4

Sato, Owen, and Lamb are huddled before Ianto's console.

Shot after shot of Harkness emerging from the wreckage of destroyed buildings dragging his prisoners behind him. Every time: Wreckage, Harkness, Prisoner. Wreckage, Harkness, Prisoner.

"Are you sure this is real life?" Sato asks.

Ianto snorts "Barely. Harkness is a legend. I did an historical study on him last year, which I guess none of you swallowed. One thousand arrests in three years. All real criminals."

"There was a lot more business back then." Lamb agrees.

This time Harkness is marching away from a flaming, over-turned police car, carrying a young girl. A TV camera crew scrambles up. A female reporter is calling out to him "How do you reconcile the fact you destroyed a three million dollar mini-mall to rescue a girl whose ransom was only 10,000?"

"Fuck you, lady!" the little girl snarls frim his arms.

"Good answer." Jack growls.

Ianto smiles at the screen like he knows him personally and likes what he sees.

Sato asks with horror "This is a recommendation? Your 'Demolition man's' an animal, a muscle-bound grotesque who..."

"He is clearly the man for such a job as this. You could reinstate him. He hasn't worn a shield in over forty years. Or much else, for that matter." Ianto points out.

"He must be seventy years old by now." Owen agrees with Sato.

A smile slowly unfolds on Ianto's face. Lamb knows where he's going as do we.

.

.

..

CRYO-PRISON

ON a Status panel: Cellular activity: Null. Temperature: .5 degree K. Lights begin to cycle. A SERVO WHINES. The CAMERA MOVES TO the chamber as the autolock begins to unwind. Unlock. The arm moves aside. The frozen puck rises from its chamber. Harkness hasn't moved, blinked in 40 years.

Two Techs in insulated suits and gloves stand on either side. Both wear tiny flip-up welding goggles. The first, takes out a Durameter. Tests the puck. Harder than steel, a little less than a diamond.

Tech #2, holds a handheld Magnesium Thermite Laser. About the size of a skill saw. For the first time we notice there are six small raised half domes on top of the puck. Indices. Drops the guide ring at the end of the MTL over an index. Flips down his goggles.

Fires the MTL. The entire puck lights up white white. We almost get the feeling Harkness can sense what's going on. A burst of energy melts a small hole in side of puck.

Tech #1 drives over a crane with a six-clawed arm. Like a standing forklift. Or a gladiator... the fingers drop into the laser cut holes. They raise the puck. Carry it away.

The puck sits on a stainless steel podium. Completely alone in a round stainless steel room.

Three MTL lasers begin to pulsate madly. One from above cutting in, spiralling in towards Harkness. The others top and bottom shaving an eighth of an inch in a tenth of a second with each pass.

The puck shrinks away, the beams grow closer and closer to Harkness. Just before they would hit him, the beams turn blue. Steam bursts from the puck. Fills the air. Obscures everything. The lasers stop. Darkness.

The entire chamber splits open. A room within a room. Harkness rolls over limp and supple collapsing, onto his back. Med Techs rush in.

Ianto, Owen, and Sato are standing at one end of a long table. Gaping. Harkness sits slumped at the other end of the table. Draped in a grey industrial jumpsuit. Still half comatose.

Sato is shaking her head. She can't believe she agreed to this.

"This is within the power of the police charter, Ma'am. He can be released on limited parole and reinstated to active duty." Ianto says softly.

"It's not enough to collect the 90's. You have to bring them back to life..." Owen sighs.

JONES

"Cocteau said everything in our power. I still can't think of a better idea." Ianto shrugs.

"That still doesn't mean it's a good one." Owen mutters to himself.

They all watch warily. Harkness comes to with a start. Looks up at them. Looks around quickly for any immediate threat. Sees none. Tries to stand. Can't yet.

pointing at Owen, the nearest; he rasps "You..."

A gulping Owen creeps to Harkness. Harkness claws out, ripping Owen down to rasp ""Where am I?"

"Uh, I, uh..."

Harkness pushes Owen away. "When am I?"

"Uh, it's Thursday." Owen offers stupidly "Tomorrow's Arbour Day. (beat) And last week you turned eighty-four years old. Happy Birthday."

Jones comes over. Clear and concisely explains "Detective, I'm Lieutenant Jones. The year is 2042. Now the reason you've been released..."

"Jack is shaking it off "How long have I been under?"

"Forty-four years."

Whoa..." Jack is trying to focus "I had a wife... What happened to my wife?"

"Your wife's light was extinguished in the Big One of 2010." Ianto then said softly off his confused look "Uh, she died. In an earthquake. The earthquake."

This takes a moment to sink in. Then, defrosting, Haltingly "My wife and I, we had a girl. A daughter. I made a promise. What..."

"Jack Harkness, I am Chief of Eric Stamos. We did not thaw you for a family reunion. It is fortunate the lieutenant even did a probe on your wife. This is about you and a Mr. Hart. A Mr. John Hart."

