Swallowing hard, Brody did the worst possible thing he could to avoid suspicion and went to walk away.
As stressed and thrown off guard as Quinn was, his vision wasn't the least bit impaired.
Brody was in front of him, in the flesh and convinced some hair dye and sunglasses made for an adequate disguise.
He wanted to walk away, find Farrah, go back to Carrie, pretend he hadn't bumped into her fugitive fuckbuddy.
He wanted to turn the clock back to five minutes ago, but..
I promise. I'll help with your...plan.
Cursing himself for going around making promises in elevators, Quinn grabbed Brody by the arm and dragged him where he'd told the couple to bring Carrie.
Brody kept dragging his feet, protesting the whole way, in the worst affected accent Quinn ever heard.
"For God's sake, get your bloody hands off me!"
"Wow. How long have you been practicing that?", Quinn scoffed.
Rolling his eyes, defeated, Brody followed him towards the alley that Quinn then turned down to speak with someone.
"It's alright, we're fine now. I found some help."
"I cleaned up her knee.", the woman said, standing up. "There didn't seem to be any major damage. Just some scrapes and bruising."
"She still hasn't said anything.", the husband muttered. "I don't know what her deal is but she's not-"
"It's alright, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help. If I were you I'd go that way-", Quinn nodded to the back of the alley.
"Still pretty chaotic where I came from."
After the couple nodded skeptically and walked away, Quinn walked back to Brody and grabbed his arm again.
"Okay enough with this.."
"If I were you, Congressman, I wouldn't say another fucking thing.", he sneered.
"There is one, one reason I haven't hauled your ass to Langley or just said fuck protocol and followed through on my original orders.."
Noting the dark little gleam in Quinn's eyes, the knife he had on him, Brody bit his lip and jammed his scarred hand in his pocket.
"And she's in there."
"She?", Brody muttered. Turning down the alley his heart skipped an unhealthy number of beats.
"Holy sh..." Running over he knelt at Carrie's side. She was sitting upright, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering even though her hair and t-shirt were damp with sweat. Her head bowed, tears seeped from her eyes that were still squeezed shut.
Brody had imagined hundreds of ways the two of them could reunite, how it would happen. But he'd never imagined this. Not this.
"Carrie..."
"I brought you here because she shouldn't be alone and I need to find Farrah."
"Farrah?", Brody frowned, still staring intently at Carrie but needing to know if this was just a coincidence or..
"Yeah. She's Carrie's foster daughter."
"Foster..", Trailing off he shook his head, dumbfounded as he turned to look at Quinn.
"You're shitting me right?"
"No. I'm not.", he said, looking agitated as he gave Brody the Reader's Digest version of the situation with Carrie and Farrah.
"I...I can't believe it."
"Yeah, she was quite the souvenir Carrie brought back from Baghdad."
"Baghdad..."
Quickly looking back to her, then at Quinn again, Brody's mind suddenly clicked and he moved closer to Carrie. Heartbroken as he realized the reason behind the state she was in.
"What? What is it?", Quinn frowned.
"Nothing it's just. I think, I know why she's.."
"Tell me."
Reluctantly Brody stood up, this time taking Quinn by the arm as he lowered his voice.
"In Baghdad, one of her stints there, Carrie told me she lost someone. Her translator. There was a mob that got out of hand and they burned the guy alive. Hung him from a fucking bridge."
"Holy shit."
"She said she was, pinned down. Couldn't get to him."
"Same way she couldn't get to Farrah in that fucking mob out there. No wonder she's..."
Trailing off he shook his head bitterly.
"PTSD. I never even thought-"
"Well you didn't know."
Looking back at her, anxious to help and hopefully get through to her, Brody frowned at Quinn.
"Look, stick with your plan and find Farrah. Hopefully she'll be enough to snap her out of-"
"No. Hopefully you will.", Quinn frowned back.
"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here, Sergeant Brody. I'm not known for that. You help Carrie, otherwise, I do what I was brought in for in the first place.", he said simply before leaving the alley.
Not letting Quinn rattle him, he was already rattled enough, Brody knelt back down beside her. Fighting every instinct telling him to pull her close and not let go.
"Carrie? Carrie it's me. It's Brody."
He spoke quietly to her, like she was a frightened animal he was trying not to further spook. Her eyes were still shut and the tear tracks were fresh on her face. Still trembling, pale, it was like she trapped in some kind of nightmare. Brody knew that feeling all too well and couldn't bear to watch her suffering through it.
He knew from experience touching her could trigger her lashing out, getting violent.
But it didn't feel like talking at her would do any good. He had to get her responding to him somehow and he didn't see how that'd happen if she didn't pick up on him being here.
Shifting closer he gave it his best shot.
"Carrie, it's just me. I'm just gonna hold your hand, okay?" Slowly reaching for her left wrist he grazed it with the pad of his thumb, then twined her slim fingers with his.
"I'm here love, I'm right here."