All language subtitles for Scorpion.S03E03.720p

Walter? Walter,
can you hear me? Walter?

Sly, what's happening?

You're 5.5 miles
above the ocean,

falling at roughly
53 meters per second

without a parachute!

Okay, this is where a plan
would be useful.

Please tell me you have one!

Deep breaths.

Feel all stress leave your body.

Inhale through the feet.

Exhale from the crown.

A biological impossibility.

Doesn't mean it literally.
It's a metaphor.

Makes him sound like an idiot.
That's a simile.

Cleanse your mind
of all thought.

Impossible.

The brain is
constantly thinking,

even during sleep.

In fact, a 2013 study found

neural activity
in deep-coma subjects.

You both said you would
give this a chance.

We are here
for relaxation.

Sorry.
Sorry.

And we will find serenity,
even if it kills us.

Scan your body

for all pockets of negativity,
and release it.

What's going on?

Oh, welding solar panels.

I thought we could go a little
green, save a little green.

No, with the Dali-Lame-a's.

Oh, Walt is tense about
Paige dating Tim,

Toby's tense about...
Your secret husband?

Yeah, and it all
stresses Sly out big time,

so hence the hokum.

Don't knock meditation.

Even the marines
are using it these days.

Why don't you pull up
a mat, then?

Inhale white light.

Pass.

Hold for three seconds.

Exhale black smoke.

Three seconds?
That was barely 2.38 seconds.

Thought we were supposed
to relax.

You're right, uh...
I'm going to reset it.

Okay...

Tim, there is no way.

No, I'm telling you,
I think that she is.

Son of a bee sting.

Guys, settle this for us.

Tim swears
the “where's the beef” lady

is the same woman as

the “I've fallen,
and I can't get up” lady.

Thank goodness.

I was worried it might be
about something trivial.

If I'm wrong,
I gotta buy dinner, so...

No, if you're wrong,
you have to cook dinner,

including your
blueberry crumble.

This guy can bake.
It's like heaven in a pie tin.

Well, I have a project
to work on.

This is your urgent project?

Actually, yes, it's...
It's our garage floor plan.

Triple-A.

I assume this has nothing to do
with your car insurance.

It's my “Active
Avoidance Algorithm.”

I track the typical
daily movements of Paige,

indicated here with a “P.”
I assumed.

And Tim.
“I”?

Interloper.
Oh.

Anyway, areas where
they typically interact

have exclamation points,

and the numbers
denote duration.

So, for example,
at 2:00 p.m.,

Paige and Timothy
congregate in the kitchen

for coffee and banal banter

for about eight minutes
and 36 seconds.

Now, from my desk, I would have
an unobstructed view,

and that kind of irks me.

- Kind of?
- Anyway...

But thanks to Triple-A,

I know to be here,
at the monitor tree,

where I occupy myself
with work

until they're separated.

Now, this map identifies
36 such hot spots.

Hmm. You know, some
world-class behaviorists,

like me, might say
this will drive you crazy

if it hasn't already.
Oh, you're one to talk.

You're avoiding
the Happy situation.

Just because I've
stopped hounding her

does not mean I'm avoiding it.

Check this out.

What is this?

That's a dossier
of all my suspects.

Any one of these bozos could
be Happy's mystery spouse.

Hold on.

Ray?

He was in our lives,
then he left.

Maybe he's
commitment-phobic.

The point is, where you're
avoiding your problems,

I'm meeting mine
head-on, Walt.

You got the Triple-A,
I'm doing the Triple-H.

- Hunting Happy's husband.
- Hey, guys.

Um... hi.

- Am I interrupting something?
- Nope.

Okay, uh, Richard Elia's
downstairs.

I think he has a job for us.

Cool.
Cool.

Okay.

My company has our first
manned space launch

in three days.

Make a few orbits,
then splash down.

Routine stuff, bit it's
make or break for us.

We have to meet
this deadline,

or we lose our next
round of funding,

and NASA gives our contracts
to Space X or Virgin Galactic.

What do you need
from Scorpion?

Well, recognize this?

That's Walter's throttle design.

After you so generously
open-sourced

your rocket research,

my guys adapted some of your
best thinking to our bird.

