NIGHTTIME. AT THE DESERTED PARK. A DURANGO PULLS UP NEXT TO ATTWOODíS PARKED CAR. ATTWOOD GETS OUT, AS DOES THE DRIVER OF THE SUV. ITíS THE DOMINANT FROM BEFORE. HE WALKS AROUND TO ATTWOOD, STANDING BETWEEN THE TWO VEHICLES.
Dominant: Itís good to see you again, Dr. Attwood.
Attwood: Itís good to see you.
Dominant: Iím surprised that youíre back to me so soon.
THE DOMINANT HOLDS OUT HIS HAND. ATTWOOD SHAKES IT.
Attwood: You can take that as a sign of our sincere intentions.
Dominant: I do. Is this for me?
THE DOMINANT GESTURES TO THE ENVELOPE ATTWOOD HOLDS.
Attwood: (giving him the envelope) Yes. I think youíll find that all of your demands have been met satisfactorily.
Dominant: (nodding as he looks at the contents) Looks that way.
Attwood: The next move is up to you.
Dominant: You want to meet with my superior.
Attwood: I want to meet with the man in charge.
Dominant: (softly) And whoíll be your representative?
Attwood: I will.
THE DOMINANT LOOKS UP AT ATTWOOD.
Attwood: Is that a problem?
Dominant: Youíll have to understand that we are expecting to move up the chain of command as well!
Attwood: And you have to be realistic. As much as Iíd like to, I canít pull the president or members of the cabinet into the middle of this. The story would leak and that would defeat our purpose.
THE MEN STARE AT EACH OTHER FOR A MOMENT.
Attwood: You can trust me, you know.
Dominant: I know that.
THE DOMINANT OFFERS HIS HAND AND THEY SHAKE AGAIN, THEN GET INTO THEIR VEHICLES.
AT SLOANíS APARTMENT. TOM SLUMPS IN THE OVERSIZED CHAIR THAT DOUBLES AS HIS BED. HIS EYES ARE CLOSED AND A BLANKET COVERS HIM. HIS BREATHING IS LABORED. SLOAN WALKS DOWN FROM HER BEDROOM AREA AND OVER TO HIM.
SHE BENDS DOWN AND FEELS HIS FOREHEAD, THEN QUICKLY TURNS AND ENTERS THE KITCHEN. SHE GOES TO THE FRIDGE AND RETRIEVES HER ICE CUBE TRAYS. PUTTING THE ICE INTO A DISHTOWEL, SHE WALKS BACK OVER TO TOM. SHE KNEELS ON THE CHAIR AND BENDS OVER TOM, APPLYING THE ICE. HE WAKES WITH A FEW GASPING BREATHS AND STRUGGLES TO OPEN HIS EYES, GLAZED WITH FEVER. SLOAN TOUCHES THE SIDE OF HIS FACE.
Sloan: (softly) Hi.
Tom: (confused and lethargic) Wher-where am I?
HE LOOKS AROUND DAZEDLY.
Sloan: Youíre in my apartment. I need to get you to the hospital.
Tom: No, no hospitals.
HE GIVES HER A PLEADING LOOK. HIS SPEECH IS LABORED; HE MUST FORCE THE WORDS OUT.
Tom: I wanna-I wanna st-stay here...
HE STARTS CRYING.
SLOAN LEANS CLOSER.
Sloan: Yes? What?
Tom: Thank you....for everything...
Tom: You trusted me, from the beginning, when you didnít have to. I know it was h-hard.
Sloan: (tears in her eyes) It was worth it.
Tom: You protected me, you did....Never treated me like I was a monkey in a cage.
Sloan: Thatís because I love you.
Tom: I love you....too. I-I do.
HE CLOSES HIS EYES WEARILY AND SLOAN SOBS AND RESTS HER HEAD AGAINST HIS.
Tom: (softly, losing consciousness) ....too...
(NO COMMENTS. JUST REWIND THAT.)
CUT TO LATER, IN SLOANíS APARTMENT. TOM LIES IN THE BED, BENEATH THE COVERS, ASLEEP. SLOAN AND ED SIT ON THE BED ON EITHER SIDE OF HIM. ED FINISHES TAKING TOMíS VITAL SIGNS.
Sloan: His fever broke a couple of hours ago. Heís been asleep ever since.
Ed: I canít believe he survived.
THEY GET UP AND WALK TO THE DINING ROOM TABLE. A LAPTOP SITS UPON IT. ED CARRIES THE SAMPLE OF BLOOD HEíS JUST TAKEN FROM TOM.
Sloan: Do you think heís...
Tom: Well, heís been through the fever, the roughest part, so, being cautiously optimistic, Iíd say heís...probably out of danger.
Sloan: (giving Ed a look) You wanna qualify that any more?
Ed: I know. Iím sorry Sloan, itís my best guess.
