Previously on Limitless...
Huston kept notes on all you guys. Some sort of burn book.
Whatever dirt he has on his old colleagues.
Sands killed Rebecca's father.
Why haven't you been answering my calls?
All I can think about is how I know that Sands murdered her dad.
- Something's not right. - Finch was selling FBI secrets?
If it involves Jarrod Sands, it almost definitely involves Senator Morra.
Yeah, it was Sands, not me.
Sands has Piper, which means he doesn't work for me anymore. He's gone rogue.
- What is this? - These are for you.
You're gonna put them on and then you're gonna tell me
what the hell is going on between you and Senator Morra.
Rebecca!
Hi, my name is Rebecca Harris,
and you must be wondering why a bullet is coming my way
at about 1,900 miles an hour.
I wasn't raised for gunplay.
In fact, I grew up in a creative household,
surrounded by art and laughter.
If things had kept going the way they started,
I'd probably still be making pictures today.
They didn't, though.
His addiction changed everything. I had to grow up fast.
The one time I saw my father sober up for a spell was after his first arrest.
That was the first time I became fascinated by the power of a badge.
Now I've got my own.
My father's gone and, as far as the world was concerned,
he was just another junkie who floated up in the East River.
But to me, he was the only case I couldn't close.
In fact, that's how I got here.
Now, as for why there's a bullet hurtling at my head,
you can start with this guy, Brian Finch,
my consultant turned friend who promised he'd never lie to me.
But apparently he's been doing nothing but since we started working together.
It's time.
You've been working for Senator Morra against the FBI, against me,
for, what, as long as I've known you?
- Did he plant you at the CJC? - No.
- So he turned you after you started? - It's complicated.
Is it? A presidential candidate wants someone on the inside,
someone to protect him, to make sure no one finds out that he's using NZT,
someone to swap evidence.
- Did you kill the evidence clerk? - Of course not.
Of course not? Brian, how are those words supposed to mean anything to me?
I don't even know who you are anymore.
I'm not a killer. I'm not a traitor.
I was forced into this. They threatened my family.
There's stuff you don't know about. So much of it.
You better tell me, or we can get an interrogation room down at the FBI.
What, like from the very beginning? I would love to. I would.
But now is not the time.
- There's a woman named Piper Baird... - We're talking about you, Brian.
- Sands has her. - This has nothing to do with me.
Sands killed your father.
Does that mean something to you?
Jarrod Sands killed your father. I'm sorry, Rebecca, but it's true.
You're trying to manipulate me.
You're on NZT, aren't you?
I just want you to understand what's going on.
This is your dose for today. Picked it up on my way over here.
You've been getting NZT from Senator Morra, from the FBI.
You've had me at a disadvantage for months. But not today.
Today I'm gonna be the smartest person in the room
and you are gonna tell me every single thing I wanna know.
Rebecca, don't. You don't have to do that, OK?
- Just stop it. You can trust me. - Yeah, but I don't have to.
I know this comes with a hell of a hangover,
but at least it'll get me the truth.
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll
...wants a handout these days! Why would I tip?
That's the whole point of Uber, so I don't have to tip!
I should have taken a taxi!
It's amazing, isn't it?
Dad?
It kicked in, I can tell.
First time's always a little trippy.
You said Sands killed my father. Tell me everything.
OK.
I guess, first of all... I'm not immune to the side effects of NZT.
Piper Baird has agreed to make the immunity shot for us.
- What turned her? - She has a brother. Max.
She managed to keep him off Morra's radar.
- Well done. - Eight minds are better than one.
I toured Athon's manufacturing facility this morning.
Once it's up and running, we'll have unlimited access to NZT, all of us.
Till then, all we need to do is stay underground and away from Morra.
Why so quiet?
I made a life doing the bidding of powerful men.
Testing which way the wind's blowing,
finding the person who's making the weather.
Never made my own rain before.
Morra didn't leave us any real choice, did he?
He'd have been done with us all as soon as we stopped being useful.
The others are wondering about one thing.
Brian Finch.
Why you haven't done the obvious thing.
It looks simple on the face of it, but it's not.
We've worked together. He's done things for me.
Every one of us has made sacrifices to be here.
You brought us together, Jarrod. Eyes are on you.
It's no time to look weak.
We have tracking equipment in his handler's car.
Grady's ready to do the job, but... it's your call.
Then let's take care of both of them at once.
We're on the verge of transforming the science of lie detection.
Why are you watching this? Because I watched it.