Walt's throttle's revolutionary.
That's what I thought,

- but it doesn't work.
- I can assure you

we have empirical
evidence that it does.

I know that your private
beach launch

last Christmas was successful,

but when we scaled it up
to a much larger rocket,

we found some
instability issues.

Take a look.

Hey, I know you guys
saved Elia's daughter

from a cartel last year,

but didn't Walter
also wreck his Ferrari

and burn his building
to the ground?

Uh, well, the Ferrari
was one of nine,

so I'm pretty sure
he didn't miss it.

And, um, the building
wasn't our fault.

Oh.

Although Walter did
hit Elia over the head

with his laptop that day.
Really?

I don't put everything
in the case summaries.

These numbers can't be right.

You dumb engineers
screwed up.

I'd be happy if you
could prove them wrong.

Walter, time is
of the essence,

and I'm more than willing
to pay a premium.

Fuel levels are looking good.

You're go for
testing, guys.

No way the problem's
your throttle.

I bet it's their valve system.

Well, we'll soon find out.

So this contract you're
competing for, what is it?

Giving rides to NASA
until they get their own

manned program
back up and running?

It's like “Space Uber”"

Our sights are set
a little higher.

Private companies like ours
are the future

of space exploration.

See, we intend
to take the next

giant leap for mankind.

Put a man on Mars.
Or a woman.

A whole colony, actually.
And Walter's throttle

could play a big part.

That's why I saw the
news van outside.

A little PR for your
company's ego?

A little PR never
hurt anybody, Toby.

Besides, Scorpion should
get some good press

if Walter can get
everything going.

He'll fix it.
He always does.

Diagnostics complete.

Checking the results.

Told you.

Elia, your engineers'
redundant valve system

is destroying

Walt's throttle ratio.

Our experts advised us
to put that in

to protect against
standard instability

below 60% of thrust.

There won't be the instability,

and I can prove it;
just let me undo what you did

and run some tests.

I'll head to Mission Control,
pick up the proper valves.

Looks like you guys
are gonna be here for a while.

I'll have my assistant
order lunch.

Is Greek okay?

Anything's fine.
Thank you.

As long as it has an “A” rating
from the Board of Health.

Understood.

You sure you're okay
with Greek food?

Might make you emotional.
Oh, shut up.

We rented an indie
Greek film last night,

and I might have cried.

Yeah, she tried
to hide it.

It was romantic.
I can't help it.

True love always
makes me cry.

It was one tear.

It was sweet, like you.

Yeah, right.

Intercom off.

Take that.

You're such a man, Tim.

Sly, what does the radar
look like?

On it.

Oh, boy, big storm
coming in.

Rockets are giant
lightning rods.

We better get Walt out
of that tin can.

Hey, Walt, you hear
that weather report?

Hello? Walter?

You copy, kid?

Walter!

Ah, the Triple-A.

What-what does that mean?

That means he took
his comm out.

What about the capsule's radio?

Must have turned that off, too.

Happy, it'd probably
be prudent

for you to go back there
and get him out

until this storm clears.

Roger that.

Oh, boy, oh, boy
oh, boy!

What's happening?
The engines fired,

and I can't shut 'em down.

Lightning must have
struck the connections.

Did Walter do it
on his end?

Not likely.

The fact that they
are firing proves

that the lightning struck
the open circuit

that Walter was
working on.

The whole thing got fried.

That sucker is gonna launch.

Guys, that sucker's
gonna launch.

Oh, man,
this sucker's gonna launch.

There's an escape slide
if he can exit the hatch,

cross the gantry
and get into the bunker.

Wait, does Walter
have time for that?

Math is not in his favor.

He needs to make a decision.

T-minus 25 seconds to launch.

He's shutting the hatch.

'Cause if it launches
without it sealed, he's dead.

He's gotta strap in.
When that thing goes up,

inertia will pin him down,

make him feel three
times his weight.

T-minus 15 seconds.

T-minus ten seconds.

Nine, eight, seven...

T-minus five, four...

Three, two,

one...

Not good.

♪ Scorpion 3x03 ♪
It Isn't the Fall That Kills You
Original Air Date on October 10, 2016

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

We gotta raise Walter
on the radio.