ED STARTS WORKING ON THE COMPUTER. WE SEE THE DNA DIFFERENTIAL PROGRAM COME UP. THE RESULTS FLASH A DNA MATCH. ED STARES AT THE SCREEN.
Ed: (awed) It worked! His DNA matches the base sample.
THEY TURN TO LOOK AT TOM.
Sloan: (softly) Heís human.
WONDER SPREADS ACROSS THEIR FACES AS THEY CONTINUE TO STARE AT THE SLEEPING TOM. SLOAN LAUGHS IN JOY AND RELIEF.
NIGHTTIME. A WIDE ALLEY BETWEEN WAREHOUSES AND INDUSTRIAL FACILITIES. ATTWOOD PULLS UP AND PARKS. HE GETS OUT OF HIS CAR (WHICH, STRANGELY ENOUGH, NOW HAS TOMíS LICENSE PLATE ON IT. I GUESS IT WAS STILL INTACT AFTER LYNCH-ALIKE BLEW IT UP. TOM DOESNíT NEED IT NOW, WHAT WITH NO CAR.) ANOTHER CAR APPROACHES FROM THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION AND PARKS. THE DOMINANT FROM BEFORE GETS OUT AND WALKS TOWARDS ATTWOOD.
Dominant: Dr. Attwood.
Attwood: It occurs to me that Iíve never learned your name.
Dominant: Mark. Mark Ward.
Mark: So heís here.
Attwood: I assume the majority of your species would not approve of what's about to take place here?
Mark: Thatís an understatement.
Attwood: Have you thought about how to guarantee your own safety?
Mark: Yes, I have, and I realize thatís impossible. This is history, Doctor. My concerns, even yours, canít stand in the way of that.
Attwood: Then letís not waste any time.
MARK WARD TURNS TO LOOK BACK AT THE VEHICLE HE EMERGED FROM. A REAR DOOR OPENS, AND WE SEE A WELL-DRESSED MAN GET OUT. HE STARTS TO SLOWLY WALK TOWARD ATTWOOD AND MARK. MARK LOOKS DOWN, FLASHING ON AN IMAGE OF A SHADOWED MAN ON A ROOF. HE LOOKS BACK AT HIS LEADER.
Mark: Get down!
MARK DIVES FOR COVER AS HIS LEADER IS SHOT IN THE CHEST. ATTWOOD HURRIES FOR COVER BEHIND SOME CRATES AS GUNFIRE FILLS THE ALLEY. THE DOMINANT LEADER LAYS SPRAWLED IN FRONT OF HIS CAR. ATTWOOD MAKES IT TO HIS CAR, WHICH IS TAKING QUITE A LOT OF HITS FROM BULLETS. ONE FLATS OUT HIS FRONT TIRE. RAY SQUEALS TO A HALT BEHIND ATTWOODíS USELESS VEHICLE.
Ray: (to Attwood) Get in!
ATTWOOD HURRIES INTO THE BACKSEAT AS RAY DRIVES OFF, HIS PRETTY RED DODGE BEING SPRAYED WITH BULLETS. GRACE IS GONNA BE TICKED!
NIGHTTIME. AT THE DESERTED PARK. ATTWOOD TALKS ON HIS CELL PHONE, PACING.
Attwood: How the hell am I supposed to know what went wrong?! I was just trying to get out of there alive!
Limo Lady: (voiceover) Iím glad to hear that youíre safe but we have to stay calm.
Attwood: We are highly exposed here!
CUT TO LIMO LADY, IN THE BACKSEAT OF HER LIMO.
Limo Lady: Of course. Just tell me where you are.
Attwood: We are located somewhe--just east of the intersection of highway--
RAY COMES UP BEHIND ATTWOOD AND TAKES THE PHONE FROM HIM. HE TURNS IT OFF.
Attwood: (turning) What the hell are you doing?
Ray: Watching your back, like you told me to.
Attwood: (flabbergasted) What are you talking about?
Ray: You have no idea who may be listening in on your conversation.
Attwood: Ray, we need some help here!
Ray: We need to find out who was shooting at us. And right now Iím not sure whether it was them, or us!
ATTWOODíS PHONE RINGS. HE GIVES RAY A LOOK, THEN TURNS AWAY AND ANSWERS IT.
CUT TO LIMO LADY, IN HER CAR.
Limo Lady: We got cut off.
Attwood: (voiceover) The receptionís terrible up here.
Limo Lady: Listen to me, Walter. We need to bring you in. Just tell me where you are.
CUT BACK TO ATTWOOD. HE LOOKS AT RAY.
Limo Lady: (voiceover) Walter, where are you?
Attwood: Iíll call you later.
HE HANGS UP THE PHONE.
CUT TO LIMO LADY, LOOKING DOWN AT HER PHONE IN DISBELIEF.