Jack is suddenly fully awake "What?"

Ianto steps in. "This morning Hart escaped from This cryo facility. We've had nine murder death kills so far. We have become a society of peace, loving and understanding. And we are, quite frankly, not equipped to deal with this situation."

He looks at Ianto like he's nuts.

"There have been no deaths of unnatural causes in San Angeles in the last sixteen years." Stamos adds.

"Where?"

"The Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, San Diego metroplex merged in 2011." Ianto explains gently "You are in the centre of what used to be Los Angeles."

Jack gets up. He's way stiff. "Great. Just great. God, I'm so hungry. I'd kill for a burrito."

They back off in fear.

"It's just an expression." Harkness creaks his head toward Owen, spooking him back away. Harkness vigorously scratches his hand as he speaks. "Just get me some Marlboros."

"Of course. Right away. What are..."

"A cigarette." Jack grimaces as he relinquishes his brand loyalty "Just get me any cigarette."

"Cigarettes are not good for you and it has been deemed that everything that is not good for you is bad. Hence... illegal. Alcohol, caffeine, contact sports, meat..." Ianto lists calmly.

"Are you shittin' me?"

"Jack Harkness, you are fined one credit for a violation of verbal morality statute 113." The morality box scolds.

Harkness looks at it in amazement. "What the fuck is that?"

"Jack Harkness, you are fined one credit for a violation of..."

"As I was saying" Ianto rolls his eyes and Jack does a double take as Ianto drones on calmly "Bad language, chocolate, gasoline, un-educational toys, and anything spicy. Abortion's also illegal, but then again so's pregnancy if you don't have a license."

"Caveman, let us finish all the Rip Van Winkle and get moving." Stamos huffs "A Mr. Hart has risen from the ashes."

"Uh-uh. I tracked that dirtbag for two years, and when I finally brought him down, they turned me into an ice cube for my trouble." Jack hold up a hand "Thanks, but no thanks."

"The conditions of your parole are full reinstatement into the S.A.P.D. and immediate assignment to the apprehension of John Hart, or you can go back into cryo-stasis" Ianto warns then says more softly "Not many people get a second chance, Jack Harkness."

Harkness remembers. The freezer was bad, way bad. He

swallows hard and no's.

.

.

Jones and Owen are waiting by the police car out front. Half a beat, Jack Harkness, now completely done up in a 2042 cop uniform comes out. He feels like a buffoon. "What am I supposed to be, a drum major? This isn't a cop uniform. Am I gonna lead the Rose Bowl parade? What is all this stuff?"

Ianto starts lightly torching things on his chest as he says "Direct biolink readouts for vitals, VOX radio connect, base and inter officer coded by rank, partner status and case priority. And that's the pocket for your whistle."

"God save me" Jack mutters, then ads "Great, in case one of the floats gets loose I can direct traffic."

.

.

Harkness is stuffed into the back seat of Ianto's police car. Absently scratching the back of his hand, Harkness stares out his window in amazement at the shiny, happy people in the happy shiny city. Meanwhile, Ianto and Owen are staring through a rear-view screen at Harkness with equal amazement.

"This all probably seems quasi-strange to you." Owen says as he glances back.

"Quasi-strange? This isn't my city. How do you expect me to protect it? I don't get you people, let alone like you much..." Jack replies.

"You come from a society in which the average l8-year-old has witnessed 200,000 acts of simulated violence. In our society the number is closer to four." Ianto blurts "If someone off the street and see the Moe-person hammer the Curly-person, they would weep, Jack Harkness, weep."

Harkness looks at him. What was that?

"Myself, I'm a bit of an aficionado of the shocking, real and fiction." Ianto laughs as he sees Jack's face "In fact, I perused many a News Disk of you. That time you wow-fully tractor-pulled the Santa Monica pier into a heap of rubble in order to snare that team of hit men who..."

Ianto trails off, as he sees Harkness staring out the window shaking his head, very much alienated from everything around him.

"You seem very much alone, Jack Harkness. Not everything is that different. Perhaps you would like to hear the oldies station." Ianto suggests, then barks "Play 'Oldies.' Please"

The radio quickly turns ON and changes stations to "'Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't. Almond Joy's got nuts, Mounds don't. Because sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't."

Owen swings around to grin "The most popular station in town. Nonstop wall-to-wall mini-tunes. You called them commercials. Wow, this is my fave..."

"Fat kids, skinny kids, kids who climb on rocks. Tough kids, sissy kids."

Ianto and Owen join in for a sing-a-long finish as Harkness turns back to the window, eyes bulging. He goes back to scratching his hand.

Owen and Ianto are singing energetically "Even kids with chicken pox love hot dogs, Armour hot dogs. The dogs... kids... love... to bite."

"Somebody put me back in the fridge."