Carrie grabbed another flute of champagne from the passing waiter's tray and downed it in two gulps. She stood alone, bitterly observing the others networking at Saul's impromptu soirée to celebrate his reinstatement as Director of the CIA.

It was a small, select group of guests. Saul hadn't expected Carrie to accept the invitation, but she'd purposefully turned up to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. To remind him of the thirty six people who had died at the Embassy in Islamabad.

That motherfucking traitor Dar Adal was still swanning around like the hero of the hour. The unlikely broker of a deal that meant Haqqani's name would be off the US kill list as long as he didn't harbour terrorists in Afghanistan. It was all bullshit of course. A smokescreen for the real deal which was Dar Adal obtaining the only video of a humiliated and bedraggled Saul. Two old mates helping each other out in times of trouble. No matter what price had to be paid.

Across the room Carrie watched the musicians pick up their instruments. She smiled to herself. A jazz band. Decent choice Saul. Unlikely for her benefit, but some temporary relief nonetheless. Time for another drink. She smiled in the direction of the nearest waiter.

…

"Carrie?" She felt warm fingertips brush sensuously over her shoulder blade. Her heart leaped.

"Quinn? Oh…" She spun around and spilled some of her drink. "Aasar? What are you doing here?!"

"Looking for you." Aasar Khan swallowed, struggling to maintain his cool reserve. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"W-What?!" Carrie stuttered, gobsmacked to see him. "Why would I avoid you? I didn't know you were here! What are you doing in the United States?"

"It's my last night here." Aasar glanced sideways and whispered. "I was hoping to see you before now, but you weren't at any of the meetings."

"Meetings? What meetings?" Carrie glared. "Who else is here from Pakistan?"

"Just General Latif," Aasar gestured across the room. "Or should I say Bunny."

"What meetings?" Carrie repeated feeling her bile rising. "What fucked up deal is Dar Adal instigating now?"

"Carrie, you'll have to ask Saul." Aasar shuffled uneasily. "I'm really not at liberty to say too much."

"Where's Tasneem? Is that bitch here?" Carrie seethed. "What about Haqqani? Is he here too? You ISI lot are protecting him now aren't you?"

"All I can say is things are happening…" Aasar looked shifty. "Saul wants to put things right. Changes are afoot in Pakistan."

"I don't believe you," Carrie trembled. "Actually I don't fucking care. I lost thirty six colleagues… Friends…"

"I know." Aasar touched her hand and looked as sad as she felt. "I want justice too."

…

They stood awkwardly together, their silence uneasy, watching the small groups. Conversations ebbed and flowed around them. Dar Adal and Bunny appeared to be bickering in a corner. Saul was sat at a table and deep in conversation with Martha. Mira was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you dance?" Aasar's question came out of the blue.

"You're joking," Carrie laughed at him. "To jazz?"

"Sure," Aasar smiled. "The band is great don't you think?"

"I don't dance to jazz… I drink to jazz." Carrie snatched Aasar's glass and downed the contents, grimacing. "Oh fuck, that's straight lemonade."

"I don't drink alcohol," Aasar shrugged. "Sorry."

"You should," Carrie snorted. "It'd be good for you."

"Why?" Aasar arched an eyebrow.

"Might help you loosen up a bit," Carrie chuckled. "You're always so formal…even without the uniform. Always such a Military stiff."

Aasar's lips twitched with amusement. "You're the one who won't dance and have fun here!"

"Dancing in front of this lot is not my idea of fun."

"What is?" Aasar's reply was quick. Too quick. Eager.

"I'm here because I'm angry at Saul," Carrie surveyed him uncertainly. "I'm not here for fun."

"Shame," Aasar shrugged nonchalantly. "We could have had fun over in Islamabad. I know the best places to party. Heard there's a few round here too…"

Carrie studied him. Intrigued. Aasar likes to party? "Let's get out of here," She clutched his elbow. "I've had enough. All this political maneuvering and bullshit."

