"I'd like to see you," he says. It's neither a question nor a request. She swallows and says she'd like to see him, too. They're both telling the truth but it doesn't mean we're not lying, here. He clarifies that he means tonight, and he's sending the car. "Has to be tonight?" she asks tiredly, and he says it does. Her face repeats, over and over, even as she's offering to drive herself, "Dammit dammit dammit." Because she's all about the gamble and the high-stakes risk, but this means she's going to have to keep a card she was happy to hold onto not only for its trumpiness but for the fact that she's spent the season ignoring it. Which is to say, sitting in Maternity World, at the end of a birth canal shooting out children day after day, talking Clinique and customers through the ups and downs, pretending to be ignorant of everything, even your own woman's body, is a lot harder when you're not allowed caffeine. But it's Nancy Botwin: would anything less than the promise of torture and murder make her admit what's been right in front of her -- and us -- all season? The smarter you are the crazier you get to be: Nancy is the table, and she always has been.
"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.