Yes, we're still in tears over James murder. The tenacious journalist was Cyrus' one true love and father to baby girl Ella. He didn't deserve the end he got but watching him die in the street is a scene we'll never forget.
We still can't think about it without feeling like we've been punched in the gut. The mother of two and love of Jax life was bludgeoned to death with a roasting fork in her own kitchen sink by her mother-in-law. And you thought you had family drama!
After feeding the walkers and killing sister Mika, there was little doubt what needed to be done. Still, as Carol told Lizzie to "look at the flowers" and the shot rang out, it was a death we won't soon forget, even on a show filled with unimaginable horrors.
She arrived as the new girl at Beacon Hills and became the supernatrual hunter with a strong heart and an even stronger sense of purpose. The only thing that helps us cope with her death is knowing she died in the arms of her first true love.
After so many near misses, (a suicide vest, a possible CIA assassination attempt, the bombing in Langley) we really wondered if Brody could avoid the grim reaper once again. But a tragic life led to a tragic death as it all ended with a betrayal and a public hanging. After all of that suffering, we hope Nicholas rests in peace at last.
Just when fans thought that Detective Fusco might meet an untimely end, Person of Interest threw them a curve as beloved cop Joss Carter was the one to die. It was one of the most shocking and emotional moments in the series history.
I am not a toy that you can play with when you're bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done.
Abby: What happens to you happens to me. I'm good at my job, Leo. I am a lion up there. I own that room. I work for it. I give a strong briefing. And they write about that. They cover the news and there are articles about how well I do at my job. But they also write about me. If I wear lipstick, I'm dolled up. If I don't, I've let myself go. They wonder if I'm trying to bring dresses back and they don't like it when I repeat outfits even though I'm on a government salary. They discuss my hair color. There are anonymous blogs that say I'm too skinny. They have a running joke that I'm on a hunger strike until I'm liberated by the Democrats! Leo: Abby-- Abby: They also write about you. Every article that comes out about me has your name somewhere in it because apparently there's this rule that in order to write about me they also have to report to the world that there's a man who wants me. My work, my accomplishments, my awards, I stand at the most powerful podium in the world, but a story about me ain't a story unless they report on the fact that I am the girlfriend of 'D.C. fixer Leo Bergen' like it validates me, gives me an identity, a definition. They can't fathom the concept that my life doesn't revolve around you. My life doesn't revolve anywhere near you. It's horrifying. 'Property of Leo Bergen.' Tell me, Leo, when they write about you do they report on your clothes? Do they write about your thighs? There is a difference. There is. So what happens to you happens to me, which is why I'm writing a letter of resignation. Are we done?