Hello. This is my first Homeland fanfic. It is a one shot that I felt like writing after seeing the finale of Season 3 yesterday.
I wanted to add more details to the period of intermission in the safehouse that takes place in the finale. In my opinion, Season 3 was the end of the series (I don't see how they could do an interesting job now without Brody). But that is just my opinion.
All the characters that I am going to use belong to Howard Gordon and Alex Gansa. Thanks to them for using Gideon Raff's idea. I saw the first season of "Hatufim, Prisoners of War" and I really liked it.
The translation from French to English has been done by Terzima, I thank her a lot.
Enjoy your reading!
INTERMISSION
After a heavy silence, I wanted Brody to know that all we had been through meant something to me.
"I'm pregnant."
"What?"
"I'm four-month pregnant, from our time at the lake."
"Carrie, Jesus."
"Some things can get more complicated, right?" I sighed.
"You should have said something", he protested.
"Well, I'm saying it now," I said with irritation.
"Hey," he said, trying to hold me back as I stood up.
"Don't!"
"Hey, hey!" he insisted.
I walked a few steps and then faced him.
"Look, I don't know what happens back home either, what kind of life we have or we don't have, whether it's together or apart but there will be a life, and I'm not sorry about that, not for one single second, because I believe one of the reasons I was put on this Earth was for our paths to cross and… yeah, I know how crazy that sounds."
"Are you through yet?"
"No!"
I looked for something else to say but nothing came up into my mind.
"Yes," I surrendered.
I watched him anxiously as he stood up and walked toward me.
"'Cause I don't think that sounds crazy at all."
I looked at him, full of hope.
"I think it sounds like the only sane fucking thing I've to hold on to."
A wave of joy swept over me.
"Oh, okay then."
I watched him with emotion, and smiled. Wonderfully surprised, wonderfully happy with the few words he had just said.
"So I'm not crazy," I thought, relieved.
He tried to return my smile, his eyes were bright. I saw something more than confusion in his blue eyes where I liked to lose myself. I loved him so much, even if it was something I kept for myself, some information everyone knew about but that I still protected like a treasure, or like a burden.
We stayed there for a while, watching one another, without a word, finally enjoying our reunion without the presence of any witness. There was so much to say but it was useless at that moment. He opened his arms to me, it seemed to cost him a lot of effort. I did not stop to think and I found myself in his arms, right where I had wanted to be for so long. I met against his protruding bones, his body was much thinner. He held me cautiously at first, then with more determination. His rough cheek was against mine and I relished the touch. I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest. It beat fast, as fast as mine. I held him too, my wrists crossed in the small of his back. Everything was right where it belonged, there, for that moment out of time.
He slipped his fingers through my hair and started a gentle back and forth movement. It was a tender gesture I was not used to and, Jesus, how I loved it! I didn't allow myself a single move, I felt I had to let him do what he wanted. He kept me against him until his legs started to fail him. He was exhausted and drained.
"Let's go lie down," I offered.
His arms fell back alongside his body, creating a void inside me, I was not in the cocoon of his arms anymore. With his hand in mine, he let me lead him as he had often done before. On a blanket on the floor, I lay down by his side, with my back to him. He wrapped his arm around me, and his hand found itself on my stomach. Was it on purpose? I was not sure but yet I shivered, sensitive to that touch that meant so much to me. We were bound together. I had never asked myself whether or not I wanted to be a mother, it was supposed to be impossible given my condition, and yet, I was pregnant. It was an impalpable reality, blurred every so often, painful at times. I was scared by what it involved if we made it alive.
"I know you're scared, Carrie," he whispered.
I didn't answer.
"You're strong, be confident," he continued.
What was he trying to tell me? That I was going to live alone? Or simply that I would be able to live this frightening adventure because he would be by my side?
I turned to watch him, it was too hard to deprive myself of his image, we had been apart for too long. He didn't try to avoid my inquisitive gaze. He offered himself to me just as he was, as he had always done.
"Will you stay with me?"
He didn't know how to answer, I supposed he didn't know himself what he would do if we made it out of here. I rephrased my question:
"Do you want to stay with me?"
"I only bring misery. That's not what you deserve, Carrie."
"And you, what do you deserve?"
"Nothing. I am nothing but a pretense of a man and I've got nothing to offer."
His face had darkened, he was becoming a shadow of his former self again. It broke my heart.
"Still, you have given me the most priceless gift."
"It wasn't on purpose."
What can you answer to that?
"I'm lost forever, Carrie. Nothing will ever give me my humanity back. I'll never be Nicholas Brody again. That man died when he was taken prisoner."
His gaze lost itself beyond my face, seeing some horrible things or others. I stroked his cheek to bring him back to me but he was too far away, unreachable. It was unbearable to see him even more wounded, as if life had mistreated him with an insane doggedness so that he would be cut down into billions of particles that could never be put back together. So I did the only thing my heart told me, I reestablished contact so he would understand I could not accept his giving in. I kissed him passionately – it was always like that between us, wild and excessive; he started, recoiled. I remained motionless, my lips waiting, withdrawn from his too violently. It was worse than anything. I had had to do without him too often, and that absence had been so violent that I lost my mind sometimes.
"Brody," I begged, devouring him with my eyes.
He remained deaf to my plea, his eyes emptying of all substance. Sorrow swept me away, I could not fight it.
"Don't cry, Carrie."
There was so much suffering in his voice that I swallowed back my tears to stop hurting him. He relaxed, put his forehead on mine, caught my hand and brushed it over his cheek. He kissed me quickly; it was too short for me to take the taste of it in, to satisfy my hunger. It was frustrating but I knew I would get nothing more. He fell asleep like that, very close to me.
On the alert, I was unable to relax. I dozed fitfully, then, choking on my nightmares, I sat up and left our makeshift bed to go to the window. There was nothing in sight. I was restless, Saul had promised to extract us soon, and I trusted him. He was always true to his word.
Brody started to moan, then to toss and turn. I didn't even want to imagine what his nightmares put him through. I returned to his side to reassure him. I sat down, lifted his head and put it on my stretched legs. He half-opened his eyes with a start, confused. I shifted so that he could see me.
"Everything's fine, you're safe with me."
He blinked, sleepy, and softly calmed down when he saw me. He went back to sleep. I used the respite to examine his face. I knew his features by heart, that's how I loved him: damaged, vulnerable, tormented, depressive. I also loved him because he was unyielding and devoted, brave and sensible, passionate and stubborn. And above all…
"I love you because you are you, Nicholas Brody."
It was the encounter of a lifetime, one you wanted to last forever because we had discovered and loved each other in spite of our respective flaws. I kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
"As long as I live, I'll never forget what you gave to our Nation," I told him, hoping he could hear me through the haze of his dreams.
It came out in one go, it comes from the heart. I hope you enjoyed it.
Clarisse