He has got bigger problems
than communications

if he wants to survive
the next few minutes.

What problems?
Problem number one:

systems control.

The telemetry of the rocket
is a mess.

The lightning strike
scrambled the computers.

Lightning struck
Apollo 12 during launch.

Control came back on
when the astronauts

switched to auxiliary
and the computers rebooted.

Does Walter know about that?

I sure as hell hope so.

And if he gets
the computers restarted,

then he can deal with

problem number two,
atmospheric pressure.

If he doesn't
pressurize the cabin

as the capsule gets higher,
his blood will literally boil.

How much time does he have?
Less than a minute.

Button's in the copilot panel,
three seats in that capsule.

Let's hope Walter
jumped in the right one.

Can he breathe up there?
Oxygen is involved

in pressurizing the cabin
so the systems are connected.

If Walter can get
to that button in time,

he'll have plenty of fresh air.

If not...

Do you have an abort button?
Yes.

And if we abort,

Walter's capsule separates
from the rocket,

parachutes deploy from there,
and he just...

Falls back to earth
safe and sound.

Yes.

Then just do it already!
We can't until Walt

gets the computers back up.

That brings us
to problem number three.

What's problem number three?

The abort window's closing.

That's problem three.

He has to abort before
the rocket goes into space,

and he can't do that until
the rocket's computers reboot.

I have to abort.

Come on! Come on!

Walter's computer's back on.
I'm hitting abort!

Come on, come on!

Oh, no. Oh, no.

I can't abort. I can't abort!

Guys, guys!
Don't press the button.

Don't press the button.

No, no, no, no!

No!

What the hell?

Lightning fried
the parachute package.

If we abort the capsule
without a chute, we kill Walter.

Good work, guys.

Okay, I'm getting data from the
medical sensors in the seats.

Walter's still alive,

so we got that going
for us, which is nice.

What happens now,
he just keeps traveling

into outer space forever?

No, the rocket was designed
to blast the capsule

into a low-earth orbit
and then stop.

Which means?

It means Walter
is reaching space right now.

And the capsule is detaching
as we speak.

But the rocket was only fueled
two thirds to capacity

for the test,
which is not enough

to maintain a stable orbit.

So the capsule is in
a decaying orbit

and will crash
to the earth

in 26 hours.

And he'll die because
the capsule has no parachutes.

That's about the size of it.

Problem number four,
get Walter home.

How? His ride's busted.
It's not like he can hitchhike.

Not necessarily.

The International Space
Station's escape pod

could pick up Walt.

Sly?
Pulling it up now.

Won't work. ISS is on
the other side of the Earth.

Check out the DOR log.

There's a Russian ISS

resupply rocket
launching in a week.

And our capsule conforms to
International Docking Standards.

We convince them
to move up their timeline,

dock with Walter
and bring him back home.

Hey, Vladimir, on way home,

please pick up vodka,
borscht and 150-pound Irishman?

Are you kidding?
These are Russians.

Why would they change their
schedule to help Uncle Sam?

'Cause then we'd owe 'em one.

You take Paige,

go to the Russian Consulate.

Throw Homeland's weight around,
and see what you can get done.

Copy that. Keep us posted.
Absolutely.

Speaking of keeping us posted,

that takes me to problem
number five, communication.

Take a look at the damage
done to the rocket.

When the rocket ripped
from the tower

during blastoff,
a piece of debris

must have fallen into
the communication array.

We cannot talk to Walter.

What about Walter's comms?

Okay.

Anyone hear me? Oh...

- Of course you can't.
- Comms are a no go.

The capsule has
radiation shielding,

which blocks the signal.

Well, then, what about
an Air Force AWACS plane?

A big communications bird like
that could more than make up

for the rocket's
communications array.

And then they could
relay a signal

from the sky back down
to you guys.

My corporate jet's hangared
here, but it doesn't

have the kind of
broadcast equipment you'd need.

I know how we can get it.

Okay, Cabe, I need a hand.

I need your plane gassed up
and pilot-ready in five minutes.

A story on advancements
in private sector rocketry

has become a cautionary tale

as an unscheduled blastoff

may have launched
a civilian into space.

