01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

You can't be here.

- You're dead.
- Quite right.

I'm a prototype.
All I have are six days of battery
life.

Six days, just you and me.

Should I have recognised him?

You punched that "young man" in
the face and knocked him out,

the day you came to Berlin
to take me away from him.

It was an overreaction.

Tomas is dead too.

And you had nothing
to do with that,

but I'll always blame you for it.

When I heard you were in hospital,

it was one of the worst moments
of my life.

- Is that why you didn't come to get
me?
- I was angry!

Julia, Tomas isn't dead.

The letter he sent from Berlin
after his horrible accident.

- It's too late.
- Tomas is alive.

It's not too late.

And Adam?
I should just betray Adam?

Isn't marrying one man while thinking
of another not a betrayal?

She's with a man.

She's cheating on me!

He's dead?

Yes, he's dead.

Have you been able to cry?

I haven't either.

Robert and I

had each just lost
the man of our lives.

That's how our friendship was born.

It was Christian who came
to collect me from the hospital.

Back in my bedroom.

I tied a red ribbon

around Tomas' letters
and put them in a drawer.

It was my way
of being at his funeral.

I packed my bag

and left without saying goodbye.

No, I'm not negotiating at that price.

Yes.

I can be in Tokyo tomorrow.

I swore I'd never forgive you
for separating us.

ALL THOSE THINGS WE NEVER SAID

And since then,

not a day has passed
without Robert and me speaking.

He'd talk to me about Jean-Marie,
and I'd talk about Tomas.

It was as if they were still with us.

Gradually, life resumed its course.

- Hello!
- Hello.

- Are these vases?
- Yes.

200 francs.

They're on offer,

you can have the pair for 400 francs.

Thanks, but no.

- Have a nice day.
- Thank you.

Hello.

Not bad, eh?

Don't forget the keys.

Thanks.

We'll redo the shelves,

I'll repaint all of this.

Am I bothering you?

No, no.

Are you at the store?

Yes, yes.

Robert, if you found a letter
from Jean-Marie you'd never read,

would you open it?

Of course I would.

Oh, I see!

You found a letter from Tomas.

You bring-up Jean-Marie every time
you think of Tomas.

Is there a date on it?

Not that it matters,
you'll read it anyway.

- Robert...
- Julia?

Tomas is alive.

I'm on my way to Berlin.

Oh sh*t!

I know, but don't worry.

I'll call you when I get there.

Who was that?

A customer, I just sold
a Louis XVI chest of drawers.

I thought you specialised
in 19th century furniture.

Yes, it's a 19th century reproduction.

She's gone off with a man!
How could she do that to me?

How can you say such a thing?

Or even think it?

sh*t! You saw them too!

You can still be polite!

And what do you think you saw?
Nothing at all!

Julia in a car with a man.

Her chauffeur.

She's gone in search of her father.
How many times do I have to tell you?

I went in the hotel
and even the concierge was being
vague.

You think my concierge isn't vague?
Drive!

Dad.

Sir?

Can you hear me?

Dad?

We have to call an ambulance.

Dad, wake up, I beg you!

He doesn't look well.

It's fine, I'm used to it.

Are you sure?
Your father doesn't look well at all.

I don't know what's wrong.

I'm a doctor, I'll take his pulse.

No! That won't be necessary.

- But you agree he looks awful?
- Thank you very much!

- Do you want to sit down?
- No.

What more could happen to me?
I'm already dead.

What happened, exactly?

An electronic interference.

You'll have to tell them.
It's totally unacceptable!

Anyone can inadvertently put me on
pause with their mobile phone.

It's very bothersome.

Bothersome?

Yes.

Do you realise how scared I was?

Was I dreaming
or did you call me Dad?

You were dreaming.

Why didn't you invite me
to your wedding?

I sent you an invitation.

That's not what I call
inviting your father!

I was supposed to walk
you up the aisle.

Couldn't we have discussed it?

I was waiting for you to call.

I hoped you'd want to get to know
my husband-to-be.

I'd already met him, hadn't I?

Yes, accidentally. On an escalator
in a department store.

I wouldn't call that
"getting to know him"

or showing any real interest
in my life, let alone his.

The three of us had tea together,
if I remember correctly.

Because he wanted to get to know you
and suggested it.

Twenty minutes, during which
you monopolised the conversation.

I had to make small talk,
he wouldn't say a word!

I thought he was a mute!

Did you ask him a single question?

And you, did you ever ask me anything,
even for advice?

I never had time for that.

You were always so convinced
of what I should do,

all I wanted was for you to understand
that I didn't want to be like you.

Give me the keys.

I don't want your circuits jamming
while we're driving at 160 km/h.

Thanks.

Were you happy at art school?

I think...

that they were happy times.

Hanging out in cafés with my friends,

nothing to worry about.

Paris!

I've always thought it was the city

for living, loving, and dying.

- You think that sounds silly.
- No.

- You do, I can tell.
- No, it's just that...

It's not easy to say.

Go on, try.

You lived and loved...

and you died, in Paris.

Do you have any memory of dying?

No.

The most recent memory transfer

took place three days before I died.

The next one
would have been two weeks after that.

I died on a Thursday, right?

Yes, because you were getting married
on Saturday.

No, that week, for me,

is a complete blank.

Mind you, it can't be fun
remembering your own death.

You know, the fact that these machines
have a time limit

is a necessary evil.

- And not just for the families.
- I understand.

I don't think you do.
Even I struggle with it.

What day is it now?

