Chapter Text
He didn’t think it would come to this.
He didn’t want it to come to this.
But fate is a cruel mistress, and sometimes the best- or, at least, most profitable- course of action is morally gray at best.
These were the thoughts that rattled through the walls of Walter White’s skull as he set up the rows of black tables that occupied his classroom. The students were getting in groups again today; Walt had been utilizing group projects as often as possible ever since he got his diagnosis. He couldn’t afford to skip too many work days, let alone take any kind of vacation, so letting the kids work through things on their own gave Walt the precious time he needed to think about his options.
Options.
Walt chuckled darkly to himself. As if there were any real options for guys like him. East High was a great school, sure, always having more than enough money to fund the multitude of different clubs and activities it housed, but at the end of the day, a teaching job is still a teaching job. You can’t afford that kind of treatment on a fucking teacher’s salary. That’s not even mentioning the money he wanted to leave his family, the money for Walt Jr.’s college fund, the money that would allow Skylar to keep the house and live comfortably even after he passes.
The ring of the bell jarred Walt out of his thoughts as he scrambled to write the instructions for today’s assignment on the blackboard. One by one the students of East High trickled through the door. Walt took a breath, composing himself before turning to face the class.
“Afternoon, everyone. As you can see, you’ll be in groups again today, so please find two partners and rearrange yourselves accordingly.”
Between the tapping of shoes and the scratching of chairs, Walt could hear one of the girls say something along the lines of ‘Seriously? This is, like, the sixth time in the past few weeks…’ under her breath. Walt clenched his jaw as he stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the identity of this mystery mumbler; Taylor McKessie was a bright one, that was for damn sure, but God knows that if she felt like she wasn’t getting the most out of the educational system, you would know.
Walt took a few minutes to drone on about what they would be working on, which chapter of the book they would be reading from, blah blah blah, and as the students got started with their goggles and beakers Walt took his place behind his desk.
He laughed a little to himself as he looked down at the list in front of him. He wondered what these kids would think if they knew what he was planning, if they knew that he wasn’t taking role or grading papers but taking careful inventory of East High’s chemistry equipment. He thought of the looks on their faces if they realized that he had run out of options.
That’s the funny thing about options, though.
You never really run out of them.
You can run out of the good ones, sure, the clean options that a noble man would take. But there are always options lurking in the cracks, options that wriggle with malice and inch away from the spotlight.
And for Walt, that option has morphed into something bigger.
A plan.
When Hank told him just how much money dealers make, Walt knew what he had to do. He pretended to reason with himself, reminding himself that this was crazy, that this would all blow up in his face if he fucked up, that this could permanently damage his relationship with his family if they knew. But realistically? Walt was sold from the moment he heard the words “seven hundred thousand dollars” leave Hank’s lips.
Walt knew this would all work out. He was a fantastic chemist, and that’s all meth production really is, chemistry. He had resources thanks to the money New Mexico’s education policies funneled into schools. The only real hitch in the plan was the fact that, well, there was only one of him. Walt hadn’t even begun producing methamphetamine, but he was already very aware of the fact that he couldn’t do that part completely by himself. But who could work with him?
He wasn’t going to work with any other dealers, that was too dangerous and most of them probably dropped out of high school. He certainly couldn’t ask any of his higher-educated friends, there was no way any of them would want to associate with this kind of activity. So who….
“Mr. White?”
Walt’s head snapped up in surprise. He had been so deep in his own thoughts that he had failed to see one of his students walking up to him.
“Oh, yes, what is it?”
“I was just wondering, I know you told us to follow the textbook, but I think I worked out a much more efficient equation we could use than the one that the book teaches us.”
Walt forced himself to pay attention to what the girl was saying, and was surprised to find she wasn’t wrong. She spoke quietly and confidently, and the confidence was not unearned. Walt knew she was privy to correcting her math and science teachers, and the East High Mathletes had a notable increase in wins ever since she transferred here.
This girl knew what she was talking about. She was bright but humble, not one to get up to trouble. This type of student would probably jump at the opportunity for a bit of extra credit, Walt thought to himself. Hmm.
Walt waited for her to finish before cutting in.
“Yes, I think that would work just fine. And if you wouldn’t mind writing it on the board so your classmates can follow, too.”
“Sure, Mr. White!”
Before the girl turned away, Walt spoke again.
“Oh, and Gabriella?”
She turned.
“What would you say about earning some extra credit this year? There’s a… thing… I’m working on, I think it would be right up your alley.”
“Oh! Well, I wasn’t actually thinking about doing extra credit, I don’t think I really need it-”
“Alright, alright, I just thought I’d ask. To be honest, it would help me out a lot, but I understand that you’re probably busy as it is.”
Walt couldn’t help but feel a little shitty as he spoke. Every kid in this school was already way too fucking cheery, but this girl in particular was known for her generosity. Before she even spoke he knew he had changed her mind.
“No, no, I’m not busy! I’d love to help, Mr. White, it wouldn’t be a problem at all. When is it?”
Walt told her to meet him in the chemistry lab this upcoming Sunday. Watching her nod and walk back to her desk, Walt felt relief sink into his bones. This was perfect. As long as he kept her fairly oblivious as to what they were actually making, this would all work out great!
As he thought that, though, he caught another girl staring at him. It was the snooty blonde, Sharpay… what was it… Evans, Sharpay Evans. Walt kept himself from groaning. He wasn’t one for high school gossip, but even he knew that Sharpay loved butting into other people’s business.
It’s fine, he told himself, looking back at his inventory list. He could take care of that later. For now, he just wanted to bask in the victory of his great idea
Gabriella Montez.
His golden goose.
All Walt had to do was wait for Sunday to arrive. That’s when they could get this shit started.
On Sunday, they were gonna cook.