Chapter 365: Home
Before leaving, Frank made one more trip—to the rehab center to see Pinkman.
Maybe it was because he had successfully quit before. Maybe it was because the girl had taken the money and disappeared. Or maybe, deep down, Pinkman never really liked using drugs in the first place—he had only relapsed because of her.
Whatever the reason, his recovery was fast.
In just a few days, he already looked much better. The agonizing withdrawal symptoms—the kind that made him lose all sense of himself—were gone.
With a bit more time to recover physically, he could leave the center. As long as he stayed clean, he could return to being a normal person.
"You should take this time to think about what you want next," Frank said.
Pinkman hesitated for a while before speaking. "Can… can I come back?"
"You don't have to force yourself," Frank replied, as if seeing straight through him. "If you want a fresh start—your own life—that's fine too. You don't owe anyone anything. You've never owed me."
"…" Pinkman fell silent.
"I want to find Jane," he said at last, a trace of resolve in his eyes. "I need to ask her why. But I don't know where she is. I need money—to find her. So… I want back in. I want to return to Heisenberg."
Frank looked at him, slightly surprised.
There's a saying—if you want a man to grow up, it only takes a single moment. A single night. Or a single person.
Pinkman used to be timid, indecisive, easily influenced. He drifted with the current, never really standing on his own—like someone who could never quite rise to the occasion.
Frank had taken him under his wing, brought him through dangerous deals, exposed him to power and money…
Yet his growth had always been limited.
But now—something had changed.
He felt different.
Like a boy who had finally become a man.
Sometimes, nothing pushes a man to mature faster than love… or losing it.
"Heisenberg's no longer under me," Frank said. "When you're ready, go talk to Walter."
They spoke for a while longer. Then Frank stood up.
"I'm heading out. Take care of yourself."
As Frank left, supported by Castle, Pinkman watched his back, his eyes growing moist.
He knew how serious Frank's condition was.
The fact that Frank had come all the way here, in that state… was entirely for him.
"Thank you… Dad," Pinkman murmured softly.
Frank and Castle boarded a plane and returned to Chicago.
The moment he got home, Frank was met with a storm of complaints from his kids.
They were furious about his sudden disappearance.
All he could do was calm them down as best he could.
In truth, they held back.
Seeing his condition—his gaunt face, his frail body—so many words died in their throats.
That night, Debbie and Carl insisted on sleeping beside him, clutching his hands tightly even in their sleep.
The next day, Frank had Castle continue watching Jimmy, while he went with Sammi to the Alibi bar.
"Frank! Long time no see!" the regulars greeted him the moment he walked in.
Ever since he invested in the bar, he rarely showed up. He'd been too busy with Heisenberg—running between New Mexico, Chicago, even New York at times.
And after being diagnosed with late-stage cirrhosis from drinking, he'd avoided places like this altogether.
"Good to see everyone," Frank said with a grin. "Next round's on me!"
"Cheers to Frank!" "To Frank!!"
The bar erupted in cheers, glasses raised high.
Behind the counter, Kevin poured him a glass of water.
"I'm not giving you alcohol," he said. "Fiona would tear me apart."
"I'm not here to drink anyway," Frank replied. "Before I left, I asked you to keep an eye on Jimmy. How's he been? Without Castle watching him, did he go back to stealing cars?"
"No," Kevin shook his head. "He's been behaving. Just working at the coffee shop."
"Good," Frank nodded.
After chatting with Kevin for a while, Kevin went back to tending the bar.
Frank remained seated, watching him with a thoughtful, almost scrutinizing gaze.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" Kevin asked when he returned, clearly unsettled.
"Nothing," Frank said, shaking his head.
"Dad, it's time for your medication." Sammi's phone alarm rang, and she took out his pills from her bag.
As Frank swallowed the medicine, his eyes lingered on Sammi for a moment—then he shook his head again, saying nothing.
A few days later, as Jimmy was about to head out for work, Frank suddenly stopped him.
"Take the day off. I need to talk to you."
"Huh? About what?" Jimmy looked confused.
Frank didn't answer right away. He waited until all the kids had left before speaking.
"You said you were going back to Michigan to continue your studies. What's the situation now?"
"I've already checked with them," Jimmy replied. "I can pick up where I left off anytime. If Fiona doesn't come with me, I'll just rent a small apartment."
"…Will you actually study?" Frank asked.
"Of course. I've fallen behind, sure, but I'll graduate," Jimmy said confidently.
Frank looked at him, his tone calm but sharp.
"You're not just using school as an excuse to leave Chicago, are you? Go back to Michigan, lie low, avoid me… then keep doing your little stealing business. And when I'm dead, you come back for Fiona."
It sounded like a question—but it wasn't.
Jimmy's expression stiffened slightly.
The part about returning to school was probably true. That kind of thing was easy to verify—lying about it would be pointless.
But whether he'd actually study after going back… that was another matter.
With Jimmy, truth and lies were always mixed.
And the reality was obvious.
He wanted to leave because Frank had forced his hand.
With Castle watching him, he couldn't steal cars anymore. Working at a coffee shop was exhausting, humiliating, and barely paid.
Of course he'd rather go back to school—hide for a while.
Wait things out.
Wait for Frank to die.
After all… it wouldn't take long.
Frank's condition was deteriorating fast. Especially after the trip to New Mexico—the travel, the stress—it had all taken a toll.
How much longer could he last?
A few weeks?
At most, a few months.
Looking at him now… if someone said he might not make it past tomorrow, no one would argue it.
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