YOU (You)

Previously on You:

Well, isn't this a pickle?

I'm hallucinating, right?

Killed me? Yes. He wasn't lying, Joe. He didn't know you.

- Marienne is really in a cage. - Tell me where she is.

You know where because you and I are the same person.

Something's happening to me, but I'm gonna fix it.

- I'm gonna fix it all. - As long as he's alive,

- he will come after me. - But what if he wasn't?

I spent my morning outside a police station

with a backpack full of ketamine

- and you won't tell me why. - I will.

- Forget it. - Thank you.

Good luck with that.

Your friends were killed.

Phoebe, you were bloody kidnapped. You need rest.

My father is the worst man alive.

I just want to make my own way.

Well, I believe you can be the person you wanna be.

I own everything in this world I want, including you.

- What am I supposed to do with this? - What do you think? Kill Marienne.

Somebody does need to die for this to end for good.

- - I know what I need to do.

You're not suicidal. You don't wanna die.

- Get the fuck out of my way! - Will you look at that?

You could have ended her suffering, Joe, if only you'd just listened to me.

Maybe from now on you do exactly as I say.

In Tobias Wolff's story "Bullet in the Brain,"

the hero is going to die.

That part isn't up for debate.

With respect, probably best to dump her in that lumberyard.

Do her a Malcolm.

It's only a question of how he's going to spend his final moments.

She wants Juliette to know.

So she doesn't wait for her mom forever.

The story seems to contend that dying this way is a fitting end.

Wait, so are you saying,

he wants to die?

What do you think?

I could've done this job for decades,

but today, I retire from this and everything.

It's not a good feeling, turns out, to know you're going to die.

I think it's a case of wrong place, wrong time.

No, I think it's grace.

Say more.

To die thinking of what you most love is...

It's a gift.

What the fuck?

Victoria, please. Phones.

I'm sorry, but Rhys Montrose was found dead in the woods.

Wait, what?

You've lost them all now.

- You might as well... - Class dismissed.

- Hi. - Hi.

Thanks for coming.

I take it you heard about Montrose.

Mm.

Nadia, be honest.

Was I just a fling slash occasional dealer?

No.

No, the opposite.

Then what is going on?

I wanna tell you. I really, really do.

I feel like I'm going crazy and...

You are the only person that I trust.

Also, I don't wanna lose you, and I'm sorry that I pushed you away.

Now, I'm scared you might not believe me, but here it goes.

Read this. And then I'm gonna show you something.

Read it.

It's just down here.

No, no. How...?

No, no, no. There was a cage. There was a glass cage. What the fuck?

What? Like what Love Quinn did?

No, I don't think it was Love Quinn. I think it was him this whole time.

- I think he came here and he killed her. - Nadia, Nadia. What's going on?

Oh, my God, I broke into his flat. And I found this key.

When I got here, there was this cage and there was a woman inside it.

- Like, locked in the cage? - I am not lying.

And I'm not crazy. I wouldn't even write stories this dark.

He had her in the cage and went to class. You can believe me or you don't.

I believe you.

- One question. Why no police? - Well, because they'll poke.

They'll ask questions and then he'll just get on to them and then he'll run.

We need him dead to rights or not at all.

We?

Who else?

Mr. Ernest Foy, 62, a keen bird-watcher...

Bloody bird-watcher. You must be having a laugh.

No way that old fart just stumbles over the body.

- What'd you do, kick leaves over him? - ...have reportedly taken DNA samples

- from the site. - We need to talk about this.

- The discovery of the body... - What the fuck are you doing? Oh, God.

Tell me it's not a note.

I doomed Juliette to a life of believing her mother died a junkie.

Love was right.

If I stick around, I'll only do worse.

You are not suicidal.

You're guilty and you're being epistolary about it.

Wallow later.

Tom Lockwood set us up.

He's coming for you, Joe.

You don't know that.

He sent you to kill because he knew you could.

The only thing that doesn't line up is his sanguine attitude

towards a wife stabber who's dating his daughter.

Oh. Unless he got you to flay his nemesis and set yourself up.

That would be a move worthy of Tom Lockwood.

Please go see what's wrong before you off yourself. I'm curious.

Kate?

Are you okay?

I had to drink a lot to do this.

- What's wrong? - I visited Phoebe at the hospital.

I was so worried after Adam that Rhys would simply break her. Did you see...?

Rhys. I did, yeah.

I'd say my father had a hand in it, but his bodies aren't found

unless he wants it that way.

Anyway, um...

Phoebe figured it out. She's leaving London when she's better.

Be free.

That's it.

Be free.

You had to drink a lot to do what?

I was going to leave town and just cut you off by text.

I thought it would be easier.

Because I suppose I've been falling a little bit in love with you.

- Kate. - How much do you know about...

stalkers, Jonathan?

Not any more than most.

As you know, when I was 18, 19, I was working with my dad,

learning the ropes.

I was quite boy crazy.

I liked them tortured and dark.

What happened?

They kept leaving.

Stopped calling.

Or got in trouble with the law. I...

I started to feel I must be cursed.

Someone was interfering?

One day I overheard my father hiring someone to follow me.

I broke into his office and there was this file,

phone records, who I'd given a blowjob to, even my fucking menstrual cycle. It was...

A horrifying violation.

And I confronted him and he simply said:

"I'm your father.

The world isn't safe and I need to protect you."

Yesterday, he informed me he's behind everything I've accomplished

from the day I cut him out.

- That can't be true. - He simply never stopped.

I went to confront him at his stupid workshop.

He's refurbishing a plane.

Why is it every wealthy man-child becomes obsessed with flying?

Told me he'd created my life.

Everything I've achieved is not mine.

My entire existence is illusory.

Are you even real or did he send you too?

Kate, no.

No.

This is real.

This is me.

This is you.

He owns me.

He owns me.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

You'll hate this because you're no fun, but...

I really do believe Tom Lockwood needs to die.

I agree.

What?

- Oh, Joe, you thrill... - Stop.

He has to die. Doesn't make it right. Doesn't mean that we enjoy it.

- So much easier if we did. - Rhys. I get it.

I was in denial.

I broke you right off the darkest part of me

and you've been trying to get me to see the truth.

Spot-on.

So fine.

I can accept you're me.

I decide if the line gets crossed, when and why.

I never took you as a top.

Oh, look. Joe, do you think I want to stand here yabbering on

like some separate bloody person?

Let's stop bickering and come together.

Integrate.

You'll never have to see me again. It'll just be you firing on all cylinders.

Pure, whole, unburdened you.

We need duct tape, a box cutter and a quick stop

at that sex-positive toy store near Bayswater.

We're gonna kill a near Illuminati-level billionaire.

That requires a pinch of creativity.

That workshop that Kate mentioned is probably an airplane hangar.

Mm.

Oh, her code is 2-5-0-9-0-3. Rothko's birthday.

Thank you.

Ah. I'm assuming he'll be with a bodyguard.

Well, we can do stealth. Whatever.

Tokyo is eight hours ahead. We have until midnight.

- Hey. - Took you four hours to grab dinner?

Well, detoured to my dad's office at the newspaper for...

this.

If he finds out, add me to the murdered.

Everything on Montrose, everything on Eat The Rich.