DAYTIME. AT SLOANíS APARTMENT. SUNSHINE BRIGHTENS SLOANíS BEDROOM AS TOM SLEEPS BENEATH THE COVERS. TOM OPENS HIS EYES AND BOLTS UPRIGHT IN THE BED. HE LOOKS AROUND A BIT, BREATHING HARD. SLOAN WALKS TOWARDS HIM AND SITS AT THE FOOT OF THE BED.
Tom: Is it morning?
SLOAN NODS, A SMALL SMILE LIFTING THE CORNERS OF HER MOUTH.
Tom: Am I....?
Sloan: Be careful what you wish for.
SLOAN SMILES AT HIM, AND HE LOOKS AT HER IN AMAZEMENT.
Sloan: How does it feel?
Tom: I donít know. No different, I donít think.
Sloan: Then get dressed.
HE GIVES HER A ĎREALLY?í LOOK AND SHE CLIMBS OFF THE BED, GIVING HIM A PLAYFUL PAT ON THE LEGS . SLOAN WALKS INTO THE BATHROOM AND TOM LOOKS AROUND THE APARTMENT. CUT TO TOM AND SLOAN, LEAVING THE ENTRANCE TO HER APARTMENT BUILDING. TOMíS GOT HIS BLACK PANTS AND DIVINE BLACK SHIRT ON, AS WELL AS THE HEAVY GREY SHIRT/JACKET FROM BEFORE. THE CUFFS ARE STILL UNBUTTONED. HE STEPS DOWN ONTO THE SIDEWALK SLOWLY, LOOKING UP AND DOWN THE BLOCK. THEY START TO WALK UP THE STREET.
Sloan: How you feeling, are you tired?
Tom: Actually, no. I feel pretty good.
(GOTTA LOVE HOW HE SAYS THAT LINE!) TOM, WHO HAD WALKED A FEW STEPS AHEAD OF SLOAN, TURNS AND LOOKS BACK AT HER.
Sloan: Howís it feel being human?
HE LOOKS AROUND, THEN CLOSES THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM.
Tom: You know, I think I like it!
HE GRABS HER ARM PLAYFULLY, GIVING A CHUCKLE AS HE WALKS PAST HER. HE CONTINUES ON TO THE OUTDOOR STAND AT THE FLORIST SHOP. SLOAN FOLLOWS BEHIND, WATCHING HIM WITH A SMILE.
Tom: (gesturing) The colors, you know...
HE BENDS DOWN AND SMELLS SOME MUMS IN A POT. HE TURNS BACK TO LOOK AT SLOAN.
Tom: ...oh, and the smells.
DISTRACTED, HE BUMPS INTO A PASSERBY.
Tom: (with a broad smile) Sorry.
THE WOMAN SHRUGS OFF HIS APOLOGY AND SMILES. TOM AND SLOAN CONTINUE WALKING.
Tom: The sounds...for the first time, theyíre not there for survival, theyíre there for um...for life!
Sloan: Are you worried?
Tom: (wondrous) About what?
Sloan: Losing your survival instincts. Letting your guard down.
HE LOOKS AROUND A BIT.
Tom: Itís worth it, you know....Uh, things used to be so sharper, they were, they were almost painful. Uh, so much of my mental energy was misdirected. Now, I would willingly lose all those instincts for life to be so...heh...so vivid.
HE LOOKS ACROSS THE STREET THEN BACK AT SLOAN.
Tom: (with a swipe of his arm) Hey, come on! Come on!
SLOAN SMILES AT HIM AS HE RACES OFF, THEN FOLLOWS HIM WITH A CHUCKLE. (DAMN, HEíS CUTE!)
IN AN ALLEY BETWEEN TALL BUILDINGS. RAY CROUCHES BESIDE HIS CAR, DIGGING OUT BULLETS. HE STANDS, LOOKING AT THEM, THEN SHAKES HIS HEAD. HE LOOKS UP AT ATTWOOD, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CAR.
Ray: You still thinking about which team pulled the trigger on us?
ATTWOOD RAISES HIS CELL PHONE TO HIS EAR.
Ray: Hunh. Take a look at these. I dug these out of the car.
HE OFFERS THE BULLETS FOR ATTWOOD TO SEE.
Ray: These are a combination of hollow point--
Attwood: And armor piercing.
ATTWOOD HANGS UP.
Attwood: You ever see bullets like this before?
Ray: Oh,yeah. In the service. Now this is government issue all the way. She set you up.
ATTWOODíS PHONE RINGS. HE ANSWERS IT WITH A SIGH.
Attwood: Yes...I agree.
HE HANGS UP AGAIN.
Ray: Your boss again?
Attwood: No, our friend from the meeting.
Ray: Heís still alive?
Attwood: He wants to meet with us.
Part Three Part One
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