Being absolutely known, down to your core, is what love feels like. So what happens when a person actually knows you that well for real? When it's not just a feeling, I mean, but an actual fact. Not a metaphor. Nick Brody has died and been born, now, several times. Down in that hole, he died, and came out just nothing. Just a no-place, no-person. Built over it. And then again, when Issa died. Died, reborn as a cleansing fire. And when he got back here, back into Jessica's house and in her arms, that was another birth. And Carrie has been with him, literally without stopping, since that day. Wouldn't that feel an awful lot like being loved?
That's the beast that crept in.
Quinn somehow manages to be shocked by Carrie's latest plan to stop Nick Brody from freaking the fuck out, presumably because it involves making out with him. Dana turns to "an unlikely source" for comfort, which I presume is Peter Quinn because what could possibly be more comforting than Peter Quinn grousing at you, but maybe Dana will do the brilliant, sick-ass move of treating Mike Faber like her real dad. That's probably what I would do, because I am kind of a sociopath, but dang how crazy would that be. A geometric progression of more and more people have conversations about Tom Walker that don't go anywhere until the whole world is just people having conversations about Tom Walker that don't go anywhere and Carrie's just like, Cease and fucking desist, you guys!. Oh, and Basil's favorite mare throws a shoe.
JACOB CLIFTON is a freelance writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. He currently recaps Gossip Girl, The Good Wife and Homeland for TWoP. Jacob can be found online at jacobclifton.com, on Twitter, and on Facebook. IRL work appears in BenBella's SmartPop series of anthologies, his novel The Urges, and a novelette, "The Commonplace Book," appeared this month on Tor.com.