Previously on Eli Stone:
Nothing romantic could ever happen between us.
- You'll find it. - What?
Someone to share your life with.
I'm starting a pro bono practice. I'm changing.
- An accident. - Jordan was inside.
We know why Dad drank so much.
He had visions and he didn't know what to do about them.
Give me back the aneurysm.
Not uncommon for the clipped aneurysm
to grow back, which seems to have happened.
Not in a conference room. In a stairwell.
I know what we have to do now.
Three thousand? Dollars? American dollars?
You talking to me? I can have you smited. I know people.
Guy wants to charge me 3,000 bucks for us to sit behind a concrete pylon
- outside Marvel Stadium. - That's ironic,
because I don't want to be in Marvel Stadium.
Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, it's the last game ever
before they tear it down. Dad used to take us all the time.
He used to take you. I went once, got hit in the ear with a foul ball.
Why won't you let me do this for you, Eli?
It's not my birthday. My aneurysm came back.
You still haven't leveled with me and I know it.
I was the one with the symptoms. The visions, the fainting.
- And my MRI comes back clean. - If it makes you feel any better,
I haven't had a single vision since it came back.
Nate?
This wasn't a regular vision. Someone spiked the vision punch.
- George Michael again? - Duke Ellington.
Eli, you were engaged to a real life, non-hallucinogenic woman.
Like when you come out of a movie in the day
and everything seems brighter because you've been sitting in the dark.
You're right. I'm rusty. What do I do?
The same thing you used to do: wait, follow the signs.
I'll see if any cases might be related.
- Is there a legal directory for that? - No, but there's Maggie.
- Where is she? - Running around complaining about
the assignment you gave her. Are we suing Duke Ellington, Eli?
No. He's dead. Are you done with that memo?
- No. - Know when you will be?
I'm sorry, Eli, but you cannot tell the people you work with
that your life-threatening medical condition is back on a interoffice memo.
- E-mail would be faster. - If you want people to know,
- you need to talk to them. - I'm tired of talking about it.
- Talking about what? - What do you got?
A woman in San Francisco's claiming she was bitten
by a pit bull named... wait for it...
- ...Duke. - My co-workers already think
I'm marble-deprived. I don't think representing a dog on my first case
- is gonna change that perception. - Eli, someone's here to see you.
- An actual client. - What's she look like?
- She got brown eyes? - Mr. Stone?
This might sound a little crazy, but you don't
- have a daughter in her twenties? - Maggie Dekker.
- Thomas Hayes. - A much younger half-sister?
- Eli. - No.
I have a son.
Had a son. He died in Iraq.
It happened in Karmah, three days ago.
I'm very sorry.
I came here because I heard you're willing to take unpopular cases.
What type of case, Mr. Hayes?
I need you to stop the Army from burying my boy.
Your son was in the Army,
but you don't want him to receive a military burial?
Daniel wouldn't have wanted it:
The burial, the honor guard, any of it.
Department of Defense doesn't send an honor guard
unless one is requested by the family.
- Army wouldn't honor your wishes? - Army's not the problem.
My wife is. She's listed as his next of kin
and she wants all the pomp and circumstance of a military funeral.
How can you be so certain about something your wife doesn't know?
They had a different relationship. But that's the problem.
- She doesn't believe me. - What do you mean?
She wants to believe Daniel died in the service of something great.
That's not how he wanted to be remembered.
To be blunt, you being ex-military and your son getting killed in battle...
Daniel wasn't killed in action. His heart gave out.
Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, they call it.
It's rare, it's hereditary,
and it can go undetected and cause sudden death.
But from what I've heard, Mr. Stone,
you have personal experience with that sort of thing.
Slushees!
Glad we came. Worth two grand a ticket to be with drunks with sausage breath.
- You can't get that at home, even HD. - It's the last game in Marvel Stadium.
- Where's your sense of history? - At the gate with that guy
- with the wand who frisked my privates. - Oh! What the...?
- Lady, what's wrong with you? - I'm sorry.
- Sit down somewhere. - That's her.
- That's who? - That's the woman from my vision.
- It's really nice. - She was singing to me, dancing.
- You got a little here. - I don't think it's the same woman.
- No, look, here. Let me just... - Sit down.
All that's missing are pitchforks and torches.
Yo, Balderrama, you can't hit!
- The Marvels suck! - What are you doing?
