Harry Lime: Nobody thinks in terms of human beings. Governments don't. Why should we? They talk about the people and the proletariat, I talk about the suckers and the mugs - it's the same thing. They have their five-year plans, so have I.

Martins: You used to believe in God.

Harry Lime: Oh, I still do believe in God, old man. I believe in God and Mercy and all that. But the dead are happier dead. They don't miss much here, poor devils.

- The Third Man (1949)

March 2017

Berlin, Germany

It was Monday morning, and Carrie was getting dressed. It turned out that neither Carrie nor Quinn had considered what would happen when Carrie had to go back to work, and Anna would show up to look after Franny.

"Oh, boy," Carrie said, her brow furrowed as she pulled on her khakis. "This will be weird. I'm sure she talked to Markus."

"Am I going to be in the way?" Quinn asked. He didn't seem enthusiastic about spending the day with the nanny in the first place, and to find out that Markus had been one of her favorite people, well, now it was even more uncomfortable.

"No, not at all," Carrie insisted. "You're my guest."

"OK," Quinn said. "But I'm not going to be at the apartment under her feet all day. I'm going to go out, see things," he said. He hoped some free time in the city would continue to clear his head. "I can walk you to work every day. And back home," he offered.

"I'd like that. But Quinn, I'm worried about you. You need to rest," she said. I know it better than you do, she thought. He slept so long and hard on Sunday night that she had a hard time waking him.

"That's true. And if I really need to, I still have the key to the flat across the street. I can use it to crash if I want to," he pointed out.

"That's handy. You should do that," Carrie said. "And later, if you're feeling up to it, maybe you'd like to spend a day or two with Franny. Alone," she said, just to be clear.

Quinn gulped. He was no babysitter. "I'm not sure. Maybe," he said. "Maybe part of a day." Maybe if he was lucky, he'd time it right. The kid used the potty, but he wasn't much of one for wiping bottoms.

Carrie seemed to get it. She smiled. "OK. Anna and Franny have their routine, anyway. And the kid likes it. You can walk me to work."

At 7:45 on the dot, the door opened, and Anna poked her head in. She looked apprehensive at first, but then saw Carrie with her coffee mug, and smiled.

"Morgen," she called. "Hallo, Franny," she said to the child, as Franny got up and wobbled to her, uttering a string of works in German and English, and giggling excitedly.

"Javol," Anna laughed, and dropped her bags. She gave Franny a hug, and then looked more dubiously at Peter, who stood.

"This is Peter Quinn. He's an old friend," Carrie said. "Quinn, this is Anna Lauber,"

"Pleased to meet you," Anna said, with a tone of voice that indicated that quite the opposite was true.

"Pleased to meet you," Quinn said, gravely offering his hand. Anna shook it, somewhat reluctantly.

"I'll just wait downstairs." Peter excused himself and started down the hall.

"That is the man," Anna said, seeming a bit overexcited. "Markus said you had a crazy man here."

Carrie frowned. "He called you, huh." Anna had the good manners to look a bit ashamed.

"Well, that's just not so. I used to work with Quinn, I've known him for years," Carrie said, defensively.

"Markus said he was an assassin," Anna said nervously.

"Oh, no," Carrie said. "Not assassin. Markus must have misunderstood the word, or something. Quinn said 'analyst'. He's an analyst, he looks at data. The way I do," she lied smoothly. "He'll be here all month, in and out. So please, make him feel welcome, ok?"

"Oh," Anna said, seemingly mollified, and a bit put out that the gossip value of the situation had gone down.

Carrie sensed something else was needed to charm the nanny. She didn't want any ruffled feathers on either side.

"If you must know," Carrie said. "Mr. Quinn has just returned from a war zone. So he's something of a Kriegsveteran. A war veteran. Okay? He's using this time to recover. He doesn't like to talk about it," she finished, in a confidential tone.

"I see," Anna said. "Well, he could…"

"…do with some building up, yeah," Carrie finished in unison with Anna. They laughed together, and then it was alright. Carrie got Anna and Franny sorted out with the day's snacks and chores. Then, Carrie pushed off for work with a quick smooch on Franny's cheek.

Quinn stood on the sidewalk, hat in hand. When did he take to wearing hats with brims, she wondered? On this trip, on some other? It suited him. He fit in, a European gentleman. He held his left arm towards Carrie, and she took it. Gun hand free, of course. She wondered if he was packing, and figured he probably was. They started off towards the U-Bahn station at a brisk pace.

"Everything ok?" Quinn asked. He had sensed the trepidation that Anna had been feeling.

"Yeah, it's fine," Carrie said, with a wry smile. "She thinks you're a killer. No problem."

Quinn gave an inscrutable smile. "I'll try not to disappoint," he said.

