Their footsteps sent echoes throughout the building, the sounds bouncing against the cold walls. Carrie walked with great apprehension, her entire body feeling tense at the very sight of the giant warehouse. It wasn't surprising that she still felt antsy around such buildings after her kidnapping the year before.
"You all right?" Quinn asked, walking beside her, gun drawn.
She wanted to bolt right out the front door the second he said it, but resolved to stay strong. To show no weakness. "I'm fine, let's just get it over with."
They resumed their walk, and it quickly became apparent that he was trying to stay close to her. Carrie was tempted to lash out and tell him to back off because she was capable of looking out for herself. But that kind of talk always ended up burning bridges, and Carrie was starting to run out of people who willingly wanted to stay by her side.
"I'll take this side" she said, gesturing, "and you take the opposite. We have a better chance of catching this guy if we fan out."
Quinn looked at her dubiously. "Staying together is the safest bet."
"We don't have any time for that, this place is gigantic. Besides, we have the comlink, so if anything happens just let me know."
She could tell that he wasn't buying her sudden burst of bravado, but he agreed to do things her way regardless. Carrie allowed herself a little smile, happy that he didn't agonize over her decision. She drew then away, stepping deeper into the warehouse, gun posed forward and flashlight on.
The building seemed to creak at every turn, causing Carrie to tense up even more. But she refused to back down despite the unpleasant images that began to flash in her mind. This wasn't like the last time. She was in control. All she had to do was spot their suspect and take him down, something she had done a dozen times before. Easy.
"Anything yet?"
The voice in her earpiece almost made her jump out of her skin. Carrie took a moment to calm herself down. "Nothing on my end."
"Maybe Virgil was wrong and this place is empty."
"He's never wrong. Keep looking."
She pressed on, and soon found a series of steps leading towards a lower level. Carrie quickly began regretting her earlier decision to split up. But she couldn't just back out now. She kept telling herself that she was a skilful officer and nothing could happen.
She carefully put one foot in front of the other and began to descend.
"Carrie, I think I saw him."
The whisper stopped her, and Carrie mentally thanked whatever deity was still on her side because this meant she wasn't forced to head underground by herself. She turned around.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"North of where we started. Just keep walking until you see-"
The line went silent. "Quinn, what happened?"
But there was nothing except white noise. And a sinking feeling in her stomach caused Carrie to break into a run. The sound of a gunshot ringing beyond the walls sped her up.
Carrie hoped that it was just a problem with the comlink because there was no chance someone would be able to catch Quinn by surprise. He was too good a shot for that to happen.
A light flickered behind her as Carrie rounded a corner. She heard frantic footsteps moving towards the exit, and she followed. The warehouse was too dark to make out specifics, but when it came down to it, it didn't matter. Once she caught sight of the man who was trying to flee the scene, Carrie only hesitated enough to alert him that if he doesn't stop, she'll be forced to injure him. But the man refused to listen and kept running. Carrie took a shot in his leg.
The man fell down with a yell. As she ran over to make sure it was their suspect, she caught eye of something dropping from his hand. A bloody knife.
Carrie quickly changed frequencies on her earpiece. "We've got our guy, someone get in here."
The comlink buzzed for a minute until a fuzzy confirmation was heard. And as she waited for backup, Carrie turned her attention to the suspect.
She crouched down and grabbed him by the shirt until he was at eye level. "Where the fuck is he?"
The man winced and his face contorted in pain, but said nothing.
"Listen to me, I don't have time to go running through this fucking maze right now, so if you don't tell me where the guy who tried to shoot you is, I'll start breaking bones. Understand?"
The man eyed her. "I'm not telling you shit."
She took a deep breath. And then slammed her foot down on his leg. The suspect yelled out in pain.
A shuffle of footsteps alerted her that backup had arrived. They quickly moved in and took him off her hands. They secured the man in handcuffs.
"Good job" one of the agents said, "we didn't think it would be this easy."
Carrie shook her head. "It wasn't. Quinn's still in here somewhere."
"All right, let's move."
They fanned out, trying to cover as much space as they could. But it was still a difficult task to accomplish and the more minutes ticked by, the more worried she became.
