They're calling these events the Pattern...
as if someone's experimenting, only the whole world is a lab.
Anybody you need you can have.
His name's Walter Bishop. - My father.
He worked out of Harvard. He was part...
of a classified U.S. Army experimental program. In an area called fringe science.
You're telling me my father was Dr. Frankenstein.
So much happened here. So much is about to.
Captain Loeb, what's your 20?
We're in tow, 200 meters out.
- What's your ETA? - We're in position. Standing by.
No activity, captain. Roger. Hold position. Charlie.
In position. Standing by.
Delta. Standing by, captain. In position.
Roger.
Cutting engines. At south bank now.
Go, go, go.
South bank quiet. Bravo, status? All quiet, sir.
Wait, I think I hear something.
We have tango in sight.
All teams move out. Go, go, go.
Stop the truck. Stay where you are.
Out. Out. Get out. Hands where I can see them.
Panda bears? I assume you checked inside them.
They knew we were coming. Somewhere they made a switch.
Joseph Smith. Began working for the shipping company...
a week before the container was packed. He had access.
He's also got a science background. Customs has him...
back and forth from Budapest eight times in the past 12 months.
- Are the local agents on the operation? - Coscarelli and Scrimm. Page 47.
Weight of the container after pickup was 1306 pounds.
The weight when it arrived in Germany before shipping, 1299.
That's 7 pounds. What the hell weighs 7 pounds?
Mitchell?
- Let's get a medic in here. Is he okay?
What'd you give him?
One epi. Cardiac arrest. I've never seen this.
Pupils fixed one minute, dilating the next.
How's the rhythm now? Asystole.
Charge the paddles, we'll start at 200.
- Phillip, what's happening? - We don't know.
Is he gonna be okay? Is it a heart attack?
The only thing for us to do is wait.
Clear.
- All right, again. Go to 300. - V-fib.
Clear.
We gotta open him up, pump the heart manually. Prep him.
Scalpel.
Saw.
Retractor.
- We've got something. - His heart's beating.
What is that?
I don't know.
It happened in my office two hours ago.
It wasn't a heart attack. At least not in the traditional sense.
They cordoned off the area.
But ID's been here already, said the thing isn't communicable.
- The "thing"? - We'll get to that.
- Do you have any gum? - No, Walter.
- Mints? - No, later.
Agent Loeb returned from an operation last week in Frankfurt.
- Do you know him at all? - No.
He collapsed. Thought it was a seizure at first except he appeared lucid, in pain.
Didn't seem like a heart attack either.
None of us knew what it was. And none of us know now either.
- How are his vital signs? - Weakening.
Dr. Bishop.
What you're about to see...
I don't know if you've seen anything like it before.
But I'm hoping you have. I'm hoping you can help.
The man lying in that room is not just a colleague.
- He's a friend. - I see.
Do you have any mints?
This is spectacular. Spectacular.
I'm sure he'd be just thrilled to hear your diagnosis.
Do you know what that is? Your work, old experiments.
- Does that look... ? Familiar? No.
It couldn't be more aberrational.
I'm simply admiring the design.
It's at least partially organic.
Most likely a hybrid result of genetic manipulation.
Symmetrical. Its central body mass... If indeed it is an organism at all.
is designed, it seems, to envelop the entire human heart.
Look, look. A series of tendrils. A root system. Don't you see it?
- How beautiful this is. - Not so much, no.
Can you help? Do you think you can remove it?
Oh, I'd be willing to try. But not here. My breath is atrocious.
I was deconstructing in my head...
the approach to designing something like this.
Two things occurred to me on the journey from the hospital.
One, we could be dealing with something as simple as, uh, Giardia duodenalis.
- As simple as that, really? - Single-celled parasite...
lives in intestines of animals. Common waterborne illness.
Could we attach Mr... ?
- Loeb. - Loeb to the vitals machine, please.
So you're saying that that thing in his chest...
Is a parasite? Yes. Yes, perhaps.
But with an exceptional means of attachment.
Typically parasites use whole-body insertion.
This creature is unlike anything I've seen before.
So we won't be able to truly examine it until it's removed.
- Loeb's recent case files, as requested. - Oh, thanks, Astrid.
And his wife just arrived. She asked to speak with you.
- I'm gonna talk to her in the office. - Okay, he's wired.
- What was the other thing? - Pardon?
You said that two things occurred to you. What's the other one?
Oh, oh.
I would still really like some gum or some mints.