- Monday.
- Yes.

Four days left.

You know, I can hear it constantly,

the ticking of time passing...

all day long.

Do you know how I...?

How I...?

Yes.

A heart attack at a red light.
Christian said.

Did I suffer?

No.

It was instantaneous, apparently.

That's what they tell families.

- "It was instantaneous."
- Can we stop talking about...

I find it amusing to talk
about my own death with someone else.

But the someone else here
is your daughter.

And you didn't seem to be laughing.

Don't start being right
about everything, please.

The day...

before you burst into our bedroom...

Tomas and I had decided
to get married.

I'm really sorry that I didn't get
that letter to you sooner.

Do you mean it?

Honestly?

No.

But I feel lighter
for having told you that.

Do you believe in God?

Your mom didn't.

I did.

Well...

when it suited me.

Do you think I'm in heaven?

No, I can't answer that.

Sorry, but I can't do it.

- Believe in God?
- No.

Get used to the idea that you're here,

that we're talking, even though...

- I'm dead.
- Yes.

You know, it's important
to say what you mean.

Very important.

If you'd said to me:
"Dad, you're an idiot,

"you don't understand my life.

"You're trying to shape my existence
to be just like yours.

"You're a father
like so many others,

"putting me through hell saying
it was for my own good,

"when it was really for yours."

Well, then, yes...

maybe I'd have understood.

Maybe.

Do you feel something,
being back here?

Yes.

I feel something.

- You can return it.
- Yes, Mr Saurel.

Thank you.

Mr Saurel,

what a pleasure to see you.

Would you like me to reserve a table
for you in the fine-dining restaurant?

Did you have shares in this hotel?

You're annoying
with that past tense!

We'll get changed
and I'll take you to a little bistro.

You'll love it.

Smith Haut Lafitte 1990.

Shall we have dinner together?

With pleasure...

- Have you talked to Adam?
- Yes.

I called him from my room.

What did he say?

That he misses me,

and that he doesn't understand
what it is I'm looking for.

That he came to find me in Bruges,
but missed me by an hour.

Do you realise?
He drove all the way to Bruges.

Can you imagine his face
if he'd seen us together!

No.

I'd rather not imagine that.

He made me promise, four times,
that I was alone.

And?

So I lied, four times!

Be careful,
you'll end up getting a taste for it!

I don't see what's so funny about it.

What's funny
is that we're in Berlin together,

looking for your first love,

and you're feeling guilty
that you can't confess to your fiancé

that you're on this trip
with your father.

It's comical.

It's so you, but it's comical.

I have no idea
whether Tomas is still in Berlin or
not.

Or even how to track him down.

I do.

Your place shows a lot of taste.

All of it bad, but...

there really is a lot of it.

Your worst photograph for example,
how did you mess it up?

- Your glass.
- Thanks.

- How did you become an antiques
dealer?
- I was born an old soul.

What did Julia ever see in you?

Come on, tell me how you met.

Down in one!

I made an appointment this morning.

You speak German now?

You're joking!
I'm programmed to speak 15 languages.

I'll end up regretting
still being alive.

In we go.

You're trying to get in touch
with this Tomas Meyer

to entrust him with what
kind of information, exactly?

That is exactly
what I can't reveal to you.

A scoop is a scoop,
and this one is enormous.

Enough to propel his career.

I have no recollection of any
important articles by a Tomas Meyer.

That's what could change
if you help us get in touch with him.

And what does this young lady
have to do with this?

She's my assistant.

I cannot disclose private information
about any of our members,

and an address is certainly private.

So, I'm sorry,
but rules are made to be obeyed.

What I have to reveal to Tomas Meyer
could change his life for the better.

Surely a union representative

wouldn't stand in the way
of a member's career advancement.

That could lead to an article

or a lively debate among the
journalists at Associated Press Club.

- Isn't that right, Julia?
- Yes, absolutely.

There's no Tomas Meyer on our list.

He's not even
in the professional directory.

If you really have a scoop,
I can recommend some great
journalists.

But if Mr Meyer can be entrusted
with your precious intelligence,

I'll have to ask you to leave.

I have work to do.

Maybe you were right.

Your assistant, you mean?

I had to come up with something
off the top of my head.

Unbelievable!

No, I was right.
Tomas must have changed profession.

Fine example of consistency.

I'll stop you right there.

Journalism wasn't a job for him.
It was a vocation.

He'd never have done anything else.

Yeah, right!

Look.

As a little girl you hated zoos.

You were outraged
that the animals were kept in cages.

That was about the time
that you wanted to become...

a vet.

Yes.

For your sixth birthday
I bought you a large stuffed animal.

I don't know if you remember.
It was an otter.

Maybe not a good choice.

You spent all your time playing vet
and taking care of it.

Are you trying to suggest that
I started drawing thanks to you?

What are talking about?

Can you imagine if our childhood
had any impact on us as adults?

And with all the complaints
you're levelling at me,

it'd be insensitive to try that.

Yes.

By the way, what was the name
of that grimy little street

where you lived with your Tomas?

Comeniusstrasse,
just behind Karl-Marx-Allee.

Yes, of course!

What?

Did you do your shopping
in the Stalin Supermarket?

You're impossible!

Can you take us to Comeniusstrasse?

When you get to Comeniusstrasse,

you can drop us
at the end of the street.

- Yes.
- Thank you.

What is it?

Nothing.

I can see that there's something.

It's been a long time
since I heard you speak German.

I have to get used to the idea
of losing you for good.

It's the natural order of things.