Carrie soon stepped across an empty shell casing. And next to it, she spotted a pool of blood. She could tell that he was still breathing, so any shock she may have felt at the sight was instantly overwritten by her training. She alerted the team where she was, and then began keeping pressure on the stab wound on his stomach. He was unconscious, and a small part of her felt grateful. Because she needed to stay focus on keeping the bleeding down, and seeing him struggle to stay awake would have only made her freak out.
-o-
She remained on the outside of his room, staring at nothing in particular. Next to the gray walls of the hospital, Carrie stuck out like a sore thumb in her blood stained clothes. But it didn't matter.
Four hours had past since she had pulled Quinn out of the warehouse, and two since the surgery. And despite the positive prognosis that the doctor gave him, Carrie couldn't help but still feel down. Because she had made a mistake.
Quinn had to be pissed at her, that much was clear. And he had all the right to be, when she had been the one to suggest and convince him to split up, despite his protests and despite logic. And just because she had wanted to prove that she didn't need to be watched over, all the while forgetting that maybe other people could get hurt because of her arrogance. Her ego had caused a mess, and it was her fault.
And even if it was too late for apologies, Carrie still wanted to say she was sorry. But it looked like the door was firmly shut on that. The agents who were guarding his room were adamant about keeping any and all visitors outside.
Carrie was left feeling lost and indecisive. She had to wait things out.
-o-
Three weeks went by without any change.
Saul reassured her that Quinn's absence from the Agency was ordinary and that he needed the time off to get his bearings. But everyone's calm regarding the situation just screamed like all kinds of wrong to Carrie. Quinn hadn't stepped foot inside since the incident, and the fact that he wasn't even answering calls didn't sit right with her. Something was going on.
It felt foolish, but Carrie convinced herself that her curiosity and worry just couldn't be stretched out any longer, and she asked for a personal day. And only three hours later, she was on his doorstep.
Her knocks echoed for a long time, leaving the impression that there was no one home. But there were small sounds of movement coming from inside.
"I know you're in there, Quinn" she said, never relenting. "And I'm not going away until you answer."
The sound of footfalls closed in a few moments later. The door opened slightly. There was no greeting from either of them, not even a glance. Quinn just stepped back and let her in, not even bothering to put in the effort to shoo her away.
"Who gave you my address?" he asked. But there wasn't any anger in his voice.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"So it was Virgil."
"That's not important. What's important is that you went missing for three weeks."
He gestured at his stomach. "I was on medical leave. Obviously."
"And when that happens, you usually leave a note, give a call. Something. You don't just cut off everyone and lock yourself in for a month."
"Why?"
She had to think for a moment before finding the right words. "Because it worries people."
"The CIA doesn't care when one of their drones is out of commission. I'm sure someone was sent to pick up the slack."
Carrie just shook her head at his apathetic attitude. "Look, I'm sorry about what I did. I really am. And if I could take it back or put myself in your place-"
He regarded her with confusion. "What are you talking about? Sorry for what?"
"That I suggested we split up in the first place. That you were hurt because I was trying to prove something."
"That wasn't your fault."
Carrie frowned. "So you're not pissed at me because I caused you to be stabbed?"
"It was just bad luck."
She still wasn't sure what to think. "So if you're not upset with me, then why did you suddenly drop off the grid?"
"Because it's fucking absurd. I knew the guy was there, I knew he was following me. And I managed to get outsmarted anyway."
Carrie looked at him in disbelief. "Wait, this is about your reputation being on the line?"
He rubbed his temples. "Just please go."
"No."
"Look, I appreciate the visit, but there's nothing you can do."
"Because I couldn't possibly understand what it's like to have your reputation hurt."
He looked away for a moment. "It's not about that."
"Then what is it about?"
"I know that the guy was after me. And since he failed, he's going to target someone else from the team."
Carrie shrugged. "That doesn't matter. We caught him. It's done."
Quinn turned to glance at her, a worried look in his eyes.
Carrie stared back. "You don't think it's over."
"I know you read the report. These guys follow the pattern and they're going to send someone else. I don't know how or when, but they don't just quit. And since we took one of their own, they're going to do the same with us. And this time I don't think it's going to be me."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're the only one they saw with me. They know who you are, so the more we distance ourselves, the better."
