Written by: Glenn Gordon Caron
Directed by: Christopher Misiano
Episode Number: 102
Original Broadcast Date: October 1, 1999
Guest Stars: Kim Chan (Eggman), Chip Zien (Gerald Misenbach), Matt Malloy (Civil Servant), Michael Cullen (Police Commissioner), Paul Reggio (Lew), Timothy Devlin (Special Agent #1)

Lisa is applying for welfare, since she has no job, has a mortgage, and can't get her husband's life insurance policy. She has a college degree, but ruefully admits there's not much of a market for art historians in her area. The social worker suggests a minimum-wage job, which Lisa argues won't feed her kid or pay her debts. If she tries to live on minimum wage, she'll lose everything.

"True," the social worker answers. "But then I can help you."

A private boxing ring, somewhere downtown. As a group of politicians watch, Michael squares off against a boxer. A single punch to the face, and the boxer falls, down for the count. Michael didn't intend to knock him out so completely. "You're all right, right?" he asks as the man is carried out of the ring. "He's gonna be all right, right?" The second opponent is a martial artist who goes through a rather showy series of moves before actually attacking Michael with a tornado kick. With lightning reflexes, Michael catches the man's foot mid-kick, throwing him to the floor. When the next opponent starts up a chainsaw, Michael turns to Morris in exasperation. "Great. I'm fighting Gallagher?"

Chainsaw or not, he apparently prevails, and after the exhibition pulls Morris aside, telling him he needs to make a pit stop and suggesting he just use the locker room. Sticking to the routine, however, Morris calls in a trio of bodyguards to take Michael back to the apartment. "Our tax dollars at work," Michael mutters as he is taken away.

But he's not really irritated; it turns out this is just what he wanted. As the guards and Michael reach the street level, Michael suddenly turns and punches one in the stomach, kicking the second in the groin. The third one grabs him in a headlock, and he literally bites the man's arm to get free. "Sorry!" he cries as he dashes out the exit to the street, running at full speed through the nearby park. Unable to catch him on foot, and unable to shoot lest they waste the $3 billion he cost, the guards are forced to regroup as Michael vanishes into the park.

The senators want to put out an APB, but Morris objects due to security. "You want to explain the federal government playing Dr. Frankenstein with taxpayers' money? Which religious denomination do you want to condemn you first?" He proposes an alternative: his own team will track Michael down. Morris is not completely surprised by Michael's behavior, and figures he won't be that hard to catch. "At the end of the day, he's still a middle-aged suburbanite with no food, no money, and no place to stay, out there in the jungle all alone. He's going to create a stir somewhere; we've just got to make sure we hear about it."

Causing a stir, it seems, is the first thing Michael does. He enters his old insurance firm, attempting to see Roger. It's made pretty clear that he really doesn't have anything planned out. The guard on duty naturally doesn't recognize him, and when the only last name Michael can come up with on the fly is "Jordan," he tells Michael to leave. Michael grabs the guard's nightstick, nearly breaking it with his grip. But before he can do anything, he's surrounded by security, who take his photo and ask him to leave, telling him he's banned from the premises. Having no better option, Michael leaves the building.

Cyber Latte, a cyber cafe in NYC. The Eggman enters, and, after an awkward moment or two trying to communicate with the server, gets a temporary account to send out e-mail.

Later that evening, Michael is still hanging out outside his old office building. He decides to start climbing up the side of the building, and as he kicks off his shoes and starts up, he notices that a bystander is staring at him. "I'm a nut," he explains. The guy shrugs and walks off. Michael starts climbing, making the climb 17 stories up to Roger's office window barefoot.

Roger is working late, and has his back to the window as Michael makes it up there. Hanging on tightly, Michael pulls his tank top off, wrapping it around his fist as he experimentally jabs at the window. He's a little too careful, and while the hit doesn't break the glass, it scares the hell out of Roger. Michael punches the window again, cracking the glass, and with a third punch breaks through the window, losing his balance and falling through the glass as Roger makes a break for it. Roger insists he's called security, but Michael knows better - there wasn't time to do that.

"Who are you?" Roger demands, curious despite his fear of the nutcase who's called him by name.

"Nobody," Michael answers. "You don't want to know."

"Once my heart starts beating again, I would very much like to know what kind of person coms smashing through a 17-story window half-naked in the middle of the -" Roger panicks and cowers as Michael gets to his feet and approaches. "Don't hurt me!"

