4.3.3
The morning has turned to afternoon but with the blinds tightly drawn it permanently feels like the dead of night, all sense of the outside world effectively shut out.
Now that he's gotten rid of his only human contact it's back to basics. Just him, a bottle, and the videos.
Quinn clicks on yet another link, sees the mob from yet another different angle. And each one is the same in so many ways but he can't stop watching, examining his actions from every angle.
So he still lets Sandy die a hundred times a day, each time as bad as the last, every click another reminder of his mistakes.
Quinn breathes sharply as the new video starts, feels the familiar weight of regret build up in his chest. Watches intently, tries to pick up every nuance of the scene, remember the situation exactly.
And then suddenly he pauses the video, doesn't even really know why. But there was something there, a piece that didn't fit.
Rewinds it, plays it forward slowly. Spots what's wrong, different. A man on the outskirts of the crowd, his hand to his ear, the only person not watching as Sandy gets stomped to death.
Quinn immediately recognizes the body language, thinks to himself that's the stance of a man on an earpiece, then starts to realize the implications of his thought. He focuses in on the man in question but can't quite see what he's talking into. Yet Quinn feels a buzz in his gut, a little life after so much despair.
Clicks through a few more videos, looking for another angle on the mystery man. Finds one from the right viewpoint, sees his target on the video, something in his ear.
Quinn blinks, can't quite believe what he's found. The guy actually does have a fucking comm on. Which can only mean one thing.
The whole thing was staged, put on by the ISI to kill Sandy, blame it on street violence.
"Fuck me," he mutters to himself, realizes this puts a whole new spin on the situation. That whatever Sandy was up to involved the ISI at a high level of clearance; that his little off book spy game got him murdered.
That the new chief of station in Islamabad, there specifically to investigate the circumstances around Sandy's death, would likely be in danger too.
The thought splinters in his chest, sticks painfully to him just like every other thought about her right now.
He's still angry she blamed it all on him, that she couldn't see how much she hurt him with her accusations, her coldness. And of course it hadn't helped that he blamed himself too; that Adal, the CIA, they all fucking jumped on board to pin it all on him.
But now Quinn knows they never had a chance, that Sandy would have ended up dead no matter what he did. And either the ISI just wanted Sandy taken out and decided to let him and Carrie go or he managed to get away while they were preoccupied with their main target. But regardless, Sandy was dead because the ISI wanted him dead.
And with that thought Quinn feels a flood of relief, almost gasps as the tightness in his chest releases for the first time in a week. The worst week of his life.
But of course he's immediately hit by another realization, one that ties him back up in a mash of emotions.
He's going to have to call Carrie.
Because what if the ISI want her dead too?
As much as he's still fucking pissed at her, this is something she needs to know immediately. That the ISI is running this operation, that she's likely in serious danger.
And it's that thought that finally makes him reach for his phone, dial her number.
######
Carrie makes it back to the embassy still in an elevated mood from making solid contact with a significant potential asset. It's the start of the game and she's ready to be player one, find out what the hell is going on.
She enters her apartment, sticks a frozen meal in the microwave, pours herself a generous glass of white. Takes her meds with a mouthful of wine as the microwave chimes. Removes her heated dinner and sits down to yet another late solo meal.
Of course her phone rings the second she sits down to eat and Carrie looks up in annoyance, knows a call at this hour is likely of high significance. Especially if it's coming to her cell, a number that isn't exactly widely distributed.
So she stands up, leaves her dinner behind. Walks over to find her phone in her purse, looks at the incoming number and immediately feels tense, on edge.
Hears his last words to her ring through her head.
'Carrie, here's the thing. It's not about you.'
And then he'd walked away, leaving her alone yet again. After all they'd been through together he just up and ditched when she needed him the most. She'd even tried to tell him so. But clearly he was over it, didn't give a shit about her anymore.
Which was obviously her fault. Well, not so obviously that she knew it then.
And now. Well.
Now she knows why he was so upset, sees her role in his implosion. But it only makes her more defensive, to know that she's mostly the reason he left.
So now Carrie wonders what the hell could bring him to call her after she thought he was done with her forever. Picks up the phone unsure of what's to come.
"Please don't say you pocket-dialed me," she finally says a bit snappishly. Thinking it's the only reason she can come up with for his call, then realizing that thought makes her upset.
"We never had a chance," Quinn says forcefully, out of the blue.
And she has no idea what he's talking about, wonders if he's really gone off deep end.
"What do you mean?" she asks tiredly.
"In the car, with Sandy," Quinn replies, talking a bit fast.