He was obviously too drained by the incident to even think straight. Carrie sighed heavily. "This is crazy."
"So you think I'm just being paranoid."
"I think you've been stuck in this place for too long. I mean, Jesus, you've been here for a month obsessing over something that didn't even happen."
"I'm just doing what I feel is right."
"You know what you should be doing right now? Getting out the anger that you bottled up all these weeks."
"I'm not angry" he told her, but his expression and tense movements said otherwise.
"Well you should be. You were stabbed and you're still so fucking calm about everything. It's not healthy."
"Carrie-"
"I'm serious, get pissed off and take it out on something. Go to the shooting range and take it out on some plastic targets. Or get pissed at me for bailing on you and causing you to get hurt, but just do something."
Quinn took a few steps forward, looking hell-bent on throwing her out of his house. But he stopped short of where she was standing. And simply kissed her.
Carrie knew she should have pulled back and got mad at him, but she couldn't. Because the idea had always been in the recess of her mind, and she was far too curious and guilty and upset, and this was the only thing that made any sense. Even if it didn't feel right.
And soon enough, any and all thoughts about protesting disappeared. Her focus quickly slipped away, moving somewhere on the sidelines.
-o-
The shades were still drawn when she came to. There was some light behind them, but barely any peering inside, and a part of Carrie felt grateful for that. Because she felt like she was floating at the bottom of a well, lost and confused, and the darkness meant she could attempt and sneak out without being seen.
It wasn't the first time she had fled from someone's bedroom, so she had gotten the routine down to an efficient series of steps. She quietly removed the covers from her body, noting that there was a rumple of blankets next to her, still as ever. She wasn't surprised he was such a calm sleeper.
Once she was off the bed, Carrie started peering through the dark to find her clothes. She felt completely idiotic. It had been stupid to ditch the rules just because she was feeling sad and upset. And the worst part was that she couldn't even blame it on alcohol because there wasn't any involved.
Carrie was as silent as a burglar as she gathered her clothes and dressed. She couldn't find her jacket but it didn't matter because she was used to leaving behind what wasn't absolutely essential. What was important was getting away.
She took a last look for her shoes while trying to silence the constant voice in her head that was calling her an idiot. But it wasn't working. You didn't get involved with people at your job because the aftermath was always impossibly messy, the voice repeated. And the fact that this wasn't the first time it happened made her want to go home and drink until everything went black again.
She froze when she heard the door to the room opening behind her.
"Carrie?"
She turned around, cursing inwardly. She shouldn't have assumed that the rumple of blankets in the bed was him.
"Yeah" she said, defeated. The window for her to sneak out had just slammed shut.
"You all right?" Quinn asked tentatively.
She was seconds away from running out the door, with or without any shoes. "I'm fine."
"You don't really sound like it."
"I'm fine, so will you stop asking?"
"Carrie, please don't freak out."
"I'm not freaking out" she said, trying her damnest to sound honest.
She didn't understand why he was there and trying to talk about it when he never talked about anything besides the job. It was pointless and weird and awkward.
She easily moved around him and headed towards the door, barefoot. "I'll see you later."
But it was all meaningless pleasantries because she planned to avoid him for the remainder of the day and, somehow, the rest of his time on the team.
He said something before the door closed behind her, but Carrie didn't catch it. But she suspected she wouldn't want to hear it anyway.
-o-
She banked on the fact that his medical leave would somehow stretch into a few more weeks, or maybe even months, if she was lucky. But she didn't get her wish.
Just four days later, the whole team was called for a briefing. Carrie did her best to glance at anything in the room other than him, and after a while it became second nature. It was weird having Quinn around, but at least there were other people in the room with them. And maybe this buffer would be enough.
But the group was soon forced to disband and go their different ways, leaving the two of them with three boxes full of files and papers to get through. Carrie wanted to send a stream of colorful curses towards Saul for deciding this.
But she resolved to keep her mouth shut and act professional and polite. Maybe the day would go by faster if everything could just go back to normal, and maybe he was thinking the same thing. They were both smart enough to know that what happened was a bad idea, a mistake, and it was for the best if they could put it out of their mind for good.
They wordlessly worked sorting the files, and when they reached the second box, Carrie found herself jolting back when her arm accidentally touched his.
