03x10 - The Devil's Share

[bunniefuu]

[Steady beeping]

[Johnny Cash's Hurt playing]

♪
♪ I hurt myself ♪
♪ today ♪
♪ to see if I still feel ♪
♪ I focus ♪
♪ on the pain ♪
♪ the only thing that's real ♪
♪ the needle tears a hole ♪
♪ the old familiar sting ♪
♪ try to k*ll it ♪
♪ all away ♪
♪ but I remember ♪
♪ everything ♪
♪ what have I become? ♪
♪ my sweetest friend ♪
♪ everyone I know ♪
♪ goes away ♪
♪ in the end ♪
♪ and you could have it all ♪
♪ my empire of dirt ♪
♪ I will let you down ♪
♪ I will make you hurt ♪
♪

♪ I wear this crown of thorns ♪
♪ upon my liar's chair ♪
♪ full of broken thoughts ♪
♪ I cannot repair ♪
♪ beneath the stains of time ♪
♪ the feelings disappear ♪
♪ you are someone else ♪
♪ I am still right here ♪
♪ what have I become? ♪
♪

♪ my sweetest friend ♪
♪ everyone I know ♪
♪ goes away ♪
♪ in the end ♪
♪

♪ and you could have it all ♪
♪ my empire of dirt ♪
♪ I will let you down ♪
♪ I will make you hurt ♪
♪ if I could start again ♪
♪ a million miles away ♪
♪ I would keep myself ♪
♪ I would find ♪
♪ a way ♪

I read that it works this way-- that the therapist waits until the silence becomes so unbearable that the patient is forced to speak.

It can work any way you want, Mr. Wren.

Is there something particular you'd like to talk about?

Grief. I'd like to talk about grief.

Of course.

I wanna know how it works, if it has a purpose.

That's a big question.

It might be best if we talk about your specific circumstances.

Have you lost someone?

My closest friend. There was an accident. I was with him.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Wren.

Do you have someone to comfort you during this time?

I was in a relationship, but that's over now.

The emotional fallout from these types of traumas can be extensive.

Which brings us to your question-- grief.

Whether it has a purpose.

An... evolutionary purpose.

I mean, I find myself reevaluating choices that I've made, things that... I should have done differently or better.

As if in losing everything, I finally understand.

But then it occurs to me that--

It occurs to you that this feeling might be temporary.

There's a false sense of lucidity that often accompanies grieving.

I've been thinking about doing something radical as a tribute to his memory.

I would caution against that, Mr. Wren.

I see this so often.

I've been working with the survivors of the ferry bombing earlier this year.

Their trauma is similar to yours.

More extreme, of course.

Many of them experience a sense of responsibility for what happened.

Survivor's guilt. I'm familiar.

Well, then you're also familiar with what I'm about to say next-- that you think your friend's death was your fault.

Otherwise, you'd have to face a very painful truth.

Which is what?

That you are not God.

You don't control who lives or dies.

That powerlessness also means that your friend's death is not your fault.

I assure you, Mr. Wren, in time, the guilt you feel will pass.

Let me ask you a question then.

Does survivor's guilt pass when everything that has happened actually is, in fact, your fault?

You look tired, Harold.

Please talk to me.

I have nothing to say, Ms. Groves.

I offered before.

Let me help you.

It's a little too late for that, don't you think?

Not for John.

He's in trouble.

I can tell by the look on your face.

And I don't want to sound unsympathetic, Harold, but we have much bigger problems at hand.

Whatever your machine was trying to prepare me for... it's coming.

[Phone vibrates]

[Door closes]

(Finch) Yes, Detective?

(Fusco) We got a big problem.

[Police radio chatter]

I heard the call on the radio.

Someone t-boned him then interrogated him while the car b*rned.

Guys in the front might make it.

Guy in the back may make a good bag of charcoal.

Witnesses put our pal, the psychopathic vigilante, at the scene.

Which one?

You mean both your stray dogs are off the leash?

This was the handiwork of tall, dark, and deranged.

And I shudder to think what the other one's up to.

