…to Jen's old apartment, where she stands in the foyer, brow resolutely furrowed, and looks around. She sees herself in the mirror and stares at her reflection for a moment, then squares her shoulders and moves away, padding through the hall of a well-appointed duplex towards a study with a fire blazing in the fireplace. In April. In New York. Whatever. Her face begins to crumple. Cut to a glass of cognac; pan up to Mr. L passed out in a chair beside the glass, and as Jen walks almost silently behind his chair, he stirs and half opens his eyes: "Jennifer?" "I took a cab here," Jen chokes out. "What?" Mr. L snaps, coming out of it. Jen says she had "these visions" of coming in and announcing that she "wasn't going to Capeside," and Mr. L blinks the crust from his eyes and interrupts to ask what she's talking about. "You'd smile, and we'd -- we'd go for a walk," Jen quavers, and Mr. L interrupts again to tell her that "it's really late," like, it's your daughter, not the Fuller Brush man, you jackass. Mr. L angrily sips from the cognac snifter; Jen says she came up the stairs and unlocked the door, but she didn't hear anything, so she thought maybe he wasn't there. Mr. L, not getting that she's talking about five years ago, grouses that he "was just resting," but he's awake now. Jen stammers over him that then she heard "a voice, a…whimper," and it sounded far away, and then she heard it again. Oh, no. Mr. L stares at her; he's going for uncomprehending, but it looks like he's started to figure out what Jen's on about. Jen "recognized" the whimper, and she knew "that it was Annie." Mr. L closes his eyes tightly all "busted" but recovers with a sharp, "Who?" Annie Sawyer, who lived downstairs, and who "was probably the age [Jen is] right now" at the time. Mr. L just stares at Jen; Jen stares at him, half furious and half pleading, and tells him, "She was my favorite person in the whole world." Mr. L again tries to play the who-in-the-what-now card with, "And…she was in our apartment?" "You were having sex with her," Jen half sobs. Oh, come on. That's it? That's the big secret? That's really, really feeble, writers. Not that I looked forward to an incest storyline by any means, but -- really. That's just weak.

Anyway, Mr. L can't decide whether to go with "you're right" or "you're crazy," so he makes a weird gesture with his head that sort of splits the difference as Jen adds, "But you were careless." He'd left the bedroom door open, and Jen could see in through the door from the hallway. Mr. L gets to his feet, telling Jen that she "need[s] some help" and asking if she's "talked to anyone? About this?" It sounds more like he's trying to discern whether Jen's ratted him out to anyone "important" than like he's asking whether she's in therapy, which figures, given his jackassery in the episode -- and the series -- thus far. Jen doesn't respond, numbly telling him that she backed down the hall and went downstairs and disappeared "in a big crowd" on Fifth Avenue. She heaves a sigh: "It was after that that things started to get really bad, didn't they?" Mr. L just stares at her in patent dismay before muttering angrily that Jen has "imagined in very great detail" something that never happened "a very long time ago." Jen shakes her head at him and weeps, "Dad, who are you?" Shawshank-esque piano music plays as Mr. L pauses; the question seems to hit him where he lives, because his mouth moves but no sound comes out. Finally, he manages, "I'm your father." Jen's face works as she struggles to say, "You knew…didn't you?" Mr. L blinks guiltily in answer. "Oh god, all this time -- my life got uglier and messier, and then you sent me away -- you made me feel ashamed -- you, you punished me for all these things that were beyond my control," Jen cries, then gets a grip on herself and says in a more level tone, "You saw me standing in the doorway. And you never said anything." Mr. L, staring down like he doesn't care anymore, says half-heartedly, "I wasn't -- I didn't…" Jen cuts him off, saying she doesn't want a confession or an apology, and she doesn't have to forgive him: "All I have to do…is forgive myself, for these things that I can't change." She heaves another sigh and says, more evenly, "Goodbye, Daddy," while Mr. L stares at her, now fearfully. He starts to say something, then thinks better of it. That scene proved nothing and came as something of an anticlimax, but Michelle Williams acted the pants off of it.