"Sorry" she mumbled under her breath.
"Can I have that file now?" he asked, hand extended.
Determined not to make the same mistake again, she threw the papers in his general vicinity. They landed in a pile of mess on the table.
"You know" he said, trying to sort them, "things would go a lot smoother if you were being so annoyed by everything."
She frowned. "I'm not annoyed."
"I thought you said that bottling in the anger wasn't a good idea."
The reminder of what she had told him that night was enough to piss her off. Carrie let the rest of papers from her hand fall onto the table. And she then headed out of the room.
But he was on her heels seconds after.
"We're supposed to be working together" Quinn said, "and that's hard to do when you're leaving the room."
"That's why I'm asking Saul to get someone else instead of me."
"And you're going to do what, switch departments?"
"Whatever it takes."
He stepped in front of her, cutting her off. "Carrie, you're not going to throw this job away just because you're angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you."
"What is it going to take for you to let this go?"
Carrie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm. "Get out of my way."
"That's not going to happen."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. If you want, you can yell or hit me, but just do it already."
"I told you, I'm not upset with you."
"Then what's going on?"
She looked away, self-conscious. "I'm angry at myself."
And just like that his demeanor changed. "This isn't your fault."
"I made myself promise I wouldn't do it again, but I just can't listen to that damn voice in the back of my head. And I don't know why I do it, but I'm just sick of fucking things up."
"You didn't do anything, I'm the one who-"
"And I should've stopped it. You were still upset after that asshole stabbed you, and I should've done the reasonable thing and stopped it. But I didn't, and that's why everything is fucked up right now."
Carrie stepped around him, not even waiting for a reply.
Her feet took her down the corridor, purposefully walking towards Saul's office. But she quickly slowed down her stride. What was she even supposed to tell him? She made the mistake of getting involved with someone she shouldn't have and it was snowballing into a big mess.
Again.
And it wouldn't matter how honest she would be because all this little speech would earn her would be a disappointed look from Saul.
Carrie took another turn and headed outside. She needed time to think.
-o-
With no new, fresh ideas of any kind, she decided to wait and hope that maybe it would all go away if she just ignored it.
She'd done it quite a few times before, but this time it just wasn't working. And Carrie had no idea why. The more she tried to disregard everything the more she felt her nerves grinding to a fine powder. Even if her day started out reasonably well and she felt cheery, it all went away the second she saw him, even if it was just for a few seconds while walking through one of the corridors.
Carrie kept ignoring him and, by the looks of it, Quinn had stepped back as well. Even when they had to interact during an assignment they did it quickly and often ended up with arguments that stretched over several minutes until someone from the team was forced to separate them.
It looked like simply ignoring the problem wasn't getting them anywhere. And a few days later, Carrie decided that enough was enough. They needed to talk.
She found him in the basement throwing several things from a locker inside a duffle bag.
Carrie frowned at him. "What are you doing?"
"Packing" he said, barely acknowledging her presence.
It took a moment for it to sink in. "You're leaving."
He simply gave a nod.
And just like that her anger threatened to take over. "You're turning this so that it's my fault. You leave with your tail between your legs and guess who gets the blame for losing one of our guys?"
"No one's going to blame you, Carrie."
"You can't know that."
"I do. I talked to Saul today."
She took a few steps towards him. And threw a punch in his face. When she got ready to throw another one, Quinn caught her arm. "That's enough."
Carrie eyed him. "You are a bigger asshole than I thought."
"I didn't tell Saul any specifics. I didn't even bring up your name."
"That's not the fucking issue."
"I'm just doing what's best for everyone."
"No, you're doing what's best for you."
"Carrie, I'm going away just so you could stop going into overdrive every time you see me. Tell me how I'm doing this for myself."
"So you're just doing this out of the goodness of your heart" she said with mock appreciation. "Because you're such a nice guy."
"I never said I was. And I doubt I ever will be. But what I'm doing right now isn't for me."
Quinn turned his attention back to the bag he was throwing things in. And Carrie found it hard to say anything, because it was becoming quite clear that he really was just doing it for her benefit.
"You're being fucking stupid" she said, her voice less angry. "Doing this on my account."
But if he heard her, then Quinn showed no sign of it. He just kept on packing, as if not even registering her presence.