In a controlled study we recently conducted...
She's talking about something called the Pinocchio Effect,
and on NZT I can use it to see if Brian's telling me the truth.
- Primarily around the nose. - If he tells me a lie...
I used to be the touring guitarist of REO Speedwagon.
...a tiny amount of blood rushes from his cheeks to his nose.
The change is too subtle to detect with the naked eye.
The normal naked eye, that is.
If I don't take that shot, then I get side effects, just like anybody else.
They've been holding that over my head.
At first they just wanted me to tell them everything the FBI knows about NZT,
but after that it got complicated.
Once Brian realized I could do that, I'm pretty sure he told me everything.
I switched out Morra's coat so the blood wouldn't test positive for NZT.
I did not kill the clerk. I haven't hurt anybody.
- What? - Your nose is growing.
It's probably because I know that's not true. I hurt you.
Never on purpose, though.
I tried to protect you.
Go on.
I went to Russia to help Piper.
She knows how to make the immunity shot now, but Sands has her.
He's teamed up with a group of people that used to work with Morra
and now they're creating some kind of legion of doom.
I'm sorry. Did you say legion of doom?
I did, and I stand by it.
Is there anything else?
That time your lunch went missing in the break room, that was me.
You had it labeled and everything, but I just, you know, it was lasagna.
I like lasagna.
You gonna say anything?
You've lied and you've committed crimes.
I don't know if I can protect you from that. I don't know if I want to.
This all started because you wanted to protect your father,
so you've been in an impossible position for months.
On the one hand we became friends
and on the other, your job, your real job, is to betray me.
The cognitive dissonance must be overwhelming.
That's a very enlightened perspective.
If I wasn't on NZT, I'd probably be pistol-whipping you right now.
So, does this mean you're gonna help me find Piper?
No. You're gonna help me find Sands and arrest him for my father's murder.
How did you find this out?
Well, Sands used to work for a guy named Huston.
He wrote all of this down
just in case he needed to use it for blackmail one day.
It's in a book. It's in code, but I think I cracked it.
I guess only the person who created the code could say definitively...
So if I bring this guy Huston in and I turn him against Sands,
then he could testify that Sands and Morra were behind the NZT purge?
Yeah, Huston won't tal... Or he can't talk.
He's been in a coma for months.
- Show me the book. - Well, I had to hide it.
Ever since you guys started doing random searches.
Which made my life way suckier, by the way, even though I did deserve it.
McGolrick Park.
You started running there after Naz put the new rules in place,
and you realized that if you sprinted ahead of your tail,
you'd have a minute or two maybe where they wouldn't have their eyes on you.
So you found a hiding spot not far off the path.
Under a bush? No.
Under a moderately sized rock, right?
It's not fair.
You on NZT. It's not fair.
I wanted to stop and look around at everything, at anything.
It was all so beautiful. But I didn't have time.
So the guy Brian knows as Huston wrote the second half of the burn book,
but the first half of the book was in different handwriting,
meaning someone else out there knows the code.
Both authors refer to an investigator Morra hired,
a woman with the initials A.G.
Brian was looking into top investigators
who left the big agencies around the time Morra hired A.G.
Yeah, but he's not you.
Morra only hires the best, so he poached A.G. From somewhere.
Think of everyone you know with those initials. Think government contacts.
Allison Grant is still working Narcotics with the NYPD.
Aisha Greenwell's a lifer with the agency.
Who was that woman from the cross-agency seminar in Arlington?
Amelia Glasser.
She was from the DOJ, the office of the inspector general.
She asked really intelligent questions about the Unabomber investigation.
You looked out for her the next year, and then someone told you
she was taking a seven-figure job in the private sector.
Where's Brian?
Relax. Brian didn't run. He's a good guy. Listen.
Ice cream truck.
OK, so, Amelia Glasser wins two awards for exceptional service
in the Department of Justice.
Then she goes to work in the private sector
and in 2014 she just drops off the grid completely?
So do you think Sands and Morra had her killed?
Maybe. The face looks familiar, though.
Naz had me dig through state arrest records,
looking for anything I could find on NZT.
Um, let me just use this borrowed password from the NYPD intranet.
- Wow. There. - Oh, God.
I know. She was booked under the name Amy Glass for possession.
It was right after someone dumped her in the ER while she was overdosing.
But they put an address on the admitting form. There we are.
We should work like this all the time.
Still kind of pissed about the whole treason thing? That's fair.
You all right?