I have reason to believe that one or both of them are looking to track down and k*ll Simmons.

We all want Simmons.

Piece of crap k*lled my partner, then went after my kid.

But the scorched earth campaign is only gonna make Simmons harder to find, not easier.

Who were they?

Dirtbags of the highest order.

Run dr*gs, underage hookers.

And a lot of paper.

Paper?

Yeah, counterfeit bills.

IDs, passports, for a forger named Yorke.

We'd better find Mr. Yorke then.

Hey... get me down.

Come on.

[Phone vibrates]

Take me down, you bitch!

I told you everything I know.

And somehow, I just don't believe you.

[Door opens]

Hey! Hey, hey.

Hey, guys, call the cops!

You wanna take a cr*ck at him?

My g*n hand's cramping.

Guy's not looking so good.

Did you break his legs?

Nope. Reese did.

Got to him before I did.

Dropped him off the roof of the building.

I found his sorry ass in the parking lot yelling for help.

Still got his arms, though.

Did you see Reese?

Gone by the time I got here.

We have to stop him.

- Why?

One less dirty cop-k*lling cop sounds good to me.

Setting aside your somewhat... binary moral compass, Ms. Shaw, you should know that Mr. Reese's injuries are life-threatening.

All right, Harold.

We'll play it your way.

But if Reese doesn't wanna be found, our only way of tracking him is by finding Simmons ourselves.

Guy give you anything?

Speak up!

The only one who knows Simmons' exit strategy is his boss, Quinn.

And if you're looking for him, get in line.

Everybody wants him dead.

Can I go to the hospital now, please?

You got an inside track to the feds?

We gotta get to Quinn before Reese does.

Are you kidding? Quinn ran a bunch of corrupt cops.

Feds aren't talking to me.

I know one man who will know Quinn's location.

After his arrest, Quinn retained Jimmy Ransone-- high-dollar criminal defense attorney with a questionable reputation.

But even suspects in protection are allowed to see their lawyer.

Wait a minute, come on, guys!

Get me down!

Aw, come on, get me the hell outta here!

(Fusco) I'd say our boy's come and gone.

Finch?

We got a problem.

You couldn't find Mr. Ransone?

We found what's left of him.

Someone used him as an ashtray before putting a b*llet through his head.

Reese has really gone off the reservation this time.

No. Reese doesn't even smoke.

He would have just used a lighter.

This... is theatrical. Amateur hour.

Well, at least we know he's still alive.

How badly is he injured, Ms. Shaw?

He doesn't look so good. We don't have much time.

Reese leaves, and five minutes later, these jokers show up.

Russians.

It figures.

Quinn turned state evidence against them.

So now both Mr. Reese and the Russians know where to find Alonzo Quinn, and we still don't.

Ransone is the only one that can tell us where Reese is going.

Not the only one.

Who?

Harold knows who I'm talking about.

We're out of options.

We need Root.

We need to discuss the Loftin case.

Caucasian male, 83, presented with acute pneumonia.

I know the case, Dr. Shaw.

I also know about your interaction with the Loftin family.

You walked into the waiting room eating an energy bar and proceeded to tell the Loftin family that their father was dead.

Because he was.

And, presumably, you were hungry.

You managed to revive Mr. Loftin four times.

You went to truly heroic measures to save their father, and yet, all the Loftin family will remember is the doctor who gave them the worst possible news while she was eating a candy bar.

Let me ask you this...

Do you care if your patients live or die?

Of course.

But does it hurt you?

I've been watching you for... some time, and it doesn't seem to bother you.

This place is filled with doctors who don't care if their patients live or die.

No, this place is filled with doctors who pretend they don't care.

But you're different. Aren't you?

Your attendings all say the same thing about you-- technically brilliant.

Remarkably calm.

They can't spot what you really are.

And what's that?

You know the DSM backwards and forwards, Doctor.

You probably diagnosed yourself in your first year.

A diagnosis which meant that you never should have been accepted into this program.

I watch the others.

I watch the fear creep into them.

