Breaking Bad

BREAKING BAD
"Full Measure"
Episode #313
Written by
Vince Gilligan
Directed by
Vince Gilligan
As Broadcast
SONY PICTURES TELEVISION INC.

All Rights Reserved © 2010
No portion of this script may be performed, or reproduced by any

means, or quoted, or published in any medium without prior written
consent of SONY PICTURES TELEVISION INC. * 10202 West Washington
Boulevard * Culver City, CA 90232*
BREAKING BAD
"Full Measure"
Cast List
WALT
SKYLER
JESSE
WALTER, JR.
SAUL GOODMAN
GUS
MIKE
BABY HOLLY
CHOW
FIRST MEXICAN MAN
GALE
GRANDDAUGHTER
PENG
REALTOR
SECOND MEXICAN MAN
THIRD MEXICAN MAN
VICTOR
FOURTH MEXICAN MAN (Non-Speaking)
BREAKING BAD
"Full Measure"
Set List
Interiors:
WHITE HOUSE
BATHROOM
HALLWAY
KITCHEN
LIVING ROOM
MASTER BEROOM
NURSERY
WALTER, JR.'S ROOM
SUPERLAB
LOS POLLOWS HERMANOS
OFFICE
SAUL GOODMAN'S OFFICE
WAREHOUSE
BACK ROOM
FRONT OFFICE
HALLWAY
GALACTIC LASER TAG
SNACK BAR
CLUTTERED APARTMENT
INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY
WALT'S AZTEK
MIKE'S BUICK
SAUL'S CADDY
Exteriors:
WHITE HOUSE
CORRAL
GRASSLANDS
SUBURBAN
INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY
QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD STREET
WAREHOUSE
SAUL GOODMAN'S OFFICE (STOCK)
SUBURBAN STREET
GALACTIC LASER TAG
TEASER
INT. WHITE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The HEARTH fills frame.
We might not know where we are at first, because really...

have we ever spent time thinking about our White house
hearth? We’ve never focused on it. We’ve certainly never
seen a fire inside it.
Nor is there one now. All that’s inside the fireplace is one
sad, dusty Duraflame log. It lies unburned atop the grate.
We PAN RIGHT, leaving the fireplace as we slowly take a tour

of the room. Here’s our dining room area... here’s our
kitchen... our hallway...
Yeah, we recognize where we are. We’re in the White house,

alright. Only, it’s completely EMPTY.
We’re not talking “empty” as in no people. Empty means no

furniture -- not one stick. It means nothing on the walls,
no bric-a-brac on the breakfast bar. It’s like the Grinch
Who Stole Christmas. What the hell happened here?
We continue slowly PANNING. The living room is just as

barren. Walls, floor and ceiling -- that’s all there is.
But as we finish clocking around 270 degrees...
... We reveal the house’s one inhabitant. Here’s a MAN in a

dark suit, standing with his back mostly turned to us. He’s
perusing a small notebook in his hands.
CLOSER -- he scribbles some numbers we can’t make out. We’re

still mostly behind him till he glances our way, checking the
place out. Scanning the ceiling, scanning the floor. We
don’t recognize this man. He looks clean-cut and athletic.
He’s gotta be a cop, right? A detective, or maybe DEA?

Jesus, what the hell happened here since 312 ended? Walt ran
those Bulletheads over with his car, and now the entire house
is empty! Is it a crime scene? Did the White family go into
witness protection?
KNOCK-KNOCK! Someone’s at the door. The man tucks away his

notebook and opens the front door. Nice salesman’s smile as:
REALTOR
Well, hello there.
Reveal he is addressing SKYLER -- whose hair is colored and

styled differently than we’re used to.
(CONTINUED)
BREAKING BAD #313 "Full Measure" AS BROADCAST 2.
CONTINUED:
And who is seven months PREGNANT. Right behind her is WALT --

who has no beard or mustache, but does have a full head of
HAIR.
SKYLER
Hi, I hope we’re not too late.
REALTOR
No, no. Perfect timing.
SKYLER
Okay. Stan, this is my husband
Walt.
WALT
Hi.
REALTOR
Good to meet you, Walt.
WALT
Nice to meet you.
REALTOR
(he and Walt shake)
Sandia Laboratories, huh?
WALT
Yeah.
REALTOR
I hear some pretty fascinating
stuff goes on out there.
WALT
(no big deal)
Yeah, well, you know...
REALTOR
Wworking on anything you can talk
about? I’m picturing giant space
lasers. Am I right?
Walt shrugs politely -- I can’t really talk about it.
WALT
Honestly, what I do would bore you
senseless. Giant space lasers?
Now that sounds cool. I’ll have to
bring it up at our next staff
meeting.
REALTOR
Well, just remember I get a cut!
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
WALT
Alright. It’s a deal.
Everybody chuckles good-naturedly. Walt glances around the

living room. This is the very first time he’s laid eyes on
this place.
So here’s the deal: we are watching a FLASHBACK to 1993.

Our characters are sixteen years younger. Skyler, we can
guess, is pregnant with Walter, Jr.
Wardrobe is of the period. Perhaps most striking is how Walt

is dressed. No Wallabies or beige for our boy. With faded,
well-fitting jeans, a bright rugby shirt and moccasin-style
driving shoes with no socks, Walt is... dare we say it? Hip.
He’s got color in his face. He’s youthful, vigorous.
He and Skyler are relaxed, happy newlyweds. Throughout this

Teaser, they smile and stand close and touch one another
without giving it a thought. Knowing, as we do, how cold and
pinched their relationship will eventually become, seeing
them this way is a bittersweet thing.
Anyway, back to it. This is the second time Skyler has

toured the house, so she takes the lead here. To Walt:
SKYLER
So... this is it, honey.
(off his polite nod)
Whaddya say? Do you wanna take a
tour
WALT
Sure.
SKYLER
Okay.
REALTOR
Uh, look. How ‘bout, uh, I give
ya’ll some privacy?
(thumbs over his shoulder)
I’ll, uh, go out to the car, make a
few calls, and uh... take as much
time as you need.
SKYLER
Okay, thanks.
WALT
Alright.
The Whites smile and nod. The man exits, leaving them alone.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
SKYLER
He’s actually a nice guy. He
doesn’t push.
WALT
(noncommittal)
Yeah.
Eyeing him subtly -- but closely -- Skyler takes Walt by the

hand and leads him on a tour.
SKYLER
So, as you can see, there’s a kinda
flow going on here. It’s a nice
big living room. And this is the,
um, dining area.
WALT
Ah, the dining “area.” Right.
She pulls aside a sheer drape so Walt can glance out the
patio door into the backyard (obviously we’ll still need
window treatments to hide the fact we’re on a stage set --
but maybe they can be DIFFERENT ones).
SKYLER
(tah-dah!)
Oh, and uh... it’s got a pool...
WALT
Pool is nice.
(eh)
Backyard could be a little bigger.
SKYLER
And oh, there’s uh, a breakfast bar
kinda dealie here, which is nice.
And um, the kitchen’s really
spacious, and you know... got good
appliances, and
Taking no offense, Skyler steps out of frame, heads down the

hall. Walt follows.
INT. WHITE HOUSE - HALLWAY/VARIOUS - CONTINUOUS
We FOLLOW Sky and Walt as they tour the back of the house:
the hallway; the nursery; Jr.’s room; the master bedroom.
God help us, this will likely be STEADICAM.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Lighting-wise, though it’s easier said than done, let’s try

and be prepared to have a continuous run of all these areas,
and hopefully pull this off in one long ONE-ER. All of the
following dialog plays on the MOVE as they tour.
WALT
How many bedrooms?
SKYLER
Three. Told you. They’re all
pretty good size.
(re: the nursery)
Oh, and this is the first one here.
And there’s-there’s two more at the
back.
WALT
Only three bedrooms? I think we’re
gonna need at least five, dontcha
think?
SKYLER
(good-natured)
Five? What, do I look like I’m
about to drop a litter?
WALT
(smiling)
No-no-no-no-no. We’ll have three
kids total, eventually. You know,
but well need a spare room for a
study so that I can work at home...
and you can write...
(glances into back rooms)
Yeah, nah. TI don’t think this is
gonna be enough.
Skyler definitely likes the sound of a study for her writing.