When you're on NZT, do you ever see things? People?
Oh, yeah, all the time. Sometimes it's me.
Sometimes it's me in a sweater. Or me in a leather jacket.
I mean, that's just two slightly different variants.
You know, one time you showed up as Sloane from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
What does that mean?
Well, I think it's just the NZT mind's way
of fragmenting a problem into deviating perspectives,
embodied by familiar people or other non-threatening manifestations
with whom you can interact to arrive at resolutions,
but, I don't know, I haven't put much thought into it.
Is there anyone here with you, like right now?
Oh, yeah. Vladimir Lenin's waiting for us in the back seat.
I'm kidding. It's Ringo Starr.
He reminds me to march to the beat of my own drum.
They told me I could never talk about what I did.
They told me they'd take everything.
As if they haven't done that already.
They hired me to track down NZT dealers and users.
What else do you wanna know?
You reported to two people when you worked for the Morra organization.
Can you tell us their names?
Well, the first guy I reported to, I was supposed to call him Hawks,
and then he was replaced by a guy named Huston.
Yeah, we know about Huston, but we're trying to find Hawks.
- Can you describe him for us? - I never met him face to face.
In case you couldn't tell by looking at me,
Morra gave me NZT while I was investigating.
And, you know, once I suspected what was happening...
...to the people I was finding, I quit.
I hoarded some NZT,
but once those immunity shots wore off,
then the side effects took me down.
Once I ran out of NZT, I chased what I could to numb the pain and here we are.
But, you know, I do have one thing that might help.
I thought I might need evidence against 'em...
...one day.
Right before I quit, I followed Hawks after a dead drop,
and I never got a good look at him,
but I did pick up a cigarette butt that he'd ground out.
It's coming. I'll get it.
There.
Golden Badger. That's a Japanese brand.
So maybe he's Japanese, I don't know, but, look, that's all I got.
Oh, and I never did run DNA tests,
but if you do, who knows what you might turn up?
I know this has been hard for you.
We really appreciate your help. Thank you.
Rebecca, get down!
So somebody just shot you, and you can be sure of one thing.
Whoever pulled that trigger is drawing another bead right now.
Are you gonna let him finish the job?
- I'm all right. - Where is he?
He's 50 yards that way. Make sure he's dead.
The bullet pierced under your clavicle,
then you dislocated your shoulder on the fall.
The agony you're in, you don't have to feel it.
You remember that from school, right?
The mechanism that controls pain, it's all in your brain.
It's just an input that lets you know there's been trauma to your body.
Find it. Shut it off.
Thanks.
Why are you doing this? Taking NZT, risking your life?
I left you.
Even before I was actually gone, I left you.
- I don't deserve this. - I didn't do it for you.
You're not doing what for me? You know what? Don't worry about it.
- OK, I gotta get you to a hospital. - No, no. I'm OK.
- Tag me in. - What?
I don't feel the pain. The NZT's taking care of that.
You're gonna sew me up and we're gonna find Hawks.
There's a dead guy lying in a field over there.
Yeah. We'll call it in when we can. I can still use my right hand.
- Tag me in. - Dope.
In exchange for some money,
Amelia Glasser agreed not to call in the shooting,
and she'd have to relocate now that Sands knew where she lived.
As for me, I found myself in the least likely of operating rooms,
in the hands of someone whose experience includes
skimming his brother's med-school books and stitching up my father's killer.
If I didn't trust Brian before, I had to now.
OK.
All right, deep breath, OK?
Everything you've said about Morra and the purge seems true.
But there's just one thing I can't figure out.
Why would Sands send a gunman and then send a warning?
Well, we have a complicated relationship.
- More complicated than ours? - No. Now, can you stop talking?
Brian, just do it. I don't feel any pain.
Hmm. I can't believe you didn't figure that out.
Well, if you're so smart, you wanna pop your own shoulder back into place?
See, this is why we make such a great team. OK, here we go.
And we were off to figure out if the DNA on that cigarette butt
matched anyone in our records.
Which meant we had to duck.
Hey. Let me get that.
OK. Clear your mind. Focus on your pain control, OK?
- I'm the one that figured it out. - What's this?
The lab kicked back preliminary results on the DNA from the cigarette. No match.
That sucks. But at least they gave you a giant binder.
We're not taking "no match" for an answer.
Whoever Hawks is, if he's the one that wrote the other half of that book,
he's the only one that can testify that Sands killed my father.
This is the raw report on his DNA.
