(Despite being used to her job, Carrie still harbors a sense of excitement for it. Quinn doesn't share her enthusiasm. Nor does he expect her to change her opinion by the end of the night.)


She doesn't expect the docks to be so quiet, even if it's the dead of night. But as they step out of the car all Carrie can hear is the falling of rain and the occasional rumble coming from the water. And if it wasn't for the rest of the team moving in, then she would have just felt like the last person still alive.

Carrie watches as various agents give short commands to each other before scattering through the docks in an orderly fashion. And while the late night wind is cold and the rain hits her every few seconds, she finds that it doesn't matter.

"You ready?" Quinn asks from beside her, grabbing a case from the car.

She nods and finds that she can't hide a small smile from appearing on her lips. Because this is what makes her feel alive.

They pass a long line of shipping containers as they make their way towards a half constructed building. The team ahead confirm that the path is all clear.

"And that's code for 'this is going to be a one hell of a long night'" Quinn says.

Carrie has a hard time hiding her amusement.

"What's with the smile?"

"You're acting all annoyed. Like you've got something better to do on a Wednesday."

"If you ask me, sleep is better than staying the rain and waiting for a couple of criminals that may or may not show at all."

"You can sleep when you're dead."

"No, I'll be dead if I don't sleep."

Carrie tries to figure out what has him so annoyed. "You didn't have any coffee, did you?"

Quinn glances away, as if embarrassed that she caught on. "Didn't have the time."

"Well maybe it all works out since you're not the best shot out there when you're high on caffeine."

He tightens his hand on the case. "Carrie?

"Yeah."

"Stop talking."

The building in front of them looks deserted and Carrie can't believe that she finds it even a bit menacing in the rain. They make their way on the concrete steps, careful not to take a wrong step in the various pieces of leftover materials that seem long abandoned. Their footsteps echo with every movement.

They stop at the sixth floor when a voice in their earpiece instructs them that it's high enough.

"At least we don't have to sit directly in the rain this way" Quinn says, unpacking the sniper rifle in the case.

"It's just water, Quinn. Lighten up."

"You're loving my misery right now, aren't you?"

"Actually, what I love right now is the job. I don't know why, but this feels like a good time to be alive."

Even if it's not the highest floor, Carrie loves the view it gives of the city. It's ominous and beaten by the rain, but it gives off a certain raw quality that mesmerized her. Because from where she's standing, Carrie feels like she's at the top of the world.

Quinn joins her a few moments later, securing the sniper on a few cinderblocks.

Carrie leans over the edge. "Hell of a drop, isn't it?"

"I guess" he says, not really listening.

"You afraid of heights?"

He looks up for a moment, suspicious. "Why?"

Carrie casually takes a step towards him. And then gives him a nudge towards the edge. He tenses instantly and grabs the support beam next to them. Carrie can't help the small laugh that leaves her lips.

He glares. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"It's a relief, actually. I finally found out you're afraid of something."

"Yeah, big surprise, people are afraid of things."

"Not you. You never seem like you're scared of anything."

Quinn frowns slightly. "You make it sound like I'm a cyborg or something."

"You're calm by default, you never lose your tempter" she says, counting on her fingers, "you keep your life outside the job private. You're also the best shot I've ever seen. You can't blame me for thinking you're maybe a little bit too precise in everything you do."

"Well I'm sorry that I'm good at my job."

"Only you would take all I just said as a criticism."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell what you really mean when you start talking."

She frowns. "This no-caffeine thing is really makes you grouchy as fuck."

"All right, knock it off. We have a job to do here."

Carrie lets the remarks go and leans on the support beam. She unholsters her gun and keeps her eyes peeled for any surprises while Quinn stares through the rifle scope. And as time and the rain trickle by, she's starting to realize that maybe he was right. This was going to be a long night. And a part of her would rather be with the rest of the team where most of the action will happen than perched up on the building. There's little chance of anyone managing to sneak all the way up to their floor, but Carrie can't just leave. She still needs to have Quinn's back in case things go wrong.

Minutes pass them by slowly, and Carrie finds herself keeping count in her head. When the second hour comes to a close she starts pacing the area slowly.

"They're running late as hell."

Quinn doesn't even look up. "It's almost like criminals don't care enough to be punctual."

"You think something happened?"

"Hopefully they crashed their car on the way here and we can all just go home and sleep. But then again Saul wants these guys alive."

"Yeah, it's such a bummer that we need our suspects alive."

He pauses for a few seconds. "I sometimes find it really hard to tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

"I'm not so sure myself at this hour. You think the sunrise will look good from up here?"

"A sunrise over a dock known for sleazy trades and prostitution. I'm sure it's going to be magical" he says, fidgeting in place.

"You all right?"