Last game in Marvel Stadium. You can't do this!
- Marvels suck! Marvels suck! - No.
Marvels suck!
- You, sit down! - Thank you.
- You're welcome. - Sit down!
- You really don't have to do this. - Of course I do. You saved me.
This is mustard. This should come right out.
What's this? Cough syrup? Who threw cough syrup on you?
I didn't see. I was blinded by Slushee in the eyes.
Seltzer. That'll get that out.
You carry seltzer in your purse? What are you, a traveling bartender?
- This sort of thing happens a lot. - This kind of thing?
Not this exactly. But I do spill things a lot.
Wow. You're not at all like the woman in my...
In your what?
Is it possible we met before? Like, professionally.
- Do you need a lawyer? - I am a lawyer.
Well, maybe you're a lawyer who needs a lawyer.
Maybe we've appeared against each other. Or we're going to.
I work for Lawyers Without Limits.
Unless you're a despot or represent them, I don't think so.
I'm Eli. Eli Stone. Ring any bells?
Please. I'm not the kind of guy that you obviously think I am right now.
I'm Grace.
Please don't comment on the irony.
Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I just... I think
that I was... meant to meet you.
You know what, I bet you're a really nice guy,
but can I have my ChapStick and pen?
Oh, yeah. Just take my name and number.
Please.
It was really interesting meeting you.
You too, Grace.
Wow. Sounds like you've got a way with women, dude.
She wasn't exactly like the woman in my vision. She wasn't anything like her.
She was sweet, funny. Her name is Grace.
You know how the Bible defines grace?
It's the spirit of God that exists in humans
for the sole purpose of strengthening them.
- Where's the case? - Why are you looking for a case
when you just took on a new one? Maybe she's here for you.
Maybe, for once, your vision is meant to bring you some joy.
This is my consolation prize for jumping back
on the aneurysm roller coaster last week?
Maybe it's more like a reminder that you're not alone.
Morning, sir. Glad to see you're keeping out of stairwells.
At some point, I have to get back on that particular horse.
Speaking of last week, have you given our discussion thought?
I did. And I had a brainstorm. For every hour of pro bono work,
our associates get 30 minutes credit to their billables quota.
Hmm. As brainstorms go, that's more like a drizzle.
I had something more along these lines in mind.
- Good to see you back, sir. - Thank you, it's nice to be back.
Um...
Sir, when we talked about changing the firm, taking it in a more...
...socially-responsible direction, I assumed that the firm would still have,
- you know... clients. - And it will.
It will just have better ones.
And have you shared this with Mr. Posner and Miss Klein?
Eli, I've known Martin and Marci since before you were potty trained.
I know exactly what their reaction to this manifesto will be.
You've got to be kidding me.
Pro bono department you established at the end of last year,
you want to turn the entire firm into it?
Not at all. Unlike pro bono cases, we would charge for these services.
But we'd be providing them to a more noble clientele.
- "Noble clientele?" - We implement a Hippocratic oath
for our clients, committing to represent only those who do no harm.
Except, apparently, to our bank accounts.
The three of us right here,
we're not who we were 30 years ago.
And we're not who we set out to be.
Do you remember this? Our mission statement.
Our plans for the firm we wanted to build. Our dream for the future.
- Jordan, seriously... - Can any of us say our client roster
lives up to those ideals?
I'm gonna make a presentation of my proposal to a full meeting
of all our partners.
I expected some resistance, but it would be ill-advised for either of you
to stand in my way.
I begged Danny not to go. I even tried to bribe him with a new car.
But he enlisted anyway.
And the truth is, he seemed to come into his own over there.
I just think, if he had to die,
at least I want to give his death some meaning.
He didn't want a military burial, Emily. He told me.
I don't remember him calling home asking to speak to you.
In any case, Daniel designated Mrs. Hayes as his next of kin.
Which is no longer enforceable once the body has been released by the DOD.
Will you trust me on this? I know what he wanted.
He wanted to go to medical school. He was gonna be a surgeon. Remember?
- I never told him to enlist. - You didn't have to.
It was clear from the day he was born. The way you acted when he joined ROTC.
It was the only time in his life you ever told him you were proud of him.
Look, we should be able to work this out.
Bringing this to court doesn't do anyone good.
Is that what you told them to do?
My son is lying in a box on a tarmac somewhere.
You couldn't let me make a decision about him even once?