Michael insists he's not going to hurt anyone; he needs to see Lisa and Heather. "The Wisemans? What do you want with them? What are you going to do to them?" Roger demands.

"I'm not going to do anything to them. I just... I just need to see them. I really need to know they're okay."

"Well, they're okay," Roger stammers. "Really. They are. They're okay."

But Michael persists. "That's not good enough. I really need to see. I really need you to drive me. You were a really good friend of Michael's. I know that. So was I. He'd want you to take me."

Roger isn't convinced, trying to get himself out of this. "Look, just.. don't... just... look, here's my car key. Here's my valet ticket and you're going to need these," he adds, pulling off one of his shoes. "They are fabulous. Just... you're going to want to keep some shoe trees in them..."

"Uh-uh," Michael replies. "I need you to take me. Someone they're not afraid of. Someone they trust. To introduce me. To put them at ease."

"But you're wrong about me. They're very afraid of me. I know, right now, I may look kind of meek, but you get me out of this suit and into a pair of polo jeans..."

"Roger, you were Michael's best friend! You got him into this firm!"

Roger dismisses that, saying he needed a job and the position was open. "You're Heather's godfather!" Michael blurts out desperately.

That gives Roger pause, but he's still not convinced. "Why don't you drive yourself?" he suggests nervously.

Desperate, Michael brings up a memory only he would know. "What about that night at the deli? You told Michael you'd do anything for him that night at the deli." Roger is stunned as Michael relates a memory only he and Roger know. "You had those chest pains. You started to cry. It was Michael who drove you to the emergency room. Stayed with you the whole time. He didn't laugh or anything when the doctor told you it was just indigestion. 'Belch and go home,' he said."

"How do you know about that?" Roger asks.

"Because I know everything."

"Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that," Michael insists. "Because once they know you know, you die." While he still has no clue what's going on, Roger finally agrees.

The Wiseman residence. Lisa is in the bathroom getting ready for a date with the lawyer. She's not sure about this at all, saying that she just has an instinctive feeling that this is not right. Heather insists that it's okay; there's nothing wrong with going out on a date with a man. "He's not a man, he's a lawyer," Lisa points out.

Heather points out that maybe it'll be fine, that maybe things will work out and their lawyer will take the firm to court and win them a lot of money. "Not Ben Stein's Money, not Alex Trebek's money, but our money. And then we'll be able to throw big parties and take lots of vacations like the people on E! True, someday the money will all run out, but then we'll be like the people on Behind the Music on VH1! Tragic... but kind of inspirational."

Lisa sighs. "I, for one, am glad we can't afford cable anymore." Heather laughs as her mother pushes past her into the bedroom.

Outside, Roger's Mercedes pulls up to the curb, with Michael in the passenger seat. Roger's given Michael his jacket to wear, and points out this is a ridiculous idea. "No shirt, no shoes, no service? That's you!" He hints that Michael might need help, and tries for the cellphone. Michael stops him with a grip that causes Roger to cry out in pain. Hastily letting go, Michael sighs and admits that in one respect, Roger's right; having Roger introduce him is a bad idea. He just wants to look, to see them. "You want to peep?" Roger demands.

"No, I-I-I want to peek, not peep. With a k, not a p." This response doesn't thrill Roger, who tries to go back to the car. Michael grabs his arm again, dragging Roger with him as he finds a place to watch from in the bushes.

It's almost 7:30, and Michael hopes they're not too late. He's soon rewarded as the kitchen lights come on and Heather and Lisa can be seen in the windows, washing dishes and seeming generally happy. Michael smiles wistfully as he watches them, glad to see them again even from a distance. "Oh, this is great. This is... this is everything I could have hoped for."

"They're washing dishes," Roger points out.

Michael is still wrapped up in being able to see them again. "Yeah. Yeah, look at that, huh?"

"What are you going to do on laundry day?" Roger chuckles. "Hijack a bus?"

Michael hesitates as he notes that Lisa's a little dressed up, then sees the limo pulled up at the curb. "What the hell is this?"

Lisa has a date, and Roger says "Good for her!" However, Michael insists they follow his wife and the lawyer. "Enough is enough," Roger complains - and then Michael tears the passenger door off the car with one hand. "Of course, I suppose everything's open to discussion."

In the car, Roger is still trying to figure out what's going on, despite Michael's warnings. "So, I mean you add it up: knowledge unique to Michael, an overwhelming concern for Lisa, otherworldly strength, and really, you can only reach the, the one..."