"My back is killing me. But the worst part is this damn earpiece. I think the rain somehow got into it because I'm getting nothing but static." Quinn glances at her from the corner of his eye. "You think you can cover me for a minute while I get another one?"

She nods. "Just a warning that I'm a little rusty. It's been ages since I've used one of these."

"I'm sure you'll remember how delightful it is. And that it comes with a side order of endless waiting around."

Carrie sends him off and then takes his place. The view through the sniper scope helps her snap out of the monotony a little bit, but only because of the illusion that things could start moving along any time soon. And as she waits, Carrie's neck and back start hurting almost instantly. She feels more than a little rusty at this.

Several minutes later she catches sight of Quinn walking near some storage containers, making his way towards the nearest team that sits huddled a few yards away. She has a little chuckle while imagining how she could scare the living daylights out of him by shooting at the space above his head.

Quinn keeps moving, walking into an area that isn't lit by any streetlamps. Carrie has a hard time seeing anything, but she focuses the instant she notices a figure moving. He creeps from container to container and it's quickly obvious he's trying to get behind Quinn.

Her first instinct is to warn him, but his earpiece doesn't work, so Carrie switches frequencies to the other teams.

"There's someone moving behind Quinn" she says, "I don't know who it is, but someone needs to warn him."

"We're not seeing anything, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure, someone get over there and tell him."

But the seconds tick by and no one shows up. And the shadow is still moving, getting closer.

"For fuck's sake, someone move already, he's right-"

She sees the distinctive outline of a machinegun emerging from the shadows. And before the thought even registers in her mind, Carrie pulls the trigger.

The figure stumbles out, dropping the gun and clutching his stomach. He looks to be no older than thirteen. Carrie freezes and stares as he falls over and stains the concrete red.

She can hear yells and gunshots somewhere out of sight, but she doesn't react to it. Because she feels stuck. Carrie's mind has stepped somewhere in the background and everything in front of her eyes feels like it's nothing but a movie. Her view from the sixth floor is soon replaced by cement steps and her own feet descending on them. Then a series of shipping containers. The boy's motionless body. There are various people rushing by her, but it always seems to be happening somewhere a few feet away from her because Carrie doesn't feel like she's really there.

A few minutes later, a pair of hands grabs her shoulders and directs her to the car she came in. And the city soon starts passing by her so quickly that she can't help but feel like she's stuck in a dream. A dream that never seems clear too her because there's a constant image over it. One with a bullet and a bloody body.

Carrie isn't sure how long after the incident she ends up back home, but she's faced with an agent who looks at her with a concerned expression. He tells her something about sleep and rest, but there's no point focusing on his words because they just bounce right off her.

Once alone, she wanders the house for a while, searching for her wallet. There's a clock on her wall but she purposefully ignores it, going right by it on her way out of the house.

And the next time she blinks, she finds herself sitting at a counter with two glasses in front of her. There's noise and music and people talking around and that's enough to calm her nerves, at least for a little bit. But what she would want the most is to get rid of the bloody overlay that's in front of her eyes.

She keeps focusing on the noise in the bar, hoping it will eventually replace the one in her head. And soon enough a familiar voice cuts through some of the havoc. Carrie doesn't turn around, just keeps staring at the liquid floating in her glass.

"You worried the hell out of us" Quinn says after taking the seat next to her. "You should've taken your phone with you."

"It slipped my mind."

He doesn't have anything to say to that because there really is nothing to say.

"What happened to the others?" she asks almost mechanical.

"They were trying to sneak in behind us, but we caught them all. The kid was the only casualty."

She nods a few times while staring forwards, lost in thought.

"I forget sometimes" Quinn says, "that you're not used to this."

"But I should be. I've seen it plenty of times before, and in most cases right in front of me. But it's just so different when..." She abandons the remark and just shakes her head.

"I know."

"Of course you know. You do it all the fucking time. No wonder you're like this."

He sighs and lowers his voice. "I'm sorry I left you alone up there. I really am."

"It's not your fault. Sooner or later I would've had to do something like this."

"He was with them, you know. He was going to join the others and try to flank us. You did the right thing."

"Killing a kid is the right thing" she says. "I don't think that explanation would fly anywhere else, but around here it's fucking normal."

"We have to do a lot of shitty stuff if it means we can keep the world safe."

"That just sounds like a bullshit excuse to make ourselves feel better."

"You're right. It is an excuse, but if we didn't try to rationalize it, then nothing would get done. Life isn't balanced and it isn't fair. And it's never going to be."

Carrie leans further on the bar and rests her head on her arms. "If I agree with you, will you please let me have my drink in peace?"

"No."

She sighs deeply. "Why the fuck not?"

"This is a real shitty place to hang around in after this kind of night."

"And you'd know that from experience?"