We have been prevented entry
into mission control

or an audience with...

Very subtle, Happy.

My government would be
happy to help.

However, in addition to funding

and technology from Mr. Elia
to help move up our launch,

we require one thing.

Which is what?

Credit.

When this mission is over,
we want your president

to make a statement
telling the world how

Russian space program

saved an
American Homeland agent.

Yeah, I'm not sure that's
gonna happen...

Done.

We need to consult
with Cabe first...

Agent Cabe Gallo gave me
permission to act on his behalf.

Sir, you a have a deal.
Excellent.

I will leave you to make
the necessary arrangements.

What was that?

We can't just agree that the
U.S. is gonna kowtow to Russia.

And we both know that Cabe

didn't authorize
you to do anything.

That's right.

So I'm on the hook, not you.

I'd do it for any member
of the team.

Now, make the arrangements.

That was Tim.

Looks like I'm gonna
have to make

an uncomfortable call
to the White House.

Well, I am ready here.

Okay, guys.
Give it a shot.

Okay, connecting to you now.

Signal's hot.

Relaying now.
Ok, Toby,

give it a try.
Walter? Walter, do you copy?

Guys... Guys, I hear you.

Can you hear me?
We got him.

Yes, Walter, hello.
We can hear you.

I'm zooming in.

Walter, Mr. Elia
is very angry,

and he wants
his rocket returned

right now, young man.

I'm gonna return it,
just probably not in one piece.

My parachute is shot,

and my orbit is decaying.

I assume you all
know that already.

I figure I've got
25 hours before I crash.

Any ideas?

Yeah, you're gonna
bum a ride.

A Russian spacecraft
will be coming

to pick you up
in plenty of time.

So sit back, relax,

and enjoy your flight.

I could play you
my meditation app.

No, thanks, um...

Hey, Walt, don't forget
to pick me up one of those

“My friend got launched
into space,

and all I got was this
lousy T-shirt” T-shirts.

Do you guys hear that?

Hear what?

A clang from the hold.

No, don't copy
any clanging.

The hold's empty.

I beg to differ.

Why is he opening the hold?
There's no sound coming from it.

This could be why.

Oxygen tanks must have
taken a hit during launch.

O2 levels are dangerously low.

That doesn't
make any sense.

Warning sensors
should've gone off.

Well, not if they
were damaged, too.

Oh, man, that clanging
only exists in his head.

This is bad.

How bad?

If he's having false
sound perceptions,

that means he's already
suffering from hypoxia,

which means that Cabe
won't have to make

that uncomfortable call
to the White House,

'cause Walter doesn't have
a day anymore.

If we don't get him oxygen,
he's dead in 32 minutes!

So how do we know if things
are gonna be getting worse?

He'll have full-blown
hallucinations.

Oh, hello.

Let me help you out.

Hello, Walter.
I've missed you.

Guys, why didn't
you tell me

that Paige was in
the cargo hold?

I think things
just got worse.

And that would be
problem number six.

Hey, Walter... pal...

I need you to sit down,
conserve oxygen

and stop talking
to people who aren't there.

His O2 levels are dropping
at an alarming rate.

He has less than 28 minutes!

Why doesn't he respond?
He can hear.

Sensory cells on his corti
are converting vibrations

into neural messages,
which are carried to his brain.

So, yes, technically
he hears you,

but he doesn't hear you.

Simply put, Walt's taken
a vacation from reality.

Oh, wow.

Oh, the view is so beautiful
from here.

It's breathtaking.

I hadn't noticed it.

I'm focused on something
much more lovely.

That is so sweet.
Mm.

And poetic.

I remember everything
you taught me.

My days of not being able to
put it into practice are over.

I can restrain myself

when I hear something
factually inaccurate.

I can engage in small talk,
no matter how insipid.

I can remember
to compliment someone

when I observe something
about their appearance.

For example, you look absolutely
stunning in that outfit.

We really shouldn't
be listening to this.

He doesn't know
what he's saying.

He's sick.
Da, da, da.

What he's saying
is making me sick.

Making me sick, too.

Thank you.
Mm.

