The air carried faint scents of coffee and disinfectant, so quiet the ticking of the second-hand could be heard.
Ethan replayed the plot of American Mary in his mind; he couldn't quite tell what state Mary was in now.
In the original story Mary dropped out and turned dark after her mentor raped her; that part had been erased, yet she still couldn't escape fate?
Just then the phone rang. Ethan pulled himself from his thoughts and picked up; an unknown number flashed on the screen.
"Hello? Ethan Rayne."
A low, hoarse voice came through, broken by a cough: "Ethan, it's Walter White—your high-school chemistry teacher… not sure if you remember."
Ethan froze for a second, then laughed: "Teacher White? My God, it's been ages! Still teaching chemistry?"
"Still am. Ahem…" Another cough, dry and wheezy. "I remember you loved chemistry, but you told me it causes cancer and switched to medicine. How's that going?"
Ethan chuckled and shook his head: "Haha, you remember. I've graduated from med school and opened my own Clinic."
"Congratulations!" Walter White sounded delighted. "You're at least two years ahead of everyone else."
"Just like I said, Teacher White." Ethan replied, "Medicine suits me—no explosions, no toxic gas."
They both laughed.
"Ethan," Walter's voice dropped, "I have lung cancer—mid- to late-stage, the Doctors say."
The air froze.
Walter went on: "They say surgery's no longer an option; chemo is the best bet, maybe buy me another year or two."
Ethan's smile stuck; after a few seconds he managed, "I'm so sorry… and I apologize for that joke I made back then."
"Don't say that. It's not your fault." Walter sighed. "You were right—how else does a non-smoker get lung cancer?"
Ethan asked, "Teacher White, what stage are you at now?"
"Stage 3A—spread to the lymph nodes."
A brief silence, then Walter added, "My wife and son are trying to accept it. They wanted me to call you—the kid who was a genius in high school and went to med school. So… I just thought I'd let you know."
Ethan drew a long breath: "Teacher White, if you're willing, I'd like to help. My Clinic's small, but maybe I can do something."
"Thank you, Ethan. I'm in New Mexico right now. The Doctors want me to start chemo as soon as possible, but… I haven't decided."
"I understand." Ethan said softly. "Come to New York. Let me take a look—there might be other options. I promise I'll make it worth your while."
Silence on the line, nothing but breathing.
"…All right." Walter finally spoke. "I trust you."
A few days later, light rain fell over New York.
The lights of Raine Clinic glowed warmly through the gray haze.
Walter White sat on the exam chair, expression complicated.
The same familiar metal-framed glasses; behind the lenses his eyes looked exhausted, lost.
"So you're saying—no surgery, no chemo—and you can cure my lung cancer?" Walter White asked skeptically.
"No, Teacher White, I didn't say cure." Ethan shook his head gently. "I can promise this therapy won't make you suffer more and might ease the disease. Whether it can cure, I can't guarantee."
"If you weren't my student I'd swear you'd joined some cult." Walter White said.
"I get it." Ethan smiled. "I left the hospital to explore a different path. It's not superstition—an extension of 'energy medicine.' Sounds like sci-fi, but I can let you see the results with your own eyes."
"Energy medicine?" Walter frowned. "Sounds like pseudoscience."
"Science doesn't reject the unknown, only the unverified." Ethan explained patiently. "I know how hard this is to believe, but I suggest you try once.
The last Patient had brain cancer; I asked him to receive one treatment, then go back for a scan. If it improved, he could return.
Now he's already had his second session."
Walter was silent for a moment, then looked up at the warm ceiling light.
"Fine, maybe it's time I trusted something outside science." He sighed. "So how exactly does it work?"
"As I said—no scalpel, no chemo—just lie on the table." Seeing his teacher hesitate, Ethan added, "Teacher White, are you willing to believe in a miracle for once? I'm sure you don't want chemo, hair loss, being unable to work, lying in bed while others take care of you."
Walter closed his eyes. "Let's begin."
Ethan dimmed the lights and switched on the ECG monitor. This time he wanted to watch every nuance of how each skill affected the Patient.
Outside, raindrops slid down the glass; inside, the room felt even quieter under their tapping.
"Teacher White, relax. Focus on your breathing—in… out."
Walter gave a soft laugh: "Got it."
Ethan gloved up, one hand on Walter's chest, the other behind his neck. A gentle light began to glow in his palms.
"Power Word: Fortitude." The air seemed to shiver; the ECG trace steadied.
"Ailment Dispel." Blue-violet motes slipped from Ethan's fingers, sinking into the skin like dust. The heart rhythm jumped, rate climbing.
"Heal." Breathing deepened, the tightness in the chest loosening, each beat stronger.
"Healing Spell." A warm light, like early-spring sun, settled over Walter; the heart rate began to slow.
"Holy Word: Atonement." Golden ripples spread through the room, bathing everything in soft amber. Walter winced, chest heaving.
When the last skill left his hands, sweat rolled down Ethan's temples; his face turned pale.
The glow faded; he let go and slumped to the floor.
The monitor kept beeping—beep… beep…
Walter opened his eyes and instinctively drew a deep breath—no tearing pain in his chest.
He felt like he'd surfaced from deep water, breathing as if for the first time.
The stabbing ache was soothed by warm power;
the heavy stone on his chest gently lifted;
no cough, only crisp lightness.
Walter pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the clear, open space inside.
"Feels like… someone opened a window."
Slumped against the wall, Ethan panted, a tired but satisfied smile on his face: "That means it worked."