"Me too." Aasar's dark eyes aligned with hers. "I'll call my driver to fetch the car."

…

In the darkness of the back seat of his SUV. Carrie leant across to Aasar and whispered flirtatiously. "Are you married?"

"No of course not," Aasar sounded irritated.

"A confirmed bachelor?" Carrie teased.

"No… I was engaged," Aasar spoke softly. "She… died."

"Aasar," Carrie floundered. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me about Brody?" Aasar diverted the conversation sharply.

"He was my…" Carrie paused. Love of my life? Asset I sent to his death? "He's the father of my baby girl."

"I've seen her. Cute kid," Aasar nodded. "Tasneem had a photo from Dennis."

"What?" Carrie exploded. "You should have told me!"

"I told you Dennis was working against you." Aasar held up his hands.

"Is my baby safe?" Carrie trembled with rage. "Or are the ISI planning to poison her too. Is that what you're doing here?"

"Carrie. Tasneem does not have the capability to attack anyone in the United States." Aasar reached for her hand. "All I know is Tasneem had Dennis switch your meds hoping you'd be sent home from Islamabad. That was the extent of her plan. Nothing malicious involving your family."

"Well, geez, thanks Aasar," Carrie snatched her hand back. "That's so reasurring."

"I would never let anyone harm you or Franny."

Carrie paused, "How do you know her name?"

"I…" Aasar reached again and tried to stroke Carrie's wrist. "I did some research. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Carrie spat, pushing him away.

"And Franny. I know whose daughter she is. I know who Nicholas Brody is."

Carrie glared at him defiantly, "You don't know the half of it."

"I know everything." Aasar sounded nervous. "I know Brody was a sacrifice to get Majid Javadi into power in Iran… I know how these things work… CIA Assets inside foreign governments."

"Well, I know you're not an Asset," Carrie snorted. "I'd have been your handler in Islamabad if you were."

"Is that right?" Aasar growled.

"Oh, am I wrong?" Carrie raised an eyebrow. "So let's get this straight… you know everything about me… my daughter's name… her father's name, but I know nothing about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"What are you doing here?" demanded Carrie.

"To help put things right in Pakistan."

"Oh spare me Saul Berenson's bullshit," Carrie griped. "I know your type."

"What type is that?" Aasar winced.

"Men who sacrifice their morals for political ambition."

"Morals? Let's talk about the morality of drone strikes," Aasar rolled his eyes. "You know the statistics."

"Collateral damage," Carrie huffed. "If my morals are so questionable why did you help me in Pakistan?"

"I respected you. You were trying to do the right thing," Aasar explained. "Neither of us wanted to see Haqqani taking control."

Carrie pffted and stared out the window into the darkness.

"I felt for you Carrie," Aasar continued softly. "Sympathy when they drugged you."

"So why did you turn a blind eye to Tasneem helping Haqqani?" she hissed.

"You're making a lot of assumptions Carrie," Aasar bit his lip. "All this shop talk. I thought we were going out to have some fun?"

"Yeah…?" She shook her head. "Well I changed my mind. Stop the car."

"Don't be ridiculous," protested Aasar.

"I'll get a cab."

"Let me take you home," he begged.

"Aasar… Just…" she shouted. "Tell the driver to stop the fucking car."

"No. I'm not abandoning you alone in the city," Aasar tried to calm her. "If you get out, I'm coming with you."

"Oh, what a gentleman." Carrie mocked.

"Carrie… OK… Let's forget about having any form of civilised conversation." Aasar gave up. "You go home, but I'm dropping you off."

"Stop the…" Carrie began, but slumped backwards as Aasar relayed her precise address to the driver.

"I don't like that at all," Carrie hissed. "You knowing my address."

Aasar exhaled, dejected. Further tormented by the passing traffic intermittently illuminating Carrie's furious profile. He'd come all this way and he'd fucked it up within minutes.