All language subtitles for Thorne.S01E01.Sleepyhead.Part1.BDRip.XviD-AVCDVD.English-HI

- (Siren)
- (Panting and running)

(Panting)

- (Helicopter whirring)
- (Dog barking)

Round the back!

- (Police radio and shouting)
- (Dog barking)

(Police siren wailing)

(Helicopter whirring)

- (Police siren wailing)
- (Shouting)

Let's go!

Hey!

He's right there!

- Come on!
- Over there! Come on!

- He's round the back! Come on!
- (Dog barking)

I've got it!

(Dog barking)

(Panting)

..gonna marry her.

(Man gasping)

(Police siren blaring)

(Police siren wailing)

I found her! I found her!

- (Helicopter whirring)
- She was already dead!

She was already dead! It wasn't me!

It wasn't me! It...it wasn't me!

- Stay there.
- (Gasps) Jesus.

(Coughing)

- (Loud whirring)
- (Man) Possible ABH. Female victim.

(Coughs) She's been here a while.

No blood. No sign of a struggle.

What do you think, she fell, hit her head?

- Heart attack?
- (Phone)

Hello?

(Man) What's got a one-inch knob
and hangs down?

I don't know. What has a one-inch knob
and hangs down?

A bat.

Your mother's got me on this diet.
My pee smells of stewed cabbage.

Oh, yeah? That's nice.

Listen, what is it, Dad?
I'm at work, all right?

- What's got a nine-inch knob and hangs up?
- I don't know. What has a nine...

(Beep)

Natural causes, then, sir?

- You want to call Borough, let them handle it?
- No.

You think this is a crime scene.

(Tom) Yeah, I do. Call it in.

And, er...call Phil Hendricks.

Ow! Ow!

- Ow, that's my neck, Phil!
- Shut up. You're mashed out on midazolam.

With a sedative that strong,
I can do anything I like.

Now, I just bend your head
a few degrees this way,

apply pressure to these points here
to kink the artery,

and it's good night, Tom Thorne.

So she wasn't strangled, then?

That's what I've been trying to tell you.

- It's a bit elaborate, isn't it?
- Yeah.

If it wasn't for the midazolam, the
tranquilliser, I would have said ischaemia.

I presume that that was the idea,
make it look like a stroke. Natural causes.

- What, a stroke? She's only 28.
- You see it. Smokers. On the pill.

So the only suspicious indicators we've got
are these bruises and the sedative, yeah?

Yeah, looks like a left-hander.

If she's the only one that we found...

How many have you missed?

- (Phone)
- (Chatter)

What have you got for me?

What is this, the Pussycat Dolls?

We circulated the indications to
pathologists in the southeast on Tuesday.

Came up with two further matches.
Madeleine Vickery, deceased February '09.

Christine Owen, died April.

That's three dead girls
and all looked like strokes.

Looks like a stroke, quacks like a stroke.
How do I know it isn't one?

We don't, but even if I dig up Madeleine and
Christine, the bodies are 12 and 14 months old.

So, no use to us.
But all three are under 30.

All three died of ischaemic strokes.
Oedema in the same places.

Upper neck, both sides.
A bit deeper on the left.

So, our guy's left-handed?

We picked up a partial print
from the Carlish flat. Puma, size nine.

But not from the guy
who tripped over her, right?

No, he wears a ten and he's a thief,
not a multiple killer.

So he must be trained, medical.

(Tom) There'll be more. Why not?

He's careful.
There's no sexual assault, no heat.

All three girls were found in their flat.
There was no forced entry, no sign of a struggle.

- He's there and he's gone.
- Sounds like the fucking angel of death.

Yeah, wearing size nine Pumas.

(Sobs)

(Man's voice, distorted)

(Gasping)

(Man) I'll take care of you.

(Crunch)

(Man) Hello, Alison.

Are you OK?

Are you in any pain?

(Alison) I can't see! I can't see!

(Man) I'm going to help you, Alison.

I'm going to take care of you now.

Don't worry. I'm here. Shh.

You're sleepy.