Three kids total, eventually, sounds fine too. Nonetheless:
SKYLER
Okay, um, about a wine cellar? I
mean, we certainly cannot be
expected to live without a wine
cellar.
WALT
Very funny. I just think we need
to set our sights high is all. At
least higher’n here.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
SKYLER
Walt, this is a good neighborhood.
It’s got a good elementary, and
supposedly a very good high school.
And believe me, ‘cause I have
definitely looked everywhere -- for
our price range, this is as good as
it gets.
WALT
Well, then, let’s stretch our price
range. Truly. I mean why... why
buy a starter house when we’ll have
to move out of in a year or two.
Skyler frown/smiles at him.
SKYLER
Did you win the lottery and not
tell me?
They’re back in the hall by this point. Walt grins and pulls
her close. They are full-frame, in SILHOUETTE.
WALT
I’m serious. C’mon... why be
cautious? We’ve got nowhere to go
but up.
Jesus, he’s confident, this Walt of old. Pragmatic as she

is, Skyler loves it. Off them silhouetted, kissing...
END TEASER
ACT ONE
EXT. CORRAL - DAY
Against a blue sky with fat clouds stands a crooked, ancient

FENCE POST. It supports a rusty curl of barbwire.
VARIOUS ANGLES now: an empty watering trough; the remains of

a livestock pen; assorted junk and detritus. We’re out in
the middle of nowhere. For miles around, there’s nothing but
half-dead grassland and distant mountains.
This old livestock corral, unused for decades, is the only

reminder of civilization. And beside it...
... Is parked Walt’s AZTEK. Its GRILLE and FRONT BUMPER are
broken and dented -- souvenirs of their recent impact with
the Bulletheads.
INT. AZTEK - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Walt waits out here alone. He keeps his eyes peeled,

scanning the horizon ahead. He checks behind him in his
mirror. He doesn’t want anyone sneaking up on him.
He glances at his watch, stares back out the windshield.

Nothing out here but the breeze, murmuring through the ruins
of the corral. Making the tall grass dance.
Whatever Walt is out here waiting for... it’s big. Like,

Treaty of Versailles-big. He’s nervous, but keeps his nerves
in check.
Actually, for a man who murdered two people mere hours ago,
all things considered? Walt has his shit pretty well
together. No pangs of guilt or remorse.
He’s here in the moment. He’s calculating. In fact, maybe

in a sense, this isn’t even Walt we’re watching. Maybe this
is HEISENBERG, so long removed from the scene.
Always scanning, now he sees something. His eyes narrow,

focusing on it.
Walt’s POV -- a BLACK SPECK drifts into view, creeping along

the horizon. Sunlight GLINTS off it as it moves.
It appears to be a Suburban or somesuch. It heads our way

for awhile, then turns and travels laterally, keeping its
distance. Finally it comes to a stop a couple of hundred
yards out. We hold on it a beat, straining to see.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Walt wishes he had brought binoculars. He sits motionless,

staring. Silence, save for the breeze. As we and Walt wait
on pins and needles for something to happen...
... RING! Walt’s CELL PHONE startles us. He fumbles it out

of his pocket. He raises it to his ear as if it might bite.
WALT
(a beat)
Yeah.
MIKE (V.O.)
Walter, you see us?
WALT
Yeah. I see you.
MIKE (V.O.)
I’d like you to exit your vehicle
and start walking toward us.
WALT
And then what?
(off the silence)
I’m gonna need some... some kind of
assurance.
A faint, impatient SIGH. And then:
MIKE (V.O.)
I assure you I could kill you from
way over here, if it makes you feel
any better.
CLICK. The line goes dead. Walt closes his phone and
considers, then climbs out of the Aztek.
EXT. CORRAL/GRASSLANDS - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Walt shuts his car door and starts walking...
... And walking. The other vehicle is still just a black dot
on the horizon. Walt moves at a measured pace. Not too
fast. Not too nervous. Not visibly, anyway. Goddamned if
he’s gonna let these bastards see him sweat.
In the distance, a dark FIGURE climbs out of the Suburban.

It walks toward us, moving at a similar, stately pace.
We alternately PULL Walt along, or FOLLOW high over his head

and shoulders. We linger awhile on this long walk of his,
the tension building. Think Sergio Leone.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Is Walt a dead man? It’s starting to feel that way. But if

this is really it, maybe he’s going out in a blaze of glory.
Ahead, the figure closes on us, revealing itself to be MIKE.

Mike strolls with his hands in the pockets of his dark
windbreaker. The sun is BEHIND him, putting him in partial
silhouette -- good planning, that.
Twenty feet... ten... now Mike and Walt stand face-to-face,

halfway between the two vehicles. Dry as toast, like always:
MIKE
Walter. You’ve been busy.
(then)
You wanna put your arms out to your
sides for me, if you would.
Walt does as he’s told, standing motionless as Mike gives him

a quick yet thorough pat-down. Mike’s an old pro at this.
All clear. Mike motions politely -- after you -- and the two
of them head for the Suburban, walking side-by-side.
MIKE
You know I haven’t slept since
Thursday? I was out all night
cleaning up after you. I need my
sleep.
Mike isn’t angry, just matter-of-fact. More than that,

actually. Is he surprised? Is this grudging admiration?
Today, he’s seeing Walt in a whole new light.
WALT
You said no half measures.
MIKE
Yeah? Funny how words can be so
open to interpretation.
(glancing back)
You get your car fixed?
WALT
Not yet.
MIKE
You’re gonna wanna get your car
fixed.
WALT
(his eyes on the Suburban)
Let’s see how this goes first.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
Mike shrugs, nods -- prudent. They keep walking.
EXT. SUBURBAN - DAY
In b.g., Walt and Mike head our way as we ADJUST to find the
Suburban in f.g. VICTOR climbs out from the driver’s seat.
He stands waiting beside the hood.
Inside the truck, we can make out the back of a third man’s
head. He sits motionless, watching Walt approach.
REVERSE to reveal this is... GUS. He, too, climbs out.

He stands his ground. He does not look happy.
Walt arrives, standing before him. Silence. Then:
GUS
Has your condition worsened?
WALT
(a beat)
Excuse me?
GUS
Your medical condition. Has it
grown worse?
WALT
Not that I know of, no.
GUS
Is there a ringing in your ears?
(Walt shakes his head)
Are you seeing bright lights, or
hearing voices?
Walt stares. Gives the slightest shake of his head.
WALT
I’m quite well, thank you.
GUS
No, clearly you’re not. No
rational person would do as you
have done.
(I’m waiting!)
Explain yourself.
Unlike Mike, Gus is angry. In control as always, we can

nevertheless hear it in his voice -- he’s downright pissed.
Nervous as he is, Walt stands his ground. Doesn’t flinch.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
WALT
My partner was about to get himself
shot. I intervened.
GUS
Some worthless junkie. For him you
“intervene” and put us all at risk.
Some contemptible junkie who
couldn’t keep the peace for eight
hours.
WALT
That’s right. He couldn’t. He was
angry because those two dealers of
yours had just murdered an eleven
year-old boy.
GUS
I heard about it. He should have
let me take care of them.
WALT
Maybe.
(then)
Then again, maybe he thought it was
you who gave the order.
Gus narrows his eyes a little. Stares. Low and ominous:
GUS
Are you asking me if I ordered the
murder of a child?
WALT
(a long beat; then)
I would never ask you that.
Meaning what, exactly? Meaning I myself don’t believe it?

Meaning what would be the point of asking? Walt is playing
it slippery here -- both he and Gus know it.
GUS
Where is Pinkman now?
WALT
I wouldn’t know.
Gus shakes his head, not buying that.
WALT
A couple of time zones away, at
least. Beyond that, I’d only be
guessing.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
WALT (CONT'D)
He has enough money to last
forever, and he knows to keep
moving. You’ll never find him.
Behind Walt, Mike stirs a little.
MIKE
I dunno, Walt. It’s what I do,
after all.
Walt glances to Mike, then back to Gus.
WALT
He’s out of the picture. I saved
his life -- I owed him that. But
now he and I are done. Which is
exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?
Gus sighs and stares off into the distance. We can’t help
but think this is that moment of silence before something
really bad happens.
WALT
You’ve always struck me as a very
pragmatic man. So if I may, I
would like to review options with
you. Of which, it seems to me, you
have two.
(a beat)
Option A -- you kill me right here
and now. Apparently I have made
that very easy for you. You can
kill me, no witnesses, and then
spend the next few weeks or months
tracking down Jesse Pinkman and you
kill him, too.
(off Gus’ stare)
A pointless exercise it seems to
me, but that is Option A.
Victor subtly glances to Mike -- who stands with his head

cocked, considering Walt closely. The balls on this cat!
Gus, meanwhile, gives nothing away. He just stares.
GUS
What is Option B?
WALT
I continue cooking. You and I both
forget about Pinkman. We forget
this ever happened.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
WALT (CONT'D)
We consider this a lone hiccup in
an otherwise long and fruitful
business arrangement.
(then)
I prefer Option B.
Gus continues staring inscrutably. A? B? Who knows? This

really feels like it could go either way. Finally...
GUS
You’d need a new assistant.
WALT
(nods -- yes)
I could get right on that.
GUS
No. This time I choose.
Walt may not love this, but he can’t argue. He’s lucky to be
alive. He nods. Agreed.
Done with Walt, Gus turns and heads back to the Suburban.
Victor does too, climbing behind the wheel.
Walt hesitates only a moment before he realizes he’s been

