"I know why you're here," she calls after him. He stops and turns back. "I have your file." "What file?" he says, half-laughing. "The one the FBI would say doesn't exist," she says, adding a few cryptic statements about what he's done, who he's running from, what he needs while he's in Baghdad (he looks nervously around the lobby), and she says that if he doesn't agree to come with her, she'll let "certain people" know his whereabouts. "When do we leave?" he says.

On the plane ride, Peter's got all kinds of questions about his father, whom he calls "self-absorbed" and "twisted" and "abusive" and "myopic," but he doesn't really know much about him other than that he was a chemist who worked out of a basement lab in Harvard doing research for a toothpaste company, and that there was an accident and his father was arrested, beginning the first truly "peaceful" period of his life. "My gut tells me that your friend's life, the one hanging in the balance, is not going to be saved by a tube of toothpaste," he says. Unless he gets full-blown gingivitis, anyway. Shit be lethal. Olivia gets all excited because FINALLY someone is asking her about all the Googling she did!

She says Walter Bishop worked on a classified U.S. Army experimental project called Kelvin Genetics, with unlimited resources, mostly in the area of fringe science.

"When you say 'fringe' science you mean pseudo-science," says Peter. "I suppose. Things like mind control. Teleportation. Astral projection. Invisibility. Genetic manipulation. Reanimation..." she says. Peter interrupts her to ask if his dad was Dr. Frankenstein. Olivia just looks at him, and the silence grows increasingly awkward. She never said he was successful at it.

Over the snowy roads of Essex County, Massachusetts, to St. Claire's Hospital. Guards lead Olivia and Peter through the locked doors and corridors of the nuthouse, with Peter finally having his fill of the swelling strings and tells Olivia to go on ahead. She looks at him all befuddled, which is a look she's nicely perfecting already.

The orderly takes Olivia into Walter Bishop's huge cell, where he's artfully slumped symmetrically between two windows. "Hello," she says. He slowly turns around. This is the kind of mental hospital where they don't shave the patients, just so that they're easier to identify (Crazy Beard = Crazy Man). "I knew someone would come. Eventually," he croaks.