Title: Half Measures
*Music plays as Wendy, a prostitute, goes about her daily activities of sucking di*k and smoking meth. She walks toward a car with two drug dealers in it and hands them some food and money. They give her meth. Jesse watches from his car*
Junior: So if it's okay, I was thinking about using this one for the test? Mom's brakes are very sticky and you barely press down on them and it's like screech.
Junior: But, I'm good?
Walt: Yeah, you're great. Why?
Junior: Umm, are my feet okay?
*Walt looks down at Junior's feet. He's using both to drive*
Junior: I looked it up. It basically says all I need is a note from my doctor. I know it's not the right way and all, but once I get my provisional I can keep working at it.
Walt: Well, as long as it gets you safely from point A to point B then who am I to argue.
*At home Skyler is researching money laundering while holding Holly*
Skyler: Hi. You're a sweet girl, yes you are. Yes you are, yes you are. I know.
*Junior pulls up to the house and he and Walt get out of the car*
Walt: Here you go.
Junior: Here you go. Thank you.
Walt: Got it?
Junior: So, 9 A.M. Saturday.
Walt: Yes, 9 A.M. Saturday.
Junior: So which means pick me up around 8:30?
Walt: I'll be here with bells on.
Walt: I'm just...a saying. Don't worry, I won't be wearing bells.
Junior: Hey, Mom.
Skyler: Hi, umm, do you have a minute.
Skyler: *to Junior* Could you go inside and keep an eye on your sister for a minute?
Junior: Yeah sure. See ya, Dad.
Walt: Bye, son. Hey, good work today.
Junior: Thank you.
Skyler: Have you thought any more of what we discussed?
Walt: Thought any more, meaning reconsidered? No.
Skyler: So show me the flaw in it.
Walt: Uh, flaws, Skyler. Flaws. Plural, not singular. Where do you want me to start?
Skyler: Hey, I don't love this situation, alright? That you put me in. However let's just stick with what makes sense here. You took the seed money you won gambling, you invested it in the carwash that you helped run for four years. You hired your wife as a bookkeeper because, guess what. She's actually a bookkeeper. Now that is a story an auditor can believe, so what am I missing?
Walt: You're missing that you should just take this money that I give you and not look too closely at it, so if, God forbid, I get caught, you maintain plausible deniability.
Skyler: Okay, my estranged husband, who when he was working made $43,000 a year, started shoveling money at me and when the police come I'm supposed to just say, "Gee, umm, I never thought about it officer, made sense to me." Really? That in your mind is plausible deniability? I'll tell you what, Walt. I'd rather have them think I'm Bonnie what's-her-name than some complete idiot.
Walt: So you're promoting caution here? And you want a believable story?
Skyler: That, it seems to me, is the safest way to make the best out of a very bad situation, yes.
Walt: Ah. But I am noting a little hole in your plot, though. Why would your estranged husband be doing all this for you?
Skyler: Because he loves his family and desperately wants a reconciliation though it may be hopeless and futile. Then again, he'd try anything.
Walt: I'm just not buying it. You know, I think it would be better if the husband were no longer estranged. Maybe if he were back sleeping in his own bed?
Skyler: Wow. It's suddenly a fantasy story.
*Skyler goes to walk inside*
Walt: I am at least going to be a part of this household. Dinner with the family every night of the week.
Skyler: Not every night, no.
Walt: Six nights a week, you get one night off.
Skyler: Dinner two nights, not weekends, with twenty-four hours notice.
Walt: Five nights a week with no notice.
Skyler: Three. Six hours notice.
Walt: Five nights a week with two hours notice.
Skyler: Four. Don't push it.
Walt: And I want my own key to the house.
Walt: For emergencies and appearances, yes. I am going to babysit my own daughter, I am going to help my son with his homework. I am going to be a part of this family and that is how we'll sell your little fiction.