dismissed. He turns and starts off on the long walk back to
his Aztek. We PULL him away from here.
As we pass Mike, he turns our way, calling after Walt:
MIKE
Your car. Get it fixed.
WALT
(never looking back)
Yeah.
Mike, too, climbs in the Suburban, which grows small in the

distance as we PULL Walt away from it. The truck’s engine
roars to life and it turns and drives off.
Now that he has won his survival and the moment is over,
Walt’s face shows all the fear it’s been masking. His knees
are ready to buckle. Off our hero, chugging onward:
EXT. INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY - MORNING
It’s a day or two later. The start of a new week. We PAN

off the familiar laundry building, with its WORKERS streaming
in for the start of their shift, to find...
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
... Walt’s Aztek motoring onto the property. As it drives

toward us, its grille prominent in frame, we note that all
the hit-and-run damage has been REPAIRED.
Walt parks it in his usual spot, cuts the engine and climbs
out. He pauses to notice what’s parked beside him.
It’s a muddy Subaru Forrester with a mountain bike atop the

roof rack and an old “Ron Paul for President” bumper sticker.
As it’s in Jesse’s spot, we can assume this vehicle belongs
to Walt’s new assistant. Anyone care to guess who that is?
Walt already knows. He turns and heads for the laundry.
INT. SUPERLAB - MORNING
As seen through the small window in the lab door, Walt

descends into view in the stairwell and pulls his key from
his pocket. We hear it in the lock -- yet, judging by Walt’s
frown, it doesn’t seem to work anymore.
Into view comes Victor, who opens the door. Hesitation as

Walt considers stone-faced Victor, then steps past him onto
the catwalk. Victor shuts and locks the door behind him.
WALT
Really?
NEW ANGLE -- Walt descends the spiral staircase. Girding his

loins, he crosses the floor of the lab toward a MAN who
stands waiting in f.g.
This man wears a yellow Tyvek cook suit. His back is to us,
so we don’t yet see his face. Walt forces a smile.
WALT
It’s good to see you.
Yes! Reveal... GALE. Who smiles his own self-conscious

smile. We’ll remember Gale Boetticher as the perfect lab
assistant whom Walt fired in episode 308.
Is he bitter? He doesn’t seem to be. He shakes Walt’s hand.
GALE
Thanks. It’s good to be back.
(glances around the place)
Well. Shall we..?
WALT
(nodding)
By all means, Gale. Let’s cook.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Walt shoots a quick glance up at Victor, who remains atop the

catwalk, watching all. As we come to realize Walt’s world
has suddenly shifted in a major way, we...
END ACT ONE

ACT TWO
EXT. QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - AFTERNOON
We’re at the curb in front of a row of nice suburban houses.

An n.d. Buick pulls past us into frame and parks. We can’t
make out who’s inside -- all we see through the rear window
are a dozen or more shiny MYLAR BALLOONS.
MIKE (V.O.)
What about that rhinoceros? You
think he’d make a good pet?
GRANDDAUGHTER (V.O.)
No!
MIKE (V.O.)
No? Don’t you think if you called
to him, he’d come running for his
supper? I’ll bet he would.
INT. BUICK - AFTERNOON - CONTINUOUS
Mike sits behind the wheel, smiling down at his adorable

little GRANDDAUGHTER whom we met briefly back in episode 302.
She is safely seatbelted beside him. She half-frowns/half-
beams up at her Pop-Pop in a way that just melts your heart.
MIKE
I’ll bet he’d come running -- BOOM,
BOOM, BOOM --
GRANDDAUGHTER
You’re silly Pop-Pop.
MIKE
Well... a little. But he’d
probably knock everything over.
Plus, there’s that big nose of his.
GRANDDAUGHTER
That’s not a nose, that’s a horn.
MIKE
Is that so?
GRANDDAUGHTER
His real nose is little.
MIKE
Huh. I learn all kinds of things
being with you.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
His granddaughter grins and sits tapping her toes together,

feeling smart. Off Mike, unlatching her seatbelt for her:
EXT. QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - AFTERNOON
TIME CUT -- moments later. CLOSE ON the backseat door of the

Buick as Mike pulls it open. Inside, the back is filled with
all those metallic helium balloons from the ALBUQUERQUE ZOO.
They bob against the roof, a rainbow of colors. Mike hands a
few to his granddaughter, who stands by.
MIKE
Okay, Junebug, these are for you?
The little girl frowns up at the three measly balloons she’s

got, then points at the dozen more that are still in the car.
GRANDDAUGHTER
What about the rest?
MIKE
The rest are for me.
GRANDDAUGHTER
(smirks)
No, they’re not. You’re too old
for balloons.
MIKE
Oh, you’re never too old for
balloons.
Mike shuts the door, serious about keeping them. He bends

down -- careful, bad back! -- and gives her a hug and a peck
on the cheek.
MIKE
Give me a hug. I see your Mom.
Don’t keep her waiting.
GRANDDAUGHTER
Bye, Pop-Pop!
MIKE
Bye, baby.
The girl prances off, headed up the walkway of a nearby

house. A WOMAN in her thirties stands waiting on the porch.
She waves to Mike, who waves back.
Ah, what a kind, sweet granddad Mike is. But what does he
want with those balloons?
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
As he rounds to his driver’s door, climbing back in his

Buick, starting the engine and driving away...
EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
A smallish, pre-fab warehouse squats on a cracked and weedy

ribbon of concrete in what seems to be the middle of nowhere.
Security lights surround it, glowing sickly yellow. A few
cars are parked out front. No one is in sight.
We’re looking upon this scene from maybe fifty yards away.
PULL BACK to reveal Mike standing by his Buick, watching the
warehouse from the cover of darkness.
REVERSE -- Mike stands with his hands buried in the pockets

of his windbreaker. After a moment, he glances at his watch.
No time like the present.
He’s wearing black leather gloves. He unzips his jacket and

reaches inside for something. We hear a few CLICKS of metal
on metal as he performs some ominous task o.s. (what he’s
doing is threading a silencer onto an HK mk23 pistol, in case
props needs to order one for us).
CHI-CHIK! Mike cycles the pistol’s slide, still o.s., then

tucks it back in his windbreaker. He opens the back door of
his Buick and gathers all those colorful toy BALLOONS.
Grasping a fat fistful of strings, he wanders toward the

warehouse looking like Luigi the Vendor. What the hell is
his plan here? Some of us will begin to understand as Mike
heads for... the POWER POLE that feeds the building.
It’s a lone wooden pole with a transformer on it, sending

several sagging cables down to the warehouse in the distance.
Mike positions himself directly beneath it.
CRANE ANGLE -- we cut to a bird’s-eye view from above,

looking down at Mike far below. As we watch, he lets go of
his balloons, which float straight up toward us until they
envelop the power lines and...
... ZZ-ZZZAP! Short-circuited by the metallic Mylar, the

transformer BLOWS with a blinding blue ARC-LIGHT FLASH and a
huge shower of SPARKS.
INT. WAREHOUSE - BACK ROOM - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON a flatscreen monitor which is split by four live

SECURITY CAMERA VIEWS of the outside of the building. BLINK!
The monitor goes dead as we plunge into DARKNESS.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Battery BACKUPS click on, half-lighting the place in

dramatic, moody fashion. A hard-looking MEXICAN MAN steps
into frame, glancing around overhead.
FIRST MEXICAN MAN

(in Spanish)
What do you think?
A SECOND MEXICAN MAN steps into frame, passing him.
SECOND MEXICAN MAN

(in Spanish)
Only one way to find out.
He pulls a PISTOL, checks that he’s got a round chambered.

The first man does the same. Both of them head for the front
of the building.
EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Wide tableau -- up a short flight of steps, there’s a door

with a window. The faces of the two Mexican men appear in
it, peering outside. The door eases open.
First one man, then the other, steps outside. Guns at the
ready, they squint into the darkness, scanning for trouble.
They don’t see what we see. A mere ten feet away, hidden
just around the corner of the building, waits Mike.
The first Mexican descends the steps, drawing closer to Mike

without realizing it. The second man remains by the door.
Old Mike, cool as a cucumber, stays motionless. That is,

until he... cracks his neck to one side. If you’ve ever seen
“Yojimbo,” you know that’s what Toshiro Mifune always does
right before he slices up a bunch of ne’er-do-wells with his
samurai sword.
Hearing this faint SNAP, the Mexicans freeze. The man atop
the steps whispers down to his partner.
SECOND MEXICAN MAN

(in Spanish)
What was that? --
Mike instantly steps around the corner and SHOOTS the nearest
man point-blank through the head. And what a shot! The
bullet continues on into the second man, standing atop the
steps. It even passes through him, SHATTERING the window in
the open warehouse door beside him.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Two guys with one bullet! Mike doesn’t wait for applause.
On the move and headed up the steps, he aims without looking
and -- THUP-THUP-THUP! -- puts three more rounds into the
groaning second man, finishing him off before he disappears
inside the building.
INT. WAREHOUSE - FRONT OFFICE - NIGHT
We may have already noticed it outside, but the name of this

place is in MANDARIN. The front office is wood-paneled and
seedy. Papers lie scattered across the floor.
Crossing the room, Mike hears a SOUND behind an employee

counter. He raises his pistol, ready to fire. He pauses
when he sees...
... A middle-aged CHINESE SECRETARY sitting on her butt on

the floor, her feet splayed toward us. She holds up her
hands, talking scared and fast. We don’t have to speak
CHINESE to realize she’s begging for her life.
Mike raises a finger to his lips, employing the universal

symbol for “shut the fuck up.” Glancing down a darkened hall
that leads to the back of the building, he considers a
moment. He glances back to the secretary.
SECRETARY
Please... please...
Mike hunkers beside her and takes hold of her nearest foot.
She stares at him saucer-eyed -- what the hell’s he doing?
He wiggles loose her PLATFORM SANDAL, gently... tugging it...
off her toes.
Taking cover, Mike whips it underhanded, like a bocce ball.

