Carrie had thrown his cell phone out of the window. What he'd give to talk to her now. Or to Dana. He so desperately wanted to speak to his daughter. He knew that he'd get no sense from Jess, she'd be hysterical right now. Brody closed his eyes tight for a few seconds and sighed. What must they be going through now, all of them? Dana was the one he wanted to explain things to most. She had known something was wrong months back. Dana, who had only been a tiny girl when he left for Iraq was somehow the one who knew him the most when he returned. The one who picked up on something bad being afoot. She was her father's daughter, he guessed, although thankfully for her she looked more like her mother than she did him. They would all have seen that video by now and it would be sinking in. Dana would remember what happened the day of the bunker, the way she'd challenged Brody on how strangely he had been acting just beforehand, enough for her to beg him not to go out that day, the fact that Carrie had appeared at the house, so agitated, and the way she had talked him down on the phone. It would all fall into place for her now, all right.
Monster. Terrorist. Jihadist.
He was none of these but he knew that all the evidence pointed to the contrary and just prayed that he could credit his daughter with being able to see past it all. What was he even thinking? There was a video being aired right now in which Brody clearly laid out his reasons for taking a stand, for committing the atrocity. Just not this atrocity. He only ever wanted to avenge Isa's death, to expose the hypocrisy of Walden, the man who sent soldiers like Brody to casually raze a school to the ground and who would then lie about it for political gain. He stood by his hatred of Walden. He was glad he was dead and pleased to have played his part in it. He would have done it even if Carrie had not been Nazir's bargaining chip. Brody would never sanction the death of innocents, not in his name, at home or abroad.
Dana was 17. He thought about himself at that age. It was too much to ask of her to understand, or even to expect her to question the version of events that would be presented to her. Brody had failed her many times in the recent months and she had been furious with him. Even at her tender age, she knew right from wrong, she had tried to do the right thing regarding the hit and run and she had looked to Brody to help her. He had so wanted to be there for her and he was proud of her for facing up to what she had done. He had failed at the last when they ran into Carrie at the police station and felt his daughter's loss of respect and look of total contempt like a knife in the gut as she stormed away from him. Now this. Finn had been at the memorial service when the bomb went off. Brody doubted that he could have survived. Dana would be distraught. He thought about her beautiful dimples and then the scowl that painted her face more often than not these days, her quick temper and her intolerance of her little brother's goofiness. He closed his eyes again. What could he possibly say to her even if he had his phone?
And Chris. What would this do to him? He had already been through enough. His dad had been missing, presumed dead, before Chris could even talk. Spoken about in the past tense, a figure he didn't really remember but larger than life, a hero. Then suddenly he was back, not dead after all, but still a hero. He'd finally get to see what a real hero looked like. It can't have been too impressive up close. He would have heard him yelping in the night and seen him shaking at breakfast. He had met his father in the airport lounge and offered him his hand to shake. It had seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. This man was a hero, a soldier, a warrior. Chris hadn't wanted to disappoint a man like that by bawling like a baby. Brody couldn't believe that this boy was the toddler he had left behind in his buggy. He was older than Isa had been but he looked at Brody in the same wide-eyed, expectant manner. In the time that Brody had been home, he knew he had neglected Chris. He just hadn't been available, in any sense of the word. Jess had pushed him to bond with his son, suggesting that he watch Chris play football or attend his karate meets, trying to foster a little 'man time'. But Brody had never made it. Part of it was circumstance, Brody conceded, but he recognised that there were also darker elements at play.
When Brody left for Iraq, Chris was really just a baby and along with Dana, his pride and joy. It killed him to leave them, especially his son who was still changing every day. Dana had reached a precociously sassy steady state, was fiercely independent and would proffer withering glances at anyone who dared insist they could help her tie her shoes or visit the bathroom. Apart from her daddy, of course, she was uniformly sweet on him. Chris had started toddling around and he looked up to his dad in the way little boys do. They would wrestle and play rough, despite Jess' half-hearted objections, although she would melt when she heard Chris' throaty giggling. Tossing a football in the garden and the passing on of Brody's legendary soccer skills to his son wasn't going so well just yet but there'd be time for all that. Brody knew that Chris would be barely recogniseable by the end of this next tour and he hated to miss so much and to leave Jess to cope with two young kids. But he had to do it. They had family and friends around Jess to help and Brody's mom was a constant presence at their place.
Then what happened had happened. While he was away, Brody prayed that Chris was growing up strong and looking after his mom and sister. When Isa came into his life, Brody came to think of Nazir's son as a surrogate Chris. When Isa was taken, Brody was devastated, possibly as much as Nazir, although he felt he had no right. Brody's relationship with Isa had been warm, easy, nourishing. The initial shock of a child's love after years of horrific abuse had been profound but had softened Brody's detachment from the world. He was only able to function as well as he could today due to him. Isa brought Brody back to humanity again and in a funny way, through loving Isa, Brody could pretend he was caring for Chris all those thousands of miles away too. Nazir had held Isa at arm's length, was an austere, strict figure and he terrified the boy. Brody was the perfect foil to that and Isa would do anything to please him. He went about learning English at an astonishing rate, just to earn Brody's praise and feel him mess his hair.
The body of an imp peeking out behind the door, that gappy grin once he realised he'd been busted and heard Brody call out "Hey, brat, you wanna play soccer?" from behind his book. A tear hit Brody's chin as he sat motionless in the dark.
Chris was not Isa. It wasn't his fault and Brody knew it was unfair but the fact remained. He was nothing like him really, but his behaviour reminded Brody of Isa, just through being a little boy. The way he sought his approval, craved Brody's attention, mimicked his posture. And it pained him. Being near his own son just dredged up all the grief he felt for the boy who was not.
In any case, Chris ostensibly already had a father. Most kids at his school and the other parents at the gate would have reasonably assumed that Mike was his dad. Chris' eyes lit up when Mike entered the room. Brody couldn't deny he was jealous and resented the shadow his friend cast over his family life. He'd figured out what was happening between Jess and Mike pretty quickly, although Jess had attempted to hide it. Chris, on the other hand, had no idea that his affection for 'Uncle Mike' hurt his father so much.
At first he wanted to kill Mike. It was all he could do not to rip his head off. The fact that they thought he hadn't noticed what was going on had irked him all the more but he just about managed to keep a lid on it until it was directly referred to at their barbecue that time. The way Mike's eyes flashed guilt and the way Jess had flinched made him launch himself at his friend in a way he was ashamed of now. Perhaps it was because he'd now accepted that he and Jess were over, or perhaps it was because he'd found Carrie, but he now felt no resentment towards Mike at all. If Brody had died out in Iraq, as they had presumed, the thought that Mike would step in to take care of his family struck Brody as an honourable deed. That Mike and Jess had fallen in love would've been a comfort then. Brody wouldn't have wanted her to be alone all her life. It was just that in all the mess and trauma of coming home, being what he was meant to be was suddenly even more impossible because his place at the table was taken. It felt like a betrayal too far.
Now Mike would feel like he was the one who had been betrayed. One of his own, his best pal, a soldier he'd fought alongside - guilty of something like this. Brody had given Mike the green light the last time he saw him. "You can keep taking care of them, if you like. Cos I can't right now.", he'd said. Brody shook his head grimly at the way those words must be echoing through Mike's ears right now.
Monster. Terrorist. Jihadist.