Darlene's firewall has this short, and the hole that fritzs out briefly shows through to the other vulnerable side. The gritty orange of industrial cleaner on the commuter train. The back of a headstone. Pushing past coats and slippery plastic dry cleaner bags to get to the back of the closet. A keyboard smashed on the edge of a desk. A blank disc drive, overwritten or deleted. And then she patches the hole and she's just looking at Elliot, sharply, again.

"Don't," she says. And then, as she looks away, back down the way they've come, "Jesus. Get your jollies playing hero if you want, I will not get in your way, but you cannot get lost in this shit. I need you out here, with me, okay?"

It's an order but it's plaintive too. All those times she thought she was standing next to Elliot. And she was. But she wasn't. This is the mega version of that. Them, not just him.