Walter goes to rouse Roscoe, and tells him to listen to the sound of his voice, which isn't hard to do because Walter is practically screaming at the top of his lungs, at least until he starts using a microphone for the hypnosis.

So Peter strolls into the office, where Olivia tells him that she futilely checked traffic cameras for the Observer. Not content to let sleeping dogs lie (or actually do any work), Peter pulls out the damn Buddha book so he can explain. "You don't have to," says Olivia. LISTEN TO HER, PETER. He's not going to listen to her.

Peter says she asked him what his favorite book was, which he understands now was probably just her trying to gather information on him. "But I also know that I'm not the easiest guy to get to know," he says, although he should consider the possibility that maybe people just don't like him. Keeping people at arm's length is something they have in common, he says. "The book wasn't meant for her. It was meant for the Olivia Dunham that I've spent the last couple years of my life with," he says. Yeah, well, so was your penis, and that wound up in the wrong spot too. "You're the person I wanted to share it with," he adds. Yeah, well, as I said...

Olivia says she feels like Rip Van Winkle. Beg pardon, but Rip Van Winkle was never nominated for a Teen People's Choice award, now, was he? "Everything is different. Even you opening up to me is different. And this book is just a reminder of all the things that I missed. Conversations we didn't have..." she says. There's more, but Astrid inconsiderately interrupts them to tell them that Walter's doing it.

Out in the lab, Walter's sitting with Roscoe, who has his eyes closed, down at the piano. "At the count of three, you will open your eyes, but you won't be awake. You'll still be open and receptive as you are now," says Walter. After Walter counts, Roscoe opens his eyes and chuckles when he sees he's sitting at a piano. He familiarizes himself with the foot pedals and starts to play, something in a minor key. The Fringe gang looks on, interested -- Walter is rapturous watching his idol play. Eventually Walter asks Roscoe to think back to Tuesday night. "Tuesday is... chicken dinner," whispers Roscoe, who certainly has it sweet in the retirement home. Walter asks him what happened after he fell asleep. Roscoe haltingly says that he didn't believe it was Bobby at first since it'd been so long since he'd seen him. Yeah, that and he was dead, right? "I asked him if he was real. He took my hand... he was real," he says, in that signature Christopher Lloyd rasp. He'd stopped playing the piano, but starts up again as he says that Bobby whispered something to him -- and then slams his hands on the keys as Olivia's cellphone rings. She's utterly mortified, and scurries off to answer the phone, apologizing as she goes. Walter asks Roscoe to continue, but Roscoe says he doesn't remember what Bobby said. The moment appears to have passed.