Chapter 356: Opening Up
Frank and Hank were close friends—kindred spirits, in many ways. That was why Marie had come to him, hoping he could help Hank pull himself out of this spiral.
Though, asking your lover to help your husband recover… whether that counted as desperation or just Marie being bold was another question.
Still, Frank came.
He pushed open the bedroom door.
"Babe… don't bother me. Let me rest a bit…" Hank muttered from the bed, eyes closed.
"It's me," Frank said.
Hank's eyes snapped open.
"Frank? What are you doing here? When did you get back? And your condition—"
"I'm not that far gone yet," Frank said calmly. "Just got back a few days ago."
He shot Marie a look.
She understood immediately, quietly closing the door behind her and leaving the two men alone.
---
"I heard what happened," Frank said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "How are you holding up?"
Hank let out a breath. "Honestly? Not great. Pretty damn awful. Been running to the bathroom nonstop. Stomach's cramping like hell. You might wanna keep your distance—I stink."
Even now, he was trying to joke.
Frank didn't smile. "It was bad, wasn't it?"
"…Yeah." Hank's voice dropped. "What happened there… it was brutal. I don't even want to think about what those animals are capable of."
"After it happened, the El Paso commander sent me home. Didn't even let me stay on the case. Didn't let me go after those bastards."
His tone carried frustration—anger mixed with something deeper.
"You do need the rest," Frank said.
Hank sighed. "Officially, they said I was unharmed because I went back to the car to grab an evidence bag."
He gave a bitter chuckle.
"But everyone knows the truth. They're all talking about it behind my back."
Hank had always been the tough guy—the unshakable one.
But this time… that image had cracked.
The explosion had killed and maimed too many people. His team had taken heavy losses.
And yet, Hank—the one who stepped away—was completely unharmed.
Of course people talked.
---
"What now?" Frank asked. "Going back to Texas?"
"…I don't know," Hank said, forcing a weak laugh. "We'll see."
"Have you thought about seeing a doctor?"
"A shrink?" Hank shook his head immediately. "No way. If I do that, I can kiss my career goodbye."
Frank nodded. "Then talk to someone. Marie. Me. Even Walter. Just talking about it helps—if you're willing."
He paused, then added with a faint smile:
"You think you've got it bad? Try being me. Next time we meet, you might be attending my funeral."
Hank looked at him, at a loss for words. "…I don't even know what to say."
"Then don't," Frank said lightly. "Not yet. Let's talk about something else. Didn't you say you were brewing your own beer?"
---
Outside, Marie had been pacing the entire time, biting her nails in anxiety.
When the bedroom door finally opened and both men walked out, relief flashed across her face.
Frank gave her a subtle look—don't interrupt.
He and Hank headed to the garage.
They talked for a long time.
Frank even stayed the night.
By the time it was over, Hank looked… better.
Not healed.
But steadier.
Still, Hank's situation was only a brief detour.
Frank's real concern remained Walter.
And this time—
Walter came to him first.
They met again at the same familiar café, sitting across from each other with steaming cups of coffee between them.
Walter spoke first.
"Frank… do you know how I've lived my entire life?"
"I've always been… on edge. I don't even know why. Just this constant feeling that something bad might happen. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't—but the fear was always there."
"For fifty years, I lived like that. I'd wake up at three in the morning, every single day, startled out of my sleep."
He paused, staring into the rising steam.
"But you know what? When I got my cancer diagnosis… I actually felt relieved. I slept better. I stopped waking up in panic."
"Then came Heisenberg… and that's when I realized—fear is the worst thing there is. Fear is the real enemy."
"And now… I've beaten it."
Walter looked up, his voice steady, almost resolute.
"I can't live without Heisenberg. I don't want to go back to being that man again. Do you understand?"
Frank fell silent for a long time before finally speaking.
"…I understand. If that's your choice."
Walter didn't respond. He simply picked up his hat, stood, and walked away.
The coffee in front of him remained untouched, still steaming.
---
Castle quietly took the empty seat, waiting for Frank's next instruction.
Frank let out a long sigh.
"Why is it… things never go the way I want them to?"
Walter's stubborn refusal to hand over the formula meant Frank's entire plan had collapsed.
Without the formula, there was no clean way out.
Instead of escaping, he was being dragged right back in—forced to keep Heisenberg alive.
Why was the Blue Angel so important?
Why did Frank insist on getting it before he could leave?
Because Frank wasn't like Walter or Pinkman.
If he wanted to walk away, it wasn't as simple as taking his share of the money and disappearing like Pinkman once tried.
Frank was the face of Heisenberg.
Every deal, every connection, every distributor—he handled them all. To the outside world, he was Heisenberg.
Those people didn't know Walter.
They barely even noticed Pinkman.
But they all knew Frank.
So if anything went wrong—if the product dried up, if trouble started—he would be the first one they came for.
And in that world, you don't just "quit" with a few words.
No one would believe it.
In their eyes, once you're in, you're in for life.
You can't just say you've left and expect them to accept it.
Who would they contact for supply?
Who would keep the operation running?
The product was making everyone rich. Too many people were tied to it now.
There was no easy exit anymore.
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