FBI rat fuck the next.
I felt it here, T.
- I felt it right here.
- Will you please shut up in there?
I'm sorry.
Yes, the Inn
at the Oaks.
Left on
Jamboree Boulevard?
Out towards the beacon.
What is that beacon
anyway?
Oh.
God damn it!
Shut up!
Shut up in there!
So I said to Ma...
What the fuck?
Dr. Budraja,
stat to room 3.
Nurse, don't leave!
Help!
- Out of the way, sir.
- Oh, my God! What's happening?
Soprano, V-tach
on the monitor.
- Thready pulse.
- Take his pressure. Get a board ready.
- 80 palp.
- All right, let's bag him.
Oh my God, is he dying?
Where's my mom?
I don't know
what's happening.
One, two, three.
Oh, my God!
Still V-tach at 210.
150 mg of amiodaraone.
Grab the paddles.
Clear the room.
Cardiovert at 100.
- Dad!
- Stand back.
- Daddy!
- All clear.
Clear.
- 200.
- Stand back.
- All clear.
- Clear.
Excuse me.
Is this
the Finnerty reunion?
Hello there.
They're waiting for you.
- Me?
- Of course.
Has Kevin Finnerty
arrived?
We don't talk
like that here.
What do you mean?
Your family's inside.
- What family?
- They're here to welcome you.
I don't understand.
- You're going home.
- I am?
Everyone's in there.
- You can't bring business in there.
- Daddy.
I lost my real briefcase.
My whole life was in it.
Don't go, Daddy.
- What is that?
- Briefcases aren't allowed.
- No, the voice.
- Please, let me take that from you.
- Looks like it weighs a ton.
- I don't want to.
Well, you need to.
You need to let go.
We love you, Daddy.
Don't leave us.
For some reason...
I'm scared.
Well, there's nothing
to be scared of.
You can let it go.
Just come say hello.
All right.
Daddy!
Please don't leave us,
Daddy. We love you.
Dad?
His eyes are open.
Daddy, look at
me right here.
All right, normal
sinus rhythm.
- Pulse and pressure?
- Good.
Oh my God!
Thank God. Thank God.
Hang an amiodaraone drip
and send off a set
of electrolytes now.
Dad, look,
here you are.
So I'm holding his hand,
and all of a sudden
the machines
go bullshit.
You told us,
for Christ's sake.
Those fucking doctors,
it's their fault.
Skip's gonna make it.
He's conscious.
Oh, thank God!
I got it, honey.
Fuck took you so long?
I had to get it
together, didn't I?
We gotta get
that cut to her now.
Easy, that's
a fucking guilty move.
Tony's conscious.
You capisce?
Everybody and his
mother was in there talking to him
when he was in that coma.
Carmela.
Who knows what
the fuck they said?
Maybe he's expecting
that money.
Jesus Christ.
He can't talk yet because of the tube
that was in his throat.
Maybe we should consider
ourselves lucky there.
But we are very happy,
aren't we?
Anthony, you had us
so worried.
I haven't been to church that much
since I quit playing bingo.
What, honey?
I'm dead, right?
No no, you're
in the hospital
with all of us.
In Newark.
Mr. Soprano,
how are you today?
I'm Dr. Vahapsideh.
I'm a neurologist.
How's he doing,
sweetheart?
I don't know if we're out of the woods
yet, but he's hanging in.
He just passed his
first simple mental acuity test, so...
Your strength,
that was the difference.
Oh, a little something
from us.
Help defray medical costs,
rehabilitation.
Jesus, I don't know
what to say.
This is what
we do, honey.
I'd want the same
for my Marie.
Or my ma.
We're here
if you need anything.
Great fucking news, T.
See you're up
and around.
Best.
"Sometimes I go about
in pity for myself,
and all the while,
a great wind carries me
across the sky.
Ojibwe saying."
Indians, right?
Who put this up?
Listen, T, something I wanted
to talk to you about.
I'm gonna take another run
at the movie business.
I know you haven't
liked that in the past,
but I'm going about it
in a whole different way.
In fact, I'm hoping
you'll become an investor
when you feel
a little better,
and I can explain what we're doing.
It's pretty exciting.
We'll own the neg.
That's what they