Roswell, New Mexico

Previously on Roswell, New Mexico...

You need prior approval before conducting enforcement

- in a hospital. - Unless you calm down,

I'm gonna arrest you for obstruction.

It's me. I need your help.

Diego, this is Max. Max, this is...

The ex-fiancé.

Everybody needs help.

Help like rehab? You will be better.

That toxin in your friend's system, butyricol...

It's a memory eraser.

My dad's been looking for this thing for 30 years.

Oh, oh, oh, my God. Is-is it past 7:00?

Babe, it's after 11:00.

- (SIGHS) I'm-I'm so sorry. - No.

It's all good.

Your monk-like hyper focus is a turn-on.

Anyway, I come bearing gifts.

Seared scallops and tres leches cake from Mizuna.

God bless you.

So, what are you doing with this worm behind my back?

Oh, administering a lethal dose of radiation

to observe a particular neoblast.

Don't be jealous.

Of the neoblast?

It's a regenerative master cell.

The only one with this protein.

I mean, this particular cell was able to multiply,

diversify and reanimate my worm.

Wait. So observing the master gets you

the underlying mechanisms of tissue regeneration.

Then-then I apply the mechanism to human tissue,

and irreversible injury and degradation

become distant memory.

God, I-I mean, I know... I know

that's not gonna happen in our lifetime, but...

- Babe... - This could be a step to help.

Elizabeth, you...

You're a once-in-a-lifetime.

You are extraordinary!

Limits don't apply.

Screw it.

You see, I had this... whole thing planned

at the restaurant, but...

I guess it's fitting that we do this here

in the lab at almost midnight.

Wait. What?

All my life, I've been competitive.

I've never been content

to just stand back and watch someone shine.

I've never been so willing

to put my heart in someone else's hands.

I've never met anyone like you, Elizabeth.

Will you marry me?

Mmm. Mmm.

Mmm.

- Wait, wait. Babe? - Huh?

- Is that a "yes"? - Obviously.

: Oh, come here. Damn. Oh.

Mmm.

- (PHONE ALARM RINGING) - (GASPS)

- (PHONE ALARM RINGING) - (GASPS, GROANS)

- Mornin', sunshine. - I'm so sorry.

How did you get in here?

Are we really still asking that question?

You told us to meet you at 6:00 before the CrashCon rush.

You weren't here, my brain picks locks now.

Maybe

you should be drinking decaf.

Are you wearing workout clothes?

I am reintroducing some light cardio.

- (TAPS TABLE) - Help strengthen my heart.

Where are you coming from so early?

Uh, I-I stayed at Maria's.

She's still processing everything.

How light is this cardio, exactly?

Maybe we should consult Kyle.

No. Liz, I'm fine.

Are you guys about to fight?

'Cause I can make popcorn.

I love you. You badly need your own business to mind.

We should find you a boyfriend.

Or a girlfriend, or a... non-binary intimate companion.

Great job, Dad.

- (LAUGHS) - Yeah. It's a recent thing.

Speaking of recent things,

when am I gonna get to meet your ex-fiancé Diego?

'Cause Max only started doing light cardio

ever since he laid eyes on him.

- Dude. - (LAUGHS)

Oh, he was only here to help my dad.

And help with a breakthrough in the abduction case

I've been tracking - Mm.

Since my resurrection.

What's the breakthrough?

Well, Cam was injected with butyricol.

- Mm-hmm. - Which we now know

is a rare, memory-erasing drug

that, uh, very few people have access to.

It's only been used in one

highly-classified military trial.

We think Cameron was abducted to lure Charlie out of hiding.

There are a lot of people with an interest

in Charlie's bioweaponry expertise.

Has anyone tried reaching out to Alex, see if

there's a butyricol connection with Project Shepherd?

He's off the grid at an Air Force recruitment thing.

We'll ask him when he's back in town,

but that won't be 'till after CrashCon.

She lived until 1997.

You, um...

You think she was all right? Happy?

Sanders, man, she knew how much you loved her.

- Please stop talking. - (CHUCKLES)

You got work to do, and you...

you got some crap stuck to your boot.

Tripp left this for my dad before he died.

Well, I should probably,

uh, get to that early shift at the Pony.

You know, CrashCon hours.

- (SIGHS) - What's wrong?

When I visited Rosa at rehab,

I told her I would send her her sketchbooks.

She needs them for therapy, and I totally forgot to mail them.

I'll take 'em. I love a road trip.

- Plus, Rosa's been on my mind recently. - Really?

Yeah. That would be amazing.

Thank you.

That was not made in Roswell.

- Diego. - Hey, man.

- I thought you left town. - Yeah, my mom says D.C. is buzzing

about increased immigration enforcement.

I don't feel right

leaving town without your father in the clear.

I've got connections, some powerful lawyers.

I wish I could say we didn't need the help, but...

- It's no big deal. - Hi.

I'm Isobel Evans.

I'm sort of the, uh, unofficial Roswell welcoming committee.

So, if you need anything

at all, I'm yours.

Literally. You know,

restaurant recommendations,

or a good place to watch the sunset.

I think we can let go of the poor man's hand now.

I need Rosa's sketchbooks.

Oh, uh, upstairs through the kitchen.

My dad'll show you.

Max? Is this weird?

It's okay. Seriously.

I love you.

I love you.

WOMAN (OVER P.A.): Dr. Valenti,

report to the Dean of Surgery's office immediately.

Ooh! - Oh.

Okay. Traitors, all of you.

Excuse me. Your science is on top of my cheese.

Ándale.

Ah, doing some molecular gastronomy.

Oh, got to stay on top of trends these days.

Everything needs to be Instagrammable.

- Look, I was thinking. - Mm-hmm.

I bet butyricol uses inducible diphtheria toxins

to stun the memory expression neurons into paralysis.

See, if we can counteract that,

we can get your friend her memories back.

Would it boost GABA in DLPFC?

See, no, you're thinking working memory, not recovery.

Think traumatic memory.

Think tiny kitchen.

Think about all the people in their costumes

who won't go away until we feed them.

My man, put-put me to work.

Can I butter your buns?

You stay. She goes.

- (GRUNTS) - What'd you do with Alex?

- Where the hell is Alex? - I don't know.

That's what I'm doing here. I'm looking for him.

Try again. You told Alex Tripp gave you this in 1987.

That's before the Crashdown ever used this logo.

You lied to get Alex to recover the piece of alien tech from me.

What did you do with him once he had it?!

I just found out Alex never made it

to Andrews Air Force Base last week.

He's disabled, he's got PTSD,

so I'm concerned about him.

Your kinder-gentler, bigot-scumbag thing

isn't gonna work with me.

Without even touching you,

I can rip your trachea out and show it to you.

Guerin, for once, we're on the same side.