Face\Off Page #6

LOOMIS is in the Squad Room -- not a scratch on him.

ARCHER:

Which ear was it?

TITO:

The left, I think. Those

surgeons in Witness

Protection can fix things

nobody's even broken yet.

ARCHER says nothing. Something dawns on him. Something

brilliant as it is insane. Or is it simply insane ... ?

FULL SCREEN:
LIFE-SIZE HOLOGRAPHIC IMAGES OF A MAN ... just

an ordinary man ... flat nose, big brow, an uncertain chin.

HOAG'S VOICE

This informant marked

himself for death by

testifying against a drug

cartel, so he was sent to

me for a little makeover.

PULL BACK TO:

INT. MEDICAL WING -- PHYSIOLOGICAL CAMOUFLAGE UNIT -- DAY

Expertly working a joy-stick is DR. MALCOLM HOAG (50's).

This man exudes genius and arrogance. Archer's beside him.

HOAG:

A rhinoplasty here, a

mentoplasty there ...

The Informant's NOSE narrows. His CHIN strengthens.

HOAG (cont'd)

Blepharoplasty, otoplasty ...

Everywhere a plasty, plasty.

The Informant's big EARS shrink and his EYES morph. The end

result -- literally a NEW MAN. Hoag nods matter-of-factly.

HOAG (cont'd)

Physical augmentation, vocal

enhancement implants -- More

snitches have disappeared in

here than in San Francisco Bay.

(a beat)

Of course, it's easy to

make someone look like no

one ... But I'm always

tinkering with other methods.

Using the joystick, Hoag strips away the Informant's "new"

face and replaces it with a rotating FACIAL-SHELL -- fixed

at various anchor-points. Hoag's OWN IMAGE adheres on the

shell and he "sculpts" it to fit the Informant's skull.

HOAG (cont'd)

Using a morpho-genetic

template, the sub-structure

can be molded to the exact

shape of one man's skull;

the outside -- exactly like

another's.

(admires his own image --

now on the Informant)

Vast improvement, isn't it?

ARCHER:

So it is possible?

HOAG:

To temporarily borrow another

man's face? Oh, yes. I can

think of only one reason why

it's never been done --

(a beat)

-- no one's ever asked.

ARCHER:

But will you do it?

HOAG:

Without approval -- totally

off the books as you say?

Commander, your proposal

would cost me my job and

get me banished from every

respectable medical

society in the world.

(a beat)

That's why I like it.

But can you find a

volunteer in time?

ARCHER:

-- I already have.

HOAG almost asks "who" -- then stares at Archer and

understands -- there's no one else for this job.

INT. ARCHER'S HOUSE -- NIGHT

The door to JAMIE'S room is plastered with news headlines

and disturbing photos of police beatings and government

corruption. Loud music pounds out from within. ARCHER

pauses to knock -- then doesn't. He lets it go.

INT. BATHROOM -- NIGHT

ARCHER undresses, looking in the mirror. Smooth-chested and

reasonably toned -- he's getting a bit of a gut.

INT. BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS -- NIGHT

EVE is in bed. ARCHER comes in quietly and sits beside her

-- studying her peaceful, half-sleeping face. She stirs.

EVE:

... I was dreaming ...

ARCHER:

Something good?

EVE:

We were back in high school.

You wanted to join the sky

diving team, but I wouldn't

let you.

ARCHER:

Must've been after we

got engaged.

EVE:

Actually -- in this dream

-- I was your mother.

ARCHER:

So you had a nightmare.

EVE:

Totally -- you were being

very, very bad. You went

up in the plane and jumped

out. You had a parachute,

but it didn't open.

ARCHER:

Were you there to catch me?

EVE:

No.

ARCHER:

How come?

EVE:

I don't know ...

(nuzzles him)

Maybe because you've

never needed my help.

They kiss -- and keep kissing. Their passion building, EVE

runs her hands over his body -- reaching, touching.

She pulls apart his shirt -- buttons popping -- revealing a

thick round SCAR on his chest. Her fingertips touch the

bullet scar. ARCHER freezes mid-caress.

EVE (cont'd)

It's all right, Jon.

But he is pulling away. She won't let him -- she tugs him

back onto the bed and enfolds him in her arms, holding him.

ARCHER:

Five years ... I still

can't get it out of my

head -- an inch to the left,

Matty would still be alive.

EVE:

And you wouldn't be.

No response. The pain hidden in his stoic detachment chills

Eve. She musters a hopeful tone.

EVE (cont'd)

Things will get better

now that you're home.

Everything will be better

now that ... that man is

finally out of our lives.

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