Brody crouched down on the cabin floor, carefully returning his new possessions to the backpack, wanting to maximise the space left over so that he could take some cans and some water with him. He cleaned the gun as best he could and loaded it. It was heavy in his hand and he hoped that he wouldn't have to use it. He aimed it at the door of the cabin, lining the sight up with the head of some imaginary foe.
The first time he saw Carrie again it was like an earthquake, imperceptible to all others but strong enough to bring entire buildings down on top of him. She had smiled gloriously, she seemed on top of things, she was back at work. A far cry from the broken, tearful figure it had hurt his insides to say goodbye to in the car park after her arrest. She seemed fixed and she seemed to bare him no rancour for what had happened. How could she have been back at the CIA? Didn't she have some kind of breakdown?
David Estes had invited Brody to his office after the incident with Carrie approaching Dana at his house. He offered him a drink to say sorry for Carrie's behaviour, trying to smooth things over. He said Carrie was crazy, a manic depressive, that the whole business was sad and regrettable but that her career was over and that Brody wouldn't be bothered by her again. Estes explained that Brody was perfectly within his rights to press charges if he wanted to but that of course, for his part, he would rather that he didn't, so as to not bring disrepute on the Agency. Carrie was in a nuthouse, Estes had laughed apologetically, she wouldn't cause him any further trouble. They were going to try ECT on her, in fact she had requested it herself. She wouldn't be out any time soon and she'd probably never be the same again. David had called it a shame, a waste of a fine operations officer. Brody had felt a little nauseous.
Brody had been surprised to learn how sick Carrie was, though it did help explain a few things for him. He had been relieved to hear that it wasn't going to turn into a case of his word against hers, he obviously wasn't going to have to kick too hard. She had already been removed and now nobody would believe a word she said about him anyway. It was convenient, really. He assured Estes that no charges would be brought, that he was just glad that she had sought help and would stay away from him and his family. Very charitable conduct from the Congressman, considering.
Brody wondered how Carrie had managed to come back from that. It wasn't as if she had just broken a leg or something. In the first seconds of his own personal earthquake Brody questioned whether that had all been false too, her illness fabricated for his benefit to provide a false enough sense of security for him to carry on, allowing the CIA to continue to watch him after the bunker plot had failed. In dark, reflective moments over the past few months he had felt guilty for having hurt Carrie in the cruelest possible way in order to save himself. He had stabbed her in an open wound. But hadn't she done just the same to him? Brody really couldn't tell which way was up any more. In his gut he knew that it rang true though, Carrie had been ill and he thought that perhaps he had recognised it in her on some level. He knew all too well what it was like not to be able to rely on your own mind. So how could she be back in? The only conclusion he could draw was that they had uncovered some truth in what Carrie had been saying, and that they had brought her back in to resume her pursuit of himself and Nazir.
Roya advised him to check it out for himself, so he had invited Carrie to his hotel bar. He was convinced that he would be able to tell up close what her motivations were. He bristled at the thought of spending time alone with her again, he forced himself to concentrate on why he was there. And that alone. Once bitten, twice shy, he thought. He had made sure he had time for a drink alone before she arrived, just to steel himself. When she got there she was all smiles, jovial and breezy, complimenting him on his new career. He mentioned that Jess had kicked him out but she wasn't biting, wasn't flirting, she must have ruled out that tactic since last time. She was still beautiful. Her smile still stirred him. But he built an invisible wall around himself. She wouldn't breach it this time. She confirmed that she was back at work, in the same line of work. Chasing someone 'big', she said. He referred to their past together and she didn't bat an eyelid. She probably had similar conversations with lots of guys all day long, an occupational hazard given her methods of surveillance, he figured. And then he got to her. He asked her bluntly about the hospital, about what they had done to her there. And there it was. Just for a second her mask slipped. He saw the truth, saw a flash of the defiance she last showed him on the porch of her cabin, her anger at his involvement in her breakdown was etched all over her face, no matter how hard she tried to contain it. This wasn't a civilised drink to bury the hatchet, just like the cabin wasn't a romantic weekend in the woods. She had blinked first. He hadn't let her play him this time.
He had walked away from her feeling victorious, he had got what he needed. But it turned out that she still had cards up her sleeve. She had always been too much for him, one step ahead. He hoped that she was still on form now, that she had conjured up some miraculous means of getting him out of this. Brody knew deep down that it wasn't possible. He stared down at the gun in his hand. He didn't need to aim it at imaginary foes, he had plenty of real ones. The whole world was out to get him now.