All language subtitles for Limitless S01E20 Hi, My Name Is Rebecca Harris-eng

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- 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.

You think 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're probably 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 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 is a woman named Piper
Baird whose life is in danger.

We're talking about you, Brian.

Sands has her. He's
gone rogue from Morra.

Like I said, 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 want to know.

Rebecca, don't. You don't
have to do that, okay?

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.

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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.

Okay.

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 is 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.

But 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.
- What?

The normal naked eye, that is.

If I don't take that shot,

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.

Oh, 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,

and 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.

It'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.

It means 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 mean, 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-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 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.

Okay, so...

Amelia Glasser wins two awards

for exceptional service at
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 nonthreatening 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 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 want to 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.

And I hoarded some NZT,

but once those, uh,

immunity shots wore off,

then the side effects took me down.

But 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 them...

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.

Yeah, so, maybe he's Japanese,
I don't know, but, hey, look,

that's all I got.

Oh, and I never did run DNA tests,

but if you do, I mean,

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.

Okay, I gotta get you to a hospital.

No, no. I'm okay.

- 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 is 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.

Okay.

All right, deep breath, okay?

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.

I can't believe
you didn't figure that out.

Well, if you're so smart,

you want to pop your own
shoulder back into place?

See, this is why we
make such a great team.

Okay, here we go.

Oh.

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.

Okay. Clear your mind, focus on

your pain control, okay?

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.

- Right.
- That's just the raw report on his DNA.

There are 27 other binders

just like it, down in the file room.

There's 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's zeroed in on the five million

that are responsible for
our identifying traits.

- 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'd been
running with weights on

for your entire life, and
suddenly, you took them off,

and this was the way you
always were 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 want
to see what Hawks looks like,

- I got a plan.
- Me, too.

- You go first.
- Okay, 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 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?

Oh, do you want to 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 M.E.

isn't looking for that
mark, then it's gonna look

like natural causes.

Well, do you want to 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,

then a massive stroke in the hospital.

Like a real stroke, or the
kind Jarrod Sands gives you?

I doubt it.

Sands didn't want to kill him.

Huston pulled him up from rock
bottom, he saved his life.

Well, we can't rule anything out.

Maybe there's something about

his medical history in the burn book.

- You still have it?
- Mm-hmm.

- Brian?
- Yeah.

- His heart rate.
- What?

When I said "burn book," it spiked.

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.

Okay. 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.

Uh, shut the door, please.

Have a seat.

What's going on?

Have you seen Agent Harris today?

Oh, heard she was around,

but, uh, somehow our paths
never crossed. Why?

She's up to something...
Something involving Finch.

Well, if she is, must be a good reason.

It's Rebecca.

I'm gonna ask you something point blank.

Okay, shoot.

Have you ever known her to take NZT?

What?

No, not at all.

I've 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.
- Oh, that 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?

I mean, he and Sands were pretty close.

He might not want to flip on his friend.

Well, 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 do 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...

I mean, 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, 11:00 p.m., 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,

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

refer 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 want to 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...

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 okay?

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-MI6.

Not too shabby.

Anything else you want to

knock off your bucket list real quick?

Naz is waiting for me.

Yeah. Hey, um...

before we go in there,

I just want to say thank you.

For everything.

You helped put my father's
murderer behind bars.

I should be thanking you.

Uh, putting all the lying, deception

and treason aside...

Yeah, I don't think Naz'll do that.

Well, we'll work something out.
Maybe you'll be an informant

or something.

I can't.

I can't stay.

H-How did I miss this?

You were so focused on Sands.

Look, this happens to me all the time.

Just 'cause 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 okay.

But my days here are
numbered. I don't know

exactly how long the
booster shot's gonna last.

Well, 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?

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