Chapter 17 — Walter White
The air carried a faint blend of coffee and disinfectant, the room so quiet that the second hand of the clock could be heard ticking.
Ethan found himself thinking about the plot of American Mary. He couldn't quite tell where Mary stood now.
In his memory, Mary's downfall had begun after being assaulted by her mentor—she dropped out, hardened, changed. But that part of her story seemed erased here. And yet… was she still being pulled toward the same fate somehow?
Just then, the phone rang.
Ethan pulled his thoughts back and picked it up. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
"Hello, Ethan."
A low, hoarse voice came through, punctuated by coughs. "Ethan… this is Walter White. Your high school chemistry teacher. I don't know if you remember."
Ethan froze for a moment, then smiled. "Mr. White? Wow, it's been a long time! Are you still teaching chemistry?"
"I am. Cough, cough…" More dry coughing, rough breathing. "I remember you really liked chemistry back then. Then one day you told me studying chemistry gave people cancer, so you were switching to medicine. How did that turn out?"
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. "You still remember that? I graduated from medical school. I've opened my own clinic now."
"Congratulations!" Walter sounded genuinely pleased. "That's at least two years ahead of most people."
"Like I said, Mr. White," Ethan replied, "medicine suits me better. Fewer explosions. Fewer toxic gases."
They both laughed.
Then Walter paused. His voice lowered.
"Ethan… I have lung cancer. The doctors say it's mid-to-late stage."
The air seemed to freeze.
"They say surgery isn't possible anymore. The best option is chemotherapy. That might give me another year… maybe two."
Ethan's smile faded. A few seconds passed before he spoke. "I'm really sorry to hear that… and I'm sorry about that old joke I made."
"Don't be. It's not your fault," Walter sighed. "Your logic wasn't wrong. Otherwise how does a man who never smoked end up with lung cancer?"
Ethan asked quietly, "Mr. White… what stage?"
"Stage 3A. It's already spread to the lymph nodes."
After a brief silence, Walter continued, "My wife and son are trying to come to terms with it. They suggested I contact you—the brilliant kid from high school who went on to medical school. So… I just wanted to let you know."
Ethan took a slow breath. "Mr. White, if you're willing, I'd like to help. My clinic isn't big, but maybe there's something I can do."
"Thank you, Ethan. I'm in New Mexico right now. The doctors recommend I start chemotherapy as soon as possible, but I… haven't made up my mind."
"I understand," Ethan said gently. "How about this—come to New York. Let me take a look. Maybe there are other options. I promise you won't come for nothing."
There was silence on the line, broken only by breathing.
"…Alright," Walter said at last. "I trust you."
---
A few days later, a fine rain fell over New York.
The lights of Rayne Clinic glowed warmly against the gray, misty sky.
Walter White sat on the examination chair, his expression complicated.
He still wore those familiar metal-framed glasses, but the eyes behind the lenses looked tired… and lost.
"So you're saying," Walter asked skeptically, "no surgery, no chemotherapy—and this can cure my lung cancer?"
"No, Mr. White. I didn't say cure." Ethan shook his head softly. "What I can promise is this treatment won't make you suffer more, and it may ease the progression of the disease. Whether it can completely cure you—I can't guarantee that."
"If you weren't my former student, I'd think you'd joined some kind of cult," Walter muttered.
"I get that," Ethan said with a small smile. "I left the hospital system to explore different medical paths. It's not superstition—it's an extension of what I call energy medicine. It sounds like science fiction, but I can let you see the effects for yourself."
"Energy medicine?" Walter frowned. "Sounds like pseudoscience."
"Science doesn't reject the unknown," Ethan replied patiently. "It only rejects what's claimed as known without proof. I know how unbelievable this sounds. But I suggest you try it once.
"My previous patient had brain cancer. I asked him to do one session, then return to the hospital for re-examination. If there was improvement, he could come back.
"He's already completed his second session."
Walter fell silent, looking up at the warm yellow ceiling light.
"…Alright. Maybe it's time I believed in something outside conventional science," he sighed. "So how exactly does this work?"
"Like I said—no surgery, no chemo. Just lie back." Seeing Walter still hesitate, Ethan added softly, "Mr. White… are you willing to believe in a miracle, just once? I know you don't want chemo—losing your hair, unable to work, stuck in bed being taken care of."
Walter closed his eyes. "Let's begin."
---
Ethan dimmed the lights and switched on the heart monitor. This time, he wanted to observe every physiological response closely.
Rain tapped against the window, making the room feel even quieter.
"Mr. White, relax. Focus on your breathing—in… out…"
Walter gave a faint smile. "Got it."
Ethan put on gloves. One hand rested over Walter's chest, the other behind his neck. A soft glow began to bloom in his palms.
"Power Word: Fortitude."
The air seemed to tremble slightly. The ECG lines steadied.
"Cure Disease."
Blue-violet motes slipped through his fingers like dust, sinking into the skin. The ECG showed irregular spikes; heart rate climbed.
"Heal."
Walter's breathing deepened. The tightness in his chest slowly eased; his heartbeat grew stronger.
"Renew."
A warm light, like early spring sunlight, settled over him. His heart rate began to lower.
"Holy Word: Redemption."
Golden ripples spread through the air, bathing the room in soft amber. Walter's chest rose sharply; a flicker of pain crossed his face.
When the last of the light faded, sweat slid down Ethan's temples. His face had gone pale.
The glow dissipated. He released his hands and sank to the floor, momentarily drained.
The monitor continued its steady beep… beep…
Walter opened his eyes and instinctively took a deep breath.
There was no tearing pain in his chest.
It felt like surfacing from deep water—like breathing was alive again.
The stabbing sensation was gone, soothed by a gentle warmth.
The heavy stone in his chest felt lifted.
No cough. Only a strange, light clarity.
Walter raised a hand and pressed it lightly to his chest, feeling the openness there.
"…It's like someone opened a window."
Leaning against the wall, still catching his breath, Ethan gave a tired but relieved smile.
"That means it worked."