"You can't just leave" she went on. But why, she wasn't sure.
He simply shouldered his bag, and then stepped around her. He disappeared through the door. No goodbye. Not even a nod of sorts. Nothing.
Carrie was left standing in an empty room, feeling conflicted and alone.
-o-
It was fine. Everything was fine because now she could do her job properly, without any distractions. She jumped into the thick of it, keeping herself busy, her mind always on the same track related to work.
And soon enough her bottled up anger made room for something else. Something she couldn't quite understand. She felt sad.
It was staggeringly idiotic. The more she thought about it, the more Carrie couldn't comprehend what she was feeling. He had just left without even a goodbye. And she was upset with him for that. And she was upset with herself for causing this in the first place. It was her fault it all went to shit.
Which is why it didn't make any sort of sense for her to feel sad. But she did.
Weeks crawled by, some agonizingly slow, others boring. And after Carrie failed to show any enthusiasm for yet another assignment that Saul put her on, he began to ask questions. Questions that she didn't have answers for. All Carrie knew was that she felt like shit, and that was the end of it.
Her sister suggested she changed her meds, but Carrie outright refused to add anymore pills to her list. She decided to pick up jogging instead. It sounded ridiculous, even in theory, but it quickly became an ideal way for her to deal with some of the anger she had kept cooped up inside. She would simply run for a few hours before going to work, and things suddenly didn't feel as shitty as they used to.
Life didn't magically get better, but things did settle down for her and, a few months later, Carrie realized that she was feeling okay. Not fantastic, but comfortably apathetic. And it seemed enough.
For a while she considered following the typically healthy, no-drinking lifestyle that the jogging seemed to enforce, but there was no point. Carrie rationalized it that cutting that part out of her life wouldn't leave her with much else. She needed it in order to take the edge off of whatever the job threw at her.
She still frequented bars after work hours, if anything, then out of habit. And one night she spotted a familiar face one seat away from her.
Carrie didn't even move her head, just glanced at Quinn's reflection in the mirror across the bar. She wasn't sure if she should react with anger, aloofness, or just plain ignore him. No one had even announced his return, not even a heads-up, so her anger seemed warranted enough.
Despite herself, Carrie decided to shoot for the middle ground and be civil.
"So you're back" she said matter-of-factly.
He shook his head. "I'm not back. Saul just needed my help with an operation."
"Must be a hell of an important one if you came all the way from across the world just to help out."
"I just didn't want to be a dick and outright refuse." He paused. "Cambodia. That's where I've been these past months."
She looked down at her glass. "Sounds like a holiday."
"It really wasn't like that."
"So what are you doing in this bar?"
"You used to always talk about this place and how great it is. Thought I'd see for myself."
Carrie liked this idle chit chat. Liked the change from the usual arguments they had before he left.
"So what do you think about this place?" she asked him.
"Honestly?"
She nodded.
"It's kind of a shitty place."
Carrie allowed herself a little smile, remembering the times when they could just throw insults and jabs at each other without repercussions. A time she missed.
They sat together, side by side, not saying much. But the silence was companionable. It almost felt like all those times when they had to run surveillance together into the long hours of the night. Except this time she was feeling something hard to discern. And he looked rattled as well.
"You all right?" Carrie asked him, her voice maybe a bit too soft.
Quinn made a few false starts to reply, but no answer came. By the looks of it, he had just as much disarray in his head as she did.
A ringing phone ripped him away from his thoughts. "I should take this."
She nodded as he stepped away, walking towards the other side of the bar. And as he did, she wondered what the hell she was doing. All the work it took for her to rid herself of the resentment and anger and sadness was unraveling the more she talked to him. It was a bad idea to keep hanging around and pretending it was all okay when there was so much chaos in her mind.
"Can I get a drink here for the lady?"
Carrie had to blink a few times before it became obvious that the young stranger next to her was really talking about her.
She shook her head. "I don't want any drink."
"Look, it's on me" he said, "no strings attached."
"No, you look, I don't want your fucking drink. So do us both a favor and fuck off."
"You just looked a little sad so I thought-"
Carrie balled her hand into a fist and threw it in his face.
The man stumbled backwards, clutching his nose.