I watch them make mistakes, and you think these feelings that I'm lacking make them better?

You'd really rather have one of them working on you instead of me?

Yes. Because if...

If the only thing motivating you is technical mastery, when one of your patients needs you the most, then... this job just might start to bore you.

That's the difference between fixing and healing.

You have a brilliant mind, Sameen.

And you're very gifted.

But you'll never be a doctor.

(Shaw)

Time's up, Harold.

(Finch) This is not something we should go about lightly.

It's the only way.

There will be larger consequences if we make this decision-- we need to be ready for that.

John isn't gonna make it if he winds up in a crossfire between a bunch of feds and organized criminals in his current state.

I know this is our only option, Ms. Shaw.

I just wanna make sure we're prepared for what may happen.

I'm in.

Are you?

[Cell phone ringing]

I'm guessing that isn't for me.

[Phone continues ringing]

You know, if you told me about the carpooling arrangements, I would have driven separately.

Ms. Groves is here to help us locate Alonzo Quinn.

We're close. Turn off the headlights.

How am I supposed to see?

You don't need to.

(Root)

Steady for another 800 feet.

Adjust left when you feel it.

Feel what?

[Thud]

Harold, grab the first aid kit when we get out of the car, will you?

Pull over to the right.

Tell me why we're listening to the crazy chick who kidnapped Glasses.

In your right pocket, you have 85¢.

The change from your morning coffee run.

In your apartment, there's an old photo of your father at the Franklin Park Zoo taken when he was a child.

He's feeding a lion cub.

Do you know what that cub's name was?

Lionel.

That's where your name came from.

I promise...

I'm here to help.

Just when I think life with you people couldn't get any weirder, one of you takes it to the next level.

Where are we, Ms. Groves?

May I have a g*n now?

What's with you and your poor listening skills?

No... way.

Then you better turn around.

Follow me.

And bring him with you.

You just sh*t a Federal Marshal.

Just between us... not my first time.

Wait for the light at 12:00.

Is that...

Alonzo Quinn.

The building has two main exits, two emergency exits.

12 US Marshals guard the building, plus our friend over there who was scouting the perimeter that we're now inside.

Air Support is ten minutes out.

While the Russians aren't here yet, they will be soon.

You sure the big guy's here?

Man: - What the hell was that?

Man #2: - Move in!

Pretty sure.

Your test scores are good, but I have my doubts about you.

You look soft to me.

Sir, no. No, sir.

See, that's what I'm talking about.

Stop with the "Sirs." You're green... from the soles of your feet to the top of your pointy head.

I'm sorry.

Were you expecting me to ask about your feelings?

'Cause you're about to join men living out on the ragged edge where extreme actions are required to stop extremely bad things from happening.

Are you prepared to do terrible things and then turn it off when you need to?

Yes, sir. I am.

Could you k*ll a t*rror1st standing 2 feet from his young son?

Blow his head off and then walk away while the kid cries next to his daddy's dead body?

If those are my orders, sir.

Says here your dad d*ed when you were just a kid.

Army man too.

You're not gonna decide at the wrong time that a child should have a father, even if that father is a t*rror1st?

No, sir.

I'm sorry for going at you like this, son, but I'm the last stop between you and the darkness that awaits you.

I need to be sure that you're mentally tough enough for this program.

If you spun out, got your brothers k*lled, it would be on me.

Well, you're just doing your job.

I get it.

I've been through this before.

No one does this twice.

If you washed out, we wouldn't have recruited you again.

I didn't wash out.

I've been a part of this program for three years.

A very trusted part.

In fact, my CO tasked me with finding out who's been selling the names of our operatives to Chinese counterintelligence.

Took me a while, but I found him.

If only you'd just done your job.

You're pretty damn good at it.

Who the hell pays for the damage?

Get back inside now.

I'm radioing Pollack. We need Air Support.

Get in. Get in.

Sir, are you seeing this?

Do we need to call for Air Support?

It's a car fire in Queens.

I'm not calling Air Support for that.

Rapid response team standing by on the second floor.