ZI-IIP! There goes that SHOE, noisily tumbling the length of
the hall and drawing out --
-- A THIRD MEXICAN MAN. With a ferocious YELL:
THIRD MEXICAN MAN

AAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!! --
From the other end of the hallway, he runs STRAIGHT AT US,

FIRING wildly. BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!
Blinding bright MUZZLE FLASHES strobe the dark walls.
He overshoots (no pun intended) the end of the hall and comes
skidding out into the front office -- passing Mike, who
stands safe and sound against the wall. Mike raises his
silenced pistol and THUP-THUP!
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Turning his back on this freshest dead man before the dude
even DROPS, Mike pads down the dark hall toward the far end
of the warehouse.
INT. WAREHOUSE - HALLWAY/BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Mike’s MOVING POV: lit by backup lights, we can make out

stacks of STEEL BARRELS. Apparently, this is some sort of
chemical supply facility. As we travel further down the
hall, we heave into view of...
... A plump CHINESE MAN. He sits at his rat’s nest of a desk

in a short sleeved Arrow shirt and clip-on tie. He stares at
us wide-eyed, raising his hands in surrender. This is CHOW.
Mike pauses before he exits the hall. Some sixth sense tells
him not to step any further. Maybe it’s the way Chow sits
frozen and unblinking, just staring at him.
REVERSE ANGLE -- popping WIDE past Chow, we get the whole

picture now, seeing what Mike can’t see. There is a FOURTH
MEXICAN MAN hiding just on the other side of the hallway
wall. Gun poised, he waits to ambush Mike.
Mike figures as much. Silently pressing the muzzle of his

pistol to the sheetrock, he looks to Chow for confirmation.
With those raised hands of his, we figure Chow’s too scared

to do anything. Until... very gingerly, very subtly...
he EASES his hands HIGHER.
Noting this, Mike correspondingly SLIDES his pistol HIGHER.

Now it’s a bit too high -- just over the bad guy’s head.
Chow LOWERS his hands a bit, splitting the difference. Mike

slides his pistol LOWER, glancing to Chow -- good?
Chow blinks and gives the teeniest little nod.
THUP! Mike FIRES through the sheetrock, nailing the hidden

man right in the melon. A STARBURST of BLOOD paints the wall
next to him. His legs go out like a marionette’s with its
strings cut. He slides down the wall, landing on his butt
and slumping forward.
Mike cautiously (not nervously) peeks around the corner,

noting dead guy number four. He looks to Chow, who keeps his
hands in the air, having forgotten they’re up there.
Gazing through those perpetually half-lidded eyes of his,

Mike doesn’t look happy. In fact, he’s downright put-out.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
MIKE
Chow. You have anything you wanna
tell me?
CHOW
T-Thank God you’re here! They keep
me prisoner!
MIKE
They keep you prisoner.
CHOW
I don’t do nothing for them ever!
They try and make me, I say no!
They steal my chemicals? I-I-I
can’t stop ‘em! I am businessman!
MIKE
You’re a businessman. The lady out
front --
(calls down the hall)
Hey lady, are you still there?
(back to Chow)
Ask her if she’s still there.
CHOW
(in Chinese)
Peng, are you still there?
Pends responds at length in Chinese off-camera.
CHOW
She says yes.
Mike nods.
MIKE
How’s her driving?
Chow blinks, confused by the question. Helping him out, his

gun still in hand, Mike mimes a steering wheel.
MIKE
Driving. Is she good behind the
wheel?
CHOW
Good. She’s good driver.
MIKE
Licensed? Dependable?
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
CHOW
She has a Camry.
MIKE
Good.
Abruptly, Mike raises his pistol and -- THUP! -- puts one

through Chow’s raised LEFT HAND. AAAAAHH!
Chow grips his BLEEDING palm, his face contorted in agony.

Mike turns his back on him, squats down to check the nearest
dead man for ID. Over Chow’s whimpers of pain:
MIKE
The trucks’ll be here first thing
in the morning. I strongly
recommend that you return our calls
next time.
(hearing no movement)
So..? Have her drive you to the
hospital.
Holding his hand, Chow rises and stumbles toward the hallway.
Just as he clears frame...
MIKE
She’s gonna need her shoe.
Chow stumbles back into frame and picks up the woman’s SHOE
with his good hand. Seconds away from fainting, he plods
back out of sight. Off icy Mike:
INT. LOS POLLOS HERMANOS - OFFICE - NIGHT
CLOSE ON a desktop -- FOUR “LASER VISA” BORDER CROSSING CARDS

get plopped down into frame. These are cards issued to
Mexican residents by the U.S. Government, providing entry
into the United States. These represent the four men Mike
killed. We may recognize them from their PHOTOS.
A second hand reaches into frame, examining the visas.

Reveal Gus. He sits at his desk, Mike seated opposite.
GUS
Where’d they cross?
MIKE
Laredo, looks like.
(shrugs)
They didn’t exactly send their “A”
players. But like you said, it’s
cartel, alright.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Gus nods, poring over the faces on the visas.
GUS
Probing for weakness.
MIKE
Well. They didn’t find any.
Gus doesn’t seem so sure. His long, thoughtful silence makes

Mike uncomfortable (if such a thing is possible).
In fact, if such a thing is possible, Gus looks troubled.

Gus versus the cartel is Fischer versus Spassky. As skilled
as he is, Gus intends to play this right.
Figuring it’s time to leave, Mike rises from his chair. Gus
glances up at him, onto a new subject.
GUS
What about Pinkman?
MIKE
I’m making inquiries.
Gus stares -- find him, his look says. Mike exits.
INT. SUPERLAB - DAY
CLOSE -- HEAT HAZE and VAPOR rise like steam coming off the
world’s biggest bowl of soup. It’s an abstract image, this.
We don’t know where we are at first.
Two FACES materialize through the fog and heat. It’s Walt
and Gale, wearing respirators and tending to the enormous
mix/cook tank. Into it, they scatter handful after handful
of shiny ALUMINUM FOIL STRIPS, sprinkling them like confetti
into the brew (though we likely haven’t shown this till now,
it’s an honest-to-goodness step in our meth cook).
WALT
That’s two. Alright, let’s close
it up.
Done, Walt shuts the tank’s heavy lid.
WALT
Alright, bring it down. Ready?
Okay, we’re good.
The vapor quickly subsides, and he and Gale remove their

masks. Looking to someone o.s., Walt indicates his own bare
face.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
WALT
You can take your mask off now.
NEW ANGLE -- reveal VICTOR, seated across the way and wearing
his own RESPIRATOR while reading the newspaper. Glancing at
Walt, he pulls off his mask and continues reading.
Efficient, chipper Gale is already cleaning up the spilled

foil (of which there’s a lot). He sweeps it into a dustpan.
Gale nods -- he thought as much. Walt grabs a broom and

helps sweep. As they work, Gale shoots a wary glance across
the lab at Victor. He speaks sotto voce.
GALE
Does that guy ever leave..?
Walt shrugs, noncommittal.
GALE
When exactly did that start?
WALT
It’s new. We had some, a uh...
(reluctant)
... We had a little drama with the
person you replaced.
Gale frowns. He wants to ask, but decides against.
GALE
Sorry to hear that.
WALT
Nah, nah... it’ll fine. Things’ll
continue to smooth out and... yeah.
It’ll be fine.
Walt says this like he’s trying to convince himself. Gale

notices. After a moment or two...
GALE
By the way, if you’re at all
worried about working with me --
WALT
-- No. I’m not.
GALE
-- Because whatever my shortcomings
last time, I intend for things to
go perfectly from here on out. So
if there’s --
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
WALT
-- Gale, you’re great. Seriously.
GALE
-- I just, however you like things
to be done, is exactly how we’re
going to do them. Period. From
here on out. So... uh...
(quietly openhearted)
Please. Teach me.
Walt smiles bittersweetly at this eager young man. A beat.
WALT
Okay.
Gale senses this is supposed to be an apology -- or at least

as close to one as Walt can get. And he appreciates it.
Off Walt, head down, returning to his sweeping...
INT. CLUTTERED APARTMENT - NIGHT
VARIOUS CLOSE-UPS paint a picture for us. We see:
-- Overflowing shelves of BOOKS on science, art, photography,

history, travel, philosophy, poetry, Stephen King, etc.
-- PHOTOS of world travels show us scenes of backpacking

through Mongolia, Machu Picchu, Kilimanjaro, you-name-it.
-- A kit-built digital clock that runs on a POTATO (available

at Edmund Scientific) tells us the time is 7:08.
-- A SNOWBOARD is propped in a corner. A fat Cassegrain