# Satan is real

# Working in spirit

# You can see him and hear him
in this world every day

# Satan is real

# Working with power

# He can tempt you

# And lead you astray...

I attended service at a little church
in the country not long ago.

A prayer was led
by an old country preacher,

who then raised his hands as everyone stood
and sang My God Is Real.

A warm breeze through the open windows

brought in the smell
of new-mown hay in a nearby field

and the singing of birds
could be heard in the moment of silence...

- (Loud chatter)
- Er...Alison Willetts, 23.

That's good work. Well done.

Holland, sir, David. Dave.

Yeah, I knew that.

Actually, it weren't me, really. Hospital
called it in as suspicious a week ago.

Didn't seem like much of a priority then.

- Want some free advice, Dave?
- Sir?

Take the credit. Come on.

- I suppose she's lucky, this one, Alison?
- (Siren blaring)

- Oh, so a coma's lucky in Dave world?
- Luckier than dead.

- (Chatter)
- (Siren outside)

Yvonne? Where am I going?

- Third floor, Neurology, ICU.
- Look after this one for us, will you?

- Hi.
- You all right?

- (Hushed voices)
- (Water dripping)

- (Regular bleeps)
- (Woman speaking)

- (Birdsong)
- (Children's voices)

Jesus.

Over there.

Should be all right. Thanks for taking
the time to talk to us, Mr Ramsey.

(Yvonne) Sir, can I have
your full name, please?

Now, you're the one who found
Miss Willetts, aren't you?

(Canadian accent) Yeah,
I found her passed out in the car park.

I almost left her, I was so late for work.

I just, er...I thought she was drunk.

No, you did great.

She probably wouldn't have survived
if it wasn't for you.

What part of the States are you from, Josh?

The Canadian part.

- What time exactly did you find Miss Willetts?
- Oh...

(Alison) Oh...

Oh, it's too bright.

Turn the light off. Light hurts.

(Yawns)

Oh, my God. Am I in hospital?
I'm OK, right? I'm alive?

Alison?

Are you a doctor?
Oh, you don't look like a doctor.

Alison, can you hear me?

Yes.

- Alison?
- You're the deaf one.

Alison, um...

My name's, er...Tom.

- Tom Thorne. I'm a police officer.
- You've got kind eyes, Tom.

Can I ask you some questions
about what happened to you?

I...don't remember.

Why are...are you looking at me like that?

- What's wrong with me?
- (Beeps)

Oh! Oh!

- (Alarm)
- (Panicked) What happened to me?

- Tell me! Tell me what happened to me!
- What's going on?

- Is she all right?
- Tom!

Why can't you hear me?
Why? I'm talking to you!

- Alison. Everything's all right.
- Please!

- You're in a hospital.
- Please help me!

You've been unconscious for over a week.

- Please help me.
- But you're awake now.

- (Sobbing in her head)
- I'm your doctor. My name's Anne.

I'm going to be looking after you, OK?

(Low chatter)

OK. So, we had her down
as a straightforward stroke at first.

- You know she was found in the car park?
- Yeah.

Yeah, we presumed
that she'd collapsed on her way to A&E,

but then one of my housemen saw bruising,
oedema around her neck ligaments,

which came up as bright white patches
on her MRI scan.

Sorry, are you pissed off with us?

Yeah, well, we called you a whole week ago.
It's been a week.

Yeah, I'm sorry about that.

What's wrong with her?
She can see me and hear me.

Yes, yes, she's got locked-in syndrome.

The damages to the ventral part
of the pons.

It's characterised by complete paralysis of
all voluntary muscle function in the body,

apart from those which
control eye movement.

So, her brain works, she can hear you,
she can understand everything,

but she can't move.

It's like waking up in your own coffin.

Her, um... A friend reported her missing.
Have you heard from the family at all?

Her mother died and so her father remarried
and moved to Palm Springs.

When I called him to tell him the news,

he actually asked me
if it was worth him coming to visit.

So...

So, you know, she's got a lot to come to terms
with without some six foot something...

Three.

..detective standing over her bedside.

- The thing is, Doctor, um...
- Coburn.

