Previously on The Fall: DSI Stella Gibson continues to be gorgeous, and even more gorgeous when being serious in her full police uniform. Serial killer Paul continues to be creepy, and even more creepy while calmly chatting with the daughter of the woman he is about to kidnap. Dr. Reed Smith continues to look great in a motorcycle jacket, full stop.
Oh dear God, bare feet. Let me just tell you that bare feet on a crime series are never good. It’s never like, oooh, bare feet–POOL PARTY! It’s always like, oh, bare feet–prepare to be murdered in your pajamas.
Stella is walking around in her bare feet and silky night robe. I take a momentary break from my feeling of sheer terror to admire her, um, mountainous talents. Yes, that’s it. Her talents. But then it’s right back to terror because, holyfuckingshit, is that a shadowy male figure behind her?
She must sense it, too, because she draws her gun. She continues to walk through what looks like an office and then the mystery man is behind her saying her name. She turns and shoots, then takes off the man’s mask.
But he is not Paul Spector, he is James Olson–the cop Stella knocked boots with a while back who then got gunned down. He implores her for help, saying he doesn’t want to die. Well, no one does, buster–so maybe don’t sneak up on ladies in their nighties holding a gun, eh? This has been another life-prolonging lesson from yours truly.
Stella wakes with a start. It was all a nightmare, of course. Latent feelings of displaced guilt about Olson’s death were floating around in her head, no doubt. I should also note that she is in a camisole and lying on a cot. Someone has spent a night in the office. Still breathing heavy, she jots down some notes in her dream journal. That sounded a lot sexier than it was. Wait, scratch that, it’s Gillian Anderson in a camisole breathing heavy. It was still plenty sexy.
As if the creators of this show can hear our innermost wishes, next we see Stella in the shower. THE SHOWER. And then she is at the pool methodically swimming laps. Hey, remember when I said earlier that bare feet on a crime show almost never lead to a pool party? I take that back, sort of.