TELESCOPE sits atop its tripod.
Under all of this, MUSIC plays on a stereo. It’s something

ITALIAN.
... GALE is SINGING ALONG to it. This is his colorful pad,

and as he waters his many and various HOUSEPLANTS, he sings
along in whatever language is being represented.
Talk about a guy who digs life. Gale’s the happy-go-luckiest

meth cook there is. As he hits a long high note with gusto,
a KNOCK on the door turns his attention.
Hmm. Who could that be? Setting down his watering can and
answering it, Gale is surprised to find...
... GUS. He stands alone in the hallway, smiling warmly.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
GUS
Gale. It’s good to see you.
GALE
Mr. Fring. Wow, this is, uh...
GUS
I should have called first. I’m
not interrupting anything, am I?
GALE
No, uh, not at all. Please, come
in!
Gus steps inside.
GALE
Can I offer you something? A creme
de menthe?
GUS
Oh, no... no, thank you. I’m sorry
for the inconvenience --
GALE
-- Oh, no, no. It’s no
inconvenience.
GUS
I need to talk to you about
something. Something rather
pressing.
They’re seated now. Gale is all ears. As it’s a delicate

subject, Gus considers how best to begin. Finally:
GUS
If push came to shove, I was
wondering how soon you might be
able to take over the lab yourself.
You, and, uh, an assistant.
Gale thinks about this for a moment.
GALE
Why would...
(forces a smile)
Why would push come to shove?
Gus seems reluctant.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
GUS
Has Walter ever talked to you about
why he got into this particular
line of work..?
GALE
Uh... I guess I assumed it’s
because it pays so well.
GUS
Oh, it is. But specifically, has
he ever spoken to you about his
health problems?
(off Gale’s frown)
I’m not surprised. He’s a very
private person.
GALE
What exactly are his health
problems..?
GUS
He’s dying of cancer.
Gale looks stricken. Never one for displays of emotion, Gus

nonetheless (for Gale’s sake) seems to share his pain.
GUS
It is why he does this. To provide
for his family. Which he’s
accomplished. They will never want
for anything -- he’s seen to that.
GALE
Oh... how long does he have?
GUS
That is very much the question.
He does not want to talk about it.
And every time I bring it up with
him...
(shakes his head; bad)
I don’t know that he’s fully
accepted the reality of it. And,
not to sound cold-blooded... but I
am running a business here.
GALE
No, I... I understand...
GUS
I have a very large investment in
this.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
GUS (CONT'D)
There’s so much overhead that I
can’t afford to shut down. Not
even for a week. So you understand
my concern.
(then)
And my desire for continuity.
GALE
I do. Absolutely.
GUS
Now, I intend to keep Walter on for
as long as he wants, assuming he’s
physically up to it. But as he
cannot or will not tell me how long
that might be...
(regretful)
I must prepare for the worst-case
scenario.
Gale nods. Silence for a moment -- then Gale realizes Gus is

waiting for an answer to his original question.
GALE
Worst-case scenario... Uh, I
suppose if we had at least a few
more cooks together...
GUS
You don’t think you’re ready now?
GALE
Well, he is such a, a master.
There’s always more for me to
learn. But I’m thinking that if we
had say... one or two more cooks...
(off Gus’ silent gaze)
One more, I guess, would do it. I
suppose.
Gus pats Gale’s knee -- good boy.
GUS
I believe in you, Gale. I know
that when the time comes, you will
be ready.
Off Gus, smooth, warm and genuine... and (though Gale doesn’t
know it) clearly planning Walt’s demise:
END ACT TWO

ACT THREE
INT. SUPERLAB - MORNING
Reddish-brown GUNK fills frame. A gloved hand reaches into

view, scrubbing away the gunk with a sponge and leaving shiny
stainless steel in its wake.
Reveal Gale outfitted in his yellow Tyvek, scrubbing the big

mix/cook tank. This is an activity we last saw in episode
310 -- the CLEANUP that precedes the cook.
Never one to shirk his duties, Gale is nevertheless kind of

distracted this morning. He’s not his typical chipper self.
His scrubbing slows as he glances across at...
... Walt, who works the opposite side of the tank.

Eventually feeling eyes on him, Walt glances up from his
scrubbing. Friendly but quizzical:
WALT
What’s up?
Gale forces a smile, shakes his head -- nothing. He throws

himself back into his work.
After a moment, he changes his mind, looks up again.
GALE
Walt. Is there, um...
We can guess what’s weighing on Gale: Walt’s cancer. But

whether or not he would have brought it up, we’ll never know.
Because now, as if on cue...
... Victor idly wanders into view. He sidles up beside Gale,

glancing down into the tank. He doesn’t even look at Gale,
pays no attention to him. Yet, there’s a message here.
Innocent as he is, Gale gets it. Covering nicely:
GALE
... any particular trick to purging
the catalyst bed?
Appreciating Gale’s interest, Walt shrugs, shakes his head.
WALT
No, it’s pretty straightforward.
I’ll show you when we get there.
Gale nods, lowers his eyes and returns to scrubbing. Victor

soon wanders off. Gale chews his lip. Poor, sick Walt.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Speaking of Walt -- is he truly this tuned-out to the dangers

posed by Gus and Victor? Hold that thought.
EXT. SAUL GOODMAN’S OFFICE - DAY (STOCK)
To establish. Lady Liberty gently bobs atop the roof.
INT. SAUL GOODMAN’S OFFICE - DAY
CLOSE ON FEET. Shod in thin nylon dress socks, they rock

side-to-side atop a familiar CHI MACHINE (last seen in 306).
Kicked-off TASSEL LOAFERS lie nearby.
This is Saul, of course -- lying on the floor of his office,

loosening up his spine. We ARC AROUND to a side view of him
as a faint electronic CHIRP prompts him to answer his
Bluetooth EARPIECE. Touching a finger to it:
SAUL
Yeah.
(listens; then)
Tell him I’m in conference.
He clicks off and shuts his eyes, enjoying the ride.
After a moment or two, we hear the o.s. DOOR open and close.
FOOTSTEPS pad toward Saul. A SHADOW falls across him. Saul
opens one eye, squinting up at this unwanted visitor.
SAUL
Can’t you see I’m in conference?
Reveal MIKE stands over Saul.
MIKE
I’m looking to find a client of
yours. I was hoping you could help
me out with an address.
SAUL
Which client?
MIKE
Jesse Pinkman.
Saul frowns up at Mike, raising an eyebrow.
SAUL
“Jesse-Pinkman-In-The-Phone-Book”
Jesse Pinkman? Hmm, how would one
track him down, I wonder?
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Saul snorts and closes his eyes. With the tip of his shoe,
Mike clicks the power switch. Saul’s Chi Machine goes dead.
SAUL
(annoyed)
You’re still here..?
MIKE
I’m gonna need your full attention,
Saul. Jesse Pinkman. Current
whereabouts. The sooner you tell
me, the sooner you can get back
to...
(indicates machine)
... Whatever the hell this is
exactly.
SAUL
What am I, eighth-grade hall
monitor? “Current whereabouts?”
Lemme tell you something --
Saul starts to rise in protest -- but Mike stops him with a

warning hand.
MIKE
Whoa. You are good right there.
Mike doesn’t shove, nor raise his voice. There’s no need.

