We pan underground to Tyrus and Jesse in the lab, waiting it out. Jesse, as he gets in stressful situations, is talking a lot. How long we gotta be quiet down here? Then what? This blows. Are we gonne be down here forever? Tyrus gets a phone call -- it's Gus for Jesse. Gus tells Jesse this is all Walt's fault, but Jesse, after admitting freely that Walt is "a complete and total dick," he refuses to sign off on Gus killing "Mr. White." And if he does it anyway, "we are going to have a problem." Gus's solution, in that case? "There will be an appropriate response." Ohhhhh, no.

Gomez and partner pack it in, and once they're gone, Dennis immediately calls Tyrus to say the coast is clear. And the cook resumes! After some of that patented Breaking Bad time-lapse, Jesse is dropped off at his car in the middle of nowhere by a laundry truck. That is worst parking spot I have ever seen. Clearly tormented by what Gus told him before, Jesse calls Walt's phone, but he gets no answer. He does have about six voice mails from Saul, though. Each more agitated than the last.

When Jesse arrives at the strip mall, he's greeted by Huell's overly aggressive pat-down. Saul calls him off, then leads Jesse into his completely disheveled office and dismisses his secretary, who he's taken to calling "HT," for "Honey Tits." She doesn't seem to be taking it in the "endearing" way Saul insists it is. He tells Jesse he's clearing out -- "like a fart in the wind" -- and he wants to give Jesse the money he's been holding for him. Jesse doesn't understand, and Saul's like "You haven't talked to Walt, have you?" He explains about Gus's threats to Walt's family, which kind of throws Jesse for a loop. Saul then, fairly abashedly, asks Jesse to put in a good word for him with Gus. "I can't afford to butter the wrong bread here," he admits. Jesse, freaked, leaves without another word.

At Hank and Marie's, Skyler looks over Hank's shoulder as he peruses Gomez's photos. He's found nothing, and Skyler looks pretty relieved at that. She heads to the kitchen and tries to call Walt again, only to go direct to voicemail. Then she heads out to the porch to grab some air and hang out wordlessly with some DEA riflemen. She bums a smoke from the one guy and stares out at the desert.

Meanwhile, Jesse's at home, flicking his own lighter. Suddenly, he gets a phone call from Andrea, and after a moment, he bolts upright. "What's wrong with him?" he asks. "What hospital?" Cut to Jesse rushing into the hospital to find Andrea filling out insurance forms. (I wonder what kind of insurance she gets from the corporation of My House Is Paid For by Secret Drug Money.) She tells him the doctors don't know what's wrong with Brock. "It's like he's got the flu, but it just keeps getting worse." Jesse doesn't pick up on it right there, but I bet everybody watching did. Personally, I screamed "OH SHIT!" and went white as a ghost. Andrea is just so scared. She can't get past the fact that Brock was fine this morning. A nurse comes out and says they're going to admit Brock to pediatric ICU. Jesse can't go in, because he's not family, so he steps outside to smoke. He looks down at his pack and finally realizes it: the special upside-down cig isn't there. The ricin cig. The cigarette that's supposed to make a person get the flu and never get better. Jesse breaks open the whole pack, but he can't find it. He screams, "NO!" and races back inside.