Brody hunkered down in his sleeping bag, warmer now, so desperate to sleep. He wished she was beside him. The realisation that she wasn't coming with him as planned had crept into his mind slowly, as they drove away from the copy shop in silence. He had watched her frown in the mirror, saw her wrestling with it. He knew what she had chosen. He wouldn't try to change her mind. The pair of them together were more likely to be found. He doubted that her escape bag of tricks contained more than a few days worth of her medication, anyway. She thought of everything except how to look after herself. It was best that she go back, he only ever brought her trouble, although she did seem to like it. This was his mess, even though he knew she didn't see it like that. She thought she could be more effective back at the CIA, catching the real perpetrators, and the second that idea had occurred to her, Brody knew it would consume her, much like her suspicion that Brody had been Nazir's agent had once consumed her. She glanced back at him in the rear view mirror, worried about how to break it to him.
They really had been so close. He was going to make it all up to her, atone for everything he had put her through, take care of her. Prove people like Saul wrong. Be a good person again. It had been so cruel to let him think he was getting a second chance. Too good to be true.
Carrie had promised that it wasn't a goodbye but she had kissed him sweetly like it was exactly that.
He thought back to when he first kissed her, and what a difference there was between that and the last time. How much water had flown under the bridge since then. It was after Walker's memorial, after he'd attacked Mike in the back yard, in front of everybody. He had busted his hand on Mike's face and taken off, still furious but already ashamed, even in the first few seconds afterwards. Brody had wanted to hide out somewhere, far from everyone and everything, and found himself in a bar that he used to know. He'd been tormenting himself with images of Walker. Hitting Mike had brought that back even more. The first few drinks failed to take the edge off, Brody's limbs still fizzed and his heart was pounding. Maybe he'd drink some more, start a fight with the meanest-looking guy in the bar and get himself arrested. Back in a cell he'd be right at home and unable to cause any further damage. After another couple of shots, he felt the alcohol suddenly kick in. It was still early, it would be a long night, he could blot it all out but he'd be fit for nothing tomorrow. Except he had to present to Langley again, he remembered. To take a god-damned polygraph test. There was no way he'd pass.
He'd seen Carrie again at Hamid's interrogation. He had been really, just...grateful...he thought the right word was, to see her again but she was odd with him, like she refused to acknowledge that they'd met at the church group. Why was she being so business-like? He thought they'd made friends, however brief their chat had been. He wanted to talk with her again, see that broad smile spread across her face. Then she showed him who was being interviewed in the other room and all those thoughts abandoned him.
The son of a bitch sitting there in cuffs had beaten Brody within an inch of his life on several occasions. Hamid was the most sadistic of his guards and Brody recalled that he really came into his own when he had another guard on duty with him, approaching it rather like a team sport. His blood ran cold at the thought of him being in the US, under arrest but afforded all his human rights, being fed, watered, kept clean. Brody scoffed and recalled how Hamid would piss on Brody's head to revive him after a beating. Estes had later graciously granted Brody the audience with his tormentor after he laid it on thick about needing to regain his self respect and look the man in the eye now that the tables were turned. That was bullshit, Brody had always planned to inflict as much damage on the motherfucker as he could before they could pull him off of him.
And so he had called Carrie from the bar that night. Mostly to see if he could get out of the meeting tomorrow, but also just to hear a friendly voice for a change. She said she would come over to the bar. He didn't think she would turn up, he was just glad to have excused himself from the polygraph. He was now free to wallow in his hangover tomorrow, if Jess let him.
But she did show up. And she was a vision. It was a pleasure to be with her. She smiled as much as she drank, and she drank a lot. He was ahead of her but she made a valiant effort to catch up. Brody forgot the events of the day, the state he was in, until she pointed out his busted knuckles. He asked her why she had acted weird at Hamid's interrogation and she had replied something to the effect that she was only allowed to seek counselling through the Agency, in case she compromised any national secrets. Huh. But then she acknowledged that they had shared a special moment that evening and that she had considered it something private. 'Heightened' she said it was, because of the rain. Brody smiled at her.