Coburn. We've got three
girls just like Alison.

Same bruising, same indications,
only they're dead.

So if there's any chance
that she can communicate, you know.

Well, if she does communicate,
it's gonna be minimal.

And there's no guarantee
that she'll remember anything.

It's very unlikely that
she's gonna regain any motor function.

She'll succumb to an infection
and she'll die in that bed.

So, I really hope
she's not your only line of inquiry.

You have to excuse me.

(Woman) Yeah, perhaps
you could come down to A&E.

That's really all I can tell you.
I...I found her.

I handed her over to Dr Bishop
and he...he took her up to ICU.

I really have to get back to work.
Good luck with this.

- (Tannoy announcement)
- Shit.

Please move it now.

Mr Ramsey.

Josh.

- Get off me! Get off me!
- Hey, calm down! Calm...calm down!

(Tom) Well, he is left-handed.
And he does take size nines, apparently.

According to his entry visa,

Mr Ramsey hadn't entered the country
till six months after the murders began.

(Chuckles)

Yeah, could hamper a
conviction, couldn't it?

Yeah.

Holland's what, 12?

Give him a break.

Oh, rookie with an instinct.

I should have known
he'd be up your street, Tom.

Henry'll be going nuts.

Is, er...Henry your partner, Mr Ramsey?

He's my dog.

- (Chuckles)
- (Dave) Right.

So, I'm free to leave?

Just one minute, please.

He said that she was
wearing something white,

like a slip or something,
when he found her.

Not the clothes she'd been wearing, sir.

(Low chatter)

The hospital toxicology report
shows midazolam in Alison's system

before she was sedated in ICU.

Also the bruising around the vertebral artery
is consistent with that found on Susan Carlish.

Well, he's made his first mistake, Tom.
He's left one alive.

The only thing is
she's not the chattiest of witnesses.

Dave!

Found another size nine!

(Laughter and cheering)

(Z'ip)

(Zip)

Everybody's laughing at me.

Except Thorne.
He just looks right through you.

Well, you can't blame him. Not much
of a first-team debut, was it, Dave?

Yep.

Thorne's first time out,
cracks the Pretty Boy Killer.

Mine? Make a big mess of.

Well, you've heard how
he done it, ain't you?

- Come on.
- (Zip)

Everyone knows that.

Tom just shook Frank Calvert by the hand.

He looked into his eyes
and he just knows this is the one.

This is the guy
that's killed those six gay men.

This is the Pretty Boy Killer.

- Bollocks.
- Bollocks?

It's the rock the church was built on.

If only they'd listened to him
back then, right?

They listen to him now.

(Regular beeps)

(Footsteps)

Mr Thorne.

- Hello.
- Hi.

Um...listen, I, er...I thought
we could go together.

You know, if you didn't
have any other plans.

Yeah, sure.

So, you think this is gonna help,
having the stuff around her?

Oh, yes. Yes, it's still her.

I mean, she'll be tempted to think
that her life ended after the attack.

Or that that's when it began.

But it's not about who she was.
It's about who she is.

Don't touch anything!
It's, er...still a crime scene.

- Sorry, yes.
- It's OK.

Um...it would be really useful to have
the...the music, though, the iPod.

- Right.
- And the collage of the photos as well.

- (Voices nearby)
- Right.

How about that one? Who's that?

Oh, that's on-off Oliver. He was away on a
golf weekend when it happened. We checked.

(Anne) He came to visit.

- Do you want that?
- Yeah, thanks.

Very tidy, isn't she?

- (Voices nearby)
- God, I was such a mess at this age.

Scent. Perfume. That would be good.

And, um...diaries.

Maybe a little cuddly toy.

- (Footsteps thudding)
- God, they're thin walls, aren't they?

- Yeah, chewing gum and cardboard.
- (Door slams)

- So, did no one hear anything?
- I don't think so. We think she let him in.

And he attacked her in here.
Saturday night.

- Sedated her and then just left her for dead.
- Right.

Then she comes to 24 hours later and manages
to find her way to the Great Eastern.