There are 27 other binders just like it down in the file room.
These are just a bunch of random letters.
- No. - No?
This is the genetic code for the man that we're looking for.
Sorry. The Bureau sends us to Quantico once a year for on-the-job training.
Last time I was there, I went to a seminar on DNA sequencing,
taught by Riccardo Sabatini.
There are three billion base pairs in the human genome.
He zeroed in on the five million
that are responsible for our identifying traits.
Oh, just five million.
He knows which pairs determine height, weight, eye color, skin tone.
If we sort through these, we can figure out what Hawks looks like.
If we know what he looks like, we can figure out who he is.
Well, I don't know the last time you checked a clock,
but I kind of turned back into a pumpkin about an hour ago.
- Brian. - Yeah.
- I know. - Oh, good.
I told Ike we were pulling an all-nighter,
so we were able to clear another pill.
I'm good for another six hours.
All right.
Five million base pairs.
In a haystack of three billion.
At least there's two of us.
- Carry my books for me? - Yep, you got it.
I'd always wondered what it was like for Brian
when he was on NZT.
I figured he felt numb, like a human calculator.
I was wrong. Every part of you feels alive, open.
The air crackles with information. You breathe it like it's oxygen.
It's as if you've been running with weights on for your entire life
and suddenly you took them off
and this was the way you were always meant to be.
I knew now why it was so addicting.
Whew! It's pretty wild, right?
So we've got a six-foot tall man of Finnish descent.
I know, but if we actually wanna see what Hawks looks like, I got a plan.
- Me too. You go first. - OK, so CRAFT.
They have these badass 3-D printers, right?
With this list of traits, plus some tweaking to their software,
we could actually print a copy of Hawks, run that through the...
That would be great,
except for a really awkward date that I had with Quentin a little while back,
so maybe we don't have to ask them for any favors.
- I was actually thinking that... - What?
You went on a date with Quentin?
Does this mean we can't go to CRAFT ever again?
Clock is ticking, Brian.
All right, fine. What's your idea?
James Tech.
So now we just run this baby through facial recognition.
Make sure you give it a range for height, weight and age.
- We can't be sure how accurate it is. - Oh, it'll be pretty accurate.
Hey, it's not this guy's first rodeo.
Clearly you guys know what you're doing. I'm gonna get a cup of decaf.
- Rebecca? - Mm.
What are you all working on?
Leads. It's a case Cyber asked me to look in on.
What happened? You're bleeding.
Oh, no, I just spilled something.
- On your shoulder? - Barbecue.
Brian dragged me to a smokehouse in the Lower East Side. It was messy.
- Hey. We got a hit. - Oh, great.
We'll let you know when something pans out.
- You got a little... - Sauce. I know.
Yeah.
Whoa. Nice place, Hawks.
Well, AKA Timothy Aalto. Mr. Aalto to you.
This place must cost tens of millions of dollars.
Pretty impressive, hiding in plain sight on Park Avenue.
Or maybe we got it wrong.
On most days I might share your concerns.
- But not today. - Right.
All we have to do is get him to come to the CJC.
Don't show him the burn book until we're there. I'll take care of the rest.
Mr. Aalto doesn't like to have his workouts interrupted.
We'll try not to keep him too long.
Oh, my God.
Call 911.
He's gone.
EMS is calling it a widowmaker, an exertion-induced coronary.
There's no indication of it being anything else?
Do you wanna go ask them that?
I say we accept "massive heart attack" and be on our way.
- But this was Sands. - Of course it was.
But I've already had to lie about why a federal agent
showed up at this particular door just in time to see Hawks dead.
How did you do that?
I paid the housekeeper to say that she was outside flagging people down
just as we were passing by on our way uptown.
Did you see Hawks's left arm?
Just inside the elbow the shade was a color off.
- Like injection marks off? - It was subtle.
Must have been a tiny needle, intradermal maybe.
Maybe it was chloroform, in which case, if the ME isn't looking for that mark,
then it's gonna look like natural causes.
Well, do you wanna say something? I mean...
Do you want to spend the rest of the day in an interrogation room? No.
I say we stay on target, fix what we can when we're done.
Yeah. Still need somebody to fill in the blanks of the burn book.
Yeah, which leaves Huston.
Yeah. Languishing in a vegetative state, completely incapacitated.
Other than that, totally our guy.
What?
What if we, um... you know... capacitate him?
Sands said he got in a giant car accident
and then had a massive stroke in the hospital.