And there it was again, the hope she had made him feel outside that church.
Could she be flirting with him? Or was that wishful thinking? Brody was kind of out of practice in these matters. Not that he'd really ever been much of a player, he'd only ever really had eyes for Jess. Maybe it was just the thrill of being genuinely in conversation with someone who knew how it was. Maybe it was just the effect her huge eyes were having on him. Probably it was just the bourbon distorting his view of things, he decided, shrugging off the thought. Looking back, he suspected that strictly speaking, he started to fall right there, sat opposite her on his bar stool with his hand packed in ice. He hadn't recognized it though, he'd been far too drunk for any such insight.
It wasn't until they'd stumbled back to her car laughing at something stupid and he looked at her properly again that he realised he couldn't let her drive off and leave him standing in a parking lot alone again. She said something to him about Hamid but he wasn't really listening. When she fell quiet and looked him square in the eye he found himself suddenly rushing at her lips, hands all over her, before he really knew what he was doing. That sudden rush of lust had surprised him. He hadn't thought himself capable of that any more. Then she surprised him, kissing him right back just as hard. They held on to one another, staggering backwards against the car door.
So, she had been flirting with him. They fucked on the back seat of her car. It happened real fast. One second she was pulling him through the door on top of her, still kissing him hungrily, the next he was inside her, their eyes locked together all the while. It was fast and urgent, a little rough but not in a bad way. Not in a dark way, not in the way that had upset Jess. Just in the sense that they couldn't have waited, gone somewhere a little more private. Something had taken over them and it had to be right there and then. He and Carrie had laughed afterwards, kissed some more. He felt like their bond had been sealed.
They finally broke apart and sat up on the back seat, straightening themselves up. A little awkwardly, Carrie tugged her dress back down while he refastened his fly, their eyes meeting again almost apologetically before she collapsed into his shoulder sniggering and they burst out laughing all over again. He would have liked to spend the night with her but she didn't invite him back. He resolved to quit while he was ahead, thanked her for the bourbon and her "uh, company" arched his eyebrow, kissed her one last time and climbed out of the car, trailing around the parking lot a couple of times before managing to locate his own vehicle.
He slept a couple of hours on his own back seat, until it got bright outside and he woke with the mother of all headaches, just about sober enough to drive home. On their way out, Jess and the kids caught him sloping into the house, shades on to protect his delicate eyeballs. If looks could kill - from Jess and Dana both.
Brody had gulped down some coffee, showered and shaved - he had to be at Langley in an hour and a half and he needed to sober up. He had decided to take the test after all, he was feeling better. Carrie had restored something in him.
He balled up the side of his sleeping bag, resting his forehead against the cool material, imagining with all his might that it could be the back of her head. She had tried to tell him she loved him at the cabin a couple of days ago and he had stopped her short. He hated himself for that now. At the time, he didn't want to hear her say it. He didn't want it confirmed. He knew that she did, that much was obvious, but he didn't want those words out there, not while she was still trying to decide whether they were going to make a go of it together, or not. If he had let her say it, those words would hang in the air, in his ears and his memory and should she eventually choose the CIA, this cause she was fighting, over him, well, those words would have haunted him forever. Once she had said it, she couldn't take it back and he wouldn't have been able to forget it. It would kill him. She seemed to understand him, and rephrased her sentence accordingly. Now, he felt like he had robbed her, robbed them both of a moment that would have brought them solace at a time like this. Brody wished he could replay her voice in his head saying those three words. He had said it to her, in a roundabout way, when they said goodbye on the track in the woods. But it wasn't a declaration, it wasn't spontaneous - he had said it more to reassure her, so she would remember him clearly saying it once she went back to DC and was surrounded by the poison they would be spouting about Nicholas Brody, America's most wanted. They would say he manipulated her, that he played her and he just wanted her to remember, no matter what they said, this was love. It was.