Well, a minor arterial tear
can lead to a transient stroke.

Before the tear becomes
a complete dissection,

which would obviously then result
in a massive ischaemia,

but between the first and the second...

Yes, she...she could have staggered
to the Great Eastern Hospital.

How would she have been, though?
I mean, reeling around?

Knocking things over?

You're right.

This place is too tidy.

I mean, look at all these flats here
facing the road.

It's a nice Sunday evening
and no one sees anything.

A girl in her nightie
falling down the street.

And why didn't she call out
or phone someone?

Maybe he drugged her here
and took her somewhere else.

Then how would she have
got to the hospital?

I don't know.

Alison's belongings, once they've finished
in there, I'll bring them over to you.

Thanks. Personally?

Yeah, yeah.

I'm very hands-on.

So, Tom, what do you see
when you look at Alison?

That boy Oliver, he took one look at her
and he, you know, hasn't been back since.

You've been a few times.
Why? What do you see?

A witness?

(Chatter)

(Phone ringing)

(Indistinct chatter)

Pulled all the hospital CCTV footage.
Alison's not there.

And there's no sign of her
at any of the pedestrian approaches.

I hate to admit it but I'm beginning to
like your theory. Someone brought her in.

They've got ANPR over there. I've got silly
bollocks running every plate in and out.

You'd better.

Without seeming like a tit here, Tom...

What? Why try and kill someone
and take them to A&E?

(Sighs)

- Maybe he changed his mind, eh?
- We've all been there, haven't we, eh?

You wake up Sunday morning, you regret
the girl you did the night before.

Though normally, I send mine off with the taxi
fare home, not a dissected vertebral artery.

How many of this lot
have got medical expertise?

Or the imagination for something like this?
There's no sexual element, is there?

Ah, now, just because he's not fiddling
doesn't mean it's not sexual.

ANPR printouts from the hospital.

These are the registration
plates in and out,

30 minutes either side
of when Alison was found.

Seen his name, haven't we?
Bishop, head of ICU.

Yeah, he was the first to treat her.

But look at this.

That's good work, Dave.
Let's go and talk to 'em.

(Sirens wailing)

(Dave) Is that your BMW
in the car park, Dr Bishop?

- Mm?
- The car park. Is that your BMW?

You mean the BMW
that's sitting in my parking space?

(Sighs and hums tune)

- Muddy feet on my nice carpet.
- Were you driving there last...

I'll speak with Orthopaedics myself.
What's the extension?

Yeah, OK, thank you. (Sighs)

(Grunts) Sorry.

- Were you driving there last Saturday night?
- On Saturday.

- On Saturday night?
- Yes.

Erm...yeah, I was out with some friends
so, no, I got a cab,

and I think I got in at about 11.

What did you do when you got in?
You make any calls?

No, I try not to call people after 11.

Husbands tend to get upset.

(Footsteps)

I don't know, I watched some shitty TV,
probably, and tried to get some sleep.

- Why? What did you do?
- Any shitty TV in particular?

Yeah, game shows and soft porn.

Is...is he really writing this down?
I'm sorry, I'm confused.

I thought you were here to talk about
Sunday night, when Alison was admitted.

I mean, you were on site here
when she was found, yeah?

Um...yeah.

Yeah, fortunately for Alison, I was bleeped
half an hour before, so she was lucky.

God knows what A&E
would have done with her.

She came in with a GCS of 3.
Pupils were reacting only.

So I intubated her,
sedated her, took her for a CT,

and her brain was just a little tight.

So I ordered an MRI and then had her
prepped to be sent up to my ICU.

Would you like me to slow down?

She was lucky, then, wasn't she?
I mean that you were here on Sunday night.

Do you know, if you need to verify any of this,
you can do so with my colleague Dr Coburn.

Anne. I think, actually, you...
you've met, haven't you?

The benzodiazapine that you administered,
it was midazolam, wasn't it?

Er...yeah, well, that's the way
we do it here, Doctor. Works a treat.

Can impair memory, if you...

She's divorced, actually, you know, Anne.
She tell you? No? Her husband left last year.