*Jesse opens the container and pours the liquid in then closes it back up*
Jesse: How about we stop somewhere afterward and get a beer.
Walt: Umm, no thanks but no, maybe some other time.
Jesse: Seriously. Get a beer with me.
*Jesse and Walt are sitting at the table with beers*
*Jesse pulls a little bag of meth out of his pocket*
Walt: What the hell are you doing?
Jesse: It's ours, right? Look at it and tell me if that's ours.
*Walt lifts his hand to look at it briefly*
Walt: Yes it's ours, now put it away. What the hell is wrong with you? Where did you get that, did you take it from the lab?
Jesse: I bought it from the two guys who killed Combo. They had Combo shot down in the streets and now it's our product they're selling. Which means they work from our guy, right?
Walt: What is that? That's hearsay. Do you have any proof?
Jesse: I heard it from the sister of the kid who shot him. Hear how I just said kid. This kid, he's eleven years old, shot Combo on orders. These two sc*mbags, they got him dealing. They got him...and you know he's not the first. They use kids because, hey, why not? Easy to control, easy to fool. All they get is juvie if they ever get caught. Hearts and minds, right? Get 'em young and they're yours forever. These guys killed Combo. They used this little kid like some puppet. They used him to shoot my friend.
Walt: So why are you telling me this?
Jesse: I need your help.
Jesse: I need ricin.
Walt: Oh my God. Oh God.
Jesse: Look these two, hey-
Jesse: Hey, they gotta go, alright? I got the entire thing figured out. The delivery method, everything. All I need from you is the poison. That's all.
Jesse: Look. Otherwise, you don't gotta lift a finger.
Walt: No. Listen, you don't even know what you're talking about. How do you even-
Jesse: Look, you don't get how right this is? You don't get how the whole entire world would be better off?
Walt: You know, we're not even talking about this.
Jesse: I know a woman who buys from these two once or twice a week, alright? She brings them hamburgers because they get hungry so she brings them food and they knock a few bucks off her price. There's your delivery system right there. I could be a mile away.
Walt: Jesus. A meth head? You're trusting to do this?
Jesse: You know what, that meth head stood up to your brother-in-law, alright? He questioned her for five hours, she didn't give it up. You know how it is you know it? Cause you're not in prison right now.
Walt: Yeah well I know I would be in prison after this. Prison or worse. And I'd be right alongside you. No, Jesse you cannot be serious. This...this is a ridiculous idea.
Jesse: Ridiculous? What so you're saying it's not gonna work? How about back when it was your plan? Back when we were gonna use it on Tuco?
Walt: Apples and oranges.
Jesse: A guy eats ricin, two or three days later he gets the flu. Or a heart attack or something and he kneels over, that's what you said. Untraceable back to us. To me. Not even that other sc*mbag we work for is gonna find out. Yo, it was a good plan back when it was Tuco and it's a good plan now.
Walt: Tuco wanted to murder us. These guys don't. Apples and oranges. Do I really have to sit here and explain the difference to you?
Jesse: Combo was us, man. He was one of us. Does that mean nothing?
Walt: Why didn't you go after these guys two or three months ago?
Jesse: Cause I just found out about them.
Walt: What's to find out? It's a dispute over turf, right, I mean how hard could it have been for you to track them down on their turf and kill them months ago? Because back then you were too busy getting high, feeling sorry. No, murder is not part of your twelve-step program. This is not some amends you have to make. What you are talking about here is pointless. This achieves nothing. It accomplishes nothing.
Jesse: If you're not seeing what it accomplishes, there's no way I can explain it to you.
Walt: Jesse, listen to me. You are not a murderer. I am not and you are not. It's as simple as that.
*Jesse puts some money on the table and gets up to leave*
Jesse: I'm doing it. With or without you.
*Marie hums while her, Hank, and Junior play cards*
Marie: Knock, knock.
Hank: For Christ's sake Marie, you don't say knock knock. You *knocks on table* like that.
