"You know the really funny thing?"

They're facing each other across a desk, body language angrily mirrored. A vein is popping in Quinn's forehead and Carrie has to fight with herself not to punch him in his arrogant face.

"Sure, Quinn, tell me what's so funny"

He leans in so their noses are almost touching, his expression a mockery of a smile

"You've spent so long trying to be brave, and you're the most scared little girl I've ever met."

She can't help it; she barks out a laugh. Nothing scares her; she has a frankly cavalier attitude to her own safety and if Quinn doesn't know that then he's even more deluded than she originally thought.

"Is that all you've got? Scared? You're going to have to push harder than that if you want a reaction"

His lip curved sharply.
"Yes. And I'm right. You're fucking terrified. But not of danger, not of terrorists or even death, Carrie. You're scared of rejection. You put on this facade of bravery and you keep everyone at arm's length and you treat the people who care about you like shit because you're scared you'll fuck them up. You're so scared that you'll let someone show you kindness and they'll take it away that you fuck around with known terrorists because they're a safer bet. You're scared if you show any warmth or kindness it will be rejected, and if you buy into the idea of trust and honesty you'll be betrayed so you don't even bother. You are a scared little girl and you need to grow the fuck up."

The silence expanded between them, oppressive and heavy. Carrie forced herself to breathe easily, forced herself to bite back the tears that were welling up, drew a blanket over the hurt feeling blossoming. She felt cut to the quick, shocked and shaky. She felt angry that without ever wanting him to see it, he had reached inside, grabbed her biggest fear and held it up to her face where she couldn't back away.

"Anything else?" she asked evenly, knuckles white against the mahogany desk.

Quinn stared back impassively.

"Yes," he said flatly, "one more thing. Take some fucking time out. Before you make a really big mistake and you don't have me and Saul here to clear it up for you."

"Well," she said with a sarcastic tip of her head, "I'm glad we had this chat. Thanks for all the advice. Go fuck yourself"

And with a cheery wave she turned on her heel and marched out. Peter sighed, massaging a temple with his forefinger before he dropped down in the chair.

He sat there, lamplit, lost in his own thoughts and didn't move until the sun rose the next day.