You see, the funny thing is, the hospital has
no record of calling you on Sunday night.

There's no record of...of a page
or...or a bleeper.

We're done. Er...you're rude.

I was perfectly happy
to talk to you about a patient.

But now you and my biographer

seem to be treating me
as if I've got something to hide.

- This is a murder investigation, Doctor.
- Is it? Oh, Christ.

Now just get the fuck off my carpet,
would you?

- Thanks for your time.
- You're welcome.

- (Chatter outside)
- Good luck with the book.

(Door shuts)

(Electrical buzz)

Holya Souza.

Helen Doyle.

Kate, um...Doubleday.

Rita Badwage. All under 30, all reported
missing since we found Alison Willetts.

Girls go missing all the time.
Doesn't mean he's got them.

No, they don't. You take out the users and the
ones with a reason and girls don't go missing.

They stay at home.

- What, no pain, really?
- Just enough.

- You up for something yourself?
- I don't like pain. It hurts.

Are you in any pain?

Don't you remember me, Alison?

Of course you do. I'm Jeremy.
I'm the doctor who treated you when you first arrived.

May I touch you?

It's all right, Alison.
Don't...don't worry. Don't panic.

All right, look, it's...it's your decision.

But I'd be inclined to close these for her.

(Alison) I don't remember you, Jeremy.

I do remember this, though.

That's it.

This lady potato crashes her moped.

The doctor comes up to Miss Potato's
boyfriend, the hunky swede.

"The good news is she's alive.

"The bad news is she's going to be
a vegetable for the rest of her life."

So, er...what's so special
about Alison, do you think?

- Here we go.
- Come on, humour me.

There are signs of struggle on her scans.

Some bruising on her lower jaw.

- He might have held her down.
- Get off.

He must have held her for a while
if he was gonna bruise her, mustn't he?

Maybe. Some bruise easier than others.

I, for one, am like a Spanish nectarine.

So, could that have happened
when he drove her to hospital?

Why would he take her to the hospital?

I don't know, maybe, you know,
she woke up and he just freaked out.

Couldn't stand her looking at him.

I've been down the Mile End Road, Tom.
It goes to Stepney Green, not Damascus.

- Come on, let's get one more, yeah?
- I'm too tired, I'm too old.

And it's never just one more.

Oh, come on, you bender.
It could be your last night on earth.

What are you gonna do, go home
to your osteopaedic pillow? Come on.

Oh, shit! Oh, sorry, mate! Oh!

- I'll see you later, yeah?
- Yeah.

See you.

(Man) There you go.

I'll be right here.
I'll be right here for you.

It's OK.

You're safe now. You're safe now.

Night-night, Sleepyhead.

Hey. Hey, mister.

(Laughs) My name's Angel.

You should go home.

Yeah.

(Phone rings)

Yeah.

Yeah, OK, yeah.

Tell them they'll have to go round.

(Sighs)

- (Sirens wailing)
- Morning.

We've got a witness. Somebody saw him.

Just pulled up in a car and dumped her.

- Kind of a buzz, isn't it, Dave?
- It's a fucking rush, sir.

- (Chatter)
- Yeah, they just need a bit more light.

(Siren wailing)

She one of your missing?

Helen Doyle.

This one didn't wake up. You know, for a
careful guy, he doesn't mind taking risks.

She's only been gone a couple of hours.

What's that?
Is that where he injected the midazolam?

I thought he put it in her drinks.
That's where you'd stick a cannula.

(Man) Would you just
keep back there, please?

What, for an IV?

Helen Doyle. Worked in one
of those office buildings on the Westway.

Last seen Thursday night
at Bar Samba in Chiswick.

So, he's had her for two days.

It's like you said. He drugs 'em, takes 'em
somewhere, plays with them a little while.

Then it's the old heave-ho
out the car door.

- Where's this witness?
- He's over here.

He's old. Didn't see much. Says he thought
the bloke was dumping rubbish.

He said he was wearing a baseball cap.
Average height, build.

Dark car.

Says it was nice.

Hi.

