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, Peter, do I really have to spell it? I guess I underestimated how your civilian job is impairing your skills…" Adal trailed off in an amused tone of voice, now evidently satisfied with the course this conversation was taking.
"Cut the crap, Dar. You really expect me to fucking spy on Carrie?" Quinn asked. He was annoyed that his former boss was asking him to do that, but, at the same time, he was beginning to realise he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to protect Carrie. And that was why he had contacted Dar in the first place.
"Ah, spy… what a tiny little meaningful word… It's funny how you use all those terms now that you are retired, never heard you say that when you were working with us… What were you exactly doing then, Peter," Dar chuckled.
"Call it whatever you want… I can't believe you'd think I'd be okay doing that…" Quinn muttered, barely audible over the telephone line, as he tried to come to terms with the idea of actually spying on Carrie for Dar. The mere thought made him sick.
Dar laughed. "Frankly, Peter, I don't give a damn what you think. I expect to have your first report tomorrow. Don't be late."
And, with that, he hung up, leaving Quinn with no option to voice out his objections to his plan. "Could this get any worse?" He was starting to miss those days, just a week ago, when his main concern was that Carrie's job as a US History high school teacher could end up triggering a crisis given how boring she found it. He did not know it back then, but as time went by he would end up regretting that rhetorical question, because things were about to get much worse.
He navigated through the day as best as he could, trying not to think about Dar and his request too much. Luckily for him, he was very good at his job and a distraction like this was not enough to undermine his performance. When he got home that evening, Carrie was waiting for him sitting on the living room couch, reading a book, a bottle of white wine and two glasses on the coffee table. Franny was nowhere to be seen, and the house was quiet.
"Hey. You alone?" Quinn greeted her as he placed his navy blue suit blazer on the back of a chair by the door and walked towards her, undoing his tie. It was certainly strange to find her on the sofa during that time of the day. Usually when he arrived home after work, he would find Carrie and Franny starting dinner, or drawing at the kitchen table, or Franny watching television while Carrie graded exams by her side. Now that he came to think of it, he guessed that was a picture he would not be seeing again anytime soon.
"Hey. Yeah, Franny's having dinner at Maggie's… I thought you could go and pick her up later..." Carrie responded, closing the book, looking at him and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Everything okay?" he asked. Over the years he had come to know very well how to read the signs when Carrie was nervous. And, apparently, she was nervous now. And it seemed that they had something to celebrate. Why would she be waiting for him to arrive home to share a bottle of wine?
She nodded, not knowing how to tell him that she wanted to commit more time to work. She had a feeling he would not take it well. "Yeah, I just thought we could use some alone time…"
Quinn raised his eyebrows at her comment. "Alone time? Before dinner? Really?" he chuckled. "Not that I'm complaining…" he added.
"To talk," she quickly clarified, laughing. "You're all irresistible and all, but I do like when we talk, you know?" she joked.
"I know,…" Quinn said, now completely certain that there was something going on. There was no way Carrie would have sent Franny to have dinner with Maggie's family on a school night, without letting him know in advance, unless she wanted to discuss something important. It was clear that she did not want her daughter to overhear their conversation, as she usually did when she heard her parents talking while they cooked and she watched cartoons on tv.
A quick thought raced through his mind. Could she be pregnant? He had to admit that with the return of the CIA and their former bosses to their lives he had lost track of time and he did not know if that was a real possibility already. Maybe she had just found out and wanted to celebrate. He immediately cheered up at the thought.
He sat down and raised his brow when Carrie handed him the bottle and the corkscrew. After he silently poured wine in both glasses, he took one and looked back at her.
"Are we pregnant?" he inquired, a big smile on his face, missing the fact that she wouldn't be willing to drink if she were. As he locked eyes with her, he wished she would respond affirmatively.
She shrugged and sadly smiled. "No, I'm sorry Quinn. It's too early to know anything yet..." The chance that she might be expecting a child at last had not even crossed her mind when she had felt the need for a full-time work schedule. It pained her that just a week before that was all she could think about, and suddenly, she had almost forgotten about it. "I haven't forgotten about it. Still want it. It's just that there're lives at stake and I can actually do something," she corrected herself when those thoughts started to weigh on her. The last thing she wanted was to fall back on old habits.
He shook his head and took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "No need to apologize. For a moment there, seeing the wine and that Franny was not home, I thought that maybe we finally got it…"
"Hopefully we'll know next week," she whispered, suddenly remembering that she should be aware of any signs in her body during the following days, like she had been every month for over a year now. How had things changed so much in a few days? For the first time since she had gone back to work at Langley, she realised how difficult this sudden alteration in their lives could be on Quinn, and, in the long run, for Franny too. She squeezed his hand in return, in an effort to let him know that it still mattered to her. A lot. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about…" she continued, letting his hand go and turning on the couch to face him, her hands joint on her lap, as she tried to gather the courage to tell him how she wanted to spend more time at work.
