Carrie Harrison Monologue

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Fate is a bizarre thing. After all this months she surely doesn’t expect to see him here in the park surrounded by the lush green mass, a sharp landscape of his face lit by the morning sun. She remembers his unexpected appearance at her father's funeral and the warm embrace of his arms. The air that got stuck in her thorax for a brief moment, whooshes through her windpipe and half opened mouth. She doesn't feel sentimental, not at all, but perhaps is struck by this surreal image (her last memory of him is saturated with grief and guilt, the sickening smell of hospital detergents) . She wanders if she has a right to come and reappear in his life again, after she almost got him killed. He is in recovery now, slowly putting back disintegrated …show more content…

Dar Adal gives her annoyed look, eyeing her with the same slightly accusing expression he usually wears around her.
“Carrie, come to my office in 20 minutes. We have matters to discuss. Don't forget to bring the files". Dar of course hates the mere idea of Carrie Mathison reemerging from thin air and racking havoc again.
“Yes, of course. I´ll be there,” she reassures him, her gaze trained on Quinn.
Her words are stuck on the periphery of Dar Adal´s mind, his brain wrestling with far more perplexing issue. Somewhere between clusterfuck with Brody and mess in Islamabad his protégé got caught and then thinly wrapped in the cocoon of Carrie´s unstable persona. Dar struggles to understand, rationalize a blind devotion and self- sacrificial nihilism that Carrie sparks in Peter Quinn, his alacrity to rip himself into shreds for her, which looks rather pathetic. Dar Adal leaves them, feeling slightly annoyed, bothered by a nagging idea of Carrie Mathison screwing up already shaky existence of his most valuable recruit …show more content…

“Trying to adapt, " he says with a solemn smile
“Quinn”, she takes a desperate broken gulp of air, ”I…I'm really sorry, so sorry," a first tear escaping her eyelid slides down her cheekbone and drips from her chin. Her body reacts despite her best efforts to curb chaotic emotions and stay calm. She thinks she has no right to brake in front of him, yet her lower lip trembles and more tears follow, her face twists in painful grimace.
“I haven´t taken care of you the way I should have. I was a bad friend, I´ve let you down and I regret that.”
It´s not surprising at all to see her flagellating herself with self-blame. Over the course of her career she has been complicit in dropping drones and whipping civilians from the face of the earth, using sex to bring her assets into submission, probing for vises and weaknesses, shameful secrets of her targets – anything that could serve as a leverage, give a better hand in sometimes deadly race. Inevitably she started to drift from well-defined shores into swamps of ambiguity. A bad consciousness dragged behind her like a bloody trail. Her German boyfriend exposed her to the fact that regular citizens going through predictive cycle of burgess life, couldn´t look past her baggage of CIA years. For them her acts seemed to be incomprehensible. The body count loomed over her relationship with Jonas no matter how many times she chanted

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