He adds that there's no hurry: "Any time before sundown tomorrow should be fine," he says, and leaves. "Sundown"? What is he, an old-time sheriff now?
After the commercial break, we see Broyles at home laughing and joshing with his son, who's excited about a couple of things from school: getting picked first to play "hitball," as well as some floozy named Stacey telling a guy named Danny that she likes Chris. "Can you believe that? Dad, no one's ever liked me!" All the while, Broyles is sticking one of Jones' massive syringes into some sort of stent in Chris's chest. Broyles is almost comically excited about everything; it's always nice to see him away from work and cracking a smile every once in a while. He kisses his son goodnight, and looks at him for a moment -- Chris seems to fall asleep almost instantly -- and stands in the dark, smile fading.
Over at Fauxlivia's place, Walter is making a midnight trip to the bathroom -- wearing one of Fauxlivia's silk robes, it appears -- when he notices a very drunk Fauxlivia in the living room. Looking like it's a mighty struggle to form coherent sentences and to not pass out, Fauxlivia asks why he can't sleep, if the bed's too hard. Walter says he was sleeping like a baby, but his bladder was not. I'll say this for Fauxlivia: she's a quiet drunk! I tend to turn up the Clash when I've had a few and pretend I'm Joe Strummer and then it's all, "Honey, shut that off" and "Daddy, I have kindergarten in the morning," the usual bullshit.
Walter looks at her sympathetically and says, "You're a lot like her, you know? The other Olivia. She has trouble sleeping when there's an open case." Fauxlivia explains that it's not the case, but the evidence from Lincoln's murder. She tells Walter that she's looking for a mole, which somehow morphs into an explanation about how she doesn't normally drink, but her ex, Frank, left this bottle here when he moved out. But of pretty much anyone on this show, Walter is the last person you'd have to apologize to when it comes to substance abuse.
Things get a little maudlin as Fauxlivia waves her hand over all of Lincoln Bee's remaining belongings from Fringe Division. She's supposed to give them to his parents, but she hasn't had the courage to do that until she has anything more on his case. Enter the booze, which she'd hoped would help, but it's only made her feel a little bit sick.
Walter's answer, as it is for everything, is food and he starts whipping up some scrambled eggs, which he calls "nature's sponge." Fauxlivia happily rests her head on his shoulder and moans about how she knows she's missing something. Walter advises her to sleep on it and let her agent brain process the evidence while she sleeps or whatever and she says there's no evidence at all, nothing linking any of the likely suspects to the crime.