"You will come?" Her voice is almost sharp: "I said I would." She breathes it out and smiles into the emptiness: "Te amo..." Silence, as she waits and he breathes, and he answers truthfully. "Yo, tambien." She smiles: that's better. But in the TJ, he sits with Cesar and hangs up the phone, looking at the photo Cesar just produced: Nancy Botwin and Agent Till, meeting in a lovely garden. "Perhaps they are just friends from high school," Cesar facetiously suggests, and Esteban is suddenly very sad. He drops the picture onto the table. Right into the bowl of bones and stones.
Nancy, finally, sits in the bath. "Nancy," Andy says once, and she tells him to scamper. "Nancy. Can I come in." His voice is quiet and rough, worried for her, desperate to be let in. She tells him he can't come in, but he doesn't listen; he doesn't trust her because this is what she does when it's too bad to take. "I'm coming in." She opens her eyes and stares at the wall as he enters; she's very naked. He looks at her; she doesn't care. "Could you close the door behind you?" He explains that he can see her boobies, and she doesn't even have it in her to grin. "Good for you. Close the door and siddown." He sits on the toilet, a mile away from the tub, and tells her they are nice. She stares at him. "Bigger than I thought." She thanks him from an exhausted, weak place. She wasn't kidding when she said she finally realized how much he carries them all.
He breaks the spell, staring at her like a portrait, like those Sammy Davis Jr. photos, older and more real, asking if she wants a towel, or "two washcloths," and her voice saying his name, sharp finally, finally focused, brings him back. "Sorry." He remembers why he came in there to being with, and asks if she's going to jail. She says no, but can't say more than that. He says, less in protest than as a reminder, that in fact she does have to tell him. That's what their family is, what it means. That's who El Andy is now: the person she tells. She sighs and asks with a tiredly sexy smile if he'll turn the taps back on, and add some bubbles to the water. She's so desperately sad now, at the end of things. Now that she's going to die, she's allowed to be sad.
"I used to be able to rationalize the things I did, Andy." He says it's always been one of her greatest traits, and he's not wrong. "Not any more. At some point recently, everything became right or wrong. Right or wrong." She dives down, under the water in the bathtub, completely naked. There's nude and there's unclothed, but what Nancy is right now is naked. He sits at the edge and waits quietly for her to come back up. When she does, she's gasping like an infant, hanging over the side, terrified, holding on like vertigo. "What did you do?" She rests her head on the side of the tub, and tries to explain what happened and why, which means starting at an awkward place and filling in the blanks. "There was this girl, in a blue dress. She was so young. She had this bag with a butterfly on it. She kept looking at me..."