Marie: Well, I like saying it.
Hank: Yeah well, that's not the rules. *knocks on table* Okay?
Marie: Listen you knock your way, groucho, I'll knock mine. But look, see, I win.
Junior: Not so fast.
Hank: Christ, again? That's three in a row. Got fricken Paul Newman over here?
Marie: Have you been playing cards with your dad?
Junior: No, why?
Hank: How is your old man? He back teaching?
Junior: No, uh, I don't think either of them are working right now.
Hank: Yeah, how they swinging that?
Junior: I don't know.
Marie: Hey. Did you know that the doctor has told Uncle Hank that he can get out of here any time he wants to.
Junior: Oh yeah? That's great.
Hank: Well, I'm not so sure about that.
Junior: Why not?
Marie: What? That's what they said.
Hank: That's what they said because they want the room. Hit the sheets with Lysol, reset the meter, and wheel the next slob in here. We went over this, Marie. Drop it.
Junior: Are you not well enough?
Hank: Jesus, kid, you too? Do I look well enough? I'm sh*tting in pans, peeing in pitchers. Can't move my legs, got it?
Junior: So people in wheelchairs should be in hospitals? What about people on crutches? Maybe I should be in here too. Is that what you're trying to say?
Hank: Yeah that's exactly what I'm saying, deal you little prick.
*Junior deals the cards*
*Walt balances some clips on Saul's scale while Saul plays solitaire*
Saul: Son of a b*tch. *to Walt* You know I'm hourly, right?
Walt: He promised me that he would be here.
Saul: Oh, he promised. Why didn't you tell me? Let's wait then. That's a joke, the kid ain't comin'. Okay so, what's plan B?
Walt: I don't know. I really don't.
Saul: Well, let's brainstorm. You really think he's serious?
Walt: That's why I'm here, Saul. The way he was talking, he is going to do it. Or, try at least.
Saul: Okay so, we pay him off.
Walt: No, no, it's not about money. It's about getting him off the streets. Getting him to calm down. Maybe...what if we, uh, maybe, could you get him arrested?
Saul: *laughs* You want your criminal associate taken into police custody?
Walt: No, listen, I know it sounds risky, but it wouldn't be anything that could get him into real trouble and nothing that could lead back to our business. Just some minor offense.
Saul: Pinkman in jail, I don't know. I'm picturing it.
Walt: No, not jail as in jail jail. I'm talking about one of those situations where you're in an orange jumpsuit picking up litter along the highway.
Saul: That's jail. You're talking about a level two joint.
Walt: Something that keeps him off the street for say, thirty days. Then by the time he gets out, tempers have cooled and hopefully we can move on.
Saul: Well, Roswell Correctional's pretty low impact. In the past I've recommended Springer, but hearing chancy things about their bathrooms since they renovated. So.
Walt: So it's possible, right?
Saul: Yeah. Well, it falls under my premium services package, but you can afford that. I'll call my P.I.
*Jesse and Wendy are sitting in Wendy's motel room*
Jesse: You understand what you have to do? And you can never talk to anyone, right? I mean ever, understand?
Jesse: So I found this stuff on the Internet. Takes days to kick in. Just keep quiet and this will never come back to you. You're okay with this, right? Just think of it like it's the same thing as always, you're just delivering some of your burgers.
Wendy: It's not just delivering hamburgers.
Jesse: Hey, you got a kid right? What's his name?
Jesse: Imagine these two guys had Patrick working as a mule. Making him kill people. Wouldn't you do anything to protect your kid?
Wendy: Of course I would. I'd do all kinds of things for him.
Jesse: Okay. So. These guys, using kids like that, they gotta go. Right?
Jesse: Good. Tomorrow we'll be in touch.
*Jesse throws a bag of meth on Wendy's table then leaves the motel room. Wendy sits on her bed and looks over at the meth*
Walt: *to Holly* Yeah, I bet that tastes good.