Saul... reluctantly... remains where he is on the floor.
Mike takes hold of one of the client chairs, pulls it close.
MIKE
Let’s both get comfortable.
Mike parks the chair right next to Saul, who lies propped up
on his elbows. Mike takes a seat, looming over Saul.
MIKE
Now... when I say I’m looking for
Pinkman, we both know why. Don’t
we? And you pretending otherwise
only wastes my time and serves to
annoy me.
SAUL
(growing nervous)
Look, Mike... there are rules to
this lawyer thing.
MIKE
Is that right?
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
SAUL
Yeah. “Attorney-client privilege?”
I mean, that’s a big one! And
that’s something I provide for you!
So, if I give up Pinkman... well,
then you’re gonna be asking “old
Saul gives ‘em up pretty easy.
What’s to keep him from giving me
up?”
(shrug)
You see? So, then, where’s the
trust?
MIKE
I trust the hole in the desert I’d
leave you in.
SAUL
(distantly)
Y-Yeah... that’s an argument.
Mike leans a bit closer. Stays calm and conversational.
MIKE
Saul, don’t make me beat you till
your legs don’t work. Now tell me
where to find him.
(then)
You know it’s the right thing.
Saul considers his options. From deep within, he finds his

inner Clarence Darrow. His hidden strength. Gravely:
SAUL
I can’t tell you, Mike. Alright?
I -- look. If I was to tell you,
well I just... I couldn’t live with
myself. I’m sorry.
Wow. Mike sighs and regretfully rises to his feet. He moves

his chair, making room so he can kick the shit outta Saul.
And, just as quickly, Clarence Darrow goes away.
SAUL
(holds up his hands)
But who’s to say I didn’t write the
address down in-in my day-planner?
Seeing where this is headed, Mike lets him up. Saul

scrambles to his feet and rounds his desk, rifling through
his scheduler. Not finding what he’s looking for...
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
SAUL
Or on a... scratch piece of
paper... somewhere...
(where the fuck is it?!)
... Who’s to say I didn’t write
down a location? Strictly for my
own professional use.
Yes! Finding it written on a notepad, Saul tosses the pad

atop his desk. He points a finger at Mike -- NOW HEAR THIS!
SAUL
Do NOT touch anything on my desk.
(then; checks his watch)
I’m gonna leave the room... uh,
make myself a Nescafe.
Glad to be leaving on two good legs, Saul breezes out of the

office, closing the door behind him. Mike steps around the
desk and opens Saul’s notepad. Checks what’s scribbled.
Mike’s POV -- “Buckingham Trailer Court, Dillwyn, VA.”
Off Mike, seemingly one step closer to Jesse...
EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DRIVING - DAY
CLOSE ON a familiar license plate: “LAWYRUP,” it reads.
We let it drift away from us, revealing the white Cadillac

it’s attached to. We’re on the move, FOLLOWING BEHIND the
Caddy as it cruises an n.d. commercial stretch.
Through the rear window, we can make out two occupants.
SAUL (V.O.)
I’m just looking out for you,
that’s all. I’m like a mother hen.
INT. SAUL’S CADDY - DRIVING - CONTINUOUS
Saul drives. Walt sits beside him. Both men stare out the
windshield, not looking at one another.
SAUL
Believe me, money-laundering ain’t
what it used to be.
(half to himself)
God, do I miss the eighties.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
WALT
You’re wasting your time -- I’m
buying the car wash. End of story.
SAUL
Well, one look at this place,
you’re gonna fall in love, so...
Our two guys ride on in silence.
EXT. GALACTIC LASER TAG - DAY
A deserted parking lot. The Caddy motors into view, crossing

the lot and arriving at a closed-down (but intact) business.
“LASER TAG,” the sign blares.
Saul and Walt climb out, Saul proudly presenting the place.
SAUL
Huh? Was I right? Where else you
gonna find a cash-only business
that’s this much fun? Unless
we’re talking massage parlor, and,
uh... I don’t see it!
(dangles the keys)
Shall we?
Hands on his hips, Walt studies the building, then nods.

Saul steps past him, unlocking the front door.
So what’s going on here, exactly? Cowardly Saul just gave up

Jesse, and now he’s all business-as-usual? Distressing.
We MATCH-CUT to a NEW ANGLE -- we’re suddenly seeing Saul and

Walt from a couple hundred yards away.
Into the f.g. of this shot drives... VICTOR.
Clearly, Victor followed them here. Just as clearly, he’s

keeping his distance, not wanting to be seen. Off him,
raising a small pair of BINOCULARS and surveilling Walt and
Saul as they disappear into the laser tag:
SAUL
You ever actually play laser tag?
You know... it’s good cardio. Plus
you get to shoot at kids...
INT. GALACTIC LASER TAG - DAY - CONTINUOUS
Saul locks the door behind them. He and Walt stroll through
the place, Saul flipping switches and turning on lights as
they go. This joint is colorful, to say the least.
SAUL
You got your bumper cars over there
down the way. Got your arcade
right here -- all the latest video
games. Snack bar’s over there.
Nothing stopping you from selling
beer to the parents. That’s a
whole new revenue stream...
WALT
(glances over shoulder)
... Alright, alright, alright
already. We’re-we’re good.
SAUL
Holy Christ.
Saul stops dead, puts his hands on his knees and sucks in a
deep, ragged breath. It’s as if he’s trying not to faint.
With his eyes, he shoots Walt daggers.
SAUL
“We’re GOOD?” This constitutes
“good” where you’re from? My car
is bugged --
WALT
-- I said “maybe.” Maybe bugged --
SAUL
-- I’m being followed?! What the
hell have you gotten me into?! I
got my very own PI threatening to
break my legs! That’s like Thomas
Magnum threatening, that, that...
(can’t think of it)
... Little prissy guy with the
mustache...
Another deep breath. Recovering, Saul stands up straight.
SAUL
Over and above. Service-wise, this
is over and above. You and I
survive this? Oh, I’m seriously
rethinking my pricing. Yeah.
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
SAUL (CONT'D)
(points at someone)
And that goes double for you, Hip-
Hop!
Who’s he talking to? Reveal... JESSE, cautiously stepping

into view from out of the darkness.
Hurray! Saul’s not a Judas! He has, however, done his one

good deed for the day, and with that...
SAUL
My guy’s no dummy, right? So, I
give us maybe twenty-four hours
before he figures out that address
goes nowhere.
(off the grim silence)
You guys do your thing, make it
snappy. I’ll go... see if they
have Tetris or something.
Shaking his head to himself, nervous Saul wanders off toward

the arcade, leaving Walt and Jesse alone. A beat.
WALT
How you holding up?
Jesse shrugs -- not great, but okay.
JESSE
You..?
WALT
I got my old job back.
(wryly)
At least, until they kill me, and
Gale takes over.
Wow. So Walt does know Gus’ plan! Jesse seems unsurprised.

He too, apparently is up to speed. This is refreshing, given
that for most of season three, our heroes have been a day
late and a dollar short where Gus is concerned.
JESSE
So, he’s their boy, huh?
WALT
(nods; heavy-hearted)
He’s their boy.
JESSE
How long you think you’ve got?
Walt shakes his head, doesn’t know.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
WALT
Well, he asks a lot of questions
about the cooking process. I try
to be as vague as possible, but
I’ve got that guy Victor watching
me, listening to every word I
say...
Walt trails off, considers.
WALT
Y’know, it may be that the only
thing saving me is Gale’s
fastidiousness. Once he feels
confident that he knows my entire
method...
Walt makes a half-hearted gesture -- that’s when they kill

me. Grim silence. Now, the million-dollar question:
JESSE
So, what do we do?
Walt has a plan, alright. He just has to work up the nerve

to say it out loud.
WALT
You know what we do.
Jesse does -- and he hates it. Shaking his head...
JESSE
There’s got to be some other way.
(almost pleading)
Maybe it’s better for you to just
go to the cops, alright? I mean, I
can’t believe I’m saying that and
all. But for your family? I mean,
the DEA would love you -- all the
shit you could tell ‘em? Federal
witness protection, that’s a good
deal.
(off Walt’s silence)
As for me? I’ll-I’ll hit the road,
yo. I’ll make it.
(then)
We had a, we had a good run. But
it’s over.
WALT
(softly; thinking of Hank)
Never the DEA.
(a beat; louder)
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
WALT (CONT'D)
The cook can’t stop. That’s the
one thing I’m certain of --
production cannot stop. Gus can’t
afford to. So, if I’m the only
chemist that he’s got... then I’ve
got leverage. And leverage keeps
me alive. It keeps you alive, too.
I think I can see to that.
(grim and meaningful)
If I’m the only chemist that he’s
got.
Oh, no. Is Walt saying what we think he’s saying..?
JESSE
I-I can’t do it, Mr. White. Like
you said, I’m-I’m not a...
(can’t even say it)
I can’t do it.
WALT
I’ll do it. I’m gonna need your
help. I mean, they’re watching me
day and night. They never leave me
alone with Gale, not for a moment.
Hell, I don’t even know where the
man lives. He’s not in the phone
book, I can’t find him on the
Internet.
(ragged sigh)
I can’t do it in the lab. Victor’s
always there. But if I could
just... shake Victor, for even an
hour one night, I think then
that.... I may be able to...
(hates himself)
... Make it look like an accident.
Pregnant silence.
JESSE
There’s got to be some other way.
WALT
I’m all ears. But when it comes
down to you and me versus him?
(shakes his head)
I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, but
it’s gonna be him.
Fierce tears shine now in Walt’s eyes -- yet he’s in control.

