She tells him that he deserves all the happiness he got and, fortunately, before he can blurt out that he's still in love with her, Fauxlivia comes back to take them to the best place for Olivia to cross over. As they walk, Fauxlivia smilingly tells Lincoln to stop checking out her young ass. In response, he pats Fauxlivia on her own still-perfect-I'm-sure ass.

They get to the room that matches up with where Michael's supposed to be on the other side and Olivia's got just under an hour left, so Fauxlivia gives her a few quick words of encouragement. Then Olivia crosses over, the effort sending her reeling into the corner of the room when she makes it. It's the right room, but the examination room is empty, Michael's brain scan is still up on the computer screen. Olivia's Cortexiphan GPS announces it is recalculating, and Olivia draws her gun.

Oh, there's Michael! He's strapped to a gurney being wheeled down the hall and into an operating room guarded by a couple of Loyalists. He's stripped to the waist and laid down, his torso bathed in a yellowish green light that appears to highlight his internal organs.

Olivia walks down the hall at the detention facility, although the way the lines are bending and people are fading in and out, she doesn't seem to be able to tell the difference between what's really in front of her and what might be an illusion. She spots an Observer and then she doesn't, and then he's back more substantially, and she plugs him and continues walking down the hall. It doesn't seem like the sound of shots being fired in a detention facility is raising any alarm or anything. I mean, there's a security guard watching a bank of cameras, but he only seems to notice Olivia when she's right outside his door and he gets shot before he has time to do anything about it. Olivia sees Michael in the operating room in one of the screens and heads back out the door, because I guess that told her all she needs to know about getting there.

In the OR, the surgeon is dramatically pulling the cloth off his array of creepy tools and spending an inordinate amount of time caressing them, so it looks like Olivia's got plenty of time to get there.

She's going to need it, too, because she's moving as if in a daze, the walls bending in on her and figures slipping in and out of her vision. She tries to focus, and then it's suddenly too late because an Observer has popped out right in front of her. He whacks her across the face, knocking her to the ground and the gun out of her hand. She can't really get to her feet, but suddenly lights are going out in showers of sparks as her Cortexiphan starts to flex its muscles a bit and the Observer is distracted long enough for Olivia to get her gun and shoot him.