We'll be in touch.
Are you OK, sir?
That's the most she's said to me in three days.
Eli? You have a phone call.
She says she met you at Marvel Stadium.
Eli!
- Hello? - Mr. Stone?
This is Grace, from the game.
I'm so glad you called. I didn't think you would.
Listen, ever since yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking...
I just had to know. Did you send me the ticket?
- I know it sounds crazy, but... - What do you mean?
To the game. Um... I got a ticket in the mail.
It had a note: "You are not alone."
And I know that if I hadn't spilt the soda, or dropped the hot dog,
which inevitably led to me spilling the soda,
there wouldn't have been a reason for you to save me.
There's still a big element of chance to the whole thing,
- but I was just wondering... - Slow down.
- ...if it was a way of hitting on me. - I didn't buy you the ticket.
You didn't?
But I'd like to buy you lunch.
I'm going to Kenya in two days.
- For lunch? - No, for work.
Listen, it was really great meeting you last night. Have a great life.
Call the minister back and tell him we're filing a jus cogens brief
- and a motion under Article 24. - Grace, there's someone here for you.
- I can't take walk-ins. - I don't think he's a walk-in.
Did you order lunch?
You hung up on me.
Fortunately, there's only one Lawyers Without Limits office in this city.
- Lucky me. - So...
Um...
See, I figured you never actually got to eat your hot dog.
For some, that's the best part of the game...
- You brought me a dozen, like... - Roses. Exactly. Only smellier.
I don't have much to work with, and even less time.
You leave the country in, what, 48 hours?
I already made this huge hot dog investment.
I have a brief to file in federal court.
Why don't we share a hot dog on the way?
- Fair? - That's fair.
Just...
I got drinks, too. It's water, so, you know, if you spill it...
- I mean, when you spill it... - Quit while you're ahead.
I admit, I'm worried, Dad.
This big blow-up between you, Marci and Martin.
- It's all anyone here can talk about. - Partners argue, Taylor.
Doesn't mean the firm falls apart.
I seem to recall the "fall apart" speech when I was nine.
I'm not married to Marci or Martin. Neither's my type.
Posner and Klein aren't gonna sit quietly by while you plot
to take tens of millions from their pockets.
I wasn't aware I was doing any such thing.
Where might I be absconding with my ill-gotten gains? Someplace tropical?
Dad, this is a big deal.
Anything new brings with it fear and fallout.
Like that roller coaster I used to take you to in Santa Cruz.
You get to the top of that first rise, all you can do is buckle in
and ride it out.
- I always hated that roller coaster. - You never told me.
Because I loved being with you.
Are you with me now?
Always, Dad.
Up until two years ago, I was a bankruptcy lawyer,
helping huge conglomerates avoid paying taxes.
You traded that all in for the morally bankrupt work
- of helping third-world citizens. - It's not that easy.
Flying into people's lives only to fly out again.
Never really putting down roots.
Know the last time I bought non-miniaturized toothpaste?
- Must be tough on your love life. - Objection, counselor. Relevance?
Goes to opposing counsel's availability.
Well, it's hard. Truth be told, I haven't had a real date in two years.
Unless you count a long walk I took with a rhesus monkey in Cambodia.
A lot can happen on a long walk.
So why did you make the whole job switch?
Oh... A lot of reasons.
And you? How did you get retained by God?
I mean, I figure He's a pretty tough client to bag.
I Westlawed you.
You can't believe everything you read online.
- And you didn't send me the ticket? - No.
But if you don't mind me asking, what made you use it?
I don't know.
I spend all my time at work or on the road,
and I'm always in the airport watching people have magical airport moments.
And I know it sounds stupid, but I just thought
maybe I deserve a little magic in my life too.
I need to file this brief.
Grace, wait.
By the end of the week, I'm gonna be practicing law in Swahili.
Have dinner with me. I know this incredible jazz place.
I love jazz. How did you know that?
Say yes, maybe I'll tell you.
OK.
His unit was heading back to their base camp for lunch.
And he just keeled over.
Congestive heart failure from his... condition.
It was a random, senseless death.
It could've happened here as easily as over there.
Nevertheless, he died a solider. Why shouldn't he be buried like one?
Because it's not what he wanted.
He felt like this was a war of choice, not necessity.
- He told you that? - When I last spoke with him, yes.
