Carrie and Quinn take a vacation
A quiet evening in early summer. Carrie and Quinn had put Franny in the stroller, and gone out for some fresh air, walking side by side, as comfortable as a couple that had been married for twenty years. In actuality, they had been living together for only 6 months, and Quinn was still looking for a job, after processing out of the C.I.A. On that front, things had been a bit stressful.
"Quinn. Let's go away for the weekend," Carrie said impulsively.
"Where would we go?" he asked.
"How about, Philly. Your old stomping grounds," she suggested.
She could tell immediately that he didn't like the idea. "Not yet," he said. "Someday."
"OK, then," she said, "How about a road trip through West Virginia. It's beautiful. There are bed and breakfasts," she said meaningfully, with emphasis on the bed.
That got his interest. "Carrie, I don't think I've ever been on a normal vacation," he said, solemnly.
"About time, then," she said. "One of the perks of living a normal life."
They packed lightly, and Carrie took a couple extra days off to accommodate the trip. She was loading her bag in the car when she saw that Quinn had packed not only a tidy duffel, but a couple of gun cases, ammunition, a nightstick, and a set of nunchucks. For fuck's sake, she thought. When he walked out to the car, she saw he was wearing his shoulder holster, his Beretta 9mm tucked neatly inside, under his leather jacket.
"Jesus Christ, Quinn!" she squawked with equal parts amusement and dismay. "We're going to West Virginia, not to a fucking war zone!"
"Is there a difference?" he asked, a dry smile playing around his lips. She grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him close.
Standing on tiptoe to kiss his chin, she was getting in his way, while he inspected the contents of the trunk to make sure everything was packed. He completed his inspection, and ready to depart, he put an arm around her waist, lifted her off her feet with one arm like she weighed nothing. He swung her around and set her down a few feet away, out of range of the trunk lid. He slammed the trunk shut, then, he turned back to her, satisfied.
"Listen. Nothing is going to happen to us," she said reassuringly, putting a hand on his chest.
"You're fucking A it isn't," he said, pleased with her, with himself, with the day. He kissed her, and bending over, picked her up and put her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her legs tucked under his arm.
"Quinn!" she shrieked, laughing. "Put me down!" She wiggled as he carried her to the car, opening the front passenger side door. Setting her down, grinning, he helped her tuck herself into the seat.
"For the next four days, you're all mine," he said, a greedy glint in his eye.
She found herself without a retort, and he shut the door. Maggie held Franny in the window, as they both waved goodbye.