Thank you, Peter.
Mrs. Loeb.
Olivia Dunham. I'm with Homeland Security.
Samantha. I'm hoping you can help me. No one will tell me anything.
Why was he transferred here? Can you at least tell me that?
I can tell you that there's a doctor here...
who is uniquely qualified...
to save your husband's life.
This was in his bag.
Among the things he brought back from Frankfurt.
- I don't know if it'll help at all. - It might.
We'll check it out. Thank you.
Can I see Mitchell, please?
As soon as possible. I promise you that.
Uh-oh.
What's happening? - It's killing him.
Squeezing his heart. It's killing him.
What are you doing? - I'm gonna give him Cyclobenzaprine.
If the parasite is constricting, this might loosen its grip.
It's a gamble, but I like the theory. Look at this.
Oh, this is good.
Organism's tissue.
- Where the hell are you going? - DNA analysis should tell us much.
Excellent work, son. You may have found your true calling at last.
- Working with me. - I certainly hope not.
Please tell me you guys have some good news.
I don't know if it's good news, but it's something.
This is fascinating.
- What? - We can assume that this, uh, growth...
- ... this parasite is of human design, yes? - Okay.
I was looking for repetition. The signature of the creator.
A sign, a footprint that he or she had been there before us.
- I don't understand. - Well, you're the same...
as the rest of humanity. What he's trying to say is we found this.
Ah. See, that.
This pattern repeats throughout the DNA sequence.
It appears again and again.
But it's too organized to be accidental, too perfect to be natural.
So you're saying that someone put in this line of DNA on purpose.
- Why? - Mischief, arrogance. We don't know.
Your friend thinks it might be a code.
The other one.
I studied cryptology even before I joined the bureau.
I was obsessed as a kid.
Now, I keep assuming it can't be this, that it's too simple...
to be plain text, but I think it may just be the Caesar Shift.
- What's that? - It's a simple monoalphabetic cipher.
Is it, now?
It's what Julius Caesar used, apparently, to send letters to his friends.
You take one letter and replace it with another, but in alphabetical order.
There's a sequence of three letters that appears repeatedly...
in the parasite's DNA. It could be CIW or DJX...
- ... or EKY. - Or ZFT.
Yeah, ZFT fits, what is that?
I've been reviewing John Scott's cases...
checking to see if any of them were mishandled...
or seeing if any of the cases were left unsolved.
- And? - And one of them that I remember...
was an operation tracking a group working out of Budapest.
The name on the file, what was written was ZFT.
That means something to you? What?
A month ago, a man, a British national named David Robert Jones...
was arrested in Frankfurt, Germany, by Interpol in possession of state secrets.
His background is indeed biotechnology, notably genetic weaponry.
A senior fellow at the Bremming Institute for 12 years, then went off the grid.
He'd show up now and then, often in Eastern Europe.
- So you think he's ZFT. - I don't know. But Loeb did.
It was one of the reasons he was in Frankfurt. Investigating Jones.
- Meaning that thing... - May be retribution.
So ZFT, what is it? Who are they?
There is much you have not been made aware of regarding the Pattern.
Well, I'm here, I have time.
Are you available?
What we've learned so far is the following.
There are cells. We don't know how many. Privately funded...
with presence in 83 recorded countries. ZFT is among them.
- Terrorists. - Not in a conventional sense.
They traffic not in drugs or weapons, but in scientific progress.
- Meaning what? - Meaning what happened on Flight 627...
or what happened to Agent Loeb...
these may have been simply proof...
that a scientific theory, an experiment, worked.
So that thing we found in Loeb could be one of those experiments.
Do you think Jones will tell us how to remove it?
He might. If we were allowed to see him.
German authorities refused us access.
- What? - They're not giving the U.S. access.
- And he's being kept in Frankfurt. - Yeah.
- I may be able to get in. - You got superpowers...
- ... you aren't telling me about? - Maybe.
- You're not really going to Germany. - Yeah, I'm really going.
Let me save you the trip. You're not getting in.
We don't know each other well enough for you to say something like that to me.
And I don't see any other option here. Do you, sir?
Loeb's your friend.
And I promised his wife.
- What's wrong? - This may be...
something of an understatement, but he is not doing well.
Dehydrated.
Walter, come here.
What is that?
That's the root.
- Coming up from his arm. - Into the IV, yes.
This parasite is spreading faster than I thought.
- How long do you think he's got? - A day, maybe.
