4.4.3
Carrie's back at the embassy, holed up in her spartan apartment, trying to get his voice out of her head so she can get some fucking sleep.
"Just have my very last polygraph and then I'm out."
"Mostly I just didn't want to live in a bunker and kill people by remote control."
She tells herself she doesn't care, that it's Quinn's fucking problem if he can't deal with his own shit. But it's becoming harder to believe with each passing moment, as she keeps running through their conversation, hearing the darkness in his tone.
And the thing is she knows she can't fix it, that whatever is wrong between them is not something that she is able to deal with. Because every time they talk she ends up feeling defensive, knows he is judging her. And the unfortunate truth is that she still actually cares about his opinion of her, that she values him for much more than his unique skill set.
But telling him this - getting him to understand that she really does appreciate what he's doing for her no matter how pissed off he makes her - seems to be impossible. And that's what's keeping her up, an uncomfortable mix of regret and indignation, the desire to fix things that are probably only broken because she fucked things up yet again.
An image floats through her mind - Quinn stateside, so drunk he's incapacitated. And she can't quite believe that was only a few days ago, that he's now in Islamabad, facing something that's already pushed him to the brink. All of it for her.
She tells herself to remember what it's like when your whole world is in pieces, when the pain in your head tints everything in darkness. When everything you've believed turns out to be a lie.
It's only then that Carrie feels her emotional shield drop for a moment, remembers how it feels to empathize with someone, to actually care about what he's been through.
She thinks how hard it is to be torn in two directions, what it must have taken for him to agree to come back. She knows she wore away at him, that she used his kindness against him. And she knows he shouldn't be there, not the way he's feeling.
So maybe she just has to learn to suffer through his well-meaning bullshit, try and remember that he's only there because she told him she needed him.
And again she hears his voice in her head, remembers what he said to her just before Parvez showed up and ended their conversation.
"Maybe because you need to hear it."
It still stings, makes her shoulders creep towards her ears. Her first reaction is still to ask herself who the fuck is he to tell her what she needs. Because she's still as sure as ever on what she actually needs - to find out why Sandy was murdered, what the ISI has in store for them. The drive to know, to solve the problem, to be at the front line regardless of the cost - that is who she is.
And yet this answer gives her no calm, doesn't let her sleep.
Because she knows he's at the safe house brooding, most likely pissed off at her yet again. And she doesn't want to admit it, even to herself, but it hurts to see him like that, makes her actually want to fix things, maybe even admit her own faults.
#
Carrie walks into the stakeout location, on edge from lack of sleep and the promise of action. The plan had fully been kicked into motion and they should be seeing action from the ISI guy Ghazi soon. Yet that other thing is still weighing on her mind and she knows she's going to have to make the effort, can't have it hanging over her or she won't ever fucking sleep.
"Where's our guy?" she asks, noticing that Quinn deliberately walks to the window and looks out, away from her as she walks in the room.
"Went out for breakfast," Parvez answers. "He's back now, he's on the internet."
"Well, I just got off the phone with Saul," Carrie reports. "Consider the pot stirred. If anything is going to happen it's going to happen today. And soon."
That at least gets Quinn's attention, makes him turn and look at her.
And she tells herself that this is the moment to face up to her fears, admit her need. Forces herself to say it even as a ball of anxiety pushes into her throat, threatens to sabotage her intentions.
"Hey Quinn, can I talk to you for a second?" she asks, mentally telling herself that she can do this, can at least make the attempt.
Quinn doesn't answer, just keeps giving her a steely look that offers no encouragement. But he does approach her, follows as she leads him into the other room.
"About last night," she starts, speaking quietly so Parvez can't hear.
"Forget it," he mutters, obviously trying to deflect, avoid the conversation.
It would be so easy to just let it go, let it drop and pretend that everything's fine between them. But she's pushed herself this far already, knows she will be extremely pissed off at herself if she doesn't follow through.
"No, you didn't want to come back here, I get that now," she says, trying to be as honest as she can.
Quinn doesn't respond, doesn't quite make eye contact either. And she thinks how this is exactly how it always goes, that she never can say the right thing in these types of situations. But she also knows she has to get it out this time, that there won't be another chance at this. So she forces herself to continue, hopes he hears the authenticity in her voice.
"So thanks for coming in spite of that," she finishes. "It means a lot."
Quinn still doesn't say anything and she starts to feel on the spot, unsure if her apology got through to him at all.
"Not to mention we'd be nowhere on this if it wasn't for you," she adds, really trying to play nice, make amends.
"We may still be nowhere," he finally says, his voice gravelly and low.
She feels the hardness in him, knows she's firmly up against his own emotional wall. And she knows he's still pissed off at her, that he's holding onto all his anger, self-recrimination.
Which just makes her anxious again, unsure of where she stands with him. Because it doesn't sound like he's willing to take her apology even though she's doing her best to actually be honest with him, tell him what he means to her.
