Disclaimer: I do not own Homeland, or any of its characters or plots. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners.
"Come on, Franny, dad'll be down here any minute now, eat your breakfast. You don't want to be late, do you?" Carrie asked her still sleepy daughter. It was Monday morning and the light sun shone through the big kitchen windows. Both mother and daughter depictured a typical, normal home scene rushing through breakfast on a school day. Seeing them no one could ever guess that the mother had spent most of her professional career as a CIA officer, stationed overseas most of the time, in some of the most dangerous countries in the planet, and that the little girl's biological father had once been the most wanted terrorist on earth.
"No, Mommy," Franny said taking her fork and slowly eating her scrambled eggs. "These are good," she added with a mouthful of food.
"Sweetheart, no speaking with your mouth full, remember?" Carrie automatically said while keeping an eye on the pancakes she had on the stove. During the last two years she had really improved her cooking skills, which was quite easy given that she had none previously, but she still felt clumsy at it sometimes.
"Sorry, Mommy," Franny apologised after swallowing her last bit of eggs.
"That's okay, sweetie. Wanna pancakes, too?"
Franny nodded and Carrie set a plate with one pancake and a glass of milk in front of her. "God, she really is a good eater. And a good sleeper, and such a good kid in everything. How did I get so lucky with her?" she thought to herself, and immediately a question rushed her mind. "Was Brody also good as a kid?"
Carrie's own father used to tell her that she had been reckless as a child. "So she must have gotten it from Brody," she said to herself, like every other time that those thoughts would come to her mind. "That, and the great job Maggie did with her when she was a baby." Carrie had left for Kabul to be CIA station chief right after Franny had been born, leaving her with her father and her sister Maggie. Memories of that time still haunted her and she often questioned how she had been able to leave her baby behind. Fortunately for her, Franny had no recollection at all of that stage of her life and after her last job for the CIA in Islamabad, in which she had faced death, betrayal and destruction, Carrie had left the Agency and started a new life, a "normal" life, like she liked to call it.
"Hey, good morning girls," Carrie's husband greeted when he entered the kitchen. As he passed by his wife, who was still standing retrieving the last pancakes from the stove, he placed his arm around her waist affectionately.
"Mm, pancakes on a working day. What's the occasion?" he asked smiling at her, slightly caressing her smooth skin under the t-shirt she was wearing.
Her husband had played a key role in her helping her change her life while he himself was going through the same process. Also a former CIA operative, his determination to lead a normal life had been the ultimate reason that had brought them together after years of working as a team on the field, on some of the most dangerous countries of the world. During his former career he had been working both for and against Carrie, above and under her command, but neither position had ever dampened the feelings he had started to develop for her since the first time they had been on a case together, which happened to be when he was assigned to lead a survaillance team to observe Franny's father who was a person of interest on a terrorism case at that time.
Carrie smiled back. "You, thanks for last night," she said winking.
"My pleasure, anytime," he replied also with a wink.
They had been trying to have a baby for the last year. Since their efforts had failed to achieve satisfactory results, after a few months they had both had their medical checkups and all the tests came back all right. "There's nothing wrong with any of you. It's just a matter of time," Dr. Smith had kindly told them, warm smile on her face.
Since then, scheduled sex had become a part of their daily routine, and Carrie was concerned it might be taking a toll on their relationship. When they agreed to give it a try and seek a normal life together with Franny, still a baby then, with regular jobs, a house, a mortgage, etc... she was taken aback by the intensity of their intimate encounters. But, when she came to think of it, it was just as if their constant banter had been directly traslated into sex. Plus they were both really passionate in everything they did, why should be sex be any different?
It was not that they did not banter anymore, because they did, as much as when they were just friends and coworkers. That, and the fact that they did not appear to be a regular couple (for instance, they did not use pet names or show any public demonstration of affection), made people around them wonder sometimes if they were really a couple in the full sense of the word, and not just two close friends that had decided to live and raise a family together. These people would have been astonished to know how they behaved once they locked the door to their bedroom.
So after over two years into amazing sex, she found it hard to keep him at arm's length until it was the right time. The night before she had waken him, stick in hand, whispering "Hey, according to the test I'm ovulating now," and he had smiled and pulled her in for a hug, mumbling "Come here", kissing her neck and unbuttoning her night gown. He had made love to her gently and slowly, giving her time to enjoy it despite the rush of the moment, and she had felt both wanted and loved. Not that she had not felt that way almost every day since they had decided to become a family. In fact, that had been a huge surprise when they first got together: he had a romantic side nobody could have imagined, not even Carrie, knowing him as well as she did, and not even himself.
"There's no enough pancakes in the world to thank you'", she thought while she looked at him as he turned around to Franny, who was amusedly watching the interaction between the two adults in the house. Nearly four years old, Franny was a happy and smart girl who had inherited her biological father's looks and her mother's natural intelligence, and would do anything in the world to please her adoptive father, the man that was raising her.
"How are you today, Franny?" he asked the girl while taking a plate with pancakes and sitting on the stool beside her, as Carrie handed him a mug of coffee. "Thanks Carrie," he raised his gaze to look at her again. After years of hiding her feelings for her he still could not believe she had agreed to leave the CIA behind and start a new life with him of all people. And that she had shared her daughter with him, letting him legally adopt her.
"Great dad, you?" she happily said after finishing her pancake, trying to reach her glass of milk, which he took and placed in her small hands.