- Hey. - Hi.
So the good news is I think we have a lead.
Bad news is I have to go to Germany to see him.
I don't think that's the bad. He's dying. I don't think we're gonna make it.
We're gonna make it. I'll call you when I land.
- Look at you. - Well, don't let the suit throw you.
Wow, Lucas, I never thought I'd see the day.
It's more comfortable than the military uniform.
- Hi. - Hi. Sorry.
- I'm not sure I can help you. - You have contacts at the prison.
I'm in the Bundestag, I have contacts everywhere.
You jumped on a plane so fast I didn't have time to check anything out.
- Well, what did you find? - I know the warden.
He wouldn't agree to anything. He didn't want me to show up.
So, what do we do?
We show up.
Tenacious as always. What can I do for you, Lucas?
- Olivia Dunham, this is Johan Lennox. - Thank you for seeing us.
- You want time with a prisoner? - David Robert Jones.
- This will be a problem. - I'm sure we can work something out.
I'm sorry.
Your friend wants to be persuasive.
Mr. Lennox, you have reasons why you won't allow access...
to your prisoners. But this is very important to me.
I would be willing to sign anything.
I like her.
You have good taste.
Even if I were to give the okay...
Mr. Jones talks to no one.
Well, I have reason to believe he will talk to me.
If I write him a message, will you give it to him?
I don't expect miracles.
I don't know if I expect anything.
But I am grateful for whatever you can do in this case.
- Sorry? - I was just saying...
- ... I'm grateful for your work. - You're most welcome.
You know, I had a fruit cocktail once in Atlantic City.
Mind you, I'm not the fruit-cocktail sort of guy.
Excuse me.
We need to discuss your father.
- Is it the fruit-cocktail thing? - Mm-hm.
Yeah, he's been doing that recently.
He's obsessed about certain foods. It's weird.
- We need him to focus. - To focus? Mr. Broyles...
two-thirds of the time my father's not even lucid. And in those rare...
unpredictable moments of clarity, he rambles about food he missed...
while incarcerated in a mental institution for two decades.
To say that he's not focused is to say that he's a biped.
Which is to say, you're absolutely right, he's not focused.
And also, it's not going to change any time too soon.
I'm his son, not a puppeteer. Don't have a remote control.
No master switch I can flick and turn him into the man I wish raised me...
or even somebody I don't have to babysit every day.
I've had that on my mind for a while.
Apparently.
- Broyles. - It's Charlie Francis.
I understand I'm not at clearance level, but I have something for you.
- What is it? - A local connection to the ZFT.
- Speak to me. - We analyzed the document...
Loeb brought back from Frankfurt.
We figured out each line corresponds to an FBI case file.
And an ID number for the agent or agents assigned to it...
every one of them originating from this field office.
Another mole in this office?
You think what? John Scott, he was working with ZFT?
Maybe, maybe not.
Whoever did this needed upper-level security clearance.
Access to the FBI mainframe.
- You said local connection. - Yeah.
One of the lines is a phone number registered to a Joseph Smith.
- And we have him tied... - Yeah, I know Joseph Smith.
Loeb was briefing me on him when he collapsed.
- You got an address? - Hold on.
- 4331 Broad Street, Saugus. - 4331 Broad Street. I'll call you back.
This is Broyles. I want a SWAT team surrounding Joseph Smith.
He's at 4331 Broad Street in Saugus.
And I want this radio-silent.
It's good to see you again. Despite the strange circumstance.
You don't have to wait with me.
As you keep telling me.
I want to.
I like it here.
Thank you.
I'm surprised. He'll see you. But not until tomorrow morning.
This is not Jones' rule. Or mine. This is the institution's.
Long before I got here, there have been strict regulations regarding visitors.
Tomorrow morning, you'll have 14 minutes, not a second more.
Mr. Jones wanted you to have this.
- Hello? - Peter, it's me.
- I'm looking for Broyles. Is he there? - No, he's on some raid.
Jones has agreed to meet me tomorrow.
But only on the condition that he first talks to a colleague.
So we're looking for a guy local to Boston. He's in Saugus.
- He's in what? - His name's Joseph Smith.
At 4331 Broad Street.
- How'd you know that? - That's who Broyles is after right now.
- What? How? - I don't know.
Peter, we need him alive.
- Hey. - Are you there?
No. I'm on my way. You get in touch with Broyles yet?
No, they're still radio-silent. I'm gonna call HQ. I'll call you back.