It's what I wore
when we first kissed.

But you know that
because...

you think about that kiss
all the time.

What I wore, my perfume.

How my lips felt.

It's all burned
into your memory.

I have the data stored, yes.

Now, I know you think you know
my limitations--

what I am capable of,

or more accurately,
incapable of.

But...

I can still surprise you.

Really?

Prove it.

♪ Yes, it is ♪

♪ Me in love with you ♪

♪ You, you, you, you,
you, you, you ♪

♪ It's so nice ♪
♪ It's got to be nice ♪

Oh, my.

Oh, my.

You look stunning
in that dress.

It's what I wore
when you and I danced

at that art fund-raiser
two years ago.

I never forgot
how you looked in it.

It's a Halston.

It should be
called a Galaxy.

Because it contains
a heavenly body.

♪ Now that was the birth ♪

♪ Of our love ♪

♪ And since then... ♪

Walter...

♪ You're the sweetest thing... ♪

What was that noise?

Just some space debris.

Come here.

I didn't know
you could dance.

Just body movements

and physiology
synched to rhythmic patterns.

You know, I am well aware

that with your knowledge
of kinesiology and biology,

you could be as strong as
Tim if you wanted to be.

If I wanted to waste my time
lifting heavy objects

over and over...

But you don't
need to do that,

because you're already
lugging around a great,

big brain.

♪ Just as long as I'm your man ♪

Oh.

If Walter knew
we were seeing this,

he'd choose to remain in space.

You're my whole world.

I'm just a moon
that orbits around you.

That's it. Orbiting moon.

That's how we're
gonna save O'Brien.

Walter is running
out of oxygen and time.

You need to break it down
quickly.

He said “moon.”

The moon is just a satellite.

Man-made satellites always have
a little bit of fuel

left in their booster rockets.

And they use liquid oxygen
for fuel.

Okay, satellite information
is mostly public information.

I just need to find one
that's going to cross paths

with Walt's capsule.

Oh, I found one. Here.

A Norwegian
telecommunications company.

I'm a little confused
how this is all gonna work.

I'm glad you asked, Cabe.

As Walter gets closer
to the satellite,

I will hack
said satellite

and use its thrusters
to fly it directly

into the capsule's cargo hold.

Walter releases
liquid oxygen,

and as it warms,
it turns to a gas.

He could breathe it in and get
that brain of his working again.

Sounds great,
except for the fact that

I've been watching Walter
dance by himself

for the last two minutes.

For this to work,
he has to be cognizant enough

to release the cargo hold door,
to get to the satellite.

Walter!

Walter, I know you can hear me.

Listen to me, son.

It's no use, Cabe.
I'm looking at him.

He's talking to
invisi-Paige.

You can't get
through to him.

Whoa. Oh, she can!

What? What'd I... what'd I do?

Not “what did you do,”
but what you are about to do.

You are about to break

the psychotropic grip that
hypoxia has on our Boy Wonder.

Why is he dancing?

In layman's terms, he's running
out of oxygen and he's loopy.

And the only person
he'll talk to is you,

'cause he thinks that
you're up there with him.

What? Wh-What is he saying?

Things.

Oh, boy.

Paige, you only have
a few minutes, so talk to him

and get him to pull
that big blue lever

that opens
the exterior hatch

so Sly can guide
a satellite inside.

What if I can't do it?

Then he dies.
But, Paige,

you know how to talk to us.

That's why you're on this team.

We know you can do this.

Okay, everybody out.

Why? What if you
need our help?

This is a private conversation
between me and Walter.

Everybody out.

Clock's ticking. Let's go.

Come on.

You too, Happy.
I can hear you over the mics.

Damn it.

I have a surprise for you.

Close your eyes.

Can I open them now?

Yes.

Baked Alaska.

Beats the hell
out of blueberry crumble.

Mmm. Oh.

It's perfect.

It's the most scientifically
interesting dessert.

Air trapped in small meringue
pockets acts as an insulator,

slowing heat transfer.

So the 450-degree oven
does not melt the ice cream.

Can you show me how to make it?

In the oven

in back of the garage?

We could bake together

and have fun,

but we'd...
we'd have to go home first.

Just us?

