Something to keep in mind here is that BCS has always had ten episodes a season. Each episode number had its own corresponding intro, ten in total that degraded over the course of the show. The natural arc of this is that the tenth episode of the final season should logically be the final episode. And if you saw Nippy and were told that it was the series finale, you'd probably believe it. Regardless of what you think of the quality of the episode, the last plot threads were pretty solidly wrapped up in this one. The resolution to the Jeff plotline was several seasons in the making, and we see Gene dip back into the Slippin' Jimmy/Saul lifestyle to get himself out of one last jam. When confronting the Jimmy/Saul outfit in the store, he hangs it back up on the rack. That part of his life changed him to an unbelievable degree, but he got past it. It's over now. He's at peace.

So after all that, a happy ending? No. There's an eleventh episode.

Gene doesn't know the rules of his own show. He can't recognize the natural conclusion. He keeps playing the tape, even though there's no more tape to play. We're out of intros. We just get a corrupted VHS mess as he drags this out a bit longer and dips back in.

In the same way, we're sort of in Gene's shoes. We know there's three episodes left. And we have other questions. Probably at the forefront of our minds is: Where are Walt and Jesse? We were told they'd be here. Now, to be clear, the show works without them. There's no explicit reason to dive back into that storyline. There's a whole other show for that. But we'd like to see them all the same. We're curious, itching to go back to that time of our lives. Just like Gene. And that's what we get. The instant the show moves past its obvious conclusion, we get "Breaking Bad" and a flashback to a scene with Walt and Jesse that we've already seen. We're getting exactly what we want.

Gene plays a slightly different, but related game. He goes and makes the phone call that attentive viewers have been waiting for since season 4. We want answers, and so does he. But Francesca doesn't have anything to give him. Because really, there's no reason for him to be calling. He can't go back to Albuquerque. And there's no one there that he cares about. He's initially punished by learning that his money is gone, which he could have lived the rest of his life without knowing had he just let the story end. But now it's in his head. And the phone call's almost over. And he doesn't want it to be over. So he starts reaching, asking questions about arbitrary side characters and dropping a few names that that plenty of us don't even remember. Francesca even looks confused as to why he's asking, and she doesn't really have the answers because she hasn't thought about it. While we were watching, my friend described this scene as "the fans calling Vince to ask him about fan theories," and we laughed at the time, but the more we thought about it, the more we realized that's pretty much what it was. Gene's just trying to wrap up loose ends that never needed to be wrapped up, even spinning a "Bill Oakley is gay" fan theory that doesn't pan out. The show is over. There are no more loose ends.

Well, that's not quite true. There's one. Interestingly, Gene forgets to ask about it, implying he's forgotten about it and has moved on. But Pandora's Box is open now. And Francesca, almost out of pity for not being able to give Gene anything, lets him know the one thing that's left: that Kim called. Gene probably could have gone the rest of his life without tugging on the Kim thread, and he almost does. But he goes back, because, as the Breaking Bad flashbacks and his return to con artistry and his return to the house and the existence of the episode itself show, he can't quite leave well enough alone. And he calls Kim, which inevitably goes poorly. And the sunk costs of all the work he's done wash over him in one big wave, and he spirals back into something that's almost guaranteed to go poorly as well.

There was no reason for him to make that call except to be reminded that he'd lost his money, his legacy, and, most likely, his wife, forever. If he'd just gone about his life having moved on from those things and leaving the Kim plotline uncertain, he'd probably have been fine. But like Chuck said, our precious Jimmy just can't keep his hands out of the cash drawer. Maybe that's not always who he always was, and maybe that's not who he was destined to be. But it's who he is now, and he refuses to accept that there's nothing left from his old life, even when all signs point to that being the case. And when confronted with harsh, inescapable reality, he slips.

Both Gene and the audience want to squeeze out a little bit more. We want to bring color back into this black and white world, stretch the show out with a small dose of nostalgia for the good times. Running cons, watching Breaking Bad. It's fun. And it's not useless. We'll get a little money, a little dopamine boost, even some extra character development and depth to the Breaking Bad universe. But those things were always hiding darker secrets, and bringing them back comes at a cost.