He approaches Walter, and we can suddenly hear a choir singing. "You're trying to think of music. You miss music," says Widmark. "There's not a lot of it here," says Walter. Widmark says they tolerate music, but he doesn't understand its rhythms, tones and harmonic vibrations. Walter tells Lester No-Bangs here that it amazes him: "Music helps you shift perspective, to see things differently if you need to," he says. I thought that's what the drugs were for!
Like hope? asks Widmark. Yes, very much like that, says Walter. "But there is no hope for you. Nothing grows from scorched earth," says Widmark. He finally gets his own chair and puts it down in front of Walter. "You seem much more interesting as a human being than as a vegetable," he says, with just the right amount of threat. "But, quite frankly, all things being equal, I don't mind which one you end up. The choice is yours."
Over to the Bronx, where Etta has brought the team to a hideout that doesn't look like much on the outside (which I guess is the point) but houses several rooms. No sign of Simon Foster, but some dude named Anil breaks the news to Etta that the corpse right there is a guy named Elias, who was shot this afternoon coming out of the Square. After a respectful slug from a bottle of some sort of rotgut, Etta says she needs their help.
Outside, Peter and Olivia decide to have an important heart-to-heart chat, with the huge Observer sign capping a building in the distant skyline confirming for Olivia that they didn't save the world. "Not even by half. She's still trying, though," says Peter. Soon we learn that Olivia eventually left Boston for New York to try to help fight the Observers while Peter "didn't have the will to give up searching for this perfect little soul that we made." I presume the discussion of these plans twenty-one years ago were a little more heated, but the separation and the distance (not to mention the reunion with their grown, kick-ass Observer-battling daughter) has probably taken the fight out of those long-ago arguments. Olivia says their grief made them incapable of being what the other one needed, and that's it. Peter's decision was made by the guilt haunting him over failing his daughter in the moment she needed him most. "And I wanted more than anything for that not to be true," he says, and I can sympathize with his pain. Fortunately, I have managed to stave off all Observer-invasion-related separations with my own daughter. "And in the state of mind that I was in, that meant at all costs, including us," he finishes, looking at Olivia, his eyes red.