On occasions when he told you he had grown disillusioned,
was it with the war or with the military,
whose uniform he didn't wish to be buried in?
- I don't understand. - Like Mr. Hayes,
- I'm straining to see the relevance. - Simple: you can be against the war,
but not against the military. You can want to get out of Iraq,
but not out of uniform. Specifically, Danny could.
- He would have despised the hypocrisy. - You're a former military man?
- Yes, I am. - You've requested a military burial?
- We're talking about Daniel. - Objection.
Mr. Hayes, have you requested a military funeral?
Yes.
And you think Daniel would have despised the hypocrisy?
Nothing further.
Either the other partners are all late for the partnership meeting,
or it would appear I've been outmaneuvered.
We're seeking a court order
freezing your authority pending a complete psychological work-up.
You can't be serious.
The motion was filed 15 minutes ago.
I'm sorry, Jordan.
- We have to get to court. - A minute. What about this?
"Bradbury's, dinner and jazz."
You need a reservation at least a week in advance.
- Maybe you could call and beg? - I'm doing it why?
- I told Grace I knew a jazz place. - You lied to her.
When you find it, it'll stop being a lie.
- We really... - The judge will wait.
They can't start without us, that's how it works. Well?
Try 52nd Street. It's Jazz Night featuring the Elling-tunes,
a Duke Ellington tribute band. Should be something special.
- Have I told you how much I love you? - Hey, come on.
Get her to court before her head explodes.
When did Daniel send you this video?
October 12th. A week before he was to come home.
Hey, Mom. Live from Al-Karmah, it's another Groundhog Day in Iraq
and I'm still standing.
I got your letters, and I know you're worried.
Don't believe everything you see in the news.
We're doing some pretty great things, like refurbishing this old swimming pool
at a community center. We opened it yesterday,
and you've never seen so many smiling kids.
Tell Dad Sergeant Ellington's putting me in for a Soldier's Medal.
So I might be coming home with a souvenir.
I love you. And I'll see you soon.
He sounds like a man embarrassed to be in uniform.
This video is a snapshot of a moment in time.
It tells us Daniel's state of mind on October 12th.
- He embraced his mission. - It proves he built a swimming pool.
It doesn't speak to how to dispose of his remains.
It was all spin. Daniel was putting on a brave face to protect Emily.
I don't think it played that way.
Played as someone proud to be in uniform.
You think the judge won't order him to be buried in it?
It isn't what he wanted. I don't know how else I can say it.
Tell us what you're not telling us. Who's Sgt. Ellington?
Why would you...? He was Daniel's CO, commanding officer.
- And who was Ellington to you? - I served with his father.
- What did he have to do with Daniel? - Nothing. Where did you get this?
Something's going on with Ellington. He's important.
- To Danny. - Don't call him that.
You want to walk out, that's fine. But you hired me to help you help your son.
- I can't if you're not being honest. - You've done enough.
Stone, your aneurysm, was it contagious?
- Excuse me? - Jordan, your ex-future-father-in-law.
Recently returned from his near-death experience.
He wants to take the firm pro bono, which is Latin for "buy cheaper suits."
- I know. - Yeah?
Know that Klein and Posner slapped him with a lawsuit
to prevent the whole thing from happening?
Nutjob.
- Obviously, we're fighting this. - We are not fighting anything.
This is between me, Marci and Martin.
You can't go pro se, Dad. I'll represent you.
- I will. - So the attorney who should defend
my father from getting declared insane should be the least sane?
- I'm not crazy. - You told a judge in open court
- you had a direct line to God. - You didn't notice that worked out?
- Your dad's standing here alive. - Yes, I am. Standing right here.
Eli, I know you feel responsible for the changes I'm making,
- what I'm putting this firm through. - How can I not?
Because you are not. I made my own choices,
and this one was a long time coming.
I appreciate both of you wanting to help me, I do.
But I can handle this myself.
- He doesn't have this handled. - He can't.
- He's doing this because of me. - Right.
I will always be indebted to you for saving his life.
But Eli, I can't let you risk his firm. I am sorry.
Theoretically, I'm behind Jordan changing the firm.
But cutting 60 percent of the clients...
- God, I am so boring. - No! You're not boring. Eli...
I'm the worst date ever, and you're the most patient woman on the planet.
- No, I'm interested, really. - No way.
I am not talking about my work problems on your last night.
