S01E07 - Home

"Home" is the seventh episode of Season 1 of We Can Fix Pawbert. The episode marks the transformation of Site Two from a sterile safehouse into a genuine home as the core group establishes domestic routines. Luther admits his assignment has become personal, and Pawbert identifies the next investigation target.

Synopsis

Nick organizes a shopping expedition to transform Site Two into a living space, taking Pawbert out in public for the first time since his arrest. The group acquires furniture from a thrift store and establishes domestic routines including movie night. In a pivotal late-night conversation, Luther admits he wants to stay—not because of his assignment, but because Pawbert is genuinely trying to be better. Pawbert identifies the team's next target: a banker known as "the Vault" who managed the Lynxley offshore accounts.

Plot

Sunlight through the windows—real sunlight, golden morning that warms the industrial floor. Luther stands at the window, moving slowly but moving, testing the limits of what his healing body will allow. Pawbert appears with two cups of coffee, hesitant at the threshold, uncertain if he's intruding. They stand there drinking coffee, watching the morning. Pawbert observes that he's not used to quiet. Neither is Luther. But it's not a bad thing.

Nick surveys the safehouse with a critical eye—functional but spartan, folding chairs, a card table, Luther's cot still in the corner. He declares it depressing and starts making a list: actual furniture, beds that aren't cots, a couch that doesn't smell like a museum exhibit, food that isn't emergency rations. He tells Pawbert he's coming along to help carry things. Pawbert is startled—going out in public? He could be recognized. Nick dismisses the concern: it's a big city, millions of mammals, thousands of lynxes. Wear a hat, keep your head down, stick to stores outside the downtown core. When Pawbert asks if Nick is worried he'll run, Nick asks simply: should he be? Pawbert says no. Nick accepts it as settled and adds that if Pawbert does try to run, he won't chase him—he'll just tell Luther. From across the room, Luther confirms he'd find him. The simple declaration of trust lands harder than anything else they've said. He's not a prisoner being watched. He's a mammal being included.

The shopping trip takes them to a thrift store in Sahara Square, far from downtown to minimize the chance of recognition. Judy explains the rationale: they're not just keeping Pawbert alive, they're keeping him safe—there's a difference. The thrift store is organized chaos, mountains of donated goods, the accumulated castoffs of a thousand households finding second lives. Nick moves through the aisles like a mammal on a mission, twenty years of hustling having taught him to spot value in unexpected places. He holds up a lamp with a questionable shade and calls it a "statement lamp"—it makes the statement that he has questionable taste but commits to it.

They find a worn sectional with faded fabric and mismatched cushions—ugly but solid, and it separates into pieces for transport. Pawbert sits down tentatively, then sinks into it. Really comfortable. The witness has spoken: they're getting the ugly sectional. While Nick negotiates, Judy asks Pawbert how he's really doing. He admits this is strange—shopping for furniture with cops who are supposed to hate him. Judy tells him they don't hate him, and reveals that Nick was like Pawbert once. When she met him, he was running hustles on the street, doing petty stuff for twenty years. The world told him he was a certain thing, and he became that thing. What changed was that he decided the world was wrong. Pawbert can decide the world was wrong too—about who he's supposed to be.

Nick returns with the transaction complete and a small corkboard in his paws—simple, wooden frame, about the size of a pizza box. Pawbert asks what it's for. Nick says it's for his room; he'll want somewhere to put things. Pawbert doesn't have anything to put on it. Nick's response: yet.

At a furniture warehouse, Nick is overwhelmed by forty different bookshelves. Pawbert reveals that his father made him study furniture catalogs, claiming understanding quality was essential for a Lynxley—knowledge Pawbert hated acquiring but which proves useful now. He identifies a solid construction bookshelf at a reasonable price. Nick declares they have a furniture expert; Judy counters they have a mammal with a weird childhood. Pawbert suggests why not both.

In the parking lot, Nick and Pawbert wrestle with flat-pack boxes that don't fit in the rental van. Nick measured the furniture but not the boxes. Pawbert suggests taking the bookshelf out of the box and loading the pieces separately—actually smart. They start unpacking, working together, finding a rhythm.

At the grocery store, Pawbert walks beside Nick and Judy, hesitant at first, then starts adding things to the cart—flour, honey, a specific brand of tea, ingredients for soup. Things he remembers. Nick asks if he's planning to bake. Pawbert mentions his mother used to make a certain bread; he thinks he remembers the recipe. Judy encourages him to try it. Pawbert asks what if it's terrible. Nick responds that they eat terrible bread and lie about how good it is—that's what family does. The word hangs in the air. Nick clears his throat, starts to backtrack, but Pawbert says he knows what Nick meant. His face eases. Not quite a smile. Close, though.