"You know what I mean," she says, trying to will him into understanding, forgiveness.
But of course Quinn doesn't reply, doesn't change his expression at all. And the dark way he's looking at her just makes her feel nervous again, unsure of where things stand.
"So we good?" she finally asks, already knowing she isn't going to get the truth from him, understanding that this problem between them isn't going to have a quick fix.
Quinn nods but doesn't change his steely eyes.
"Yeah, we're good," he replies unconvincingly, then turns and walks away.
Carrie stares at his back as he creates distance between them, thinks to herself that things don't actually seem good at all. Not that she's surprised he deflected her attempt at apologizing, knows that nothing is that easy in her world. But she had been hoping for a return to the past, where Quinn actually gave a shit about what she thought, back when he didn't obviously hate her guts.
Yet now it's clear to her that he's only there to assuage some personal guilt, that he doesn't want to fix whatever is broken between them. And it hurts her more than she thought possible, touches something in her that she thought was fully closed off. Leaves her standing there, as alone as she's ever felt.
######
Quinn's lying down, head and gut still roiling from his earlier conversation with Carrie. He replays it in his mind over and over, reminds himself to stay strong each time, that she's just saying words she doesn't mean.
The shittiest part is that he wants to believe her, wants things to be good between them again. But he knows it's impossible, that she doesn't give a shit about anyone, anything other than herself and the mission. And he's done with being played by her, tells himself not to fall for it when she acts at being human, pretends to have a heart.
Yet he still finds himself at the tipping point of love and hate, can't quite convince himself that he should just give up. Feels the slow burn of his mixed emotions as he lies there pretending not to watch her.
Is lost in his seemingly endless conundrum when she calls his name, snaps him to attention.
"Quinn," she snaps. "Target's getting a call."
He grabs his gun, gets up to take a look.
"Khadir," he says, letting the tech guy know that the action is starting.
Quinn leans in next to Carrie, watches as their target answers his phone, then hangs up after a short conversation.
"Quinn, what did he say?" Carrie asks.
"His laundry's ready for pickup," he replies, eyes still on the screen.
Immediately Ghazi starts taking apart his cell phone and Quinn quickly realizes the call was an exit code, that their target is about to run. Of course Carrie gets it too, snaps to action right away.
"He's killing his comms," she says. "That was an exit code. Who is the caller?"
Quinn looks at the computer, is only mildly surprised to see that the trace function isn't working.
"We're not getting it," he says.
"Quinn!" Carrie exclaims, as if it's his fault. Reminds him exactly how irritating it is to work with her and her unreasonable demands.
"Nothing, no trace," he replies sharply.
"What? How is that even possible?" Carrie asks, clearly starting to get worked up.
"He's running," Parvez adds, making them turn their attention back to the screen.
Ghazi is clearly on the move and Carrie starts swearing, gets up from the table and paces a couple steps.
Quinn is mentally swearing as well, knows that they are about to lose their only lead. They pushed this guy into action and now it's all happening too fast - they have no way to safely and securely detain the ISI operative.
He's trying to come up with alternatives, a way to follow Ghazi without letting him know he's being watched when Carrie loses all sense, goes off on one of her insane tangents.
"We have to take him," she says seriously.
If it wasn't Carrie, he would have just considered it a bad joke. They don't have the manpower to take Ghazi now that he's in flight mode, on the lookout for an attack.
"What?" he asks, momentarily stunned.
"We take him now," she replies, as if it isn't basically a suicide mission. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he fires back, hoping beyond hope that she hasn't completely lost it, still has some sense left in her.
But of course Carrie looks at him like he's the crazy one, doesn't deter from her course at all.
"We don't have a choice. He walks out that door, out walks our only chance to connect the ISI to Sandy's murder," she states firmly, as if that's the only point to consider.
Instantly Quinn remembers how it can get with her when she's determined, how all sense and logic are deflected by her focus. He pictures her walking out of the van into the motel parking lot, remembers the terror in his gut as he pulled the trigger.
"It's way too dangerous," he argues even though he knows she won't listen.
"What, he's one guy. There's four of us," she says, as if he's a spineless idiot.
"He's a trained hood that knows he just got made," Quinn replies testily.
He tries to focus on the present, wills himself to stop imagining Carrie storming out after Ghazi, getting caught in the crossfire as the ISI operative shoots his way out of his situation. He knows he's being overly sensitive, that if it wasn't Carrie demanding the action he would think about it differently. But he didn't come back to let her die doing something stupid, no matter how pissed off she gets.
"We can do it," she continues, as if his objections mean nothing, hold no sway.
"Not without somebody getting hurt," he replies, giving her a dark, serious look.
Carrie glares at him for a split second and Quinn knows everything's about to go to shit. She has that look in her eye, the body language that says she's not going to stop without a fight.
"Alright fine, we'll do it without you," she says, grabbing her bag. "Parvez, Khadir, come on."