Have your men do a perimeter check - and report back. - Copy that.

Russians, feds-- I don't care. I just want to know.

Who pays for the... damage?

[Clatter]

You should probably call for backup.

You worried some of your old buddies came to sh**t the breeze?

Sadly, my men are very good at their jobs.

Anybody wants a cr*ck at you, they're gonna need an entire--

Sir. Sir, we've got a situation.

Robbins is down, and the hotel doors have been secured from the inside.

Someone's in there with you.

Secure the door. Now.

Ready Team, this is Highlight.

Spread out to the stairwells.

No one gets to three. Expect multiple sh**t.

Copy that. We'll lock it down.

Secure the hallways.

We're taking the prisoner out, now.

Looks like I underestimated your popularity.

Let's move.

No point.

The guy who's coming after me... your men won't be able to stop him.

Move, move!

Wait a second.

On my mark, go! Go, go!

Aah!

Ah!

I made three sh**t, maybe four.

On my count-- three, two...

I'm sorry... but I need a word with the man you're protecting.

You just att*cked a dozen Marshals.

Sorry's not gonna cut it.

They'll need some Aspirin, maybe a little physical therapy-- move.

You sit this one out.

[Whispers]

Simmons...

I want his exit.

Loyalty.

That's why Simmons came after you and Carter.

Loyalty.

That's how we built this whole damn thing.

I'll be damned if I repay that loyalty by breaking it now.

Even if you thr*aten to k*ll me.

You see?

That's why you and I understand each other.

Now, everything you do is an abomination.

But your word...

Your word is your bond.

To your godson.

To Carter.

You do what you say.

So do I.

I'm not gonna thr*aten to k*ll you.

I'm going to k*ll you... whether you tell me or not.

No bargaining.

In three minutes... you're dead.

I've k*lled many people.

Never bothered me much.

That's why I was good at it.

I didn't like them suffering, though.

Took me years to figure out how to do it quickly, painlessly.

But if you don't tell me, I'm gonna forget all of that. Understand?

And I'll make the last three minutes of your life last forever.

[g*nshots]

Can I please have a g*n now?

No, and you're really starting to irritate me by asking.

As far as Root's request for a w*apon, Ms. Shaw, the situation is becoming increasingly dangerous.

Yeah, no kidding!

And if she wanted to k*ll us, I'm guessing she could have done so many times already.

Speak for yourself, Harold.

But fine. Whatever. Take it.

Can I have a second one, please?

Two g*ns at once? That's kinda lame.

You all set? Let's head up.

Too late.

Where's she going?

[Tires screech]

[Men groaning, screaming]

Okay, that was kinda hot.

I'll watch the front.

You should head up. We're running out of time.

Time's up.

[Door opens]

(Finch) Mr. Reese.

You know what Joss sacrificed to bring this man down on her terms.

Legal terms.

Everything.

Yes.

So if you're going to k*ll Mr. Quinn, don't imagine that you're doing it in her name.

That's not what she would have wanted.

We should have k*lled him in the first place.

Why didn't we, Finch?

That's not our purpose.

We save lives. You save lives.

Not all of them.

You're dying, John.

Let us help you.

No...!

Let's get him outta here.

[Sirens approaching]

I'll stay and make sure the feds take this piece of garbage back into custody.

[Sirens wailing in the distance]

We should be going after Simmons.

Reese got his location.

Sometimes you have to make choices, Ms. Shaw.

We've already lost a friend.

I don't intend to lose another-- not tonight.

I can't believe we're gonna let him get away.

The machine never said Reese was the only one planning to k*ll Simmons.

[Quinn groaning]

Let's get you out of here.

We've been talking for nearly 20 minutes, Lionel, but you've said almost nothing.

And I thought we were really starting to hit it off.

Look, this is a safe place.

I may get paid by the city, but I serve the police officers who come into my office.

Oh, yeah?

In that case, I'll take a bourbon on rocks.

Alcohol abuse is common among officers after a sh**ting.

So is sarcasm.

How have you been sleeping since the incident?