Just us, just you and me...

...me, but if you want
to go home,

you have to pull the large...

...blue lever near the seat.

That will get you home.

Ah, I see
the lever.

You're lying right next
to it on the chaise.

Um, that's right.
It's right...

...next to me.
Yeah.

Oh,

Wal... Walter.

Are you okay?

Why don't you...

...sit down next to me?

I'm confused.
Well, I know.

It's because you're not getting
enough oxygen.

No, it's 'cause you picked Tim.

I know I can't be what you need.

I know I can't be
emotionally present

the way that you deserve,

but I always thought that...

that eventually,
that you want to...

you want to be with me.

And...

that's why it hurts.

Because...

...because I love you.

I love you, too, Walter.

And we-we can be together.
You just have to...

...pull that lever,
and it'll be just you and me.

And we'll be together...

forever.

I don't see the handle,

I just see your hand.

Well, that's what I meant.
Take my hand.

Pull me to you.

Do that, and everything
will be okay, Walter.

Now pull me close.

The hatch is open.

Yes!

That's a good job. You okay?

Yeah.

Great work in there.

Couldn't have been easy.

What'd you have to tell him?

Uh, whatever he needed to hear.

Okay, I am
into the Norwegian satellite.

Now I just need to manipulate

the thrusters,
and I will be able to

guide it through the external
hatch within minutes.

Walter opens the interior hatch
and the liquid O2 warms to gas

and he stays alive.
I'm not so sure about that.

He can't open the interior hatch
if he's passed out.

And if he doesn't open the hatch...
He doesn't get the oxygen.

And if he doesn't get
the oxygen...

Then Walter dies.

Walter!

Walter, wake the hell up!

Wait, what's going on?

He's unconscious!
Let him hear your voice.

Walter!

Walter, it's me.
Remember, you promised

to come back
to the garage with me!

Walter!
It's no use.

He's out.

All right,

so if he's out cold,

how we gonna get the oxygen
to him?

We don't.

But maybe we can get him
to the oxygen.

I don't like
where this is heading.

And where is this heading?

Happy wants me
to use the thrusters

to push the capsule
into the atmosphere,

where he'll be
surrounded by oxygen.

But Walter's in the capsule.
How does he get to the oxygen?

See, that's the part
that I don't like.

We remotely blow the hatch.

The change in pressure
sucks Walter out

into the sky,
where he'll be able to breathe.

We covered this
in medical school.

Falling thousands of feet
without a parachute,

it's bad for your health.
I'll catch him.

Mm, I don't think they make
baseball gloves that big.

No, on a SEAL mission,
we once did a HALO jump.

One of our guys passed out.

He had a bad mix of stuff
in his tank.

I dove after him, I caught him,
I pulled his chute.

If I could catch him,
I can catch Walter.

Except I am
backing the satellite

into the cargo hold right now,
as we speak.

There is no time for you

to get into a plane and get
all the way up there. Plus,

if I don't push this capsule

into the atmosphere
within the next...

180 seconds.

...180 seconds,
Walter will suffocate!

I can do it!

I had jump training
in the Corps,

and this plane is already
chasing after the capsule.

It's the only hope he's got.

Elia, you got to have
emergency chutes on this rig.

Back closet, on the top.

All right.

Timing has to be perfect.

Sly?
Do you have any idea

how many variables
need to be computed

in order to make Cabe
and Walter intersect?

No! But you do.
So figure it out!

Okay...

Last time you did this?

30 years ago.

Wow. I'm not even 30.

- Shut up.
- Okay, Cabe,

I just got your speed
and coordinates from your pilot.

Walter's capsule is plummeting
through the atmosphere,

so we got to do this now.

How much do you weigh?
200 pounds?

207.

I start a program on Monday.

Okay, that will
affect calculations.

All right, Cabe,
when I say, “Go,”

you need to leap.

Yeah, I got it, kid.

Walter's capsule is burning

through the thermosphere.

Okay, on my count,
I'm going to tell Cabe

to leap out of a
perfectly good plane

and then eject my friend
into the atmosphere

without a parachute.

Don't worry about me, Sly!

You just tell me when!

Cabe, now!