This car, was it nice like...
like a Merc or a Rover 75?

- They all look the same these days.
- (Horn sounds)

It was dark.
I thought he was just chucking rubbish out.

At least that's what he said.

Right, now, exactly what did he say?

"It broke," or...

"They keep breaking."

- (Dave) What?
- I thought he was chucking an old Hoover.

(Dave) They keep...breaking? Is that it?

Alison wasn't a mistake.

She was the first one he got right.

(Music playing)

I like what you've done with the place.

They keep breaking.

Madeleine, Christine, Susan, Helen.

Four dead girls.

And you. Why didn't he kill you, eh?

(Alison) Do I look alive to you?

I think he brought you here.

So why would he do that, eh?

I don't know.

(Sighs)

(Footsteps)

Your mates, they said, er...
they said you lost your coat in the bar,

but we found it in your flat.

So he...he brought it round, didn't he?

Yeah, if you say so.

You let him in. Come on, show me, just...

Anything, just show me that I'm right.

He drugged you with midazolam
in whatever drink were sharing,

and then he took you somewhere,
24 hours, just you and him.

He didn't want to rush you like the others.

- He wants to get you right.
- Get me right?

You're full of sedatives
but you must have felt it, eh?

- His hands on the back of your neck.
- No.

Don't do this!

Searching till they find
what they're looking for.

- No! Stop it, Tom!
- Arteries on the back of your neck.

(Sobs in her head)

The blood pumping in your head
and then what?

I don't remember!

This? Nothing?

- Tom!
- (Music off)

Tom, what are you doing?

You're scaring me!

Then he brought you here,
and do you know why he did that?

Cos you didn't break. You survived.

And when he realised that, he had to move fast.
He had to get you here.

Keep you breathing,
because he didn't have all this.

You couldn't breathe on your own.

So, he had to be quick. What did he do?

- He had to stop on the way, didn't he?
- Oh, God.

- Put breath into your lungs. His breath.
- (Sobs in her head)

His mouth on yours,
cos he had to keep you alive.

- (Rapid beeps)
- That's right.

He was desperate for you to survive because
you're not a mistake. He wanted you like this.

Locked in. He wants you like this. Do you
understand me, eh? He wants you like this.

Tom, stop this right now.

- Pathetic.
- Fuck you!

She's in distress.
This is not the right way to go about this.

What do you want from me?
I can't remember!

He broke another one tonight. Helen.
He didn't mean to kill her either, put an IV in her arm.

- (Man's distorted voice) Alison...
- ..Broken, or worse like you!

I'm gonna catch him
and you've got to remember!

You've got to remember!
Find a way to tell me! Do you understand?

- Stop it! I've tried to!
- You've got to find a way to tell me!

Tell me! Do you understand? Tell me!

Fucking find a way! Tell me!

- Yes! Yes.
- (Regular beeping)

I...I did that, didn't I?

(Tom) Thank you.

(Regular beeping)

Oh, God.

- (Regular bleeping)
- (Woman speaking outside)

It's an emergency.

In there you have
absolutely no idea what you're doing!

She needs calm.
This all takes a lot of patience.

You have completely destabilised
any progress we've made.

What the hell are you doing? Yelling at my
patients? I want the name of your superior.

- Good luck with that.
- I'll make sure you never see Alison again.

Oh, why? Cos she's yours, is she?
She just communicated with me. She blinked.

Isn't that what we want?
Isn't that what she needs?

She blinked because she was terrified of you.
Do you understand?

(Whispers) Listen, he wants her like this.

He killed another one last night, and it's
my job to stop him before he does it again.

That allows you to act like a prick, does it?
Because what you do is serious.

Now, listen, what we do is very serious, and
we had to go to university to learn how.

Oh, shut up.

Prick.

(Panting)

(Doors ping)

- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset Alison.
- Well, you did.

- Yeah, but I didn't mean to.
- But you did.

We can go on like that for an hour.

What do you want?

- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset her.
- OK.

- Or you. Especially you.
- Me? You didn't upset me.

You didn't upset me, cos it kind of worked.