*There's a knock at the door. Walt puts Holly in her playpen and answers the door*
Walt: What are you doing? If you need to talk, use the phone.
Mike: This isn't a phone talk, Walter. Your wife's out, right?
*Mike walks into the house over to Holly's playpen*
Mike: Oh *laughs* well isn't she something. I got a granddaughter a few years older.
Walt: What can I do for you?
Mike: Oh, have a seat Walter. I spoke to Goodman about Pinkman and this plan of yours.
Mike: I'm not gonna do it.
Mike: Because it's moronic.
Walt: Saul said you've done things like this before.
Mike: That's not the moronic part.
Walt: Okay so, what's the problem?
Mike: The problem is the boss wouldn't like it.
Mike: My boss. Your boss. This is a professional courtesy. No one knows I'm here, understand? But our employer would find out as always. And if Pinkman were arrested he'd take it as a problem. Walt, you got a good thing going here, we all do. You wanna risk it all on one junkie? Now I realize you two have a history, but this kid's been on the bubble for a while now. It's a long time coming.
Walt: What is?
Mike: *laughs* Ummm...I used to be a beat cop long time ago. And I'd get called out on domestic disputes all the time, hundreds probably over the years. But there was this one guy, this one piece of sh*t I will never forget: Gordy. He looked like Bo Svenson, you remember him? Walking Tall? You don't remember?
Mike: Anyway. Big boy. 270, 280, but his wife. Or whatever, she was his lady. Was real small, like a bird, wrists like little branches. Anyway, my partner and I get called out there every weekend and one of us would pull her aside and say, "Come on, tonight's the night we press charges." And this wasn't one of those deep down he really loves me setups, we got a lot of those, but not this. This girl was scared. She wasn't gonna cross him, no way, no how. Nothing we could do, but pass her off to the EMTs, put him in the car, drive him downtown, throw him in the drunk tank. He sleeps it off, next morning out he goes, back home. And one night, my partner's out sick and it's just me. And the call comes in and it's the usual crap, broke her nose in the shower kind of thing. So I cuff him, put him in the car and away we go. Only that night, we're driving into town and this sideways as*h*le is in my backseat humming Danny Boy and it just rubbed me wrong. So instead of left, I go right out into nowhere. And I kneel him down and I put my revolver in his mouth and I told him, this is it. This is how it ends. And he's crying, going to the bathroom all over himself, swearing to God he's gonna leave her alone, screaming. As much as you can with a gun in your mouth. And I told him be quiet because I needed to think about what I was gonna do here. He goes still. Then real quiet, like a dog waiting for dinner scraps. Then we just stood there for a while. Me acting like I was thinking things over, and Prince Charming kneeling in the dirt with sh*t in his pants. And after a few minutes I took the gun out of his mouth and I say, "So help me if you ever touch her again I will such and such and such and such and blah blah blah blah blah."
Walt: It was just a warning?
Mike: Of course. Just trying to do the right thing. But two weeks later he killed her, of course. Caved her head in with the base of a Waring blender. We got there there was so much blood you could taste the metal. Hm. The moral of the story is, I chose a half measure. When I should've gone all the way. I'll never make that mistake again. No more half measures, Walter.
*Mike gets up and leaves the house*
Jesse: Man, I don't get this. I don't get this at all. All I'm seein' is the kid. So where are they?
Wendy: I don't know. They're always around.
Jesse: Burgers are getting cold.
Wendy: So, is it like, fast.
Jesse: Don't sweat it, alright. You're just doing what you do. Okay, nobody's gonna know anything.
Wendy: Can I have another bump?
Jesse: You had your bump, alright? We get this thing done then you can have all you want.
*Mike knocks on Jesse's car window*
Mike: I'm gonna need you to come with me.
*Mike and Victor open the doors to the car*
Victor: *to Wendy* Take a walk.