"Whatever you're about to say, you don't want to be right about this," Michael warns.

"You are Michael, aren't you?" Worried, Michael tells him to forget that, but Roger continues: "Reincarnated!" Michael plays along, and Roger wants to know what extraordinarily good deed Michael did to come back as a "stud muffin." He's sure he's doomed for the "act of God" testimony. Before Michael can answer, they get hit by a taxi. The driver side door falls off this time, and Roger barely manages to tone down a curse. They're okay, the collision is minor, but they're losing the limo. Michael decides to follow on foot. "Hey, where are you going?" Roger calls.

"I don't want to lose Lisie!" Michael explains before taking off.

Getting out of the car, Roger turns to find three of Morris' "team" standing there. "You're not with Triple A, are you?" He gets punched out.

A police station. The Eggman's e-mail has been received, translated from Chinese by the FBI. He demands a wire transfer of $100 million to a Libyan bank account within 72 hours or else he'll strike in NYC. Morris leaves the briefing room, going down the hall to a room where Roger is being interrogated, blindfolded. After getting some very strange answers from him, Morris talks to one of his men out in the hallway: "He thinks you're God, Wiseman's been reincarnated, and I'm some burning bush," the man says. "You still want me to kill him? He's awfully annoying. He does work for an insurance company."

Morris is interrupted by another agent, who tells him they're finally getting a tracking signal from midtown. "So what do you want me to do with Tammy Faye Baker?" the first agent asks. For answer, Morris enters the room alone.

Alone with Roger, he closes the door. "You know who I am, don't you?" Roger nods. "So you know what I'm capable of, don't you? Then hear me, friend. If you breathe a word of what you've seen tonight - if you breathe a single syllable of your theory - I will smite your ass so fast you'll skip right past heaven and hell and be turned straight into pus."

Roger is confused. "Pus?"

"Pus. It's got to come from somewhere, right?"

Michael, meanwhile, follows the limo to a restaurant, watching longingly as Lisa and Misenbach step out of the limo. He watches from below as they eat dinner on the upper floor by the window.

Lisa and the lawyer stop at his office, and even while she's had a bit of wine, Lisa is still reluctant to let him kiss her - "I don't know if I'll ever be ready." He's understanding, but she doesn't feel right about having dinner with him. But he slips up when he offers her a check for a thousand dollars. He insists there's no strings attached, but she doesn't like it, and he slips when he mentions kids. Turns out he's already married. Lisa decides to leave, refusing his offer of a ride home.

"I'm going to get your insurance money, Lisa," Misenbach insists. "All of it. And then I'm going to have some investment friends of mine put together some ideas about what to do with it. And then I'm going to call you again, because I have a hunch that once you've had an opportunity to see how really awful it is out there... you'll be glad I did."

Lisa's not impressed. "Great. You call me, and then I'll call your wife, and then we can all call that guy that Courteney Cox married, because he says it's only a dime a minute." She hesitates at the door to add, "Oh, and by the way... you are fired."

Outside the office building, Michael is sitting and waiting for them to come out, singing to himself as he rests against the wall. He doesn't notice Lisa leaving the building alone, nor does he notice her approach until she hands him a dollar bill, attempting to hail a taxi.

Surprised, he gets to his feet and approaches her, just looking at Lisa for a few moments as he tries to figure out what to say to her. "Are you okay?" she asks nervously. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. No, I just... Thanks." He hesitates, curiosity getting the better of him. "So, where's your boyfriend? I-I saw you walk in with him."

"Oh, well, um... he-he's coming right down. I'm just getting a cab and then he and a bunch of his friends will be right down."

"Ah. So, why don't you take the limo?" She continues to try to hail a cab, and he tries to flag one down as well.

Lisa stares at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm... trying to help. You know, actually if you're going to Grand Central you're on the wrong side of the street. I mean, you got to go that way," he answers, pointing in the other direction.

She backs away warily. "What makes you think I'm going to Grand Central?" He doesn't answer, and she quickly crosses to the other side of the street. Michael, not wanting to alarm her, stays on his side, but follows her anyway as she walks down the street, not attempting to cross.

"Uh... c-can I make a suggestion?" he calls over to her. "You know, we-we-we could... we could walk there in, like, six minutes." She gives him a look and starts walking faster. "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean 'we.' I meant, 'you.' Although, if-if it'll make you feel any better I could just walk over here on this side of the street you know, for-for protection. Like this. This way, I could be here for you if you needed me or... you could..."

