Huge blast of orange flame. Jane jumps and flies backward, sending her through the last unbroken wooden beam in this shack. Exterior shot of flames CGIed out of the corner of a warehouse.
Inside, through the smoke, Jane coughs. She sees the fire and calls out to Tarzan. She gets more fireballs in response. She's choking on the fire that should have already killed her three times.
For some reason, we get exactly the same shot of the warehouse exploding.
Downstairs, everything's cool, and Jane touches Sam on the arm, which always wakes up a person who fell down some stairs. He gets up, disoriented, and follows her.
Jane and Sam stumble out of the warehouse, both coughing. They run underneath the window, where black smoke pours out.
Fade to the firemen putting the smoke out with their hoses. Pan down to all of the cop cars and fire engines. Everybody's talking, radioing, blah, blah, cop stuff. We see Michael debrief to Sam our wrap-up: "So the one guy's name was Trevor Whedon. But guess the name on the birth certificate: Creal. Gregory Creal." Sam: "I knew it. Like father, like son." Michael agrees. The Cap -- who loves stumbling into the middle of conversations and hijacking them -- asks about "the Clayton kid." Michael says that the firemen said "no chance." The Cap approaches Sam: "About this case. You were right. But that doesn't change the fact that you and Porter were completely reckless. Could have gotten yourselves killed." He walks away, but I'm sure we'll hear that exact speech a few more times this year. Sam and Jane stare at each other. Sam's got a bandage over one eye. Jane holds an ice pack to her wrist. Sam sips some coffee. Jane looks away, apparently upset.
Michael thanks one of the cops and walks over to Jane. He apologizes, and says he has to stick around and "wrap" some things up. She already solved your case, Mike. Does she have to give herself head, too? Michael tells her that some guy named Abrams will drive her home. Can't this girl get a car? Can't she drive herself? "Careful," Michael says to her as she climbs out of the back of the ambulance. Shut up, asshole. She just fought a crazy serial killer and escaped a fire. She's got it down a step. Ugh. "Jane," Michael says. "I almost lost you tonight." Jane repeats, "No, you didn't. No, you didn't." He means in the fire, not to the monkey, girl. Jane says she's there now, and everything's okay. "Okay?" Michael repeats. "No, no, everything is not okay. Think about it. All our 'being sensible' and 'let's not rush into anything.' It's wrong. I was wrong." Michael whispers, "I want you to marry me, Jane." Again: "Marry me." Jane answers with a long, shuddery, confused sigh, so Michael stutters an apology, and says it's been a long night. He says they should just get her home. He puts her in a car, once again telling her to be careful. Maybe you should watch yourself go and buy a ring, mister. What kind of proposal was that? You're obviously hoping she'll marry you and quit being a cop, what with the whole "Everything is not okay" bullshit. And you aren't offering to take her home, or let her stay on the case she solved. And you aren't offering your own place. Why won't Jane say anything? Michael says he'll come over as soon as he can and they'll talk. Jane, mute as Tarzan, lets herself be driven away from the case she cracked, and the man who's stealing her thunder.