Face\Off Page #24

ARCHER:

-- I called, but I'm not

Castor. I'm your husband.

ARCHER holds onto her as she struggles again.

ARCHER (cont'd)

This time you're going

to listen. Last week --

we were in bed -- we had a

fight after you touched my scar.

I told you I had to go away.

(a beat)

My assignment -- Jon

Archer's assignment --

was to enter a federal

prison as Castor Troy.

EVE is startled by this intimate information but she reveals

nothing. SIRENS approach the house, the cops are returning.

She keeps an eye on the door. Playing for time.

EVE:

How did he expect to

do that?

ARCHER:

An NSA surgeon gave me

Castor's face. He handled the

transplant, the vocal implant,

everything. But somehow

Castor came out of his coma

-- and killed everyone who

knew about the mission.

But not before he was

transformed into me.

The front DOOR clicks open. A voice booms out.

COPS (o.s.)

Dr. Archer, are you okay?

ARCHER:

If you need hard evidence,

get it. Your husband's

blood type is O negative.

Castor's is AB.

Archer glances at the balcony -- but doesn't budge as

FOOTSTEPS clomp up the stairs. Eve is about to answer -- or

scream. But then ...

ARCHER:

Remember the parachute

dream? I'm falling, Eve,

and I need your help ...

The blood drains from her face as ... ARCHER slips over the

balcony and disappears.

INT. ARCHER HOME OFFICE -- LATER -- NIGHT

EVE pauses at the door and peers in.

IT'S A MESS ... legal pads, cappuccino cups with cigarette

butts, diskettes marked NSA CLASSIFIED scattered everywhere.

Funny, the office never looked this disorganized. Ever.

Eve sifts through the paperwork. Finds a legal pad with

with NUMBERS in dollars corresponding to abbreviations:

HCMC ... N ... HK ... SD.

EXT. ARCHER HOME -- NIGHT

CASTOR pulls up, tiredly smoking a cigarette. Sees Cops

hanging around, keeping watch. Notices something.

CASTOR:

Hey -- keep off the lawn.

INTERCUT:
CASTOR AND EVE

EVE is at the computer work-station, scrolling through

NSA organizational schematics ... charts & graphs ... dry

bureaucratic verbiage ... gibberish to her.

Frustrated, she hits Escape ... the system resets to PROGRAM

MANAGER. And suddenly -- a connection.

THE SCREEN has reset to its SUB-DIRECTORIES: Ho Chi Minh

City ... Nandi ... Acapulco ... Santiago. 12 in all.

STAIRCASE:
CASTOR trudges upstairs.

EVE at the work-station. Concentrating. Oblivious.

CASTOR peers in the bedroom -- nobody there.

EVE looks up. Did she hear something?

CASTOR hustles down the hall and pushes open the office

door. On edge, he draws his pistol. His hand touches the

door knob as ...

EVE concentrates on the computer. Suddenly, CASTOR is there.

CASTOR:

What are you doing?

EVE:

-- Studying.

Suspicious, Castor swivels around the monitor -- and sees a

hi-definition CD-ROM of the human vascular system.

EVE (cont'd)

You scared me half to death.

CASTOR:

Baby, I'm working on some

very sensitive documents

here. If you don't mind

-- use the laptop.

Eve silently assents, quickly heading for the door, but

Castor stops her.

CASTOR (cont'd)

What's wrong?

EVE:

Nothing.

CASTOR:

I disagree.

(a beat)

You think I've been acting

strange. Like a completely

different person.

EVE:

-- Yes.

CASTOR:

Okay, I have a confession

to make. But you aren't

going to like it.

CASTOR wraps his hands dangerously around her slender neck.

CASTOR (cont'd)

I read your diary. I've

been trying to change

-- I'm trying to be the

man you want me to be.

EVE reacts to the explanation. There is a logic to it.

CASTOR (cont'd)

You forgive me, don't you?

EVE:

-- Of course I do.

INT. ARCHER'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT

Castor and Eve slumber peacefully. Then -- EVE'S EYES

slowly open. Quietly, she turns and spoons into Castor.

Eve starts rubbing his shoulders. Castor responds but doesn't

wake as EVE'S FIST opens up -- revealing a tiny LANCET.

With frightened eyes, she presses the needle to his flesh,

about to sink it -- but he stirs. She kisses him tenderly

as he falls back asleep.

Eve takes a deep breath and carefully pricks Castor --

DRAWING BLOOD. An instant later -- the lancet is out.

INT. HOSPITAL -- NIGHT

Nothing happening here at 4 AM. Nothing indeed.

INT. HOSPITAL -- LAB -- NIGHT

EVE paces anxiously as the blood-analyzer clicks away.

EVE:

Please be O-neg. Please ...

The machine stops clicking. It reads MALE -- TYPE AB. She

buries her face in her hands -- completely stunned.

ARCHER (o.s.)

Thanks for believing me.

ARCHER emerges from the darkness of her office -- but EVE

pulls a pistol -- aiming it with calm authority.

ARCHER (cont'd)

What are you doing? Where

did you get that gun?

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