A/N: Carrie and Quinn don't exactly have the easiest transition when they arrive in Berlin. They both run into people from there past.

"Mr. Berenson, I have-"

"I see him. Let him in," Saul relays to his assistant, and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Dar glides in, looking ready to unleash his anger.

"Look, before you-" Saul begins.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Saul?" Dar hisses.

"Do you think I wanted this?" Saul counters.

"You let it happen. You tell me."

"I couldn't stop it. Nothing I could do."

"Of course you could, you're the head of the fucking CIA. Now he's off playing house with Mathison in Berlin."

"He left your group. Did you expect him to show up in your office this morning?"

"You seem to be missing my point here. How long was that going to last? That union was going no where, still won't. He would've came back - and soon enough. Now he's distracted with his little assignment you gave him. Way to fuck it all up Saul."

"They're married," Saul mutters quietly. "Can you fucking believe it?"

"Excuse me?" Dar is sure he's heard wrong.

"She wrote up her own fucking paperwork and I didn't look at it. I signed it. You're right it's my fault."

"Un-fucking believable. Get him back here, right now."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because now that he's there, I can probably use him."

"I need him more."

"Why?"

"He's mine. Always has been always will."

As angry as Saul is, he knows they have something. They're born hunters just taking on their next prey. It's the variables that make him weary. Those two weren't designed for domestic life. That they'll let their guard down and lose the instinct for good. But they're there now and he needs something substantial to get some points on the board or else he risks the chance of fucking this up all over again. He needs a check in the winners column and soon.

"What exactly do you need with Quinn? You're group is full of capable men?" Saul is curious.

"He's a once in a lifetime. The best I've got. And you turned him into some worthless analyst." Dar has plans with Quinn. He needs him on the next border in a weeks time. "This conversation is far from over Saul!"

Dar storms out quickly and Saul's not sure when he'll be back. Saul still can't believe what they'd done to get their way either and at this point he doesn't care if she ends up hurt. Maybe her surprise in Berlin will be a wake up call that he's not exactly thrilled.

"This is it?" She asks looking around the tiny apartment. "This had to have been Saul!"

"Well it's got a nice view," Quinn says, peering through the blinds at the city.

Carrie continues to scope out the apartment as if a second bedroom will magically appear.

"This is bullshit!" She shouts

"We'll live Carrie," he tells her. The closet is big enough for him to live in.

It's actually funny for him to see her get heated over something so simple. The last time they'd arrived at a station, she was all business - walked straight in with blood on her face after watching Sandy being brutally murdered in front of her. Today she walked in immediately needing to know where she'd be living- and not for her, because it's not just her that she has to be worried about now.

She folds her arms with a sour look on her face. "Well I won't."

"Carrie, I'm sure we can fix this," he brushes her shoulder.

"It's not that."

"What's wrong?"

"I left my dog. I miss that little fucker already," she says, though her eyes are entirely glued to her finger. It wasn't even a ring he'd given her, just one she had , and he definitely didn't ask where she got it. He bought his at a local pawn shop in D.C. and he's not even sure if it's real or not.

"You don't have to wear it - if you don't want to," he says cautiously.

She stares at it a bit longer and comes up with a solution. "You're right. Here put your's in here. We don't want to lose them."

"You okay?" He asks as she stashes them away.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." She snaps out of it and her mode begins. "She's sleeping on the bed. I'll be back," she heads for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find someone to fix this. Don't unpack a thing!"

"It's not going to work. I need a bigger apartment. There must have been a mistake. I brought-"

"Excuse me," a woman says, interrupting Carrie's conversation with the housing director. "Do you mind coming with me?"

"Well," Carrie's slightly annoyed, "I'm a little busy here and I don't even know who you are."

"Well if you come with me, I can assure you that I can fix your little 'housing problem'," she gives a little attitude, but her offer has outweighed all.

"Thank you. I tried to tell them-"

"Just walk," she cuts up Carrie once more.

"Oooo-kay" Carrie says. This woman's tone is confusing - rude actually.

They get to her office after an awkward stroll of silence. As long as she can change her living situation, she doesn't care and will never have to see this woman again.

Carrie's cordial, taking the seat that's offered, but the woman continues to stand.

"So," Carrie remains seated waiting to resolve things, "My name is-"

Cecile stares out the window, not making eye contact at this point. "I know who you are. I read your file."

"Oh good then you know that-"

Cecile turns. "Well I didn't get that far. I only skimmed over the first few lines. All I needed."