Okay, seconds away from
launching Walter, but somebody's

gonna have to push that button
because I-I can't do it.

I'll do it.
Great.

You volunteered for that job
pretty quickly.

All right, genius eject
in three, two, one.

Now.

Oh, no!

What do you mean,
“Oh, no”?!

He's out of the capsule.
That's what we wanted.

Despite the power that pulled
him out of the capsule,

he was still able to hang
onto the lever longer

than somebody
should've been able to.

He thought it was my hand.

His subconscious tried
to hang onto you.

Given the speed and distance
of what we're dealing with,

one second can mess up
all of my calculations.

Cabe could miss.

Walter?!

Walter, can you hear me?

Walter!

Sly, what's happening?!

You are 5.5 miles
above the ocean,

falling at roughly 53 meters
per second without a parachute!

Okay, this is where a plan
would be useful.

Please tell me you have one.

Hold, please.

Wh... uh, Sly,
what are you doing?!

He is falling likely to his
death, and Cabe might miss

catching him midair in a
one at a one million shot

because he was
hanging onto a lever

that he thought
was imaginary Paige!

Would you like me
to tell him that?!

No, it's best you not say that.

Maybe we can fix

Cabe's trajectory

by using physics.

Cabe, spread out your arms,

palms out for a second, let wind
resistance slow you down.

Hope that was enough!

Hey, Walter.
It's Sylvester.

Sly, what the hell?!

I'm sorry you're stressed out,

but you got
to do me a favor

and look to your right.

You see that little dot
coming in hot?

That is Cabe.

When he collides with you,

you need to grab
him and hold tight.

This will be
a violent collision.

It's like snagging
a hard spiral

that's thrown your way.

Okay, just cradle the football.

Don't fight it, or it will
bounce off your hands.

I never caught a football!

I think I'm wide
on the approach!

Lean in the opposite direction
to counteract the variable.

I'm trying!

I can't seem to...

Walter!

Cabe!

Cabe!

Walter!

I missed him!
Cabe.

Pull your chute.

Guys, please tell me

there's a plan “B.”

Okay. Just got
off the horn

with our friend
Admiral Pace.

There is a naval sub

on maneuvers in
the immediate area.

They've been dispatched
to pick up Cabe and...

retrieve Walter.

Retrieve? We're not just
gonna let him fall.

Paige, I didn't mean it
like that. It's just...

It's just that
we're out of options.

We're Scorpion.
We're never out of options.

There must've
been situations

where people have fallen
without a chute and lived.

Exceedingly rare
situations.

I'm looping
Walter back in.

We need his brain.

Hey, Walter.

It's the gang, but we don't have
a plan “B” yet.

Well, now's a good time
to think of one!

That's why we're searching

for common factors

in parachute fail
survival stories.

I remember a guy
in Kansas

hit a plowed field
and lived.

I once read a story about a guy
who crash-landed

in the Okefenokee Swamp.

Freshly turned over earth,

swampland...
they hit something soft.

Walter's about to hit water.

- Water's soft.
- No, no, no.

The surface tension of water
doesn't allow for compression.

If he hits the water at this
speed, it's like cement.

The common factor

is aeration.
I need bubbles.

He's right-- swampland
is naturally aerated,

so is tilled soil. We just
need to aerate the water.

I was a platform diver
in high school.

Was there a sport
you didn't play?

In practice, they softened
the water by using a machine

that blew bubbles into the pool.

It helped prevent injuries.
That's a pool.

We're talking about
the Pacific Ocean.

But Walt will just hit
a small area.

Sly can calculate
the exact coordinates,

then we'll just need
a big explosion

deep underwater
that is perfectly timed.

It'll roil the water,
break the surface tension

and cocoon Walt's body
when he hits.

My odds of survival are low.

Your current odds
of survival are zero.

This is our only shot, buddy.

I'm gonna call Admiral
Pace at Naval Command.

I'll tell him we'll have
coordinates and launch orders

for the rescue sub ASAP.
Launch orders?

I'm gonna detonate a torpedo
right under Walter.

That will provide

Happy
the explosion

that she's looking for.

Man the torpedoes.
We have direct orders

to fire on
Admiral Pace's command.

