“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
Homeland (Season 3) - Carrie Mathison & Peter Quinn
“He touches her, because she is losing her shit, and their positions reverse. Their polarity. He pulls her into her arms, shushing her and promising he didn’t lie to her, that he doesn’t know anything about Gettysburg or what just went down or what happened to Peter Quinn or who the Man is and why he took the Box, or anything. Just holds her while she cries, because now we are: In a room with no floor. The whole time it was certainties, conflicting tessellate certainties to be sure, but at least it was real: He was a terrorist or he was not. She loved him or she did not. There were no in-between states.
But the downside to jumping is having jumped, and now that there are only certainties, they could rip you apart. Just in their polarity. It’s not that she doesn’t know whether to trust him, it’s that she does and does not by turns. Peel off enough layers and the thing’s gonna bleed. What if you hit rock bottom, the only place you can stand, and then the second you breathed, it fell out from underneath you? What if you knew you would be spending the rest of your life that way?
Maybe that’s a definition for love, too. But maybe it’s also just a definition for danger. Can you imagine a way for this story to end well? I don’t want it to end at all, but I can’t see it ending well for these hapless, broken motherfuckers. One of those Shakespearian comedy finales, where everybody marries the right person finally. Or one of those Shakespearian tragedies, where every gun you shoot ends up pointed back at yourself. Either way, it’s no longer time for the back-to-back, or the side-to-side. They have to look each other in the eye.
But hey, her eyes are open. Right?”
—Jacob Clifton on Carrie and Brody’s spiral of doom
Carrie Mathison (during season 1) appreciation post.
What I did to get Nazir to let you go… It was you or Walden, Carrie. It wasn’t even close.
“He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real. Once he nearly toppled down a flight of stairs.”