I know they're radio-silent, but get someone down there now.
You need to get the message to them they need to keep Joseph Smith alive.
Goddamn it.
- Hey. - You must stay back.
- I need to talk to Broyles. - This is a police action.
You're not authorized to get any closer to the house.
- Are you close? - I'm here, but I can't get to the house.
They're already inside.
On the roof, on the roof. Freeze, FBI.
- Oh, no. - What? Peter.
- Oh, God. Freeze, FBI.
- Oh, no, no. Stop or we'll shoot.
Oh, no, no. Drop your weapon.
No, no, no!
Peter?
Peter.
Have Evidence Response catalog and box...
every item down to the toilet paper.
Bishop, what are you doing here?
I just got off the phone with Olivia. She's headed back to the airport.
It turns out Mr. Jones would only help us if he could talk to Mr. Smith.
The same Mr. Smith that your people just killed.
- You're kidding me. - The first serious thing I've said all day.
- Hello. - Peter. Hey, it's Astrid.
Your father wanted to inform you there's fluid accumulating in Loeb's lungs.
- Tell him we need help quickly. - He says we need help quickly.
Insert this into his IV. Let me talk to him.
Hello. Peter, this is me, your father. Walter Bishop.
- Thank you, Walter, I know who you are. - Excellent.
We need to talk to that man Smith right away.
He may be our best chance to save Agent Loeb's life.
I know that, but he's dead. He was shot. We're out of luck.
Does he still have his head? Is it still attached to his body?
Only you would ask that question seriously. Yes, he has a head.
Splendid. Then perhaps in this case death is simply an inconvenience.
Bring him in. And hurry. Agent Loeb's tissue is already deteriorating...
which makes it exponentially messier.
What?
- So close. - You never did lose well.
What happened, Olivia?
There is something that has shifted in you.
- Something's happened. - Well, a lot's happened.
You know, it's been a strange time.
I wasn't going to say these words. But here we are, so I'm gonna say them.
I've become, and I'm not kidding, a spectacular cook.
Spend the night.
- I can't, Lucas. - Of course you can.
Of course you can.
- Dunham. - Does Jones know about Smith?
- What? - Does David Jones know...
- ... that Joseph Smith is dead? - No, why?
If you can still get in to see him tomorrow, he may not have to.
Oh, good. Bring him down here, son, quickly.
- Get me ice. You asked.
The halo head brace. It's over there.
Good. - We got it from here.
- Did I ask... ? - To put salt water in the trough? Yes.
Ninety kilograms. Not a drop more.
- He's been shot in the head. - Is that a problem?
Yes, that's a problem. Of course it's a problem.
A bullet in the head would normally indicate significant brain trauma.
It'd also indicate he's dead. You didn't have a problem with that.
This isn't like removing tonsils.
I never had a conversation with a dead guy.
- Forgive me if I don't know the rules. - Is this going to work or not?
I'll need to alter the procedure. And I'm not making any promises.
- Eighty-six degrees, Dr. Bishop. - Good. Almost there.
Let me know when it's exactly 84.5 blue.
The human brain is like a computer. Green.
It just needs electricity to function...
which the body ceases to produce upon death.
Which is why we're keeping his body cold.
To retard degeneration.
It's astonishing how this man's scalp resembles...
Peter's bare bottom when he was a baby.
- How did you know that? - You told us that already. Twice.
Oh.
- What did I say next? - That we're gonna kick-start his brain.
Ah, yes. Excellent.
Conductive gel to prevent the electrical current from setting him on fire.
Spread it evenly and don't forget his nipples.
Oh, Peter.
In '75, the FBI asked me to use this procedure.
Someone had been murdered.
I don't... I don't recall his name.
James, I believe. Or Jimmy. They wanted to identify his assassin.
Union leader, I think.
- Jimmy Hoffa? - Yes.
Yeah. The trouble was he had a shockingly low electro-sensitivity.
When I turned on the machine, it instantly fried his brain like an egg.
Everyone has a unique tolerance to electrical stimulation.
Mine, for instance, is remarkably high. Yours, Peter, unusually low.
As for our friend here, we don't know.
Too little current and it won't work, too much and we will overcook his brain.
- So I will have to... - You used to do this to me.
You'd attach wires to car batteries and then you would shock me.
- Yes, I was accumulating data. - No, you were experimenting on me.
Son, we're ready.
First we must test if this will register any brain activity.
