Chapter 349: Go Back to School
didn't
Walter ask what had happened.
He didn't need to.
After all, he was the one who had made it happen.
What he hadn't expected was how deeply Jane's disappearance—and the vanished money—would devastate Pinkman.
If Walter had come a few days later, he might have found a corpse instead.
---
Walter took Pinkman out, forced him to eat something, and made sure he drank water. After some food and rest, Pinkman regained a little strength and told him everything.
The money was gone.
Jane was gone.
No signs of a break-in.
No forced entry.
No struggle.
Given all that, there was only one possible conclusion—
She had taken the money and left him.
"I told you from the beginning," Walter said quietly. "That girl was using you. Don't worry. We'll find her. We'll get your money back."
Pinkman shook his head.
"The money doesn't matter…" he said hollowly. "If I find her, I only want to ask one thing."
"Why did she abandon me?"
Just the night before, they had agreed—they would leave together the next morning.
They had planned a future.
And now—
Nothing.
---
Looking at Pinkman's broken expression, Walter didn't immediately bring up returning to business.
Pinkman needed time to process being abandoned.
There was no rush.
Jane was gone.
The money was gone.
Pinkman was alone.
And when someone loses everything—
They become much easier to guide.
Pinkman had no way to leave anymore.
He didn't even have money for a bus ticket—forget a plane ticket. In fact, he barely had enough to eat. All he had on him was a dozen or so dollars in his pocket.
Walter drove him home and left him some cash, hoping he would recover soon.
In Walter's mind, it was simple—give it some time, and Pinkman would accept reality. Life goes on. The earth keeps spinning, no matter who disappears.
But some people are deeply emotional. When something breaks inside them, they don't bounce back so easily.
And Jane's impact was far greater than Walter had anticipated.
Walter checked on Pinkman several times. There was no improvement. If anything, he was worse—using again, drinking heavily, getting high and drunk at the same time. He looked completely ruined.
It wasn't just depression.
It was the look of someone who didn't want to live.
"Pinkman! You can't go on like this!" Walter tried again and again to snap him out of it—but nothing worked.
Shouting didn't work.
Reasoning didn't work.
Even hitting him or trying gentle persuasion made no difference.
No one can wake someone who is pretending to sleep.
And no one can save someone determined to self-destruct.
Walter needed a partner—not dead weight.
Worse, he couldn't ask anyone for help. No one knew about his connection to Pinkman—except Frank. To outsiders, Pinkman was just a stranger.
After hesitating for a long while, Walter finally took out his phone and scrolled to a familiar number.
---
Meanwhile, in Chicago, at Frank's house—
"What are you scheming now?" Frank asked, looking at Jimmy, who had just come home from work unusually excited.
Fiona sat on the steps with a cup of coffee, equally puzzled.
"Remember I told you I ran into an old classmate a couple days ago?" Jimmy said.
"We remember," Frank replied dryly. "He graduated, finished his residency, and is now a respected doctor. Meanwhile, you're making coffee."
"I can do that too!" Jimmy shot back.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Become a doctor! I talked to him. Yeah, he's busy—but the income is incredible. I can do it. Back in school, he wasn't even good enough to carry my shoes."
Frank snorted. "So what exactly are you saying?"
"I'm going back to medical school. I left before finishing. I already completed two years—only one year left. If I finish the remaining courses, I get my degree."
"Yeah, it's hard and boring. But one more year—and then the doors open. Six-figure salary."
Frank studied him.
"I told you this half a year ago. Go back and finish your degree."
Back then, Jimmy had been living carefree—stealing cars, making easy money, earning far more than an entry-level doctor. He had zero interest in grinding through classes.
Now, after a few brutal lessons from life, he was finally seeing the value.
"But how are you paying for it?" Frank asked. "Medical school isn't cheap. You told us you stopped taking money from your parents at eighteen. Right now, you're living off coffee shop wages."
"And don't look at us for a loan," Frank added, shooting Fiona a warning glance before she could speak.
"It's fine. I can take out loans. If I have to, I'll owe money. I'll figure it out," Jimmy said.
"You were studying in Michigan, right?" Frank asked.
Jimmy nodded.
"Can't you transfer here? University of Chicago? Northwestern?" Fiona asked quickly.
Michigan wasn't exactly next door. If Jimmy went back, they'd be long-distance.
Last time they tried that, it ended in disaster.
At first she could reach him. Then slowly, the calls stopped. Six months later he reappeared—with a wife. A stunning Brazilian wife.
She had every reason to worry.
"I asked admissions," Jimmy said carefully. "If I transfer, I lose most of my credits. I'd have to start over. Several more years."
"So this is the only way?" Fiona asked quietly.
"Probably," Jimmy admitted. "Honestly, I'm lucky they're even letting me return."
Fiona lowered her eyes and took a sip of coffee.
Jimmy quickly added, "You could come with me."
She blinked. "To Michigan?"
"Yeah. It's not that far. Four hours by train."
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