At that moment Quinn thinks it's possible she was put on the planet solely to infuriate him, make him insane. Because he can't let her do this, put her life on the line. Even if he has to physically restrain her, fucking handcuff her to the wall. He will not stand by and watch as she does something stupid, gets hurt or killed doing it.
Carrie storms by him and he reacts automatically, grabs her arm hard, spins her around.
"No," he states firmly.
"Get your hands off me!" she shouts at him, her eyes fully ablaze.
"For all you know he's got back up on the way!" he yells right back.
"Back up?" she fires back. "Did you hear one word about back up on that call?"
He stares at her, unsure how any human can make him react so strongly. And he thinks no, there was no word about back up. But there is no fucking way he is going to let her take the risk, knows that losing Ghazi to the wind is a price he's more than willing to pay to ensure Carrie's continued safety.
Quinn's heart is hammering in his ears as he stares at her, his personal cross to bear. He barely hears Parvez say that Fara's on the line, can only focus on the fire in Carrie's eyes, wonder if he's going to have to physically prevent her from leaving.
Carrie tries to put off the call but Parvez tells her it's urgent and Quinn can see rational thought pushing into her mind again, distracting her just slightly from her single-minded determination to do something stupid.
Finally she looks away from him, puts on the headset and immediately tells Fara that she can't talk.
But whatever Fara says must really be urgent because Carrie's body language shifts immediately and Quinn can tell she's already changed course, that her anger has turned into something else.
"But that's impossible," Carrie says, sounding extremely confused. "He was killed in the airstrike."
Quinn wonders what she could possibly be talking about but is more immediately relieved that she no longer seems interested in trying to single-handedly capture an armed ISI hood.
"He was with Aayan?" Carrie asks, still sounding completely lost as she turns, gives him a funny look.
Quinn realizes he's less tense too, that he's no longer about to leap down Carrie's throat now that she's not determined to get them all killed. He watches as she goes to her computer, clicks on a video, freezes it on a frame.
"Is that Haqqani?" he asks in total confusion.
"Yeah," she replies, just louder than a whisper.
And now, as usual, he's already completely let go of his frustration, his anger at her. Is so stunned at what the video is showing that he can't quite wrap his head around what it could mean.
"But we killed him," he says dumbly. "The Taliban said we killed him."
Carrie doesn't reply to him, finishes up on the phone with Fara instead, tells her that she did a good job. Only then does she turn around, a look of wonder on her face.
"What the fuck, Carrie?" he asks, their previous animosity completely put aside again.
"Tell me what you're thinking right now," she demands.
Quinn makes himself think, pushes past the initial shock of everything being thrown up in the air, all their supposed facts being tossed out the window. Realizes that this could be the piece that made it all fit, that killing Sandy was just a small part of a much larger plot.
"That Sandy's death actually makes sense for the first time," he says.
Of course Carrie catches on immediately as well, sorts it out in her head faster than he can think.
"He was killed in order to protect Haqqani," she states. "Who either survived the air strike or wasn't there in the first place."
"He wasn't there," Quinn mutters, still trying to wrap his head around it all.
"They played us from the very beginning," Carrie replies, thinking out loud.
"But why do any of it?" he asks.
"Because that's when we stop tracking terrorists. When we think they're dead." she says sensibly.
And it does make sense, in a fucked up kind of way. All except one thing.
"I get why the Taliban wants us to think that but why the ISI?" Quinn asks.
For once Carrie has no answer, just looks at him and nods.
"That's a great fucking question," she says seriously.
Quinn takes a breath, tries to consolidate everything that's happened in the past five minutes. Looks at Carrie, remembers how mad he was at her just moments ago, thinks how relieved he is to be standing with her now, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
She keeps looking at him for another minute then grabs her bag, stands up.
"I need to get to the office," she says, already on the move.
By reflex he grabs her again, isn't aware of any conscious thought that makes him grasp her arm as she walks away. And of course Carrie reacts just the same, gives him a pissed off look as she tries to shake loose.
This time, however, Quinn has no idea what to say, doesn't have a rational explanation for having stopped her. He just knows he wants to feel her proximity, that there's things he needs to say before he lets her go.
"What the fuck, Quinn?" she snaps.
Yeah, what the fuck, he thinks to himself. Knows he has nothing to say that she will give a shit about, yet can't resist the urge.
"Please be careful, Carrie," he finally says, unable to come up with anything that sounds less idiotic.
And he knows she's just going to be more annoyed with him, that telling Carrie what to do can only lead to disaster. But it's like a fucking tic, it just comes out of him and there's no controlling it.
To his surprise, Carrie doesn't pull her arm away immediately, actually stops to look at him appraisingly instead of just walking away, flipping him off.
She seems irritated but not angry, gives him an impatient look.
"Thanks. For trying," she finally says grudgingly.
With that she walks off and he lets her go, yet again completely surprised.