"You better be careful, Quinn," she said. "German gun laws are pretty strict. And if you wanted to apply for a gun license, you'd have to pass a psych exam." She looked askance at Quinn, hoping he'd take the message.

Quinn snorted. "No point in even applying, then," he said. "I'm clearly a maniac."

Carrie smiled to herself, but at the same time, her stomach fell. There was more truth to that statement than she would like. Quinn needed to heal. And he was in need of some big adjustments in perspective, if he'd ever want to return to anything like normal life. She hoped the time together, and their bond, would help him see that.

Carrie's workday seemed to drag. She wondered what Quinn was up to, and as 2:00 PM approached, she starting clock-watching. When she walked out of the front door at 4:30 PM, he was standing across the street, leaning against a light pole, looking intently at her.

"Hey," she said casually, as if she wasn't excited to see him. "How was your day?"

"It was good. Had a pub lunch. Went to see the Brandenburg Gate and the Wall. I've been here before, but never really looked around," he said.

"Nice."

"What do you want to do tonight?" Quinn asked, as they approached the U-bahn station.

Carrie said nothing, just gave him a wicked look.

"Besides that," Quinn said, smiling.

"Have dinner. Put Franny to bed, maybe read her a story," Carrie said. "It's Monday night, Quinn. Normal life. Working people tend to make early nights of it."

He hadn't thought of that. It had been a long time since the schedule he kept was dictated by the day of the week, or the needs of others.

"How about a movie?" he asked.

"I have Netflix," she said. "What are you thinking?"

"Something classic. Maybe a black and white film noir."

"Like? Do tell, Quinn. What's a classic movie?" Markus had been partial to tripe like Beverly Hills Cop 2, and had an unhealthy fixation with the Lethal Weapon movies. Carrie had high hopes that Quinn's taste was better, but then, that wouldn't take much. He hadn't named a film yet, and already she suspected it was.

"I'm thinking Maltese Falcon, the Third Man, something like that," he said.

Carrie sighed, and smiled to herself. "Anything like that sounds good. I'll let you pick,"

Arms around each other's waists, they made their way home.

Nanny Anna had made a fabulous, rich, schnitzel dish and roasted potatoes. She'd given Carrie a raised-eyebrow look as she left, but Carrie gave her a perfectly friendly smile, pretending not to snap in the least to the suggestive look. She knew the truth, of course, that Quinn had come back into her life only after she and Markus had broken it off. And that it really was a continuation of a long-ago love affair that never really got off the ground. But she figured it didn't appear that way to Anna. She hoped it wouldn't alienate the nanny too much, as she really was a nice woman. Really, though, it was none of her business.

After dinner, Quinn sat on the floor and played with Franny. At nearly three years of age, she was becoming quite a thoughtful little chatterbox. She seemed to enjoy pushing toy cars around as much as playing with dolls. Quinn helped Franny built a house of blocks and watched pushed her toy cars into it. Carrie watched from the kitchen. Listening to the quiet conversation between the man and the child, it struck her that he probably hadn't spent time with a kid, any kid, since he last played with Franny at her Dad's wake. Not even his own kid, she thought sadly. That ship had sailed. It was good to see Quinn with a little color in his cheeks, doing some things that weren't centered around death and intrigue.

The movie was over and the credit crawl had started, as Carrie and Quinn snuggled on the couch. Quinn had streamed The Third Man, a fabulous film that he had seen only twice before. They had both been enthralled by the story of the black marketer Harry Lime and his purported death, but Carrie, either from comfort, warmth, exhaustion, or all three, had fallen asleep in Quinn's arms before the end. He had watched the final scene by himself, as the character of Anna Schmidt approaches Holly Martins, the protagonist, then ignores him, and walks past and away without looking back. He shivered. Her heart was broken, he thought. And she'd simply had enough.

He kissed Carrie's head. She didn't stir. Quinn used the remote control to flip over to BBC world service, and for the next hour, watched, raptly taking in the details of the latest conflict in Afghanistan, the uprising and rebellion in Pakistan. The Iranian nuclear crisis. The constant conflict in Somalia with Al-Shabab. He hadn't checked his messages in two days. His iPhone was a hot brick in his pocket. A horrible, suffocating feeling of dread rose up inside him.

Quinn snapped the TV off, and lay there a while in the dark silence, listening to Carrie's even breathing. Eventually, he crawled out from behind her sleeping form, and lifted her gently. He carried her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed as softly as possible. She didn't wake. He wondered what it was like to feel that safe. Her life was so very different now. As he changed and washed up, she stirred.

"Oh, hey," she said. "I missed the end."

"You're better off," Quinn said quietly from the bathroom. "It was a sad ending."