She meant to follow through; to give him final peace. But as the light cascaded into the room - that false glimmer - something held her back. Nothing changed as she stood there for at least 5 minutes; the peaceful look on his face, her own heart rate rising and falling on the machine across the room.
She had put a star on the wall for Brody, but the idea of honoring Quinn in that same way sickened her. His end wasn't supposed to happen like this, in a hospital room in Berlin, helpless. In this moment, he wasn't alive and he wasn't dead. He just was - a man that had given so much for her.
"What was his name?"
"Quinn...Peter Quinn."
The finality of the past tense hit her hard, and she sat on the small stool suddenly, in order to prevent herself from hitting the floor. The pulse ox probe fell from her finger, triggering silent alarms that were sure to signal the handful of doctors and nurses working nearby. In one fluid movement, she had it back on his finger, and her breath released as she was reassured by the lights and numbers of the display.
Civilian life. He had attempted to discuss it with her before, suggesting they could find happiness there...together. But it had been the wrong time, the wrong place for her. That sort of thing wasn't meant for her, at least not in this lifetime, not then. But she had found something similar with Jonas, and even tried to salvage that piece of her life a few days ago. But Jonas would have never understood, not the way Quinn would have, and that thought ripped another small piece from her already fragile frame.
She knew this was the end - for him, for them, for her relationship with the CIA. Her connection to Saul ran deep, but her tie to Quinn ran deeper, in a different way. She couldn't go back, not without him.
Her eyes closed slowly and then opened, fixated on the slow rise and fall of his chest. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed softly, imagining the feel of his hand squeezing back. But it remained soft, limp, but warm. The only reminder that he was still a living being, for the moment.
I loved you.
It was time. The legs of the chair squeaked softly as she maneuvered it back against the wall. Silence filled the room again, forcing her to pause.
She was never good at goodbyes. And this time was no different. Walking slowly to the door, she tugged at the handle gently and stepped into the hall, immediately feeling empty, alone.
A beacon, he had said. "Guide me now," she pleaded silently. With one foot in front of the other, she finally found her way outside.
Yours, for always now.
"Always," she echoed.