*Wendy and Jesse get out the car. Wendy walks away while Jesse follows Mike to his car. Mike opens the door and Jesse gets inside*
Jesse: Where are we going?
*Victor parks the car outside of some abandoned houses. They all get out of the car and walk up to one of the houses. Jesse sees Walt's car. Mike motions for Jesse to follow him. They all get into the building where Walt and Gus are sitting at a table with the two guys Jesse was going to kill*
Gus: Sit down. I understand that you have a problem with two of my employees. It is true that they killed one of your associates. It is possible that they acted irrationally, but on the other hand there was provocation. A man was selling in their territory. There is blame on both sides. This will go no further. It will be settled right here, right now.
Jesse: *to Walt* You told him.
*Gus stands up*
Gus: *to two drug dealers* Wait outside. *to Jesse* Listen to me. You have one friend in this room. This man. Those men outside are my trusted employees and when I learned what you intended to do. If it wasn't for this man and the respect that I have for him I would be dealing with this in a very different way. Don't look at him, look at me. This is what happens now. My men will come back inside and you will shake their hands and you will make peace and that will be the end of this.
*Jesse stands up*
Jesse: They used kids. These as*h*les they got an eleven year old kid doing their killing for them. You're supposed to be some kind of reasonable business man? This how you do business? *to Walt* You okay with this? You got anything to say here?
Gus: *to Mike* Bring them back.
*Mike goes outside and gets the two drug dealers*
Gus: *to two drug dealers* No more children. Understand? *to Jesse* And you. You keep the peace.
Gus: Say it.
Jesse: Yeah. I'll keep the peace.
Gus: Shake hands.
*Jesse shakes hands with both drug dealers*
Walt: Jesse, your actions. They affect other people. Sometimes, compromises have to be made for the best of reasons.
*Jesse gets out of Walt's car before he can stop*
Walt: Jesse. Jesse!
*Jesse walks over to his car and speeds away. The kid rides by on his bike*
*Marie wrings out a towel*
Hank: Marie. Let the people who get paid to do this do this.
Marie: The people who get paid to do this do a lousy job.
*Marie begins washing Hank with the towel*
Marie: So I guess this is what you want, huh? Just lying in a hospital bed, getting sponge baths from nurses.
Marie: It's time to go home, Hank.
Hank: How many times I gotta tell you, Marie? Not 'til I'm well.
*Marie reaches her hand under Hank's blanket and gives him a handjob*
Hank: Heyheyheyheyhey, what are you doing?
Marie: I'm just seeing.
Hank: Seeing what?
Marie: What I see.
Hank: I'm not at my best here, Marie.
Marie: We'll see.
Hank: Nothing's going to happen.
Marie: I say it will.
Hank: Nah, I'm in this bed for a reason. It's a waste of time. Besides, what if someone comes in?
Marie: Let 'em, I don't care if someone walks in.
Hank: Marie, what's wrong with you?
Marie: I tell you what. If I can get the groundhog to see his shadow-
Hank: It's not gonna happen, I'm sorry.
Marie: I'm betting it will. And if he does, you check out of here.
Hank: *laughs* I'm not gonna bet on whether I can get a boner. It's no bet. No bet here, no bet.
Marie: You afraid you'll lose?
Hank: You know what? You're just...you're just being foolish. Come on. What's the point?
Marie: The point is, you're not completely hopeless. We have a bet?
Hank: You know what? If it'll get you out of here quicker. You've got one minute.
Marie: One minute? Alright that's a cake walk.
Hank: Yeah, it's just. It's just sad I mean, I really feel sorry for you Marie I really do. It's just, uh, it's just *laughs* pathetic.
Marie: That's good, keep talking. Protest. Struggle.
Hank: Marie, give up, I mean, seriously it's...not...gonna happen.
*Marie laughs. Hank gets wheeled out of his room with Marie behind him smiling*
*Jesse smokes a cigarette in bed with Andrea*
Andrea: Bad day?