I am just gonna hit reset. And from now on,
you're gonna have the most memorable time of your life.
- Kobe burger... - Just...
- Sorry. - Not three-alarm fire memorable.
Here.
Thank you. This is why I haven't been out for so long.
I'm not fit for society.
- It's Hit Me with a Hot Note. - Hit me with a who note?
The song. It's Duke Ellington.
- Does this song mean anything to you? - Um...
- No. - Grace, will you dance with me?
- No. - I'm telling you,
- we need to dance to this song. - Eli, I cannot dance.
Of course you can dance. It's a slow song. All we have to do is just sway.
- And what about your toes? - They've been stood on before.
Please, dance with me.
So I seem to recall a pretty clear agreement.
Dinner in exchange for an explanation.
- About the jazz thing? - And the mystery ticket.
Either you are a stalker who clearly does his homework,
or there's something else going on.
I know about the aneurysm.
I... Sorry I didn't tell you. I just... I guess I didn't know how.
Clearly, you survived.
It recently, um...
- It came back. - I'm sorry.
No, it's OK. Obviously, it has its down sides.
But there's this weird other component.
Grace, I didn't send you the ticket.
But I did see you before we met.
I get these visions because of the...
- You had a vision of me? - Yeah, you were singing...
...in here.
Yeah, you were the sexiest, most confident woman I've ever seen.
That's funny.
Because dancing with you here right now...
...I feel a bit like that.
It's been a long time.
Why did you suddenly change your life two years ago?
This is a perfect moment.
I don't wanna ruin it with sad stories.
Is it too sad to say I wish you weren't leaving?
We can't.
I'm leaving tomorrow.
I don't...
I don't want to complicate it.
That's OK.
Just keep dancing with me.
How'd you know?
- Did we have a meeting? - How did you know about Ellington?
I got a tip from a very senior partner.
But you're gonna have to fill me in.
When Danny was going through the enlistment process, he...
...needed help with the medical exam. I reached out to Bruce.
What kind of help?
He failed his first physical.
They caught his heart condition.
It was a mild form of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
It was so mild, the doctor almost missed it.
But it still would have disqualified Danny from serving.
So your good friend Sgt. Ellington found a sympathetic doctor
- who looked the other way. - I checked.
It's like being denied for flat feet or bad eyesight.
- Not necessarily life-threatening. - A heart condition.
- I gave him the choice. - Enlist or forever disappoint his dad?
- That's hardly a choice. - The only thing keeping me going
is making sure Danny's last wish is granted.
Well, I'm not sure how we can do that. Not without proof.
He sent this to me a couple of days before he died.
What did he say?
"Dad, things have never been worse.
Last night, Cox and I were going house to house,
dragging parents away from their kids at gunpoint.
In this one house, there was an Iraqi father and his son,
who couldn't have been much more than ten.
And the dad just wanted to get his kid out of there, somewhere safe,
and he wasn't gonna let go of him until that happened.
And for a moment, I wanted to be that kid with that dad.
That dad never would have pulled strings
to put his son in harm's way.
You said I'd learn about myself if I went to war.
Well, I learned I'm not you. I'm not a soldier.
And every time I put this uniform on,
I feel a little sicker.
And I wanted you to know that."
"If you're reading this e-mail,
it means I actually had the guts to send it.
Don't let Mom see it. She's worried enough already.
Daniel."
The law requires me to use the best evidence available
to determine the decedent's intent.
I think, regrettably, this e-mail is it.
Plaintiff's motion granted.
Custody of Daniel's remains will fall to Mr. Hayes.
You knew about his heart.
- You knew. - Emily, please.
- This is what I was afraid of. - Don't come home.
E-mail the address, I'll send things. I don't want you near me.
I should never have let you near my son.
Come on, Eli. Talk to me.
What's there to talk about? We won. Yay!
- I'm sure there's a bright side. - Like what?
You're having visions again, right? Without an aneurysm, that must...
- You didn't send the e-mail. - I'm having computer issues.
Patti, I asked you to do something for me. Something quite simple.
- Why can't you do it? - What am I supposed to say?
"FYI, Eli Stone, the man we all stood a three-night vigil for
as he laid in a coma in the hospital, the man we all love, has discovered..."
No. I'm not doing it. I won't.
Attention, everyone! Attention!
I just want to let you know that the aneurysm's back.
