In Mexico, Jesse speeds Gus and Mike's ailing selves to Gus's personal pop-up ER, where Gus's life is saved by priority, and Mike's life is saved some time thereafter. Gus and Jesse then have to trek six miles back to Texas. Gus tells Jesse he's ready to cook solo, while Jesse tells Gus that he can't allow for Walt's murder. Just let Walt leave the organization. Gus is dubious this will work. And indeed, after a trip to inform Tio Hector that everyone he once knew is now dead, Gus must deal with the increasingly unstable problem of Walt.
Because Walt has not been able to do much to dissuade Hank from his continues surveillance of Gus's various properties. In fact, Hank has discovered Gus's connection to the laundromat (a.k.a. America's Meth Kitchen) and wants Walt to drive him there. Walt panics and turns the Aztek into traffic in order to keep this particular rendezvous from happening. But even this doesn't deter Hank, who has made arrangements for a handicap-accessible car so he'll be able to continue the investigation without bothering Walt.
So when Walt finds out that someone's been cooking in the lab while he's been laid up with car-crash injuries, Walt goes directly to Jesse and basically begs him to convince Gus not to kill him. Jesse -- who has already made this request, as we know -- tells Walt to go fuck himself, on account of how much of a jerk he's being. After Jesse returns to his home, Tyrus and Gus's goons taze Walt and drag him to the desert, where Gus advances his proposal: Walt is fired. He will have no further contact with Jesse. He's out. Never one to leave well enough alone, Walt sneers that Gus can't kill him, because Jesse has obviously refused to cook if Walt is offed. Gus is like, a) that can change over time, and b) oh by the way, I'm going to murder your brother-in-law, and if you try to stop me, I will kill your wife, your son, and your infant daughter.
Walt makes a beeline for Saul's office, where he begs for the number of that guy Saul knows who can disappear him and his family. The guy is pricey -- probably half a mil for Walt to get his whole family off the grid -- but Walt's plan is to get gone immediately, then have Saul call in an anonymous tip to the DEA so that Hank and Marie will be protected. There's only one problem: the money he thought he had stashed underneath the house is gone because...
Oh right, fucking Ted! Skyler once again is unable to convince Ted to pay the goddamn IRS already, so she goes to Saul, who sends his two best goons (Big Fat Pinhead and the guy who pretended to be with the EPA) to threaten Ted. They get Ted to fill out a check to the IRS, but when Ted tries to bolt, he does so SO clumsily that he slips on a rug and flies head-first into some furniture. Last we saw, his finger was twitching, but it didn't look good.
So here's how we leave the situation: Walt is digging in the crawl space for money that isn't there. Skyler is horrified to have to tell him the missing money is now with Ted. Marie is on the phone, traumatized by the fact that the DEA is telling her the cartel is coming after Hank. And with the DEA having been thusly tipped off, Gus is likely instructing his men to go and murder the entire White family, and Walt doesn't have the money to pay the guy to get him out of this whole dire situation.
And we've got two more episodes for this awfulness to play itself out!
We open on a quaint little pop-up hospital inside a warehouse in Mexico. The medics inside are readying supplies -- something's coming. The Head Medic gets a call, and everybody mobilizes outside. You hear Jesse's speeding car before you see it; he's beeping the horn like it's an ambulance alarm as he bounds up and skids to a stop right in front of the warehouse. Head Medic checks the front door, sees it's Mike, then immediately goes to the back door and unloads an unconscious Gus. He injects something into Gus's mouth and bags him. Jesse is left to scream at the medical team -- What about Mike??
Inside, they get to work on Gus. Jesse has to walk Mike in as Mike bleeds out his pant legs. Grim stuff. Jesse puts him on a bed, and then screams at the medics: "This man needs help!" Head Medic turns to him and points to Gus: "This man pays my salary."
Back home at America's Meth Kitchen, Walt is being watched suuuper closely by Tyrus, who is silent as ever. Walt measures out 40.23 pounds for a box of the blue, and while he does, he peppers Tyrus with questions about the Mexican expedition. Are they back yet? Have you heard? "If Pinkman is gone," Walt says, "I am done. Understand? I quit." Again, no answer from Tyrus. He simply steps up and re-weighs the box. Walt takes offense, but Tyrus finds Walt's number was off: it's 40.21. Well! Walt grumbles, re-labels and re-stacks. Walt then starts on another talking point: Hank keeps talking about driving out to the farm. Walt has stalled as long as he can. He just wants to make sure the place has been made presentable? He should be the one to take him out there, right? Can Tyrus run it up the chain of command? Oh, this is sad. Walt trying desperately to find some foothold of control within the organization. He gets nothing in return.
Cut to Walt and Hank on a stakeout of the chicken farm. Thus far, nothing suspicious, so Walt is impatient to declare the whole endeavor a bust. Hank is annoyed and says this is what the job is sometimes -- sitting and waiting. Walt then fishes for cartel news. Nothing stateside, says Hank, but he has heard rumblings of a big body-count event in Mexico. "We'll know more when the buzzards leave the bones," Hank says, having no idea how much a statement like that cuts into Walt. Hank is more concerned about Walt's bruised face. He wonders if Walt is in over his head with this gambling stuff. He talks about an old buddy of his with a gambling problem who got help. "He got on a ride that was rough to get off of." That sounds pretty apt, as far as Walt is concerned. But Walt has no intention of following Hank down that road. "I don't want to talk about it," Walt says, with finality. "To you or to anyone else. I'm done explaining myself."