"What makes you say that?" she asks, not sure how to deal with Quinn in this state. "Are you alright?"
Carrie's surprised to feel a tightness in her stomach as she asks the question, didn't realize she was actually worried about him. But it hurt to hear him so agitated, possibly mentally unwell. She knew the symptoms all too well.
"It was pre-meditated, the whole thing from start to finish," he continues. "There was a guy in the crowd with an ear-piece coordinating the whole thing."
And now she feels a breath of relief as she concludes that maybe Quinn's not losing it, that he might be telling her something she needs to know.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"I just sent you the link," he replies. "Go to your computer."
"Hold on," she says, her interest now definitely piqued.
Carrie walks over to her computer, logs in and pulls up Quinn's email, clicks on the link.
"All right, got it," she says into the phone as the video starts playing.
"See the guy on the corner?" Quinn asks.
"Yeah," she replies, still unsure what he's getting at.
"He's wearing a comm, Carrie," Quinn explains.
And right then she sees it to, the guy's hand goes up to his ear and he's definitely talking into an earpiece. Which brings her to exactly the same conclusion Quinn came to. That it was all a set up, that the ISI had put the scene together to off Sandy and blame it on mob violence.
"Jesus, Quinn," she states.
"We never had a chance," he replies. Carrie exhales loudly, unsure of what to make of all this. Realizes that this actually helps in a way, that it's somehow relieved some of Quinn's burden of guilt for the whole thing. But also knows it complicates her own situation as station chief, that her job just got exponentially more dangerous.
The man on the comm turns his face to the camera just for a moment and Carrie freezes the frame.
"You recognize him?" she asks.
"I don't. But he's got to be Pakistani intelligence right?" he says.
"No one else could have pulled something like this off," she replies, agreeing with his assessment.
But then she thinks about it for a moment, realizes this new information doesn't really make a lot of sense. Sandy was leaving the country anyways, why kill him after leaking his picture and forcing him out?
"The question is why," she adds.
"What do you mean?" Quinn asks.
"Well, Sandy was blown. He was already going to have to leave the country. Why kill him?" she replies, confusion mounting in her own mind.
Quinn doesn't answer and her question hangs in the silence between them. She wonders what he's thinking, if he realizes what this means.
If Sandy was killed by the ISI then something huge was in the works - nothing else could justify a foreign intelligence service authorizing the murder of a CIA station chief. And now she's the one in charge of figuring it all out, has put herself in Sandy's shoes, right in the line of fire.
And the real problem is Carrie has no one she can really rely on, doesn't trust anyone at the station. Any of them could have been in on the deal with Sandy and the ISI, there was no telling how far the secrets, the corruption ran. Which is the reasoning behind the second station, just Max and Fara, so she knows no one there is compromised. But Carrie also knows they aren't enough, that she needs someone inside the embassy that she can trust to have her back.
Which means she needs Quinn.
"Quinn," she says, pulling all of her persuasiveness together. She has to convince him to come back, that she really fucking needs him.
"What?" he asks, a bit gruffly.
"This changes everything," she says. "It means I really need you now."
Quinn doesn't reply right away, sighs irritably.
"No, I'm sorry, Carrie," he finally says. "I can't do that."
"I wouldn't ask you if there was somebody else here I could count on," she replies, knowing that she is preying on his weakness but also knowing she's telling the truth.
And again he's silent, doesn't respond.
Come on, Quinn, she mentally projects at him. Be the guy I know you are.
"Don't make me beg," she adds, wondering if he can hear the real desperation creeping into her voice.
"I'm sorry I can't do it," Quinn replies with some force, an edge in his tone.
"Please," Carrie says, realizing she's down to her last chance, that begging is now her only hope. "Please."
"Shit, Carrie," he finally says.
"I know," she replies, trying to let him know she understands where he's at, what she's asking of him.
"You're the hardest person in the world to say no to," he finishes irritably.
She can barely believe what he just said, feels a flicker of hope deep within her internal turmoil.
"Is that a yes?" she asks, a smile slipping across her face.
Again Quinn doesn't reply and Carrie takes a breath, realizes what this means, that she has a chance to figure this all out, that he hasn't straight up abandoned her.
She smiles immediately, is suddenly doused in thankfulness for him, for being the one person she can still rely on.
"God, I fucking love you, Quinn. You know that don't you?" she says completely honestly. Because she really does fucking love him at the moment, feels an intense wave of relief just knowing that he's there for her.
Quinn's silent again for a couple of breaths, finally just mutters 'yeah' before hanging up the phone.