"What's going on?" Quinn's voice came from behind her.
The man frantically gestured at Carrie. "I offered her a drink and she just punched me in the nose!"
"And I told you to leave me alone!" she yelled back.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?!"
"What's the matter with me?"
Quinn placed an arm on her shoulder, keeping her back. "If we could all calm down for a second, I'm sure my friend here is more than sorry and willing to make up for the fucking stupid thing she just did."
"I'm not apologizing to this asshole" Carrie said, moving away from under his grasp, "he's the one who wouldn't back down!"
A screaming match was inevitable, but it was quickly over the moment the manager got involved and settled things. In the end, Quinn was forced to drag Carrie outside, more or less against her will, with her wallet much emptier than it was at the start of the night.
She wanted to put up a fight, rush back inside and argue some more, because it was tempting and it felt good to get some of the anger out. But the cold wind quickly sobered her up the moment she stepped outside.
"Carrie, what happened in there?" she heard Quinn ask.
"He was harassing me."
"All I saw was a guy offering you a drink."
"And he wouldn't take no for an answer."
"So you had to punch him?"
"I don't know, I guess he just really pissed me off."
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure it was this guy who upset you?"
"Yes." She stopped abruptly. "No." Another pause. "I don't know."
He glanced away, nodding. "Look, I'm sorry I've been bothering you. I think it's best if I just got out of your hair right now." He made an attempt to walk away. "Have a good night, Carrie."
"You're doing it again" she said, causing him to stop. "Leaving."
"Carrie, you just punched a guy because you're still angry with me."
"I'm not angry, I'm just— I don't know. I don't know what I am, but I know that I'm not pissed at you. Not right now, at least."
Quinn stared at her, and she stared back, probably wondering the same thing he was. So where does this leave us? They were letting past events and petty resentment mess up everything. It was fucking ridiculous.
"This is so fucked up" Carrie said.
"Yeah."
"I miss working together. I even miss the insults."
"It's been half a year. Maybe we can just let go of all this bitterness and go back to before."
It sounded unlikely, but it wasn't like they had that many options. It was either putting aside all the resentment, or parting ways for good. And the latter sent a jolt of panic in her mind.
"Okay" Carrie said, "let's just let it all go."
Because of the late hour they ended up splitting a cab. They said nothing during the ride, but when the car stopped before Carrie's house she hesitated to get out.
"Come inside" she told Quinn. When he looked at her with worry, she added, "Just to talk."
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"We're going back to before" she reminded him. "Back to being friends."
"We were never really friends, Carrie."
"Co-workers, then."
He still looked uneasy, but agreed to walk inside. But if it was out of guilt or just because he wanted to save the friendship they never had, Carrie couldn't tell.
Quinn stepped inside with apprehension, as if making sure not to disturb even the specks of dust.
"You all right?" she asked him.
"I guess I never noticed how organized this place is."
"That's because I don't spend a lot of time here. I mostly just sleep."
He smiled slightly, just a flicker, and then it was gone again. There was still a wall between them, and it was her fault that it was there. And maybe it was time to rectify that.
"I'm sorry I punched you" she said. "Before you left."
"You really hit hard when you're angry" he said, remembering. "I could still feel it on my face for a few days."
"We could get back on even ground right now if you punch me back."
He frowned at her. "Carrie, I'm not hitting you."
"Why not?"
"Because you can't solve everything with violence."
"Says the guy who kills for a living."
Quinn said nothing, letting the jab roll off him, as he always did. A pause stretched between them, and Carrie glanced at him, wondering why he seemed so lost in thought.
He caught her staring at him, and his movements quickly became tense. "Carrie, if you want an apology-"
She shook her head curtly. "I don't."
"Good. Because I'm not sorry."
She frowned. "Everything got screwed up after that night and you're not sorry."
"No."
"Cambodia must really be a hell of an amazing place to visit, then."
"It wasn't for me. A lot of people don't speak English there, so it was hard to find people who can argue as good as you."
Carrie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or insult."
"Maybe it's a bit of both."
She had to fight back a smile as they settled on the couch in her living room. "How's your stomach?" she asked, trying to sound laid-back.
"Are you asking if they have good food in Cambodia or if the stab wound is okay?"
"Both."
