4.12.3
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Quinn tries just to drive, not think. There's a solid mass of anxiety in his chest and it's nothing he's ever experienced before. Full confidence, it's how he's always operated. Solid in his abilities, his emotions, his convictions. And now he's anything but. Questions who he is, what it means that he's here now with Carrie looking at him like he's an abused dog.
He thinks maybe he's not ready for this, that it's too much too soon. Life, without the constant threat of death. Where people have the time and energy to go to funerals, wakes. To talk together, to support one another.
Quinn wants to be there for her. It was the only reason he came back. But now he questions it all again - if he can do it, be the guy she can rely on, if she even wants him around. Because he suddenly feels damaged, knows his head isn't quite straight yet. Which again is pretty fucking obvious if he can't contain a flashback, if he's telling Carrie things that were meant to stay in his mind.
And he thinks she'll be busy when they get there, that he's not sure he can stand around making small talk with strangers. Quinn considers retreating, then thinks sitting around alone in an empty room isn't exactly inviting either. But he would still have the whisky he brought along, and it would be so easy just to hide away from life for another night.
So when they get to Maggie's he pulls up in front, doesn't look for a parking spot. Wonders if Carrie will let him off easy - like that's ever happened, he thinks.
It takes her a moment to figure out his meaning and then she turns to frown at him, give him a dirty look.
"Didn't I say you were coming with me?" she asks with an impatient edge.
Quinn turns to make eye contact, tries to convey his discomfort without words. He does and he doesn't want to go in there, play at normalcy, pretend like they're both alright.
"Since when have you been shy, Quinn?" Carrie says, and he can tell she's trying her best to needle him lightly, walk around his tender spots.
And what she says is true, he's never been one to worry about what others think of him - it's what comes with full confidence. And it's not like he particularly gives a shit whether people think he's a moody asshole because Carrie already knows and he doesn't give a shit about any one else. But Quinn doesn't want to be the sadsack sitting alone in the corner or the awkward acquaintance that she feels obligated to take care of.
"I'm not sure I should be around people yet," he finally replies, thinking she will know what he means. "And it's a family thing. You don't need me around."
Carrie gives him a slightly concerned look and he thinks that alone will take some time to get used to. Carrie Mathison, worried about him. Would wonders never cease.
"Don't tell me what I need," she replies with just the hint of an edge. And he thinks that this is better, because he's used to her being pissed off and it's easier to accept than her concern.
"I've already kept you long enough," he says in his best dismissive tone. "You go, apologize to your sister for me. I'll call you later."
Quinn thinks he may have gotten away with it when Carrie gives him an irritated look. But then she doesn't make any move to leave the vehicle and he sighs internally, wonders why she's making this so difficult.
"What, Quinn - you have a girlfriend waiting?" she snaps and he's immediately taken aback, feels the barb in his sternum, a poison arrow to the heart.
He doesn't have the time to process why he's so pissed off, just feels the instant stab stab of anger and is instantly transported back in time again, feels his emotions start to shut down.
Fucking Carrie, he thinks. She gets me every fucking time.
And now she's looking at him with an unreadable expression, oscillating somewhere between annoyance and something else. Which just makes him think that he was right in the first place, that he should have just said hi, look I'm alive and then ran for it.
"Jesus, Quinn," she finally says. "It was just a joke."
Right. A joke, he thinks. Vaguely he realizes he's overreacting but it's hard to reel his emotions back in when they've so completely escaped their bonds.
He tries to avoid looking at her, thinks the car ride has, of course, gone as poorly as possible. Wonders why she won't just let him escape, write the whole thing off. Thinks if he just sits double-parked long enough she'll get out eventually.
"Quinn," Carrie says. "Will you fucking look at me?"
He tries not to but gives in after a moment. Not like he's ever been able to refuse her, even when she's inadvertently crushing his heart.
But this time Carrie doesn't look pissed off, in fact he thinks she looks somewhat apologetic, anxious. And he thinks fuck, that's not helping anything. Because it's easy when she's angry at him, familiar. This Carrie - caring, concerned - it's not something he's comfortable with yet.