He sounds completely defeated, totally despondent. And part of her feels bad having convinced him, pulled him back into the game.
But the greater part of her is fucking pleased as hell, feels like she's gaining some real traction now with two big wins in one night.
Carrie sits back down at her meal, still hyped on excited energy. Smiles to herself, tells herself she's still got it, that all is not lost.
Because Quinn's coming back, hasn't actually abandoned her. And while he doesn't exactly sound pleased about it, she tells herself it's for the best, that he shouldn't be home alone. Not with Adal trying to fuck him over, playing with his head.
Part of her knows she's lying to herself because it's clear that Quinn is still off-kilter, that coming back could make things worse. But she wants him there, even if it's bad for him, even if it's not at all what he wants.
And Carrie's used to getting what she wants, usually at the expense of others. So she pushes the guilt back, justifies it all to herself.
Eats her tasteless dinner, still a bit giddy from the phone call.
Thinks again that she really does fucking love him at the moment, that nothing else could explain the contentment she feels knowing he's coming back. And it almost surprises her that her emotions are so genuine, that, for once, she wasn't just playing him, using him the way she usually does.
######
"Don't make me beg," she says.
Please don't beg, he thinks. Feels his willpower waning with her every word, the hint of desperation in her voice.
He tells himself she doesn't actually need him, that this is just the same old Carrie bullshit. Getting what she wants, no matter the cost.
"I'm sorry I can't do it," Quinn replies, tries to put some force into his response.
Tries to silently will her to stop arguing, just shut up. Because it still hurts every time she tells him she needs him, every time he says no.
And then there's the traitorous part of him that tells him she's right, that she's in the middle of a deadly situation with no one looking out for her.
"Please," Carrie begs. "Please."
Of course she won't give in, Quinn thinks. It's how she always gets her fucking way.
He's tired just thinking about it, dealing with all of her shit, with who she is. Sits down, tries to gather what strength he has left.
"Shit, Carrie," he finally says. Thinks how it always comes down to this.
Her needs vs his needs. Her health and well-being against his.
And then the ultimate question - why does he even care what happens to her after all that she's done, when it's clear she doesn't give even half a shit about him.
"I know," she says, even though she doesn't know at all.
"You're the hardest person in the world to say no to," he finishes irritably.
And he's said it before he even really realizes it, knows exactly that she will take it as a yes. The worst part is he's almost glad it slipped out, that he's just given in to his fate.
Because she burns in him, in a way he can't seem to extinguish. Though being with her is nearly as painful as being without.
"Is that a yes?" she asks.
And he can almost hear the smile slipping across her face, pictures the sly look she gets when things are falling into place.
Which just makes him feel used, though that's nothing new. But it makes him feel needed too, can tell she's genuinely pleased he's going back.
And that just makes him fucking miserable all over again, angry at himself for falling into it all again, giving into Carrie when he knows he should stay the fuck away.
He doesn't bother to answer because now they both know he will go. Because he can't fucking say no to her, because he still fucking cares. No matter how much he doesn't want to.
And then, out of the blue, she says just about the worst thing possible, exactly what he doesn't want to hear.
"God, I fucking love you, Quinn. You know that don't you?" she says, even sounds honest.
And of course he doesn't know it at all, definitely can't deal with Carrie saying something like that to him right now. Tells himself it's just a fucking thing to say, just another way to manipulate him. Tells himself she doesn't have any idea how to love anyone, anything.
Pretends he's never considered saying those same words to her, had them almost slip off his tongue.
Of course in the end he has nothing to say at all, just mutters 'yeah', hangs up the phone.
Sits there, stares at the wall. Feels completely defeated, utterly spent.
He had tried so fucking hard to resist her pull, to keep himself out. But of course he fucking failed yet again, let the smallest anything pull him back into the life.
Quinn places the phone on the table, still doesn't move. Can't believe what he just did, what just happened.
He realizes he's hollow inside, has nothing left where his humanity should have been. Just empty space that he now fills with regrets.
But it's also just that - she makes him care, makes him experience more than the emptiness. And he's beyond asking himself why, knows that's just an exercise in futility. Has given in to the fact that it's just how it is.
So he sits, stares, feels. There's some anxiety there, definitely some regret. Anger at himself, irritation with Carrie.
Yet in the background there's always the understanding that he's doing this because part of him wants to, wants to be there to protect her.
Quinn hates himself for it but there's nothing to be done. Carrie Mathison is his fucking kryptonite and yet he still can't stay away.