The corners of his mouth curled a bit. "It's fine." He looked at her briefly. "Everything's fine now."
The wall between them hadn't fallen down, but it had slightly crumbled at the edges, just enough to let them be relaxed around each other. And Carrie welcomed the change.
"So how's Saul been these days?" Quinn asked.
"Crabby. And he grew his beard out even more, so don't say anything about that. It's a sensitive issue."
"Now that you told me I won't be able to stop staring at it."
"I'm serious, don't tell him I said anything. For such an imposing man, he can sure be insecure about this sort of stuff."
They kept each other talking for the remainder of the night, catching up on what the other had missed in half a year. And by the time the sun was ready to rise, Carrie realized she was dosing off on the couch.
She woke up the next day curled up on the couch next to Quinn. But this time it didn't feel wrong. And this time she didn't panic.
-o-
He simply took off out of the blue yet again. And the fact that it had happened so quickly left Carrie feeling baffled rather than angry. They had spent two days at the Agency working and talking without any kind of serious argument, so his sudden departure left her feeling somewhat conflicted.
But when she returned home that day, her front door caught on something. She kneeled down to see what it was. A simple note had been pushed under the door.
They're sending me on the other side of the state. But I'm not leaving for good.
Carrie's cynical side refused to believe the words on the note, and she decided it was best if she just threw it away and forgot all about it. But as she walked in the living room, she spotted the map on the wall. There was no point to it and it made no sense, but Carrie found herself walking over and pinning the note on the map.
-o-
A few weeks later she heard the operation had come to an end, but when there was no sight of him the next day at work, Carrie decided to be a good friend and not just show up on his doorstep empty handed.
When Quinn opened the door he found her holding a box of pizza and a case of beer.
"Breakfast of champions" she said instead of a hello.
He smiled a fraction. "Carrie, it's 8 PM."
"And knowing you, you didn't eat anything today."
He stepped aside to let her in. "And I have a feeling you didn't either."
The empty, echoy home didn't have much to offer in terms of furniture, so they decided to simply sit on the floor to eat. Carrie didn't mind. She somewhat liked the quiet. It made a great change from the chaos in her head.
"This place has crazy acoustics" she said, after throwing one of the empty beer cans in the sink.
"Yeah, lack of furniture will do that to a room."
She looked at him sidelong. "You know, you never said why you live like this."
"Like what?"
"Like you don't really exist."
Quinn paused to think about the answer. "I don't know. I guess I've never been too attached to anything before. At least I tried not to be."
"It feels weird to imagine living without friends or family nearby."
"It has its perks. This way I don't have to worry about anyone." A pause. "And you're really ruining the pattern."
Carrie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
He looked at her for a second, as if considering something. He then slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. "Yeah."
-o-
Every time he left, Carrie found a note slipped under her door. It was always laconic and never signed. And she made sure to pin each one on the map in her living room. As the months passed, the map began to look more and more busy, and the sight made Carrie realize that it might look downright obsessive or eerie if anyone would ever see it.
But, for her, it was just a reminder. A promise that he was always coming back.
-o-
It quickly became a routine of sorts. Whenever Quinn returned from one of his mysterious operations, they would meet up and eat breakfast or lunch at a highly unsuitable hour. They would detail what they'd missed, swap war stories. Even throw a couple of jabs at each other for old times' sake.
And the routine soon became comfortable. Something they both looked forward to.
"This place is just depressing" Carrie said, several hours after their lunch had ended. They were both sitting on the floor in Quinn's house and staring at the ceiling.
"Yeah, I know" he said. "Sorry."
"Remind me to introduce you to some decorating magazines."
"Like your place is such an epitome of good taste."
Carrie sat up on her elbow. "My house is a masterpiece compared to this."
"Well it's good to see that you're not getting competitive."
She smiled, but it quickly disappeared from her face. Because the mood was oddly domestic. They were two people who had no natural place being in such a homey situation. From afar they might have actually looked normal.
"It's weird, isn't it?" she said.
"No, not weird. Just... different."
Carrie regarded him for a few moments, thinking that the timing felt perfect. She could just grab him by the shirt and kiss him, but she was scared that everything could be ruined if she did. It had been such a long road just to fix their friendship, and to mess it up now would be stupid.