"Park the vehicle," she insists. "I'm not going in there without you."
And Quinn knows she's not bluffing, gets the feeling that she really does want him along. So he tells himself to stop being so fucking sensitive, scared. That he's right where he wants to be and it's no time for running.
He considers refusing, then realizes it would be pointless. So he just sighs his defeat and starts the truck, finds a parking space up the block.
Then when he's finally parked, Quinn looks over at Carrie, catches her giving him an appraising eye.
Still worried about what she might be seeing, he furrows his brow, gives her a dark look.
"Stop looking at me like that," he grumbles.
But to his surprise, Carrie smiles, puts her hand back over his.
"Then stop being so sweet, Quinn," she admonishes with a piercing gaze.
And he thinks that's not a word she uses. And that only Carrie would accuse him of being sweet when he's trying his best to be a dick. And that there's something both incredible and terrifying in the fact that she's looked beneath the surface and hasn't sent him on his way.
Quinn's so startled that she actually laughs a bit at him before getting out of the truck and then coming around to his side and pulling him out too.
Halfway to her sister's place he notices that his arm has somehow found her waist, that she's leaning against it almost imperceptibly.
"I don't do sweet," he mutters into her ear, hears her huff back a laugh, sees her smile widen.
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Quinn," Carrie replies with a spark in her eye. "You've been too good to me this whole time. You think I'd let that slide?"
And finally Quinn feels the inner wall break down, feels the anxiety loosen up in his throat, almost laughs at her turn of phrase. No, of course she would never let that slide - being nice to Carrie never brought anything but derision and maltreatment, even before they both slid down the dark well of PTSD.
Which was, of course, the essence of Carrie-ness. Deflecting any happiness away while absorbing all the problems, all the pain. But fuck, if it wasn't exactly that, the exasperating Carrie-ness of her that sucked him in, drew him to her, made him do things for her that were out of character. Things some would say were sweet.
And then suddenly Quinn's glad to be out of the car, walking with her to her father's wake. And he thinks maybe it's okay to be wanted, needed - that he can manage it, at least for now. Because he's with Carrie and she actually seems to want him around. Which is an opportunity he can scarcely afford to run from.
"No, I expect full retribution," he says grimly, with only the hint of a smile.
Carrie smiles again at that, lingers a moment longer than necessary at the door to give him the appraising look again. He thinks she's about to make a barbed comment, warn him not to be himself.
"Come in, Quinn," she finally says, opening the door. "I'm really glad you're here."
And Quinn thinks, oh. shit.
Because he's glad too.
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Carrie opens the door, looks back at Quinn. Thinks he looks better, has regained some more colour after losing it all in the truck.
She sighs to herself, relieved to have finally gotten him out of the vehicle. For a moment she thought she had really blown it with the little girlfriend barb - had gotten a stronger reaction than she expected. But she had never known Quinn to be so sensitive, though now that she thinks about it Carrie finally realizes why he was so testy with her about the whole Aayan situation. Back then she had seen it as him questioning her methods, moralizing about things that didn't need thinking about, that just needed to be done. And she knows there was some of that, that he didn't agree with how far she went to obtain information. But this other thing, she'd been completely blind to it back then.
And now Carrie realizes that Quinn didn't bring home his emotional armour, shod it like dead skin in the aftermath of Islamabad. He still has that sharp edge, the live wire in his eyes. But there's a vulnerability to him too and now she sees it's been there all along. He just did his best to keep it hidden and she was too self-centred to ever consider it before.
But now he's here, safe, alive. And she's not going to let him run, meant it when she told him she wasn't going to let all slide, that there was payback to be had for all the times she'd used him, ignored him, hurt him.
So Carrie brings him inside, takes his coat, leads him over to the couch and sits him down.
"I'll be back in a minute," she says, trying to assess his anxiety level. Which again makes her realize how new this is, thinking about Quinn in this way, worrying about him instead of being pissed at him.