Yes, he’s a desperate man, but he’s being completely rational
here. Rational and pragmatic. Just like Gus.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (4)
WALT
And you are the only edge that I’ve
got, as long as they don’t know
that you’re in town. But I need
you to track him. Get me his
address. And I’ll do the rest.
(off his hesitation)
Look, I-I saved your life, Jesse.
Are you gonna save mine?
Jesse looks up from the floor, fixing his gaze on his mentor.
Off reluctant Jesse -- whose answer, we know, will be yes...
END ACT THREE

ACT FOUR
INT. WHITE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON
The HEARTH fills frame.
It’s the exact shot which opened the Teaser. Except this
time as we PAN to the right, we take in the PRESENT DAY.
Skyler works in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Outside, it’s
magic hour, and the light is low and golden.
We continue PANNING until we find Walt seated on the sofa,

Baby Holly in his arms. Recall that this is the arrangement
Walt and Skyler made last episode, where Walt gets to have
dinner with the family certain nights of the week.
Walt dearly loves his daughter -- but the way he’s cuddling
her suggests Linus with his security blanket. Walt is
utterly preoccupied. It’s as if there’s the sound of a clock
ticking in his head, getting louder and louder.
It’s been a full day since his conversation with Jesse, and
no news since. He’s trusting an awful lot to his partner,
and the waiting is driving him to distraction. But as he
sits here...
... BRRRRPT. His cell phone softly VIBRATES. Hopeful Walt

digs it from his pocket, checks the readout. Finally!
Praying for good news, Walt quickly but gently tucks Holly in
her bassinet. Skyler pays no attention as he pads down the
hall, out of sight.
INT. WHITE HOUSE - BATHROOM - DAY
Walt sits into frame on the edge of the tub, speed-dialing as

he does so. Hunched with his elbows on his knees and his
phone to his ear, he tries to stay patient. RING... RING...
JESSE (V.O.)
Yeah.
WALT
Please tell me you found him.
JESSE (V.O.)
(a beat)
Sixty-three fifty-three Juan Tabo
Boulevard. Apartment six.
Walt runs a hand across his bald head -- oh, thank god.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
JESSE (V.O.)
You there..?
WALT
Yeah. Sixty-three fifty-three Juan
Tabo, number six. Got it.
The sweet relief that is flooding in quickly runs its course,

replaced by grim, cold reality. Now, Walt has to actually go
through with this terrible plan of his.
WALT
He’s home?
JESSE (V.O.)
Yep.
WALT
Anyone watching the place?
JESSE (V.O.)
No. Looks pretty much wide-open.
(then)
When you gonna do it?
WALT
(hesitates; considering)
Tonight. Once it gets dark.
More silence. Walt’s body language is that of a man with an

anvil weighing down on his shoulders.
Jesse’s voice is quiet, plaintive.
JESSE (V.O.)
Don’t do this, Mr. White.
Please..? Go to the cops.
Walt lowers the phone from his ear, gently folding it closed.
He sits here overflowing with self-loathing, wondering how he
can possibly murder poor Gale in cold blood.
Off Walt, wondering how his life ever got to this point...
EXT. WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT
It’s no more than ten or twenty minutes later. All’s quiet.

The front door opens and --
-- Walt exits into the night. On the move, he gives a quick

glance around. No one’s in sight. He crosses to his Aztek.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
As he stands fishing for his keys, there’s a faint rush of

TIRES and a sweep of HEADLIGHTS. An n.d. sedan pulls up
twenty feet away, blocking the bottom of the driveway.
Walt’s face drops. Oh god -- it’s VICTOR! Vic’s window

powers down. Calling to Walt, just loud enough to be heard:
VICTOR
We got a problem. There’s some
kinda chemical leaking in your lab.
You gotta come with me.
Caught off-guard, Walt doesn’t know what to say. He glances

behind him to the house. Struggling for a way out...
WALT
I’ll, uh... I’ll follow you.
Victor shakes his head -- uh-uh. Matter-of-factly:
VICTOR
They tell me to bring you, I bring
you. C’mon, get in the car.
A chemical spill? Could be legitimate. Of course, Walt

knows damn well it’s not. It’s an excuse to get him away
from here so he can be murdered.
This must be the night Gus intends to do away with Walt once
and for all. What miserable timing -- just as Walt was on
his way to do the one thing that might have saved him!
What choice does he have? If he runs back inside the house,

he dooms his entire family to get massacred alongside him.
No, he’s finished. This is it.
Reluctantly, Walt does as he’s told. He pads down the drive

and climbs into the front seat beside Victor. The car pulls
away out of frame, leaving the glowing windows of the White
house behind.
INT. INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY - NIGHT
A gray steel truck door fills frame. Its electric motor

whirrs to life and it noisily rolls upward, revealing...
... Victor and Walt, standing outside. Victor’s sedan is

parked behind them, its headlights left on and silhouetting
them nicely.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Walt looks to Victor, who motions -- you first. Walt enters,

walking toward the back of the building. Vic follows close.
Closed for the night, this place looks and sounds very
different than what we’re used to. There’s no steam, no loud
clank and hiss of machinery. There’s only Walt’s and
Victor’s SHOES scuffling on the concrete. Otherwise, this
spooky, deserted laundry is quiet as a tomb.
Walt is the proverbial dead man walking. As they travel this

aisle of huge, silent machinery, they are forced to duck
beneath dripping, three hundred-pound bags of LAUNDRY which
hang from a rail system overhead.
Walt’s pace is deliberate. His mind is silently racing a

thousand miles an hour -- how am I gonna get out of this?!
An o.s. WHINE of HYDRAULICS suddenly focuses his attention.
Walt’s MOVING POV: rounding the end of the aisle, we see

MIKE waiting. He TILTS the enormous WASHER which hides the
entrance to the superlab, opening it for us.
MIKE
I don’t know if it’s a barrel leak
or what... but you got something
mighty stinky down there.
(motions gallantly)
After you.
Down in the lab -- that’s where they’ll kill me, thinks Walt.
Make it look like an accident, for Gale’s sake. No threats
have been made, no guns are in evidence. But Walt knows if
he goes down into that lab, he’s done.
Walt stares behind the enormous machine, breathing a little

faster now. He’s frozen. Mike, mild and even, as always:
MIKE
Walter. The sooner you figure out
what this is, the sooner we all go
home.
Walt does something surprising now. Something we probably

don’t expect.
He BEGS FOR HIS LIFE. Low and scared:
WALT
Please don’t do this.
(off their silence)
Mike..? You don’t have to do this.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
Victor shoots a glance to Mike, who sighs -- shit, I was

hoping this’d go easy. Ah, well. No use pretending anymore.
MIKE
Yeah, unfortunately, I do, Walter.
Downstairs.
WALT
I-I’ll cook, I’ll cook for free!
And there won’t be any more
trouble! I promise you. If I
could just talk to Gus, I know I
can make him understand! Please!
If I can talk to Gus, I can
convince him...
MIKE
No... no...
WALT
Just let me, please. Please?!
Please let me talk to him!!
MIKE
Shut up. Shut up. I can’t do it.
I’m sorry.
WALT
I’ll give you Jesse Pinkman! --
Holy SHIT. WHAT did he just blurt? Even Mike is surprised.

But now, Walt is on a roll and there’s no stopping him.
WALT
Okay? Like you said, he’s the
problem! He’s ALWAYS been the
problem! Without him -- we would --
(catching his breath)
And he’s-he’s in TOWN, alright?!
He’s-he’s not in Virginia or
wherever the hell you’re looking
for him -- he’s right here in
Albuquerque! And I can take you to
him! I’ll take you RIGHT TO him!
Huh?
(swallows hard)
What do you say..?
We’re stunned. Flabbergasted. Walt may have become a lot of

things these past three seasons -- but we never pegged him
for a tremulous, traitorous coward.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (3)
Mike finds this distasteful. He had respect for Walt, and

now he’s lost it. Why can’t this guy just die like a man?
Still... finding Jesse IS high on the agenda.
MIKE
Where is he right now? You give me
an address.
WALT
(shakes his head)
I don’t... He moves, he moves
around. But if you let me call
him. No, no... please. I just, my
phone, it’s just my phone. I’ll
call him and have him meet me.
Alright? Okay? Okay?
Walt slowly, gingerly reaches in his jacket pocket with two

fingers, producing his CELL PHONE. He holds it up to Mike,
gives a desperate, hopeful nod -- please?
Deadpan Victor looks to Mike. Off wary Mike, considering...
INT. GALACTIC LASER TAG - SNACK BAR - NIGHT
Fluorescent paintings of imaginary worlds fill every wall.

In f.g., two animatronic aliens slowly shake their heads from
side to side as they pilot their flying saucer.
ADJUST off them to reveal Jesse, his back against the wall,
sitting on the floor of this long-shuttered cafeteria.
His familiar sleeping bag lies nearby, along with a backpack

full of clothes and a few other meager belongings. Empty
snack food bags and soda bottles abound. It’s enough to tell
us Jesse has been living here for the past week or so.
His PISTOL is here, too -- within easy reach. Just in case.
What an existence -- hiding out, marking the endless hours

till the heat dies down. Worse still is the one crutch that
gets him through all this fear and loneliness.
Meth. Feeling lousy about himself, Jesse raises a GLASS PIPE

to his lips and heats it with a jet lighter. He takes a deep
hit, holds it, then exhales a cloud of white smoke.
Oh, fuck. Fuck. He sets the pipe aside, rubs his eyes and
hugs his knees tight.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
BRRRRPT. His phone VIBRATES, jitterbugging on the floor.

