Homeland

Previously on "Homeland"...

He's in respiratory failure due to acute hypoxia.

We need him awake.

And I'm telling you he's in a coma for a reason.

What would you want me to do if it were you lying there?

I can't speak for Quinn.

Well, if anybody can, you can.

Quinn? Quinn, it's me, Carrie.

I need you to open your eyes now, okay?

Tell me what the target is.

Tell me where the attack is going to happen.

I want a partner.

Someone who knows the world for what it is,

but also knows it must be made better.

Someone to share my life with.

I... I don't know what to say.

I spoke to the director.

He's prepared to offer you complete autonomy, Carrie.

Design your own mission, pick your own team.

Not interested. Sorry.

You just saved hundreds of lives.

I got lucky.

Then help us.

Help me.

Come up with a new paradigm.

Goddamn it, Carrie. I need you.

And I told you, I'm not that person anymore.

Just hold on one second.

Hey, Carrie. - Hey.

He didn't show, huh? - No.

But he was scheduled, right?

Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, yeah.

You have any idea where I can find him?

I don't.

You can't make people do things they don't want to do.

I gotta... - Thanks.

Yeah.

Motherfucker.

Quinn.

You weren't in physical therapy.

Talk to me for a minute.

I know you're frustrated.

Oh, that's what you think.

Okay. I'll go with that.

I'm frustrated.

Whatever you say.

The hardest time,

when you can't go on one more second,

that's when you have to keep trying,

because that's when breakthroughs happen.

Fucking moto shit!

I know you want to get out of here,

but you're not ready yet.

Would you just stop...

being like a dog?!

Quinn, listen...

Just stay with it.

You will improve.

All kinds of progress will start then.

I just said stop! I'm not getting any better.

Can't you get that through your fucking skull?!

Let me go.

Let me go.

Mr. Quinn?

I'm going.

Clarence, see Peter to his room.

I'm okay.

He's frustrated, he's angry.

He thinks he isn't making progress.

What?

Well... he seemed perfectly fine...

earlier, that is.

What, so now it's my fault?

I don't know. It's just...

maybe he would have more success

without the upset of your visits.

That's absurd. Yes!

Yes, he gets upset, but at his situation here.

He just expresses it to me.

We think it's more than that.

We?

Wait, who's we?

His... his doctors feel this way?

His entire treatment team does.

What...

So you're saying that I should stop coming?

You're here every day.

I'm saying you should take a break.

I'm his friend. He has no one else.

I know. That's why

you should listen to what he's trying to tell you.

All compressed into the 72 days between the election

and the January 20th inauguration.

The most complex, most difficult transfer of power

on the planet today probably...

The top two floors of the Intercontinental,

where she's huddled with her transition team

poring over briefing books, taking meetings...

- Gentlemen? - General.

General.

Well?

On the plus side, it didn't last long.

We're ready for you now.

Good luck.

You know what General McClendon just told me?

Put 70,000 troops into Syria

and ISIS is done and dusted in six weeks.

What does CIA think?

Oh, don't be shy, gentlemen. Jump right in.

This is a free-fire zone.

Well... the problem is not so much destroying ISIS,

Madame President, as it is...

Madame President-elect.

It's a mouthful, I know.

Madame President-elect.

Bigger problem is holding

and securing the territory afterwards.

So now it's a ground invasion and an occupation.

Otherwise, just another ISIS waiting in the wings.

The mission is creeping, gentlemen.

Unfortunately, the alternatives don't look much better.

What about getting out?

- Excuse me? - Leaving.

Telling the American people this isn't working

and bringing our forces home... all of them.

Why not?

If the war isn't winnable, what are we still doing there?

Containing the enemy, for one thing.

Preventing them from... turning the region

into a base for attacking us here at home.

Or maybe it's time to recognize that not every problem

in the Middle East deserves a military solution.

So what have you got there?

The Director's asked us to brief you

on a number of covert action

and sensitive collection operations.

What do you say we all sit down?

I'm afraid this is for your eyes only, ma'am.

Mr. Emmons doesn't have the proper clearance.

Give us the room, Rob.

Please, sit.

Operation Signpost. I like the name.

Signpost is a covert action

and collection operation against Iran.

It's funded at $85 million and designed to insert exploits

into a wide range of Iranian computers.

Can I just stop you there?

The purpose of this briefing is what, exactly?

Ma'am?

What I mean is should I weigh in or do I just listen?

The idea is to bring you up to speed and, in the process,

establish a working relationship going forward.

So I'm free to talk?

By all means.

Thank goodness.

'Cause you know how I love to talk.

Even though I don't actually have any authority

over Signpost or, for that matter,

any covert action at this time, do I?

Not till after the inauguration, no.

I didn't think so.

Why don't we just skip ahead to the good stuff, then?

Good stuff?

Yeah, I'd like to hear about our lethal programs,

if you don't mind.

Not at all.

I'm most interested in the drone

and paramilitary operations.

Of course.

Especially the ones

that don't require a sign-off from the President.

Those can be found beginning on page 17.

Who are you to badmouth your sister?

Okay, now she's not even going to Friday prayer anymore.

That's her business. You're one to talk,

playing your dirty rap music in your room all night.

That's not the same.

And how is that?

- It's just different. - Mm.

We'll see what your father has to say about that, eh?

Is she even coming?

We've got plane tickets, don't we?

He's gonna want her to wear a hijab.

She knows.

Oh, shoot, I'm late.

Huh? I thought this was your day off.

It is.

Morning... loser.

She shouldn't be allowed to go to school dressed like this.

Where to?

Forty-ninth and Lakes. East Side Marriott.

All right.

Make sure you get the hotel in the background.

I got it.

So most folks think it all kicked off in 1993

when Ramzi Yousef drove a van into the parking garage

of the World Trade Center, lit four 20-foot long fuses,

and blew up the biggest homemade bomb that the FBI had ever seen.

Dude, huh.

What's up?