Like a real stroke or the kind Jarrod Sands gives you?
I doubt it. Sands didn't wanna kill him.
Huston pulled him up from rock bottom. He saved his life.
We can't rule anything out.
Maybe there's something about his medical history in the burn book.
- You still have it? - Mm-hm.
- Brian? - Yeah.
- His heart rate. - What?
When I said "burn book," it spiked.
I mean, not through the roof, but it accelerated.
- Are you sure? - Yes. He reacted.
Huston, can you hear us?
Can you open your eyes or lift a finger or something?
You know, a lot of people have died, and a lot more people are going to die,
if the contents of this book stay secret.
This is the exception to the rule.
He gave me the life that I've got today, which is why I'm so loath to end his.
He can hear us.
- He understands. - What do you see?
His eyes. He was doing this the last time I was here with Sands.
But his eyes were only moving when specific things were said,
things Sands was saying.
It's really subtle, and I don't think you could interpret a pattern.
And if he can't blink out "yes" or "no," how are we gonna communicate?
- We're gonna have to... - Ah-ah. Don't say it.
What?
You were gonna say "read his mind."
And then you were gonna say "literally." But I'm gonna get to work.
The doctors who initially treated Huston
misdiagnosed him as being in a persistent vegetative state.
Brian's hunch is that Huston suffers from a condition
called locked-in syndrome,
essentially a private hell of lucid awareness with zero body control.
If Brian is right, all we need is an EEG machine,
and that is gonna take circuitry, computer chips,
capacitors, resistors, connectors, electrodes.
We found most of what we needed at Huston's place,
and the rest we managed to scrounge up from personal stocks.
OK, eight electrodes.
It may be not the most thorough EEG device ever made, but it'll do.
Should we test it out?
What, like on me?
Look, as fascinating as it may be to see NZT brainwaves, Huston's got dibs.
- Hey, heading out. Need anything? - Come in. Shut the door, please.
Have a seat.
- What's going on? - Have you seen Agent Harris today?
I heard she was around, but somehow our paths never crossed. Why?
She's up to something, something involving Finch.
Well, if she is, there must be a good reason. It's Rebecca.
I'm gonna ask you something point blank.
- OK, shoot. - Have you ever known her to take NZT?
What? No, not at all.
I never thought I'd have to worry about this,
but earlier on she was acting very strangely.
And then she and Finch sorted through a mountain of work
twice as fast as Brian could alone.
Seems like thin evidence.
No. I think she had a gash in her shoulder.
If so, she was in no condition to be here.
Now, you can call me paranoid, but after what happened with Casey,
and considering her relationship with him...
Yes, ma'am, I get it. You can't be too careful.
But it's Rebecca. I can't imagine her doing something like that.
Well, let's hope not.
I mean, given her family history of addiction,
she should truly be the last person to try that drug.
Fair warning, even though I may have studied up
on my YouTube electroencephalography skills,
I am still by no means an expert.
However, I should be able to interpret the waveforms
of at least binary responses,
so that's left and right, yes and no, stuff like that.
Well, assuming there are waveforms to interpret at all.
I mean, the eye movements could have been involuntary twitches.
Let's find out.
Did you plug it in?
It's because we moved it.
Is it supposed to be doing that?
- Yeah, kind of. - What do you mean, kind of?
Huston, can you understand what we're saying right now?
Feel like I'm talking to NASA.
You know, I was just thinking, even if he can tell us something, will he?
He and Sands were pretty close. He might not wanna flip on his friend.
Right now we're the only ones
that know there's a Huston locked away in that body.
So if he wants the rest of the world to know,
he'll help me lock away the man that killed my father.
That looks like a yes to me.
Oh, that's more than a yes. He's talking to us.
Even with such a crude tool, Brian was able to winnow down the patterns
and interpret Huston's responses to our questions.
It was almost like a real conversation.
- So you're the one who coded the book? - Yes.
- This is your handwriting? - No.
Half of it is. Aalto wrote the other half?
- Yes. - President George...
So it wasn't the most eloquent of conversations.
But we didn't need to leverage Huston with threats.
Whether it was a need to repent
or gratitude to finally have company in his silent prison,
Huston was more than willing to help us.
And you'd be willing to testify to all this in court?
Including that it was Jarrod Sands that killed my father?
He can do that, right? Testify?
If we can get an expert witness to corroborate the results of the FMRI,
preferably not a homemade one, we have a witness.
Now we just need to lure out Sands.
