Fringe

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M. Giant: A- | Grade It Now!
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Sorry Charlie

Olivia sits with Broyles on a park bench. Is his office being fumigated or something? Has he become claustrophobic? He recites all the platitudes that are called for in these kinds of situations: she had no choice, it was Gnarlie or her, it's not her fault, and it wasn't even Charlie in the first place. Now that I think about it, I'm actually not sure how often that last one applies in these kinds of situations. Olivia's still pretty wrecked, partly because of course she's just recently realized Charlie's been dead all this time, not to mention the fact that Gnarlie kicked her ass so bad she might have to do something desperate like go back and see Sam Weiss and deal with his bullshit again. She's still having trouble processing all the trouble the bad guys are going through, "To open a door to the other side? Who are these people and what do they want? What did we do to them?" Before we can all descend into enough half-cocked theorizing to fill a dorm room, Broyles tells her something that definitely isn't going to cheer her up: "Laston-Hennings Cryonics was hit fifteen minutes before our protective detail arrived. They took everything." Olivia realizes this means they found the right head. "William Bell pulled me to another universe to give me a warning. That's how important this is. And I failed." Broyles insists, "Olivia, we'll find them." She wipes her nose and tries to buck up. Well, I mean, not to defend Olivia after she blabbed to Gnarlie when she should have known better, but it's not exactly her fault that William Bell sent her home at ballistic velocity. Maybe if he'd slapped a skateboarding helmet on her when he had the chance, all of this grief could have been avoided weeks ago.

But he didn't. So now, in a lab somewhere else, a cryogenic cylinder is opened, revealing a shrink-wrapped head in a cloud of vapor. It's unwrapped, and the head is shaved, revealing a tiny raised mark in the shape of William Bell's doodle. Curtis eats another pear, watching the next stage in the process: there's a pale, naked body on a slab, wrapped in plastic from the waist down. The head, now unwrapped, is positioned near the severed neck. But judging from the way the silvery puddle beneath is being sucked up and the wiggly bits of the exposed neck are visibly knitting themselves back together, it won't be severed for long. As if this isn't scary enough, the reconstituting corpse is played by Sebastian Roche, last seen almost killing Jack Bauer. Still want more scary? Fine -- his eyes pop open. Okay, I think my work here is done.

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Fringe

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