In line at checkout, a wolverine behind them glances at Pawbert, looks again, squints. Pawbert tenses and pulls his cap lower. Judy notices, shifts position to block the wolverine's line of sight, and casually asks Pawbert about the honey. The distraction works; the wolverine loses interest. As they exit, Nick tells Pawbert to breathe slower. Judy adds that he did good—being out in the world when you feel like everyone's watching is the hardest part. Pawbert asks how you get used to it. You don't, Judy says. You just get better at pretending you are.

Back at Site Two, the space is transformed. Still a converted industrial building, but now there's a couch, a real table, lamps that cast warm light instead of fluorescent glare. Nick stands back admiring his work, covered in sawdust from furniture assembly, claiming he built a bookshelf. Judy corrects him: he assembled a bookshelf. He used tools; it counts. Pawbert stands in the middle of the space looking around and observes that it looks like somewhere people live. That's the idea.

In Pawbert's room—small, simple, a bed, a nightstand, a lamp—his mother's photo already sits on the nightstand. Pawbert holds the corkboard, staring at the empty wall. Nick appears with a hammer and nail. Pawbert says it seems pointless to hang an empty board. Nick disagrees: everything starts empty, that's not pointless, that's potential. Pawbert considers this, then drives the nail and hangs the corkboard. It sits there, bare cork, wooden frame, waiting. Nick calls it Pawbert's own little piece of wall.

That night, Pawbert stands at the stove cooking again—his mother's soup, but better this time, with more of the recipe remembered. Nick enters and observes that Pawbert doesn't have to earn his place here. The cooking, the helping—he doesn't have to prove anything. Pawbert says he's not trying to prove anything; he's trying to figure out who he is when he's not what they made him.

At dinner, everyone around the new table with soup and bread, Judy compliments the soup. Pawbert dismisses it as just soup. Luther corrects him: it's his mother's recipe, that's not "just" anything. Nick proposes establishing routines—house rules, rotating kitchen duty (with Pawbert excluded since he's already cooking voluntarily), movie night once a week. The new guy picks first.

Movie night on the new couch: Nick on one end, Judy on the other, Pawbert in the middle looking uncomfortable with the intimacy. Luther sits in a chair nearby, still moving carefully but present. On screen: something silly, a comedy, Pawbert's choice. Twenty minutes in, Nick declares it terrible. Pawbert knows. He picked it because he's never seen it—he wasn't allowed to watch comedies, anything that wasn't "enriching." Judy declares they're watching the whole thing. They do. It's terrible. Pawbert laughs anyway—small laughs, surprised laughs. Halfway through, a character named Pubert gets introduced and Nick groans about the name. Pawbert goes very still. Nick insists it's not even close. Pawbert says it's a little close. By the end, he's leaning back into the couch, relaxed in a way none of them have seen before.

Late that night, Pawbert can't sleep—not nightmares this time, just awake, thinking. He finds Luther sitting in the dark looking out the window. Old habits. Pawbert asks the question he's been circling: is Luther staying because he has to, or because he wants to? Luther is quiet for a long moment. When this started, it was an assignment—protect the witness, standard operation. Now it's not standard. That's not an answer, Pawbert says. Luther gives him a direct one: he wants to stay. Pawbert searches for the lie, the obligation, the pity, tells Luther he doesn't have to say that. Luther knows—that's why it's true.

Luther explains that he's protected a lot of mammals, witnesses and assets who needed to stay alive, and most of them he didn't know, didn't want to know. It was cleaner that way. Pawbert is different. Because he's trying—not just to survive but to be better, to understand what he did wrong and fix it. That's rare. Most mammals in his position would be bargaining, minimizing, blaming circumstances. Pawbert isn't doing any of that. What he's doing is harder, and Luther wants to see where it goes. Pawbert asks even if it goes nowhere. It won't, Luther says. Because Pawbert is still asking questions.

In his room, Pawbert lies in bed staring at the ceiling, turning Luther's words over, examining them from every angle, looking for the trap. He finds nothing.

The next morning feels like the first morning that genuinely feels like home. Coffee already made, sunlight, the smell of something cooking. The four of them in the kitchen, a morning routine forming without anyone planning it. Judy asks Nick quietly when the last time was they just sat without a crisis. Nick doesn't remember. Maybe that's okay.