She walks off, thinks he looks a bit tense, feels him follow her with his eyes as she finds Maggie and makes up some implausible excuse for being late before taking Frannie from her.
Frannie's seems a bit mystified at all the action, waves her arms towards various people as they walk by and Carrie smiles as friends and relatives stop to pinch her cheeks, play a round of peek-a-boo.
When she finally makes it back towards the couch, she sees Quinn making small talk with a woman she doesn't recognize. And of course the woman is young and attractive so Carrie watches for a moment from behind the wall, wants to see how the situation unfolds.
The woman does most of the talking and Quinn is being polite but keeps breaking eye contact to look around. Carrie thinks it's habit, knows she does it too - always maintaining vigilance even at home, looking for escape routes just in case a disaster strikes. But this time she wonders if he's just nervous in this space, full of average civilians trying to chat him up.
Carrie tries to see Quinn through the eyes of this woman, wonders what she thinks of the darkly quiet guy sitting by himself, eyes flitting about skittishly. Probably that he's fucking hot, and full of mystery.
Which is something she's never fully considered before now - that Quinn is both attractive and intriguing, that anyone would consider him a catch. Carrie supposes she always knew this vaguely but her first encounters with Quinn had only lead her to think of him as typical black ops - secretive and narrow-minded with a shiny outer shell to hide the darkness beneath.
But now she understands what's different, that she's finally seeing the cracks in his exterior, the human underneath. And Carrie realizes she's seen glimpses of it all along, those moments that snuck between the seams of his emotional wall. When she 'escaped' from Nazir, when he came to see her at the hospital, when he took the shot then bandaged her up, when he stopped her from killing Saul. Other times too, she thinks. This is how I know who's under the shell. And why no ignorantly happy soccer mom will ever understand.
Finally Carrie steps away from her spy nest, walks towards him holding Frannie and he notices her right away - she feels his eyes follow her intently as she approaches. When she gets close he stands up and smiles and Carrie sees the woman he'd been talking to eye the two of them up and down, then walk off.
"You alright?" she asks as they sit back down, a spot for her so conveniently vacated.
Quinn stops and thinks about it, then lays out a slow easy smile.
"Yeah," he says with a confident nod. "This is good."
"Good," she replies. "I'm really glad you came."
"As if I had a choice," he says with mock resignation and a sideways look.
Carrie smiles at that, bounces her shoulder lightly off his. Thinks he does look alright, has let life settle in a bit.
They sit like that for awhile, watching Frannie babble between them and she thinks it's strange, letting Quinn in on this part of her life, see her as a mom. Because really she's been pretending it never happened, never talked about it with him.
But now they're laughing because Frannie threw her shoe in his face, gave it everything she had. And Quinn makes some comment to Frannie about trying to not take after her mom, then gives Carrie his best deadpan 'who me?' face.
"I've never thrown a shoe at you," she replies seriously.
Quinn laughs, concedes the point. "But you would," he adds.
Carrie smiles, thinks he's right, she definitely would. And then smiles again because she's never really seen this before. Casual Quinn. Same guy, less fricative power. It's strangely satisfying to see him like this, mostly relaxed, wearing half a smile.
Saul and Mira come over to say hi and Carrie finally thinks to check on Maggie, see if she needs any help. She passes Frannie to Mira who's clearly been waiting for her chance with the baby and looks over at Quinn, double checks he appears alright.
And he looks fine, talking with Saul about something mundane. Carrie thinks it's possible they're discussing soccer results then laughs to herself at the implausibility of it all. That they all made it home, that Quinn knows shit about sports, that they are all together here for her, for her dad. For everything they've lost.
But mostly that he made it, that he came home, came looking for her. After everything they'd been through, all the shit she dragged him into. He's here in her sister's living room drinking a beer, laughing at something her kid did.
So Carrie stops to thank no one in particular for her minor miracle. God, Allah, the patron saint of impulsive CIA operatives, whoever. All she knows is one thing finally went her way after all that shit. And she doesn't want to fuck it up.
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