She stops and tries to hail a cab. Michael sighs. "...you could just ignore me like you're doing. How's it going on your side?"

Lisa stares at him again before picking up the pace. Michael follows, passing behind the cab of a freight truck, then stops when he can't see her anymore. Panicked, he climbs onto the truck bed, pulling himself onto the roof of the truck in one fluid leap. He runs across the roof of the truck, looking about frantically for her, then crosses back. Still no sign of her.

"Can I buy you a pair of shoes?"

Michael turns towards the source of the voice to see Lisa standing on the sidewalk on his side of the street, looking up at him.

At the nearest discount store, she's looking through a bin of cheap shoes. "What size are you?"

Michael looks down at his feet before admitting sheepishly, "I have no idea."

She gives him an odd look before selecting a pair and handing it over to him. As he pulls them on, noting that they fit, she looks him up and down. "That's a beautiful jacket you're wearing. Seven dollar shoes with a $700 jacket."

"I didn't steal it," Michael insists.

She hands him a T-shirt off the rack. "Oh, I know."

Out on the street, Lisa and Michael are walking towards Grand Central Station. "I'm not what you think I am," Michael remarks.

"What do you think I think you are?"

"I don't know," he replies, "but you have to be wondering."

"Oh. Well, maybe a year ago, I would have wondered." She sighs. "No, a year ago, I would've known. A year ago, I would've run away... but I have had one of those years where everything that you count on. None of it works out the way that you think that it's going to. None of it... happens the way that you planned."

Michael has an idea of where this is going. "Like what?"

"Everything. Gravity." He has to smile at that. "So, I look at you, and I-I-I don't know. I-I sense something. I, uh, feel something, uh... familiar."


They've reached the entrance to Grand Central, and she hesitates. "This is none of my business, but do you... do you have a place to sleep? Do you have a home?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. I actually have a beautiful townhouse on the east side - 63rd and Madison. No phone or television, but... everything else I could possibly want."

"Wow." She shakes her head, thinking he's joking. "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Thank you for taking such good care of me." He waves her off towards the entrance. "Go."

She nods and crosses the street, but then stops. "Ten and a half!"


"Your shoe size. If it ever comes up again, you're a ten and a half!"

Michael grins as she disappears into the station. "Thank you!"

A few seconds later seven of Morris' men appear and grab Michael from behind, dragging him into a nearby freight truck disguised as a toy supplier's truck. As the door closes behind them, the truck pulls away.

They shove him down onto a table, gagged, as Dr. Morris comes up. "You surprised to see me? You shouldn't be. Did I forget to mention I stashed a lojack right there?" He taps the bridge of Michael's nose. "Oh, I see... cat got your tongue? That cat and that cat and that cat? So, here's the drill, Mighty Mouse. 20 minutes ago, a man hit a tree while night skiing in Colorado. Smart, ex-Green Beret, obviously athletic. Divorced. No kids."

He grins as Michael gets the idea. "So, I'm thinking... maybe it's time to recast this part. What do you say, Mr. Wiseman? Shall we call for your understudy?"

Michael tries to speak through the gag, and Morris gestures for it to be torn off. "I want to live!" Michael yells, repeating the mantra desperately. "I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. I want..." He breaks off, gasping.

Morris turns to an agent. "Call Denver. Tell them we won't need that extra bun in the oven, after all." Michael lies back, exhausted.

Lisa knocks on Heather's door to let her half-asleep daughter know she's home. "You - you wouldn't happen to remember Daddy's shoe size, would you?"

Heather blinks sleepily, trying to remember. "Um... I bought him a pair of slippers last Christmas. 12, I think. Yeah, 12. Why?"

"Just wondering," Lisa answers. "Good night."

A hotel hallway. A housekeeper enters a room, not noticing that the "Do Not Disturb" sign has been knocked off the doorknob. She enters the bathroom to find the Asian terrorist, wearing a gas mask, injecting eggs with the toxin. She screams, and he drops the egg, which breaks on the floor. She drops to the floor, her nose and mouth bleeding. From his perspective, we see him leaving through the hallway, passing dead bodies left and right. Blood is seeping under the door of one of the rooms. He calls up the elevator, and sure enough, its occupants have succumbed to the toxin. He steps inside, presses the button, and the doors slide shut. Blackout.

to be continued...

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