"I'm sorry?" Carrie cocks her head now that she's slightly agitated, "Did I do anything wrong here?"

"This has never happened before you know, someone just showing up like this."

"I know. I know," Carrie understands her frustration to an extent, and begins to explain herself. Cecile's not willing to let her talk though.

"It's your first time overseas, isn't it?" Cecile says like she's speaking to a child.

Carrie chuckles and she takes it as a yes. "You uh- sure you read it? Like at all?"

Cecile embraces the encouragement and continues. "I'll take a stab at."

"By all means," Carrie crosses her arms waiting for a show.

"You somehow snuck through the doors of Langley. You've been an analyst for say... twelve years. You never actually actively worked a case - your nails look pretty clean. You'd been in your own little safe world behind Langley's walls. We don't do that here," she points to herself. "I don't do that here."

Carrie knows she has more in her, waiting for more. "I understand."

"You made a boo-boo didn't you? That's why the director sent you here. That's why he had to beg me to take on another case officer in my already crowded - already established - perfect station."

Carrie shakes her head grinning, not believing what she's hearing. People are far more territorial when the station is not a complete hell hole.

"I'm spot on aren't I? I can keep going."

"Sure," Carrie's loving this.

"Okay let's see. Your single; live with a roommate in an apartment downtown D.C. - close to the clubs; you're having an affair with a congressman; you blow your salary on frivolous things; all the while not really giving a shit about what you're actually doing?"

Carrie has stopped laughing now, mostly because she's about to have the last laugh. An ounce of laughter now would just be insulting.

"Well you got my name right." Though she doesn't mention the part with a congressman. That part was mostly true.

The door flies open and Cecile's not exactly compliant with the entry. The man pays no attention to Cecile and focuses entirely on Carrie.

"I'm in the middle of something Rudy," Cecile says.

"This will just take a minute."

"McCoy?" Carrie just notices who he is.

"It's been a long time Mathison."

Carrie abandon's her seat to give him a hug. "Jesus I haven't seen you since Beruit."

"Yeah, I came here right after. How've you been? How's Saul?"

"Director Berenson?" Cecile interjects.

"He personally recruited her, I'm pretty sure they're on a first name basis. You've got the heir to the throne right here," he gloats.

Cecile flustered, cheeks turning bright red.

"I'm good," Carrie answers his previous question. "Saul's uh- great too."

"That's good... and I heard you got Nazir after the shit show in Beruit. Great work Mathison."

"It's good to hear it from you Rudy. I couldn't have done it without you."

They hug once more and he waves to Cecile, not giving her a shred more of attention.

Cecile closes her eyes as the door shuts, utterly embarrassed with her seemingly accurate assumptions. "I'll look at your file," is all she says.

"Thank you," Carrie excuses herself.

Saul had literally told that woman nothing. Not a damn thing, and it's only stalling her from getting back to work. She then tries to remember if she ever sounded like that. Of course not without a good reason though.

Quinn looks over his shoulder at every street corner, he knows they may be looking for him. It was never going to stop for him. He just might be a target until the day he dies, but he doesn't want that. Even if it was years from now, they still might be looking for him. The only way is to get them and not miss a single one.

He's procedural no matter where he goes, but he's been here before. Searching his landmarks, he finds his stashed weapons, a separate shelter - he still needed his safe house. This was more like a storage locker, but it'll work just fine of he needs it. He's not sure who's still operating, who's around, or even alive. He's got more off book sleeper agents in this city than some acquire in a lifetime. They know Quinn's reliable - always has been.

Quinn's shadow lurks on the other side of the diner window where he sees him. He knew exactly where he'd be at this moment. Their last mission had been successful, failure never an option.

"Sit," the man says. "What brings you here?" He says with a thick accent.

"You know, just stuff."

"I know your kind of stuff," he sips his coffee. "What do you want?"

"A coffee," Quinn says.

"You know what I mean." He snaps his fingers for Quinn's coffee.

"I can't find her John," Quinn says.

Quinn only has to read his face to know what he's going to say.

"I haven't seen her... in a long time"

"Yeah," Quinn puts his head down for a second, then gets up to leave. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime. Will you be around John?" John asks to Quinn.

That's what they all called each other here, just John.

"Hopefully."

His feet become increasingly heavy as he walks through the crater like puddles. The weight of his actions catching up to him too. Another one gone because of that murderous bastard. Human slime that the CIA is catering to. Quinn's angry at himself everyday for missing the shot, the one shot that counted. His pulse flows like a raging river all over again and he almost forgets where he's headed - back to Carrie.