She's communicating now.

Sort of.

- Three blinks for yes. One for no.
- That means I can interview her.

No. No, no, no, no. It doesn't.

Tom, she doesn't remember anything
about the attack or the attacker.

It's a blank, OK?

And I'm glad.
I'm glad that it's a blank for her sake.

On leaving the train, please remember
to take all your belongings with you.

What?

What else?

I'm gonna come right back to you, mate.

(Phone ringing)

All right, so we've got him going into the
Great Eastern just after three this morning.

But he goes out again at 4:15, not 5:30.

That gives him an hour and a half
to do Helen Doyle and dump her.

He's a dodgy bastard.
He's got the medical nous.

Dr Jeremy Bishop.

Do we like him for it?

Jeremy? You mean my Jeremy?

Oh, come on. I mean, I know
he's a wanker and everything, but...

Yeah, but not that type of wanker, huh?

It's as though he's a walking efit,
and he plays the role, doesn't he?

Well, it's true he does have to be
the centre of attention.

Even if that means
being a suspect in a murder inquiry?

Probably, yes. Um...my scans are down here.

So if you just bung the kettle on there.
I'm gonna find these images for you.

You don't seriously think
that Jeremy's responsible, do you?

- No, I don't. But he is a wanker.
- (Clicking)

(Chuckles) Oh, God, Tom, I'm sorry.
Do you know what? I didn't get any milk.

Um...I've got some wine, though.
Oh, you're on duty, aren't you?

- No, I'm not on duty. I clocked off hours ago.
- Oh, OK.

I've got to warn you, though.
I do get drunk quickly.

Oh, really? I thought policemen were very
good at holding their drink and all that.

I get drunk quickly
but I can keep drinking for hours.

Um...so, look, this is it. The functional
MRI scan. So, can you see?

It captures imaging patterns

which correlate specifically to stimuli,
thoughts and ideas in the brain.

Look, they're here. This particular patient,
he was categorised as braindead for 16 years.

He was fully conscious
and no one even knew it.

Sorry. Am I boring you?

No.

- Don't.
- (Whispers) Why?

(Whispers) Because my daughter's
standing right behind you.

- Hello.
- Oh, hello.

- I'm, um...
- Tom.

- You were mentioned.
- Was I?

- You were mentioned. You're, er...
- Rachel. This is Rachel, my daughter.

- (Kettle whistling softly)
- Hi.

(Chuckles) So, er...how long
were you planning to stand there?

Till the kettle boiled.

(Tom) Well, it's...
it's nice to meet you, Rachel.

Kevin?

- Ma'am?
- Just come and have a look at this.

Mail room thought it was suspicious.
Can you open it for us?

"Dear Tom.

"Sorry. They're dead,

"and it's down to me."

(Siren blaring)

I don't understand it.

"I never...

- "wanted to hurt anyone..."
- (Clock chimes)

..but they keep...

- (Chimes)
- ..Breaking.

Could you give us five minutes, Claire?

"I feel like you know me. I think about you
and it feels special, like a sex thing.

"I know about Frank.

"I know about all your stories.

"I'd like us to be able to talk about it.
Can I come and see you, Tom?"

# When the end of the world rolls around...

- Where's Tom?
- He comes and goes.

# I'll be proud

# I can say

- # I love you...
- (Text alert)

# You grow nearer

# And dearer

# And sweeter

# As the days...

Get off me! Get...

(Groans)

It's OK, Tom.

It's OK.

I'll take care of you.

I need you to see, Tom. I need you to see.

You know I'm trying to save them, Tom.

I only want to save them.

Come in, Tom. The water's warm.

Maybe they'll see it this time, Mr Thorne.

They don't look dead, do they?

You're sleepy.

You're mine. You're mine.

Sleepyhead.

"I know all your stories.

"I'd like us to be able to talk about it."

There's four bodies now.
He's after Frank's crown.

Alison, was there like a window in there?
Could you see out of a window?

(Man whispering)

Did you see him at all? Can you see him?

You two and your secrets.

It's all lies. I'm trying to save you.