Okay here's my contribution to the festival Indigo invited me to, under Kripnatic's prompt DRUNKEN QUINN BLURTING HIS FEELINGS OUT. This idea popped into my head yesterday and I just ran with it. Takes place immediately after the events in Tehran in the finale, pre time jump. Take as you will.
Sinking into the arm chair in his office, Quinn reached inside his bottom desk drawer, fumbled around in it for an opened fifth of vodka. The knock he heard at the door didn't deter him from twisting off the cap.
"Come the fuck in. Door's not locked."
"Peter?"
Pushing the door open, Fara furrowed her brow when he raised the fifth in her direction, took a swig from it.
"Fara it's late. Go the fuck home."
"You just told me to come the fuck in.", she said, lightly laughing at the surprised look on his face.
"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."
"It is not a habit."
"Well if there was ever a day to pick it up as one."
Rolling his eyes he watched Fara as she walked in, shutting the door behind her before perching in the chair across from him.
"Peter, Saul told me. About what you discussed in his office.", the brunette fibbed. She knew that there had been a meeting earlier, and that Max and Virgil had both left it angry. Assuming Quinn had been one of the attendees as well, Fara was curious about what had been said.
Seeing the state the sniper was in, Fara knew she could get answers. She just hoped that she'd be able to handle them.
"So Saul told you that someone else did the job?", Quinn asked.
"Yes.", Fara replied. "But probably not as well as you would have.", she said. Not trying to flirt so much as gain information. But when Quinn's eyes darkened she went tense, wondered if her last statement had come off sounding too casual.
"Well I certainly wouldn't have hung the fucker from a goddamn crane.", he spat as Fara tensed up even more. Until the anger in his blue eyes turned to a look of defeat. Shoulders sagging Quinn leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"It's so fucked up, Fara.", he said softly. "She saw it happen. It's just all so fucking fucked up."
Running his hand over his entire face now, he reluctantly loosened his grip on the fifth, set it not so gingerly on his desk.
"Peter..."
"Nobody should have to see shit like that. Nobody."
"I don't understand, who are you-" Fara asked before trailing off. Things clicking for her, her large brown eyes widened in alarm.
"Wait, you don't mean...Carrie-"
"I don't care what shit he pulled." His speech starting to slur as the liquor took effect, Quinn shook his head, rested his forehead in his palm.
"I don't care if he was considered expendable, collateral damage, a useless pawn in this fucked up long game of Saul's, Lockhart's. That subhuman who slaughtered two women with a fucking bottle.", he snarled.
"You don't dangle a man from a crane, and let the mother of his child stand there to watch him suffocate, turn purple and fucking die!"
"Peter...", Fara whispered. Feeling sickened and enraged and wishing more than anything that she'd just gone home a half hour ago.
"You don't let her watch that.", he spat, unfazed by her interruption. "You fucking stop her from watching that. If I had been there...I swear I would have, damn it."
"Would have what, Quinn?", Fara asked sharply as he frowned, looked up at her.
"What would you have done?! Blocked Carrie's view, blindfolded her? Hit her over the head and dragged her away from the lot!", she asked, fighting back tears as she spoke. "There is nothing you could have done! Javadi...is an awful man..."
Trailing off she swallowed hard, regained her composure. "There was nothing, you could have done.", she emphasized as he reached for, then drank some more vodka, shook his head.
"You're wrong, Fara. There...there was.", he slurred. Leaning back in his chair he slightly pivoted in it to the left, the right.
"I could've been there...I could've been there with Carrie. In Tehran. Me and my fucking rifle."
"And what? Shot him yourself?!"
"Did you know... that I shot a kid?", he interrupted, looking pained as his eyes clouded over again. "I shot a nine year old boy, in Caracas. It was an accident. And I shot Carrie, on purpose...in that parking lot. I had so many fucking chances to shoot Brody. I never...but I would've. I..."
"You would have?", Fara asked.
"I thought...it would minimize the casualties. Killing a fucking terrorist, seemed the logical outcome.", Quinn scoffed. "But I decided...I'd spare Carrie. Not shooting him...would spare her. But I didn't do shit for her. I didn't spare her from a goddamn thing.", he said softly.
"Peter..."
"She fucking stood there and she watched. She watched the life get choked out of him, fucking literally. And it happened slow. The fuckers wanted it slow. He suffered. She suffered."
Swallowing hard he ran his hand over his face again. Thought back to seeing her being hauled off by the guards at the hospital. Her crying out in the ambulance. All the shit that had been done to her the past four months. And now this. Nothing about any of it was okay with him. Not a goddamn thing.
"I would've made it happen quick. One shot to his head... chest. It would've been handled. It...it all would've been over."
"But she wouldn't have forgiven you.", she said softly, eyes welling up as he downed some more liquor, met her gaze.
"I'd rather...that she hated me the rest of her goddamn life, then for her to feel the way that I know she does right now.", Quinn whispered harshly. Glancing back at the fifth that was already about two thirds gone he swore, shook his head.
"She doesn't deserve to feel that, Fara. Carrie...and her kid. Neither of them. They...they did nothing to deserve..."
"I know. I know."
Setting the vodka back down, after leaning forward Quinn rested his arms, then his head on the desk. Reaching over, Fara brushed a strand of slick hair off his forehead. When he tried to reach for the fifth again she shook her head, moved it out of his reach.
"I think that you have had enough.", she said as he swallowed hard, nodded.
"Yeah. I...I fucking have."