"Me too, sweetie. Careful there, don't spill your milk," he said thinking that it would not be the first time that they would have to run upstairs to change her clothes from hair to toes. He had pointed out multiple times that it would be more practical to let her have breakfast in pajamas, but Carrie had complained about Franny taking ages to change after breakfast. "It takes her long enough to brush her teeth, you'd be always late if she had to change," she had stated to finish the discussion.
"I won't Dad, don't want Mommy to get mad..." Franny muttered. That comment was just intended for her father, but Carrie also heard it.
While her husband chuckled, Carrie complained. "Franny, I don't get mad. It's just that you're a big girl now and..." But when she heard him mumbling "No, she doesn't," she turned to address him.
"You know what, I give up. You two together are just too much... Yes, Franny, Mommy gets mad sometimes. I'm sorry," she apologized to her daughter. "Now, time to go, wash your hands, brush your teeth and grab your backpack..." she said lifting Franny from the kitchen stool and placing her on the floor. Before running upstairs, the kid and her dad high-fived each other, a big smile on both her faces.
"I'm sorry, Carrie, that was out of line. I'll talk to her on our way to school. I know she's not an adult and she doesn't..." he apologised in a low voice as soon as Franny left the kitchen.
"No, it's all right. I'm sure she gets it by now. She's watched us banter since she was a baby..." she said as she leant on the kitchen counter, tucking her blond hair behind her right ear to keep it away from her face.
"Are you ok?" he asked worried, getting up to bring his plate and mug to the sink, but stopping on his tracks as soon as he noticed her pale face.
"Yes, just tired. This new class is gonna kill me..." she complained drying her hands with a kitchen towel and turning to clear the stove.
He put his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her left shoulder. "Come on, Carrie, not Abu Nazir, not Haqqani, not the Pakistani ISI was able to kill you... I'm sure you'll survive teaching High School History in DC..." he half-joked. Carrie had been on her meds and mentally stable for the last two years, which was something she had not been able to achieve before since she had been diagnosed during her first year in college, but deep inside he was worried her discontent about her job could end up triggering a depressive episode. He took pride in being part of her health wellness and the mere thought that her job could jeopardize that made him sick.
"No, believe me, they're gonna kill me out of fucking boredom... They show so little interest, and they could show some fucking respect, too..." she trailed off leaning back into his body.
"Mon, language!" Fanny exclaimed from the kitchen door, coat and backpack in hand.
"Sorry, sweetie..." No cursing in front of Franny was one the most difficult things they found to adjust to when they started living together. And still sometimes it would slip from their tongues, usually from her. They still cursed when the girl was not around, though.
"You have a good day, Carrie," he said grabbing his phone and his keys, and kissing her cheek. Not for the first time, he thanked the providence (if there was any) and mostly, Dar Adal, for his civilian job. His former boss in the CIA had made sure to provide him with a good job as a security consultant in a multinational company based in Virginia. Unlike Carrie, he was lucky to work doing what he did best (security), and he would be forever grateful to Dar. Who would have thought two years ago!
But while he was happy with his job, Carrie was totally gloomy about hers. He had encouraged her to look for another job but she kept saying that thinking about having a new baby in the family was not the best timing to start looking for a new occupation. Yet time went by and she was more bored and disappointed with the day.
Right after her husband and Franny were gone, her cell phone started ringing. She took it from the kitchen counter and froze as she noticed who the caller was. Saul Berenson, her mentor and former boss in the CIA. She had not talked to him for the last two years. He had been really helpful when she had applied for her final leave in the CIA, she had to give him that, but she could not bring herself to overlook the fact that he had been involved with Dar Adal in negotiations with Haqqani himself.
Taking a deep breath, she let his call go to voice mail after a few tones. When it chimed again, she was about to delete his voice message without hearing it when she noticed a text on her cell screen instead. She was stunned to read it. "Carrie, call me back, will you? It's important. Your country needs you."
"What on hell would he want?" she thought to herself. It was not the first time throughout the years that Saul had reached out to her with the same line. "Carrie, we need you", or even, "Carrie, I need you." But he had never done it again since she had left the CIA for good two years ago, as he was positive there was no going back for her. "So, why now?"
Doing her best to put aside the curiosity that Saul's text had caused in her, she hurried in tidying the kitchen and getting ready for her boring job.
Meanwhile, Saul Berenson made his way into a crowded diner in downtown DC, looked around and sat on a stool beside an old colleague. In the more than thirty years that they had known each other and worked together the world had certainly changed, but their eating routines had not.
"Sam's waffles for breakfast every Monday. You're easy to find," Saul greeted him taking off his winter cap and placing it on the counter.
"Some habits die hard, I guess," Dar Adal said. "But as much pleased as I am to see you I guess you're not here just for the waffles…"
Saul shook his head while he raised his hand to the waitress, pointing to Dar's cup of coffee. "No. I called Carrie, left her a message and hasn't called back so far. And I'm afraid she won't," Saul cut straight to the point.
"That was predictable, Saul. I can't understand the pull that woman has over you, and Quinn. Whenever I think of the best soldier I've ever had under my command playing house with her…" Dar complained.
"My point exactly. Your turn. Call Quinn, Dar. I'm sure he'll take your call and listen to you. Tell him we've tracked down Haqqani and Carrie's the only one can help us get the son of a bitch."