"Here it is," Quinn thought. He had been aware that there was something on her mind that was bugging her since the moment he had walked through the door. "Are you okay? Something happened at work?" he asked, shifting and resting his back on the arm of the sofa to fully face her.
Carrie nodded. "Yes, I'm okay." And afterward she sooh her head. "No, nothing happened. Well, something did happen and I'm afraid you're not gonna like it…" she finally admitted, looking down to her lap as she again quickly tucked her hair behind her ear and returned her gaze to meet his.
"Carrie, please spill it out…." he begged. Carrie was not usually one to beat around the bush, and all this hesitation was killing him.
She raised her hands in front of her, silently asking him not to worry. She took a deep breath and went on talking. "There's nothing wrong, Quinn.. It's just… that there's no way I can track Haqqani down and stop his plans if all I have is a part-time job… It's fucking frustrating..."
Quinn chuckled at that. This was so Carrie. After years of working for the CIA, and then working out of the Agency, she still thought she could save the world on her own. It was fair to say that he had fallen in love with her for things like that, but now, as his husband whose main concern was her wellbeing, it was beginning to annoy him. "I think you're not the only one looking for Haqqani, Carrie. You're part of a very well-trained team…" he softly explained.
"I know that, Quinn, I really do. But I'm not a great help for the team if I don't have a regular working schedule, like the rest of my colleagues. At this pace, it will take ages to make some progress, and, believe, time is of the essence here…" she elaborated, her lower lip quivering as she did her best to make her point.
He sighed. He was certain there was very little he could do if she had already made up her mind. "Just tell me what you want, Carrie…"
"I… I just want to work full-time, that's all... I know it'll mean not being able to pick up Franny from school, and probably not being home to cook dinner on a daily basis…" she trailed off. "Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I'll hate missing her bath and bedtime stories…." she added, as guilt crept over her at the thought of putting her job before their family life. She could not prevent tears from sliding down her cheeks as she thought of the things she could miss on with Franny.
"I know that…." he said, placing his hand on her forearm for support. He could see that she was obviously struggling, and he had always been there for her over the years, no matter what.
"What...what do you think?" she finally dared to ask.
Quinn sighed again, his time holding her hand and caressing the back of it. "Carrie, if you really want to do it, you've got my full support… It's just that, as I've told you before, I do worry about you in that line of work again…" he finally said.
Carrie smiled and blinked, wiping off her tears. "And as I told you before, you shouldn't. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself…"
He raised his eyebrows. "I know you can," he chuckled. "But I also know that this is just the beginning, Carrie. At least I'm sure that's not what they want from you. And you know firsthand the pressure, the stressful situations that could come with all that… I'm afraid that would take a toll in your health Carrie…" Peter explained. As he heard himself talking, he thought that he was starting to sound like a broken record. How many times had he shared his concern with her over the last few days?
She shook her head. "It won't, Quinn, I promise… And I'm certain you have my back, should all that start to drive me crazy..." she softly replied.
"I won't be able to help you if you keep me out of the loop, Carrie. I need you to tell me what's going on every step of the way… No more of that 'it's classified shit', okay?" Without knowing it, she had given Peter the perfect chance to be able to fulfill Dar's diabolic request. Spying on her would be pointless if she kept all the progress they were making on the mission to herself. After a long day of doubts, remorse and regrets, Quinn thought that he had finally come up with a solution to protect Carrie as much as possible. It didn't matter that it came in the form of a deal with Dar, no less, or that involved lying to his wife. "Not lying, just not telling her all the fucking truth," he thought to himself, trying to find some solace in it. "I was in Islamabad too… Will you please fucking tell me what's going on, Carrie?" he insisted.
She nodded. "I will, I promise," she nervously ran her hand through her blonde hair and tucked a strand behind her ear once more. "I love you…" she finally added.
In that moment, Carrie's cell phone rang. It was one of her colleagues at Langley. They had a solid lead on Haqqani's whereabouts, and her help would be much appreciated.
"I'm so sorry Quinn," she said as she lifted herself from the couch. "I have to go in, Haqqani's been located in the Hindu Kush. Can you pick up Franny, please?" she added before heading to the door to run upstairs. She did not feel the need to discuss the issue any further, as he had already said he had her back.
"Sure…" he mumbled, watching her excited face.
As he waved her goodbye from his spot on the couch, he thought that it was not the first time he had seen Carrie run as duty called. It was one of the things he liked most about her when he used to work for or under her. Trying to shake that thought off his mind, he took his cell from the coffee table and pulled up Dar's number. "They have a solid lead on Haqqani, Hindu Kush. Carrie's just rushing back into Langley. As soon as I know more I'll let you know. Promise me you'll protect her, Dar. Fucking promise me that…"