Aye, aye, Admiral.
Fire!

My math has the torpedo

detonating in ten seconds.

Walt, feet together,
toes pointed,

arms at your side, chin tucked,

and try to relax.
Oh, sure, relax. No problem.

Five, four, three,

two, one.

This is XO Calvin
of the USS Grandin.

We have retrieved
Walter O'Brien.

He is alive.

- Repeat: He is alive.
- Yes!

Yes!

Yeah!
Come on, man!

Come on!

Aah!
Scorpion!

Scorpion!

Hey.
Hey.

You should be resting.

Well, I've been
resting for five days.

I'm going stir crazy.

Well, too bad.
Now take your pill.

I don't like
methylprednisolone.

Uh, it makes me jumpy.

Toby says it keeps inflammation
down around your L4.

L5.
Whatever. Take it.

So...

how's your head?

It's better.
No more headaches.

And, um... the memory loss?

Um, well...

I remember the fall,

the torpedo explosion.

Um... nothing after that

except for waking up
at the hospital.

I meant, uh, up in the capsule.

No memory at all of that,
of what you were

thinking or experiencing?

No, nothing.

But that makes sense,
considering the O2 levels.

Sorry to interrupt,

but you got a visitor, boss.
Mr. Elia.

He's resting.
Nonsense.

If I don't move around,
I'm gonna lose my mind.

Uh, what were you guys
talking about?

Nothing, just chatting.

Excuse me.
I can help you

downstairs.
He's fine.

Hey.

Yes?

Why are you pressing
to see what he remembers?

Uh, I'm worried about his brain.

It's Scorpion's... top asset.

Bullpoop. You want to know if he
remembers confessing his love.

Bullpoop. I want to know
if he's okay.

Paige, you've moved on to Tim.

Walter is trying
to move on from you,

but his subconscious
is struggling with it.

You digging up
these memories

and messing around with them
is going to hurt him

worse than when
he hit that water.

Trust me, if he has
any recollection

of what went on in that capsule
buried away, it will surface.

There will be clues.

And that's mucho bad.

'Cause that means
he can't get over you,

which means a big pile of chaos

for all of us.

Especially the guy
that can't process emotion.

Uh, I need to...
clean these dishes.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

My doctors treating you okay?

Uh, too well.

They visit twice a day
to give cognitive evaluations.

Only twice? I told them
morning, noon and evening.

You shouldn't feel guilty.

Lightning strikes
are unpredictable.

I do feel guilty.

I've been reviewing
the footage to try and see

what could've been done
to prevent it.

Hm. You find
anything interesting?

Yes.

But not with respect
to the rocket.

Walter, you had a split second

to decide whether you could

get out of the capsule
before it launched

or if your best
chance of survival

was to shut the hatch
and ride it out.

I calculated the odds
and decided

there wasn't time to escape.

Certainly a tough call.

But in the same situation,
I would have tried to get out.

Almost anyone would have.

Well, you don't have a 197 IQ.

But I'm low 150s.

And I have some life experience.

Point is, Walter...

I know you and Paige
had some kind of a thing once.

And I also couldn't
help but notice

that she's gotten close
to your newest team member.

Timothy, yeah.
What I'm trying to say is

guys who think like you and me--

we avoid what we can't solve,

do almost anything to avoid
it, no matter how drastic.

I've been there,
during my divorce.

Mm.
Walter, guys like you and me--

we need to find something to
fill our time constructively,

because next time
you try avoidance...

...we might not be able
to bring you home.

Okay?
Okay.

All right.

Take care, pal.

Okay. You, too.

Hmm. Everyone gone?

Paige is cleaning up,

Sly's at some
comic book nerd fest,

Happy's at the junkyard,
and I'm busy...

Hunting Happy's husband?
Yup.

Still think it's a bad idea.
Still don't care what you think.

Fair enough.

I am feeling better,

so I'm heading to Emma's
for dessert.

Emma's-- isn't that place
famous for baked Alaska?

Yeah, ever since
I woke up in the hospital,

I can't stop thinking
about baked Alaska.

It just keeps rattling
around in my head.

Okay, see you later.

Bullpoop.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man