The work continues. A board has been set up—not as elaborate as the one at the old safehouse, but functional. Photos, names, connections. Gasket crossed out, dead at the safehouse, but his connections remain. Judy observes they're not done. Nick says they're never done. Luther says they're ready. Pawbert reveals something: his father had offshore accounts, and while Pawbert doesn't know the details, he knows who managed them. A banker. Very private, very expensive. His father called him "the Vault." Pawbert doesn't know his real name, but he knows where he works.

In the tag, the safehouse is quiet, everyone in their rooms. Pawbert sits by the window looking out at the trees, the dark, the safety of this place. He's wearing his mother's sweater. Behind him, the soft sounds of a shared space—Nick snoring faintly, the hum of the refrigerator, Luther's footsteps as he does one last perimeter check. Not quite a family. Not quite not. Pawbert touches the sweater, thinks about his mother, about what she would think of all this. He hopes she'd be proud. He's not sure. But he hopes.

Key Moments

• Pawbert and Luther share a quiet morning watching the sunrise
• Nick organizes a shopping expedition and trusts Pawbert to come along
• Nick explains he won't chase if Pawbert runs—he'll just tell Luther
• The group acquires furniture from a thrift store in Sahara Square
• Judy reveals Nick's backstory as a hustler who decided the world was wrong about him
• Nick buys Pawbert a corkboard for his room
• Pawbert's furniture catalog knowledge proves useful at the warehouse
• A wolverine nearly recognizes Pawbert at the grocery store; Judy shields him
• Nick accidentally calls them "family" while discussing bread
• Site Two is transformed with furniture, lamps, and warmth
• Pawbert hangs the empty corkboard in his room
• House routines established: rotating kitchen duty, weekly movie night
• First movie night with a comedy Pawbert wasn't allowed to watch as a child
• Luther admits his assignment has become personal—he wants to stay
• Luther explains he stays because Pawbert is genuinely trying to be better
• Pawbert identifies the next target: a banker called "the Vault"

Key Lines

Line	Speaker	Context
"Should I be?"	Nick	Asking if Pawbert might run; showing trust
"I'd find you."	Luther	If Pawbert tried to run
"We're not just keeping you alive, Pawbert. We're keeping you safe. There's a difference."	Judy	Explaining the care behind their security measures
"He decided the world was wrong."	Judy	About Nick changing from a hustler
"Everything starts empty. That's not pointless. That's potential."	Nick	Giving Pawbert the corkboard
"Then we eat terrible bread and lie about how good it is. That's what family does."	Nick	Accidentally calling them family
"Are you staying because you have to... or because you want to?" / "I want to stay."	Pawbert / Luther	Luther admitting his assignment has become personal
"You're genuinely trying to be better. Not bargaining. Not minimizing. That's rare."	Luther	Explaining why Pawbert is different
"The assignment started as a job. It's not anymore."	Luther	Admitting personal investment

Locations

• Site Two main floor — Morning conversations, furniture setup, movie night, investigation board
• Site Two kitchen — Cooking scenes, breakfast routines
• Site Two Pawbert's room — Corkboard hanging, late-night reflection
• Thrift store, Sahara Square — Furniture shopping
• Furniture warehouse — Bookshelf selection
• Rental van — Travel between stores
• Grocery store — Food shopping, near-recognition incident
• City streets — Shopping expedition

Items

• Corkboard — Purchased by Nick at the thrift store for Pawbert's room; hung empty ("Everything starts empty. That's potential.")
• Sectional couch — Ugly but comfortable thrift store find
• Statement lamp — Nick's questionable taste commitment
• Flat-pack bookshelf — Pawbert selects using his catalog knowledge
• Investigation board — Set up at Site Two with photos and connections
• Green sweater — Pawbert wears it in the tag, looking out the window

Notes

• This is the first episode after the Reacher team's departure; the core four (Pawbert, Luther, Nick, Judy) carry the episode alone.
• Luther's admission that his assignment has become personal is a pivotal moment in the Luther/Pawbert relationship.
• The establishment of domestic routines (movie night, kitchen duty) becomes a recurring motif throughout the series.
• Nick's corkboard line—"Everything starts empty. That's potential."—becomes thematically significant; the idea that emptiness is potential rather than absence recurs in Pawbert's arc.
• The corkboard remains empty until E10, when Pawbert begins collecting items from the crossover teams.
• Pawbert's identification of "the Vault" sets up the next investigation target, leading to E09.
• The movie they watch is Addams Family Values (1993); the "Pubert" character who prompts Nick's groan is Pubert Addams.