In the debrief room at the Embassy, Quinn paced like a caged animal.
"Come on, Saul, fucking remember!" Quinn slammed his hand into the tabletop, as Saul's head sank into his hands.
"I just… I…. I was hooded. It was dark."
Saul started to quietly sob as the door opened. Carrie leaned in, frowning. "Quinn, what are you doing?" she asked concernedly.
"Debriefing Saul," Quinn said flatly.
"Can I talk to you?" Carrie asked agitatedly as she motioned him out of the debrief room.
Carrie turned to confront Quinn. "What are you doing in there? Saul's been through Hell, he's in shock."
He folded his arms. "Carrie, we have to find Haqqani now! He's injured and has probably gone to the same safe house they were holding Saul in! We have to find him and get the list back! We have about 72 hours before he's in the wind."
Carrie sighed, and shifted her eyes so as not to meet Quinn's. "Quinn, I need to tell you something. We're breaking off relations with Pakistan. And they're moving us out."
"What?! When?"
"Tomorrow morning, 0630."
"Jesus Christ! We can't leave now! If Haqqani escapes Islamabad with that list, every asset on that list is dead, and you know it, Carrie. It would set our work back here by 20 years. I can't leave. Fuck that!"
"So you're going to, what, stay here go to war on Haqqani all by yourself?" Carrie thundered.
"If I have to," Quinn snapped.
"It's not up for negotiation. You could be killed or worse. I can't have that. Pack your things and be ready to leave at 0630."
Quinn glared at Carrie and stalked off. Carrie stuck her head in the conference room door and spoke briefly to Saul. "Saul, go take a shower and get some rest. I'll check in with you later." Saul raised his head and gave her a weary nod.
As she watched Quinn leave the suite, her guts twisted with a terrible sense of foreboding. There was something about his angry stride and fierce scowl that set off alarm bells. Impulsively, Carrie ran after Quinn as he strode angrily down the hall outside the debrief room.
"Quinn, wait up. Stop." He stopped and turned towards her.
"What, Carrie."
"I need to talk to you. About something else."
"Okay. What?"
"I don't want to get into it here. Can we talk in my quarters? In ten minutes?"
Quinn looked at Carrie closely. "Sure," he said evenly. He walked towards the personal quarters wing, more slowly. Carrie sighed.
Eleven minutes later, Carrie turned the key of her apartment door, swung it open and turned on the light. She gasped, startled, to see Quinn sitting in one of her armchairs, quietly in the dark.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Quinn, you scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry. You gave me a key."
She shut the door, turned to him and sat slowly on the couch opposite him. "Yeah, I did."
"Well? I'm in kind of a hurry, Carrie."
Carrie looked at Quinn, and he saw the genuine hurt in her eyes. "Quinn, I almost died today. You almost died today. Can we take just a few minutes to get ourselves together?" She almost sounded like she was crying. Quinn said up and said, more softly, "I'm listening."
"Do you want something to drink? I have vodka in the freezer."
Quinn shook his head. "Not yet. I'm too wired. I don't want to be drunk and wired."
She sighed, almost sobbed, and played with her hands. "I'd like to be drunk. Everything… has just completely turned to shit. And I have this terrible feeling…"
"I have a terrible feeling too, Carrie. Fara's dead. Redmond's dead. Hensley's dead…."
"Stop!" Carrie almost shrieked. "Don't you think I know all that? That's not what I mean."
She stopped looking at her feet and looked up into Quinn's eyes, her head cocked to the side, her eye leaking a single tear. "I have the terrible feeling that you're going to go out and try to get Haqqani yourself. Before he's in the wind, as you said."
Quinn looked steadily back at her, and said nothing.
"Am I right? Am I right?" Carrie asked, her voice rising. "Quinn, you can't!"
"There's a Taliban flag flying over my Embassy. I can't let that stand." He stood as if to leave.
"Quinn, please listen to me. Just for a few minutes, please, I swear to God." Carrie's heart must have been nearly bursting in her chest, because she was sobbing openly now. "Please, just sit the fuck back down."
Quinn sat down reluctantly. Carrie sat up in her chair, facing him, her hands clasped.
"Quinn. This is an utter clusterfuck. We lost so many people. We lost information. But I am in this for the Long Game." Her voice was ragged and she sounded angry. "I acknowledge, if you go out there, and try to get Haqqani by yourself, there is a chance you will succeed. But I think it's a slim chance." She sniffed, as Quinn looked at her intently. His expression was melting from hard-as-nails operative into a quizzical, sad gaze.
Carrie continued, "However, I think if you go after Haqqani alone, there is a very high likelihood that you'll be killed. And I just can't live with that."
Quinn looked at her and sat forward in his chair. Still, he said nothing, hands clasped loosely between his knees.
Carrie continued, "I am in this for the Long Game. I am going to go back to Langley, regroup, heal up, bury my friends," she said bitterly, "and figure out how to get that motherfucker once and for all. But I can't do it without you, Quinn. I can't. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Quinn didn't answer for a long moment. Outside the embassy, cars and ambulances honked and wailed. "I think so," he said quietly.
"If you die, too, it's all over for me," Carrie's voice broke with a cry, and she slid forward, nearly falling to her knees onto the floor. "Please, please, don't go out there alone. I need you." Her hair hung forward, hiding her face as she sobbed.
Quinn squatted on one knee, and reached out to Carrie, putting his arms under hers and lifting her slowly to her feet. He folded her into his arms, holding her in a tight hug, and she turned her head sideways against his sturdy chest, listening to his heartbeat. They stood completely still like that for a minute, arms around each other. The violence and pain of the previous 13 hours seemed farther away as they held each other. The comfort, so welcome and so unusual, was almost too much to bear. As her cheek rested on Quinn's impeccably starched button-down, she was shaking like a leaf and started to sob again.
"Shhhhh," Quinn comforted her. "I know, I know." Carrie couldn't be sure, but she thought she felt Quinn's lips kiss the top of her head. It was so soft, she almost couldn't feel it. "Ok, Carrie, Ok. You know I can't say no to you."
Carrie sniffled as they moved apart from each other. They stood holding each other's arms, and Carrie looked up at him, smiling sadly through her tears. Quinn reached up and gently touched the wound on Carrie's head, which she got in the SUV during the RPG attack. "Looks like you were just grazed. Want some help cleaning it up?"
They stepped apart a little farther. "No, no, I'm ok. I got it." Carrie looked at the floor. Then back up at Quinn. He was still looking at her with a softness that suggested that if she wanted some more help with her clothes, he'd be happy to oblige.
"OK," he said. He managed a tiny smile. "If you're ok, then I'm going. I'm going to check on Saul and then later I'll check back in on you. Maybe the three of us can get together and have some of that vodka. Before we all leave tomorrow. "
"Thank you, Peter." Internally, Quinn was shocked. Carrie almost never used his given name. Something was different between them now. He almost felt like crying himself.
Quinn moved to the door and opened it. Carrie stood, arms folded, tears still running down her cheeks. She smiled at him. "If you need me, I'm a phone call away, " he said.
He spared her one last backward glance - full of longing. Then he closed the door behind him, and turned the key in the lock.