She sat back down next to him and told herself that next time she'll try and shake off this uneasiness she was feeling.
-o-
When she heard that the operation had ended much quicker than expected, Carrie decided to simply wait in front of his house with the usual case of beer.
But he failed to show on time, and Carrie ended up sitting down on the cold concrete, wondering what was going on. Her ringing phone brought her out of the daydream, and she frowned when she saw who it was.
"Saul?" It wasn't like him to call so late in the day. "Something happened?"
"He's been shot."
Her hand froze on the phone. He had to be kidding. It all had to be some fucked up joke. "What are you talking about?"
"That asshole who stabbed him over a year ago, back in that warehouse... He was right, Carrie. Quinn was right. Those guys never quit. They sent someone after him again."
"But he's okay, right? He's fine, he has to be" she said, panicking.
"Yeah, he's okay right now. You should come to the hospital. He's been asking for you."
She abandoned the case of beer and went running down the street, searching for a cab. The city went by in a flash of haze and Carrie could barely remember even getting inside the car, but the next moment she found herself rushing through the hospital corridors.
When she found his room, Carrie ignored whatever the nurses outside tried to tell her and just dashed inside.
The room was quiet and rather dark, and for a second she was worried that maybe Saul had lied to her. Because Quinn's eyes were shut and he looked like death.
But he was still alive.
She grabbed his hand and held on tight, waking him up in the process. She wanted to apologize, but what came out instead was, "I thought for sure you were dead."
He tried to smile. "Me too, for a second there."
"But you're alive" she said in disbelief.
"Yeah. I'm here."
"You were right" she said, feeling guilty all of a sudden "You were fucking right about that guy, and I called you paranoid and crazy, and I wouldn't believe you even though-"
"Carrie" he said, squeezing her hand "it's fine. Really."
"Ms. Mathison?"
She ignored whoever it was calling her and focused on him.
"But you were right. And I told you to ignore that. I'm just a horrible influence."
"No, you're not."
"Ms. Mathison?"
"Maybe you should see what that's about" Quinn said, looking worried.
"No, I don't care, I'm not leaving-"
"Carrie!"
Her eyes focus back to the present, sounds and sights jarring and threatening to stir a panic attack.
It's quick. It's brutal.
And in this flood of chaos and information Carrie becomes aware of where she is. She sees the cold interior of the office. The desk a few feet away from her, and the man sitting behind it, who has been calling her. She can't remember his name and she doesn't think she will ever care enough to memorize it.
"Do you know where you are?" he asks, his voice soft and understanding.
Carrie has to take a few moments before it sinks in. "Psychiatrist office."
"I'm sorry for interrupting you" he says, "but we were beginning to talk about events that didn't transpire, and it's dangerous to detail on something that isn't real."
"It's fine" she says nodding grimly, even though it's not.
The man looks at her with sympathy, his voice low. "I know you cared for him. I'm truly sorry about what happened."
She nods once, trying to keep the images from invading her mind again. But they're there. The bullet killed him, and he was dead on arrival. She didn't even get to say goodbye. And every time she remembers Quinn lying dead in the hospital, a new, different wave of images come to mind, one that never took place but that she wished it did.
The man behind the desk tells her that it was a defense mechanism. But that it's not healthy to let herself drown in events that didn't happen. Even if she wants nothing more than to jump into the deep end of this delusion.
Carrie vaguely remembers attending the funeral, recalls seeing a simple grave with a fake name for a man that, for all intents and purposes, didn't really exist. But, beyond this, she can't remember much. Just his death, and then white haze.
The session with the psychiatrist stretches for a few hours, and it's not pleasant, and it doesn't really help. He tells her that she needs time, but Carrie suspects that what she really needs is to go back to her illusion, just for a few more moments. But the man is adamant about the damaging effects it has on her psyche.
And even though she doesn't believe or agrees with what the man says, Carrie still nods along, because there's nothing else to do. And then she heads home.
She walks inside, lets her shoes fall where they may, and sinks into the couch in the living room. And when she raises her head she sees the world map, littered with notes pinned to its surface. Small little pieces of paper that always promised he would come back.
And Carrie stares at them through tear-filled eyes, knowing that the promise has been broken.