[ 1961. miles thinks back to the file he'd spent all night poring over, once the post-attack panic had settled enough for him to devote time to going through it. he'd read it backwards and forwards despite the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, despite the tears stinging at his eyes even though he tried to banish them. 1961. a specific time, but not specific enough to tell for sure just what J knows and doesn't know. that sick feeling returns to his stomach as he chews on his lip, weighing his options. he has to play this right -- don't screw this up, boy, you're treading on thin ice here -- because if he doesn't...

because if he does, he might be able to make J see what she really has to live for. miles ignores the hairs raising on the back of his neck as he tries to choose his words carefully, his gray eyes fixing on J's face, intent. ]

I know you said you didn't care about what's in these documents I received, that you didn't want to read them. And you don't have to. But there is some information in here that I think you might want to know.

[ information about your future goes unsaid. it seems too much, too heavy to say aloud. miles draws in a breath. ]

Do you know a woman by the name of Rita?