And this will indicate if he's transmitting any thoughts to you.
Since he's dead, Peter, you'll obviously have to be his ears and mouth.
Eventually we'll connect this to your head.
Okay, dear, we're ready. Turn it on.
Try 200 microvolts.
Oh, look, Peter, he's talking to you.
Whoa!
I suppose it's a good thing it wasn't attached to your head.
Ha-ha. I don't believe you.
I'm not kidding, looked into it.
- You have not. - I have.
- So... - Mm?
who was he?
Whoever it was who broke your heart. Or am I misreading you?
He was my partner from the bureau.
And you of all people should know I've always been a little inept at this.
But he was straightforward, decisive...
charming. And it was wonderful.
Except it was all a lie.
And he betrayed me. Betrayed the job.
Then he died.
That's the end.
That's the end for him.
I've known this for years.
I screwed up with you.
- The timing wasn't right for either of us. - Yes, it was. I know it was.
But I was scared. And that's the God's honest truth.
I think about you so often.
And I don't call.
Because... Because I'm ashamed of how I treated you.
No, it was just...
Lucas, I...
- I have to... I have to get this. - I hate whoever that is.
- Hello. You're not gonna believe this.
Because I'm not sure that I do, but this might actually work.
Walter figured it out?
Well, there are limits. Some issues and problems.
But Walter seems to think we can get the dead guy to answer questions.
Then we're on. I'll call you from the prison, 8 a.m. tomorrow, my time.
You okay?
I'm good. Thank you.
I'm gonna go back to the hotel. Ha.
Grateful to you, to the incredible cooking...
and your sweet words.
Do you hear anything?
I think we gotta ask him a question first.
I see.
Are we ready to see how this is working?
When I say go, you, Astro, will ask Peter a question...
I will flip this switch, which will stimulate our naked friend's brain...
and Peter, you will hear his response. Any questions?
- Yeah. What should I ask? - Anything you like, it's only a dry run.
And, son, I should apologize in advance. I'm afraid this...
- Well, I shouldn't frighten you. - No, wouldn't want to do that.
Three, two, one, go.
What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?
- Anything? - Did I hear anything? No.
- Three, two, one, go. - What's your favorite color?
No, still nothing. Just extreme discomfort.
- Hello. - They're taking me to see Jones now.
- Olivia. They're taking her. - We're not ready.
- No. Tell her to stall. - Did you hear that?
I'll do what I can, but I've only got 14 minutes, starting now.
Fourteen minutes.
What a pleasure this is.
We have your Mr. Smith in custody. You will not speak with him directly.
You will ask me one question that you want answered.
I will relay that question to an agent in the States...
who will talk to Mr. Smith. I will then relay Mr. Smith's response to you.
Then you will tell me how to save Agent Loeb. That is how it works.
You're very serious. Do you know that?
Your friend's life hangs in the balance. Is that it?
And you want me to save him. I gather as much from your note.
Tell me something.
Why not your freedom or extradition?
You must realize that you have leverage here.
Yet all you want is the answer to one question.
You make two assumptions, Ms. Dunham.
Both incorrect.
The first is that there is nothing more valuable than my freedom.
The second is that I am responsible...
for the infection of Agent Loeb.
Hello, Gene.
Shh. Not a word. I think I know your problem.
You think too much. It's a family curse. Your own brain function...
is interfering with the process. You need to be a passive receiver.
This is a sedative. It will numb your higher brain function.
I've mixed it with a euphoria inhibitor...
which will clear the high from your system in a matter of minutes.
If I tell you to, stick this in his chest right here, beneath the breast bone.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is that? - Adrenaline.
Why, Walter? Are you planning on stopping my heart?
Walter, what are you giving me?
Nothing for you to worry about. Perfectly harmless.
- What is going on in here? - Mitchell.
If you're not responsible for infecting Agent Loeb, who is?
Perhaps the same people responsible for bringing us together.
What if someone wanted information from the both of us?
Do you see? Perhaps they've orchestrated all of this.
What if you and I, both of us, at this very moment...
were being manipulated?
By who? And what would they want?
You've not been doing this very long, have you?
There are very few things in life that surprise me anymore, Ms. Dunham.
And yet, I confess, I am confused.
If it is so urgent to save the life of your friend...
why haven't we gotten on with it?
Peter. Peter, can you hear me? - This can't possibly be scientific.
Peter, look at me.
Daddy?
I think we're ready.
- Hello. Go, quick.