"Yes."

Carrie glances around the bar and then at him. "Well what am I supposed to do? I can't go back home and sleep. I'm not like you. I can't just shrug it off."

"I wouldn't either."

"Then just let me sit here and drink until my brain shuts off."

"And tomorrow you'll wake up with the same noise in your head, only it's gotten worse because you're hungover."

"So what do you suggest? Because I'm not going back home. It's too quiet there."

"We can stay here. But just don't drink. Not the hard stuff anyway."

She doesn't resist as Quinn gently moves the glasses away from her. "Now I have to deal with a brain that just won't stop screaming at me that I fucked up. And I'm not good at this. The dealing part."

"I think the key in these situations is not to just block it out. Because even if it might work for a few days, but then that big ball of anger and resentment and guilt will just come back in the worst of times."

She shakes her head. "I'm not blocking it out."

"Carrie, you were trying to drown it in bourbon."

"Maybe that's the way I can cope with this sort of things."

"And I'm telling you it's not good."

She glares. "What exactly would you know about that?"

"I once killed someone who didn't deserve it."

Carrie finds that she can't talk for a while. Eventually she just asks, "Why?"

"It was an accident. A really fucking stupid accident."

"What happened?"

"I was gathering intel and thought I'd been spotted. So I just went with my instinct and shot. Turns out it wasn't who I thought it was, and I couldn't do anything about it. Because you can't just bring a life back. So I went on with my job and tried very fucking hard not to think about it. But it doesn't work that way. If you block something out it just comes back with full force, one way or the other. And in my case that meant no sleep for half a week."

"How did you get over it?"

Quinn thinks for a moment, not really sure what to say. "Time, I suppose. You just try to rationalize it that you're human. That you make mistakes. And that you're keeping going to make mistakes."

Carrie realizes that she's started nodding. "So when you shot that person-"

"Kid."

She turns to look at him, and when she does, Quinn glances away.

"It was just a kid" he clarifies.

"How did you feel?"

"Like the shittiest guy on the planet. Like the job wasn't worth it."

She smiles bitterly. "That's pretty much how I feel right now."

"Carrie, what I did happened because of bad luck. But you most likely saved my life tonight. So hold onto that thought."

"I don't know about saving your life. After that bullet you took last time I figure you're some sort of Terminator."

Quinn smiles ever so slightly. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"It is" she tells him, and the expression of surprise on his face says it all. The fact that Carrie has dropped the sarcasm shield means the night has left her truly rattled.

"It's going to get better, you know."

She nods absentmindedly. "I just don't think I can face Saul. The second I tell him I fucked up, he's going to give me that disappointing stare. And I just can't take that."

"Carrie, you didn't fuck up."

She sighs and shakes her head a fraction. "Thanks for trying, but you don't have to make me feel better. I'd just feel too guilty if I did."

"All right. We can just sit here and not say anything."

For roughly half an hour neither of them talk, and Carrie almost starts feeling like the pressure in her head eases up. She can't deal with feeling guilty nor feeling innocent, so she resorts to sit somewhere on the line between the two.

The noise buzzing in the back of her head eventually lowers a few notches, and while it doesn't disappear, it's enough for her to feel like she can head back home. The clock on the wall shows four in the morning, which doesn't give her a lot of time before having to head back to work. So she reluctantly pushes herself off the bar stool and walks towards the exit.

"I guess I'll see you at the briefing in a few hours" she tells Quinn once they're outside.

"Maybe you should stay home today."

"It'll be fine" she says, but her voice is weak. "I'll be fine" she repeats, trying to sound more confident. "Besides, we still have plenty of things to do at work today."

He doesn't say anything, but his concerned stare says it all. And the look makes her feel both annoyed and a bit guilty.

"You don't have to be worried about this, I told you I'll be fine."

Quinn just nods.

"I'll try and get some sleep. I mean I will. I did the right thing." She then adds a little weaker, "Didn't I?"

Her eyes suddenly start tearing up and Carrie hates the fact that she can't stop it. What's worse, it just keeps amplifying. She tucks her hair behind her ear and takes a few deep breaths, but it's not working. Her vision is clouding and the next thing she knows, Quinn leans over and gives her a reluctant hug.

"I'm fine" she says, but he doesn't let go.

"I know."

"I really am" Carrie says, watching as tears start falling on his shirt.

She can tell that he's not used to comforting people but then again she's not used to letting people comfort her. And the whole situation feels like it's been sprung out of nowhere and it makes no sense. Because she's tougher than this. She's been through much worse, and she can't understand why this incident is the one to make her break down.

But, for the moment, Carrie just tries to get through the feeling of guilt and exhaustion and wonders if maybe Quinn is right. That waiting really is the only thing that will make her feel better.