperature of the room noticeably dropped as he entered, and as he scanned the occupants his eyes rested sternly on Badger and Skinny before he whipped his head back to Jesse.
“This is what you call “telling no one”?” Mike grit his teeth, a vein twitching in his forehead.
“Hey man I panicked! They're just my friends- they don't know shit!”
“Yeah dude! We don't know anything!” Badger whined, Skinny nodding along hurriedly.
They both stood, mumbling some apologies before leaving the house in a hurry, Badger patting Jesse's shoulder and closing the front door behind them. It left the house silent, Mike slowly making his way to the couch and standing stiffly before Nacho.
“So. Care to explain what you were thinking?” He asked plainly, watching Nacho shift in his seat.
“I'm sorry,” Nacho started, staring at Mike's shoes.
“You're sorry.” Mike repeated in a flat voice.
“I am- I know I said never again. It's just- I just…” the younger man crumpled, face scrunched up in a guilty scowl.
Jesse gulped, feeling wildly unprepared to witness this conversation and uncertain as to if he should stay in the room.
“It was not only stupid- it was dangerous. You've been clean for how many months now? Have you forgotten what's at stake for you?” Mike pressed, hands tensing at his sides.
Nacho let out a small sound of discontent, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes and curling forward. “I know, I know. ”
“If Fring finds out-”
“He can't!” Ignacio's voice twists in desperation, twitching forward. “Please, Mike.”
The older man’s face darkens a fraction, “I'm not going to tell him. But you can't do this again. Alright?”
“Yeah.” Nacho whispers.
“You told me when this shit started that you would do what I told you, keep your head down and maybe - maybe - I could help you both figure out an escape plan. That entirely depends on you keeping yourself together for the foreseeable future.”
“I know-”
“I’m not sure you do know, Varga. Especially after seeing you in a stranger’s house drooling onto the floor,” He spoke in slow, measured words that crashed against Ignacio’s hunched form, ignoring Jesse where he stood by the front door.
“Now, do you think we should get out of Jesse's hair?” Mike pressed.
Nacho nods, standing shakily from the couch and following Mike to the door. He spares Jesse an uncomfortable glance, muttering a “thanks” and leaves the house first.
Mike stands in the doorway and ducks to get Jesse's attention.
“You did good, kid, I'll call you in a couple days.” He stared intently at the younger man, “you gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, man, I'll be fine,” Jesse says, looking past him at Nacho who leans against the car. “Look out for him, yeah?”
Mike almost smiles, nodding before closing the front door for a final time and heading towards his car. Jesse stumbles back to the couch and lets himself sink into the pillows, heaving a deep sigh of relief.