Jesse: I don't even know. Anyway. It's better now.
*They kiss. The phone rings*
Jesse: Tell 'em you're busy.
Andrea: Hello. Grandma? Slow down. Slow down I can't...oh God. Oh God! *begins to cry* Oh God.
*Police lights flash as Andrea approaches the crime scene. Tomas is dead on the ground. Jesse follows Andrea and looks at Tomas's dead body*
Jesse: *on answering machine* Hey, it's me. Wait for the thing.
Walt: Jesse. You are now forty-two minutes late. I'm starting without you.
Woman on TV: What is wasabi?
Alex Trebek: *on TV* Wasabi, right you are.
Woman on TV: Four-letter word for 1200.
Alex Trebek: Pilots and musicians know this word derives for the Latin word for balloon.
Skyler: Dinner's almost ready, okay?
Alex Trebek: *on TV* Kevin.
Kevin: *on TV* What is solo?
Alex Trebek: Correct.
Junior: This guy's good.
Kevin: *on TV* Four-letter word, 2000.
Alex Trebek: A loud, harsh cry; Walt Whitman's was "barbaric."
Walt: What is yawp.
Alex Trebek: *on TV* Kevin.
Kevin: What is yawp.
Alex Trebek: Yawp.
Kevin: Tokyo, 1200.
Junior: What the heck's a yawp?
Walt: Uh, yawp's a yell, I'll be right back.
Junior: That's what I said.
Walt: *to Skyler* Okay to use your bathroom, right?
*Walt runs the water and calls Jesse*
Jesse: *on answering machine* Hey, it's me. Wait for the thing.
*Walt hangs up the phone then calls again*
Jesse: *on answering machine* Hey, it's me. Wait for the thing.
Walt: Look I hope you're not waiting for an apology because I did not rat you out. I was looking out for your best interest as well as my own and I stand by my decision 100% so we'll just have to agree to disagree. Anyway, just call me back.
Reporter on TV: ...surprised today as temperatures dropped below forty. Coming up the seven-day forecast suggests this might just be the beginning of an early cold snap.
Skyler: *to Junior* So the TV turns itself off, huh?
Walt: I'll get it.
Reporter on TV: But first, more details on our top story: the murder of a young boy in the south valley. Police have yet to release a statement, but sources have indicated that eleven year old Tomas Cantillo may have been the victim of a gang-related execution. An anonymous tip brought police to a playground in the 4700 block of Eighth Avenue last night. Paramedics were called to the scene, but were unable to revive the boy. A gruesome crime-
Skyler: *to Walt* Can you turn that off?
Reporter on TV: -a shocking loss, and yet another casualty in the city's ongoing struggle against drugs-
Reporter on TV: -and the gangs that peddle them. We'll be passing along details-
*Walt turns of the TV and returns to the dinner table*
Skyler: I'm sorry, it's just they've been talking about that all day and it's just.
Walt: Oh, yeah.
Skyler: *to Junior* Hey, uh, did you know your dad and I are thinking about maybe starting a business together?
Junior: Seriously? What kind of business?
Skyler: Umm, we're thinking maybe a car wash.
Junior: What do you mean, like...*fades into background*
*Walt opens the front door*
Walt: I'm sorry, I have to go.
*Jesse sprinkles some meth onto a CD then rolls up a dollar bill to snort it. He snorts the meth and looks around. The two drug dealers drive up to deal to some guy. Jesse reaches under his seat and grabs a gun. He c*cks it and gets out of his car. He puts the gun in his pocket and walks toward the dealers slowly. The dealers get out of their car and walk toward Jesse. They c*ck their own pistols as Jesse pulls his out. Walt drives up and hits both the dealers with his car. Jesse stands there in shock. Walt gets out of his car and grabs one of the dealer's guns. He shoots the dealer in the head and looks at Jesse*