Go ahead. Ask your question.
Ask my friend Joe:
"Where does the gentleman live?"
Mr. Jones would like to know, "Where does the gentleman live?"
Three.
- Mitchell. Oh, God, what is it? - Parasite in his bloodstream...
choking his oxygen. Asteroid, nitroglycerine. A vial.
I don't understand.
Could you give us some room, please?
I'll call you back.
Come on, Sam, let them do their job.
Is there a problem?
My phone doesn't get the best reception in prison isolation cells.
You do have Mr. Smith, do you not?
I'm curious...
why you think he would cooperate with you after you had him arrested.
Oh. The people I work with are loyal to the end.
Can you say the same?
- Hello. Okay, we're trying again.
- Three, two, one, go. - Where does the gentleman live?
- Do you hear anything? - No, no.
I'm going to have to increase the voltage.
I'm sorry, son. Three, two, one, go.
Where does the gentleman live?
Uh-uh. Nothing. No.
Astrid, I need the answer now.
Agent Dunham, it's not working.
I need paper. Paper. Give me some paper quick. I see something.
Wait, hold on. - Untie my hand. Quickly.
What is that?
I have no idea.
I need the answer now.
Don't have it. Don't think it's working.
- Walter, what is this? - How do I know? You saw it, not me.
He seems rather irritated with you.
- Astrid, please, I have no time. - I know. You have to hold on. I'm sorry.
Walter, what is it? Do you see it? It's there, there's just something missing.
Obviously horizontal lines. There's literature on this.
Misrepresentation of horizontal spacing, unilateral brain damage.
Astrid, please hurry.
- I don't understand. - It's conjecture. But the bullet...
may have destroyed that part of the brain that helps process horizontal lines.
We are going to have to fill in the blanks.
God. Astrid, I have no time. I need the answer now. Astrid, please.
- Little Hill. - Little Hill.
Little Hill.
Three parts Mebendazole, two parts thermophilic hydrolase.
A syringe directly into the parasite.
Astrid, write this down.
Three parts Mebendazole, two parts thermophilic hydrolase.
A syringe directly into the parasite.
Walter, look. The roots, they're dying.
What does that mean?
Is Mitchell gonna live? Is he gonna be okay?
Yes, my dear. I believe he will.
Thank you, Dr. Bishop.
Jones asked me a question about loyalty.
And something about the way he said it, it felt like he knew something.
Like what?
Something about my partner betraying the bureau.
I don't know.
You know, I have other means of gathering information about Mr. Jones.
If you'd like me to use them.
Say yes, Olivia.
It'll give me an excuse to call you again.
Mitchell, I understand that you're feeling far from 100 percent.
But while you were unconscious, we made a discovery.
An organization with connections to the Pattern...
may have someone working with us on the inside.
- John Scott? - That was our first thought.
But he would have needed higher clearance than Scott was afforded.
We thought that perhaps you were targeted...
because you might have discovered who that person was.
Scott's the only one I know of.
You're making me paranoid.
All I wanna do is make you better.
I'll see you in the morning.
All right.
Hey, Sam.
- Hey, you. - Hey.
Sir.
- How is he? - He's good.
The doctor here removed that thing from his chest.
- Walter made sure he saved it for him. - I bet he did.
But what about answers?
The question Jones asked Smith.
And the response he got. Little Hill?
We know Agent Loeb was infected, but don't know by whom.
Jones says it wasn't him. We don't know anything.
You have a problem, Agent Dunham.
You're not easily satisfied.
You want everything and you want it now.
In your mind, somehow, a small victory is no victory.
What you did was save a man's life. That doesn't land for you.
- No, sir... - I'd tell you to snap the hell out of it.
Stop whining about what you can't know, can't control, can't change.
I'd tell you to get sleep while you can.
Because tomorrow we'll do this all over again. And guess what.
You'll have a million new answers and a million and one new questions.
I would tell you those things, but I won't.
Because your dissatisfaction is what makes you so damn good.
Someone I'm proud to say I work with.
Thank you.
Now, go get some sleep while you can.
Hey. How are you feeling?
I should be asking you that.
- Good job. - Thank you. You too.
You hungry?
After everything I saw today, no. Not at all.
- I am thirsty. Really, really thirsty. - Me too.
Look at that.
Yeah, look at that.
- They're gone. - So did it work?
- What we did? - Yes.
It led them back to Mr. Jones.
Did he ask the question? And did we get the answer?
Little Hill.