Just fine.

You were forced to take someone's life.

That's a hard pill to swallow, even when the sh**ting was justified.

Fine.

I encountered the suspect--

It's better if you use his name.

Okay. I encountered Jules.

It was dark, he saw me, went for his piece. I got to mine first.

The end.

Well, that must have been terrifying.

You could have been k*lled.

Part of the job.

Yeah, well, part of my job, Lionel, is dealing with cops who act tough and end up eating a b*llet because of a cascade of untreated posttraumatic symptoms.

Now, you can hide your real feelings from everyone else, but with me, you need to get real.

All right.

This is a safe place, right?

Doctor-patient, confidential, all that, right?

Yes, everything you say here is completely protected.

Use this time to unburden yourself.

Wasn't a good sh**ting.

Well, I'm sure you may feel that way, but--

Ain't got anything to do with feelings.

You see, Jules sh*t an off-duty rookie last year.

24 years old.

Kid had a baby on the way.

But good drug dealers can afford good lawyers, so Jules walked.

I had been tracking him for weeks, just waiting to get the guy alone.

And there he was, walking out of a bodega, with not a care in the world.

No protection either.

He saw me.

He knew why I was there.

I could see it in his eyes.

So I smiled at him.

[Chuckles]

Just before I put two in his chest.

You k*lled a man.

No.

He got the devil's share.

The... what?

That's what you call it when a guy like Jules gets his.

It's the way the world evens things out.

Guy got what he deserved, and you wanna know how I've been sleeping?

Like a baby.

But thanks for letting me unburden myself.

[Chuckles]

(Fusco) Missed your flight.

I told the pilot you weren't gonna make it.

So what's the plan, Fusco?

Gonna sh**t an unarmed man?

[Laughs]

Nah.

I got a better idea.

Been waiting to do this for a long time.

Aah!

Carter got you good, huh?

[cr*ck]

Aah!

I get it, Fusco.

I always knew you were a k*ller.

Get it over with, will ya?

That's just it.

[Panting]

I could've been just like you, a bottom-feeder who turns on his own kind.

For what? Money, power?

I got lucky.

[Panting]

I had a partner.

She was good for me.

For a lot of reasons.

She reminded me that I could be good again too.

I could be a good father, a good friend.

A good cop.

I'm not gonna let you undo all the good she did.

Carter saved my life.

She-- she saved me from myself.

Because she believed in me.

And I'm not gonna throw all that away on a piece of crap like you.

Patrick Simmons, you're under arrest.

Aah!

You have the right to remain silent...

[DLID's Colour In Your Hands playing]

♪
♪ there's a color in your hands ♪
♪ can never return, never get back, no ♪
♪ there's a moment in your... ♪

Doctor said he's gonna pull through.

Lost a lot of blood.

I'm gonna go steal some more from Manhattan General.

Where's Root?

♪ there's a color in your hands ♪
♪

♪ can never erase, never rub out, no ♪
♪

Think he's finally warming up to me.

You were free.

Why did you come back?

Like I said... we have a larger fight ahead of us.

I think we should be together when that begins.

Don't you?

♪

Thank you.

♪
♪ there's a moment in your hands ♪
♪

♪ never give up, never get slack, no ♪

It's just me, Officer.

Elias.

What do you want?

Quinn and I are busted.

HR is dead.

Nothing else to do but rub my face in it.

That's not really my style.

Then why the hell are you here?

Well, there remains a debt.

Civilization rests on the principle that we treat our criminals better than they treated their victims, that we not stoop to their level.

But you and I are outliers.

We're not really a part of civilization.

We're something... older.

Which means, of course, that we can do the things that civilized people can't.

I offered to k*ll you for Detective Carter many times, and she always said no.

She was civilized to the very end.

I don't think she liked me.

But I liked her very much, and you k*lled her.

So now I consider it my responsibility to fix the particular problem that is you, Officer Simmons.

You really think you're gonna be the one to k*ll me?

No. No, my friend is going to k*ll you.

I'm just gonna watch.

[Grunts]