I'm always down for extreme measures. I mean, what have you got in mind?
Drone strike? Swatting?
Henry Watkins. Sands would do anything to protect his son.
It's his only weakness that we're aware of. Our only option is to take him.
Wait. What? We can't take a kid.
Why not? He took your friend Piper.
Because we're not him. You're not him.
Look, I think we're losing sight of the problem here,
and this win-at-all-costs mentality,
that's what happened to Casey, that's what happened to Eddie Morra.
You think that's what's happening to me?
- You are talking about kidnapping. - Why are you protecting Sands?
I'm not. If anyone, I'm protecting you.
I can't bring the FBI in on this.
I need you here. I need you on board.
It's like 11 pm, so we have an hour.
We have to move on this. Show me where his son lives.
Drop your weapon!
There's no way out. Mr. Sands, there's more SWAT than you can count.
I'm asking you for the last time.
Drop your weapon.
Now.
Your mistake was assuming that you got there before us.
And assuming you were ahead of us at any point today.
Our plan wouldn't have worked if you hadn't bugged my apartment,
so thank you for that.
It was near-flawless installation.
High-end micro cameras. Must've been there for weeks.
Luckily today I was more on my game.
I cooked up the story about the kidnapping,
I filled Brian in on the way to my apartment
and then we fed it to you through your own surveillance equipment.
Then we just sat back and waited for you to collect your son,
who's fine, by the way.
Bit of a leap, all this, isn't it?
Interrogating a man for visiting his son?
Attempting to link it to your poor home security?
You don't have anything to hold me.
Well, we do have a testimony from your old pal Huston.
It's a crazy story. He says hi, by the way.
Meantime, you're gonna tell us where you've keeping Piper Baird.
I have no idea who that is, mate.
What about Conrad Harris, my father?
A man whose life you took, like so many others,
during what you and the Morra operation referred to as the "purge."
Again, no idea.
My father was a painter.
He was a junkie. He was nothing.
- He was nothing to you. - Rebecca...
No, I wanna understand. Why was he such a threat?
Why did he have to die?
I didn't know your father,
but if I was to guess, maybe he was just a junkie.
Or maybe he started dealing, started to discover the possibilities,
just as I believe you have, Agent Harris.
If there was a purge, if Morra was behind it,
if he got someone to snuff out your father...
...it doesn't mean your dad was burning bright.
Only means there was a chance he could have.
Just like his daughter, yeah?
Rot in hell, Sands.
Hey, Rebecca? Hold on a sec. You OK?
He didn't come back.
My dad. You said that you see people to help you work things out.
But he didn't come back.
Well, maybe you figured it out yourself.
And we did perform some minor miracles today.
We talked to the nearly dead. We took down an ex-Ml6.
Not too shabby. Anything else you wanna knock off your bucket list real quick?
- Naz is waiting for me. - Yeah.
Hey, um... before we go in there, I just wanna say thank you.
For everything.
You helped put my father's murderer behind bars. I should be thanking you.
Putting all the lying, deception and treason aside.
- I don't think Naz'll do that. - We'll work something out.
Maybe you'll be an informant or something.
I can't. I can't stay.
- How did I miss this? - You were so focused on Sands.
Look, this happens to me all the time.
Just cos you're on NZT, you can't see what you're not looking for.
Your immunity.
You gave up Sands. You came clean about Morra. You...
You sacrificed your connection to him, to the immunity shot.
You sacrificed all of that for me?
As I said.
- You can't take NZT anymore. - That's OK.
Look, my days here are numbered.
I don't know exactly how long the booster shot's gonna last.
Naz isn't gonna risk you taking a pill without it.
Brian... we should have found Piper.
But now...
If you're starting to feel that, it must mean your pill's wearing off,
and you need to go see a real doctor, like now.
- Brian... - Just go. I got this.
Who knows? Maybe Naz'll keep me on as a janitor.
I mean, that is the only job that I'm technically qualified for without NZT.
And Stavros is getting a little long in the tooth.
Just sayin'.
He's a good kid. I can see why you'd like him.
Even when he was stuck between a rock and a hard place,
he did what he could to stand by you.
It's more than I can say for myself.
Why are you here?
To tell you to say no to drugs?
And I'm proud of you.
And to let you know it's not your fault.
Nothing you said or did, nothing would have changed what happened.
Some people aren't meant to stay in your life.
But that doesn't mean they can't stay with you.
Are you talking about yourself or Brian?
Ripped & Corrected By mstoll