Jesse reaches for it, checks the readout. Fearful, yet eager
for news, he hurriedly answers.
JESSE
(dreading the answer)
Did you do it..? Mr. White? Did
you do it?
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY - NIGHT - CONTINUOUS
In f.g. is Walt’s CELL PHONE, as Walt holds it to his ear.
Flanking him, mere inches away and listening to his side of

the call, stand Mike and Victor.
Jesus. Is Walt really going to go through with this?

Steeling himself, glancing briefly back at Mike, he answers.
WALT
No -- I didn’t do it. I can’t now.
It’s gonna have to be you.
JESSE
(a wide-eyed beat)
What? No WAY, man! --
WALT
Listen to me. You’re closer than
we are -- you’ll have about a
twenty minute lead.
Victor looks to Mike, whose eyes are beginning to narrow --

this isn’t sounding like what we discussed. Walt, meanwhile,
is suddenly NOT the pusillanimous little bitch he was a
moment ago. Indeed, he sounds frosty. A man in control.
On his end, Jesse is bewildered, trying hard to follow.
WALT
They’ve got me at the laundry and
they’re gonna kill me. Jesse, do
it now! Do it fast. Do it, Jesse.
Do it!
VICTOR
-- Son of a BITCH --
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
-- Victor YANKS Walt aside, spinning him out of the way as

Mike grabs up the phone, considering it. He’s about to say
something into it, then stops himself.
On his end, Jesse blinks rapidly, having heard Victor and the
struggle. It’s dawning on him now. He understands what’s
going on... and what has suddenly become necessary.
Jesse launches to his feet. CLOSE ON his PISTOL getting

snatched out frame as he sprints from sight.
Back at the laundry, Mike hangs up Walt’s phone, pockets it.

Quietly pissed, he turns to Walt, who stands his ground.
MIKE
Now, just what the hell was that,
exactly?
Walt sets his jaw, gazes coolly. He doesn’t answer. He even

has the intestinal wherewithal to fix his crooked collar,
just now pulled askew by Victor.
Strongly sensing he’s been had, Mike finally draws a GUN from
his jacket pocket (not the HK from Act Two, but something
smaller). Victor does the same.
Amazingly, Walt doesn’t flinch, doesn’t quake. Far from it.
WALT
You might wanna hold off.
MIKE
(cocks the hammer)
Yeah? Why?
WALT
Because your boss is gonna need me.
(cold as ice)
Sixty-three fifty-three Juan Tabo,
apartment six.
Now... a slow-dawning Ohhh fuck on the part of Mike and

Victor, who glance to one another uneasily. The silence
doesn’t last.
WALT
Yeah.
Almost immediately, Victor is RUNNING balls-out for the door.
Simultaneously, Mike snaps his pistol up to shoulder-height,

holding Walt at gunpoint. With his free hand he fumbles for
his own PHONE, yanking it from his pocket and speed-dialing.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: (2)
While this goes on, we CREEP IN on Walt, who stands his

ground, seemingly unflustered. He doesn’t even bother
raising his hands. He just stares at Mike. And stares.
Off Walt... or, should we say, HEISENBERG...
INT. CLUTTERED APARTMENT - NIGHT
CLOSE ON a CELL PHONE which VIBRATES atop a stack of books.

This is something we SEE more than hear -- as some new piece
of EXOTIC MUSIC that plays on Gale’s stereo is masking the
phone’s sound.
An out-of-focus GALE passes the vibrating phone, not noticing

it. He’s on his way into b.g., to his kitchenette, where...
... A TEA KETTLE whistles on the stove. His hand dips into
frame, pouring hot water into a mug.
Gale is here alone, enjoying his night off. As with his

persnicketiness about coffee, he’s just as particular with
tea: the exact temperature, the infuser ball. He wants it
all just so. He’s a man of precise and simple pleasures.
A loud KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK at the door cuts through the music.

Wondering who this could be, Gale wanders through the living
room, cutting off the stereo along the way.
The sudden SILENCE is striking. Another KNOCK-KNOCK,

sounding louder this time. Gale opens his door to find...
... JESSE. Breathless and wide-eyed. Staring at him.
It takes Gale a second to place the face (remember, he only

met Jesse one time briefly back in 308). Ever polite:
GALE
Hi.
(off Jesse’s silence)
How can I help you?
Gale trails off as Jesse raises his GUN, taking aim.
GALE
Oh, oh... um --
Gale’s hands go up. He gingerly backs off, not making any

sudden moves. He’s scared, no doubt about it.
Yet Jesse looks more scared still. He steps into the

apartment, closing the small gap Gale has put between them.
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
Gale’s cell is once again VIBRATING in b.g., though nobody

pays attention. Otherwise, the quiet is profound.
GALE
Take whatever you want. I have
money, I-I’ve got a lot of money...
I have, um...
Jesse stays aimed. His pistol hand begins to TREMBLE, but

his eyes never leave Gale.
He tries to swallow that sideways brick that’s caught in his

throat. This isn’t him -- this thing he’s doing now. This
isn’t who he is.
Gale realizes Jesse isn’t here to rob the place.
GALE
Please don’t do this.
(softer still)
You don’t, you... you, you don’t
have to do this.
Yeah. He does.
Tears shining in his eyes, Jesse pulls the trigger.
BLAM! Off the muzzle FLASHING right at us, WHITING OUT most
of the frame --
CUT TO BLACK.
THE END

Breaking Bad

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Breaking Bad

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Breaking Bad

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

BREAKING BAD

SONY PICTURES TELEVISION INC.

No portion of this script may be performed, or reproduced by any

INT. WHITE HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

The HEARTH fills frame.

We might not know where we are at first, because really...

We PAN RIGHT, leaving the fireplace as we slowly take a tour

Yeah, we recognize where we are. We’re in the White house,

We’re not talking “empty” as in no people. Empty means no

We continue slowly PANNING. The living room is just as

... We reveal the house’s one inhabitant. Here’s a MAN in a

CLOSER -- he scribbles some numbers we can’t make out. We’re

He’s gotta be a cop, right? A detective, or maybe DEA?

KNOCK-KNOCK! Someone’s at the door. The man tucks away his

Reveal he is addressing SKYLER -- whose hair is colored and

And who is seven months PREGNANT. Right behind her is WALT --

Walt shrugs politely -- I can’t really talk about it.

Everybody chuckles good-naturedly. Walt glances around the

So here’s the deal: we are watching a FLASHBACK to 1993.

Wardrobe is of the period. Perhaps most striking is how Walt

He and Skyler are relaxed, happy newlyweds. Throughout this

Anyway, back to it. This is the second time Skyler has

Eyeing him subtly -- but closely -- Skyler takes Walt by the

Taking no offense, Skyler steps out of frame, heads down the

INT. WHITE HOUSE - HALLWAY/VARIOUS - CONTINUOUS

Lighting-wise, though it’s easier said than done, let’s try

Skyler definitely likes the sound of a study for her writing.

Skyler frown/smiles at him.

Jesus, he’s confident, this Walt of old. Pragmatic as she

EXT. CORRAL - DAY

Against a blue sky with fat clouds stands a crooked, ancient

VARIOUS ANGLES now: an empty watering trough; the remains of

This old livestock corral, unused for decades, is the only

INT. AZTEK - DAY - CONTINUOUS

Walt waits out here alone. He keeps his eyes peeled,

He glances at his watch, stares back out the windshield.

Whatever Walt is out here waiting for... it’s big. Like,

He’s here in the moment. He’s calculating. In fact, maybe

Always scanning, now he sees something. His eyes narrow,

Walt’s POV -- a BLACK SPECK drifts into view, creeping along

It appears to be a Suburban or somesuch. It heads our way

Walt wishes he had brought binoculars. He sits motionless,

... RING! Walt’s CELL PHONE startles us. He fumbles it out

A faint, impatient SIGH. And then:

EXT. CORRAL/GRASSLANDS - DAY - CONTINUOUS

Walt shuts his car door and starts walking...

In the distance, a dark FIGURE climbs out of the Suburban.

We alternately PULL Walt along, or FOLLOW high over his head

Is Walt a dead man? It’s starting to feel that way. But if

Ahead, the figure closes on us, revealing itself to be MIKE.

Twenty feet... ten... now Mike and Walt stand face-to-face,

Walt does as he’s told, standing motionless as Mike gives him

Mike isn’t angry, just matter-of-fact. More than that,

Mike shrugs, nods -- prudent. They keep walking.

EXT. SUBURBAN - DAY

REVERSE to reveal this is... GUS. He, too, climbs out.

Walt arrives, standing before him. Silence. Then:

Walt stares. Gives the slightest shake of his head.

Unlike Mike, Gus is angry. In control as always, we can