Big, bad, funnier than ever. I'll do my best not to drop dead in your office.
Thank you.
Was that so hard?
- I'm sorry. I didn't know. - I don't need your pity right now.
Almost drowned in it last year. No offense.
- Wow, who could be offended by that? - It's happening to me again!
My life is defined by a three-millimeter tissue in my brain.
Here's some news: the pity you almost drowned in last year,
that was self-pity. It's up to your shoulders and rising.
- We're not doing this. You can go. - Who are you so angry at?
I have to pick one? How about a client comes to me for help,
- and I destroy his marriage. - A marriage falling apart
- under the weight of guilt. - Jordan, destroying something
he's spent his life building 'cause of me.
Jordan makes his decisions. He always has.
- Including not to let me defend him. - Convince him. Try harder.
- Grace! - What?
I'm angry at Grace. I finally meet someone I like, and she's leaving.
Why don't I get more than 48 hours?
- Your brother, Nate. - Nate! I'm mad at Nate.
If I hadn't gone to that game, I wouldn't know what I was missing.
- Eli, I mean he's on the phone. - Nate.
- That's what I said. - Tell him I'm coming over.
You bought her the ticket.
And you brought me to that game for a reason. I don't know how or why,
but you did it.
Remember how I told you that we were gonna have to talk sooner or later
about you winning the aneurysm lottery again?
Well, here we are.
What does my aneurysm have to do with you sending a random stranger tickets?
You wouldn't tell me how you got the aneurysm,
so I had to go looking for answers elsewhere.
- You found them in a notebook? - It's Dad's journal.
I found it in Mom's garage,
in a big box of his crap she can't get rid of.
- Dad kept a diary? - Kind of.
It reads like a crazy person's to-do list.
There's names and dates and drawings. I think he was writing down
everything that he was... seeing.
And it all has to do with you.
You now.
Ten years after he died.
I read some of it,
and I found out what you did for me,
- how you asked for the aneurysm back. - Nate...
Dad said you were gonna do it.
The entry is dated October 14th.
"E saves Champ." That was his nickname for me, remember?
- What else does it say? - A lot. All right?
I didn't read all of it. Some makes some sense, and a lot of it does not.
Like sending Grace a ticket to the game?
And making sure that you were there. It told me the date of the game.
And who to send the ticket to. Grace Fuller. Her address.
- All of it, it's all in here. - Why?
Why did you ask,
whoever you asked,
for the aneurysm back?
Because I didn't want it to ruin your life.
Maybe Dad didn't want it to ruin yours, Eli.
Dad's words: "You're not alone."
He is trying to tell you that you can still be happy.
She's moving, Nate.
- Tonight, as a matter of fact. - She can't leave.
She can, apparently.
She's moving to Africa.
Yeah. So tell me. Um...
- Why did I meet her? - I don't know.
None of this makes any sense. After everything she's been through...
- Everything meaning what, me? - No, everything meaning...
- You don't know. - What?
Here.
Oh, my God.
- Grace. - Eli.
- What are you doing here? - I know.
I know about your heart condition.
Grace, come on, I had to buy a one-way ticket to Alberta to get past security.
- Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. - I know.
It's rare and it's hereditary and it can go undetected,
and it can cause sudden death.
Looks like we just keep finding things in common.
Yeah, the guy with the defective brain
and the girl with the defective heart.
When are we off to see the wizard?
You keep asking me who sent you that ticket but you never asked why.
I think I'm supposed to get you to stay.
You think a higher power wants to stop me from helping people in Kenya?
Eli, I know that I don't have the experience that you have with this,
but I just don't think it's supposed to work that way.
Then maybe I'm supposed to come with you.
We both know that as soon as we got off that airplane,
the only thing that would be on your mind is your boss.
- That's who you are, Eli. - Grace...
It's who I've fallen for.
We both know only one of us is getting on that airplane.
We weren't brought together for nothing.
No.
It wasn't for nothing.
I think it was proof that there was someone else out there like us.
Someone else for us.
It was a reminder.
- That can't be all it was. - That's not all it was.
You gave it to me.
My magical airport moment.
Don't those usually end with a...
- ...with a kiss? - Yeah.
A kiss and a goodbye.
For now.
Yeah? Tell me it's just for now.
Nobody knows what's gonna happen in the future.
Not even you, Eli.
Goodbye, Grace.
Goodbye, Eli.