Wistfully Brody watched Carrie walk off, then turned to see Quinn glaring at him from his wheelchair, but nodding for him to join him in a deserted hallway. Against his better judgement Brody did so.
"Yeah, what?", he grumped, sitting on a bench across from him.
"I just want you to confirm something for me. Did-"
"Farrah draw a dog on your cast? Yes. She did. Looks like a poodle.", he smirked as Quinn scoffed, winced uncomfortably in his wheelchair as he shifted positions.
"Did you tell Carrie that you were fine being a fugitive?"
"No, I didn't say, what did she..? Look! Unless you called me over here so you could follow through on your fucking orders-"
"I would, but my knife's in my other hospital gown.", Quinn smirked in return.
"Quinn.."
"You know you're a fool, Brody. You're a goddamn fool for thinking for a second Carrie fucking Mathison would let things go, let anything go, let alone let things go on as is with the two of you."
"I know, I've realized that. Look Quinn I don't have time for this right-"
"No, hang on. My TV's a piece of shit and I'm starved for entertainment.", Quinn laughed darkly.
"Did I also hear you right just now? You expect Carrie to kick back at her cabin with Farrah after you've waltzed back into her life in need of aid?"
"Hey I don't waltz.", Brody scoffed.
"Listen, do you mind telling me why you're doing this, hassling me? Don't you have a goddamn operation to recover from? I mean for someone who claims to hate my guts you seem awfully eager to chat me up."
"Hey make no mistake, I do hate your guts. And Carrie knows this. But this isn't about you. This is about her."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's pretty fucking obvious. Carrie's got Farrah back, now her sights are back on you. Saving you. She can say it's because she needs to get you justice, get the real bad guys, that she has to do her goddamn job. But it's not the whole story. The only way it would be was if she stayed the course I did. And if she had she'd have killed you in your sleep by now."
"I'm sorry, the course you-"
"I have a son, Brody. I have a son being raised by the only woman I've ever loved. He has my old name. He doesn't know I exist and he won't know. I've made sure of it."
Unsure of what to say, if he should say anything Brody simply nodded.
"Any chance at having a remotely fulfilling personal life went away when I took my first job. I made my choice, there was no going back. When I read up on Carrie before I got to D.C she seemed just like me. Only taller, blond and not as sexy.", Quinn said, completely deadpan as Brody barely stifled a laugh.
"I was wrong though. She's not like me. At least she wasn't after you came along and blew that life to hell for her."
His amusement fading fast Brody scowled.
"If you're gonna blame her for fucking opening her heart up to someone-"
"I'm not. Just stating a fact here. She fell for you, became emotionally involved. Like me, she made a choice and there's no going back from it."
"You're telling me a lot I already know, Quinn. Get around to asking me something here."
"Fine. I'm going to ask a favor of you. One you should probably take me up on since you owe me your goddamn life."
"I'd rather you go ahead and shoot.", he groaned.
"Would but again, my weapon's in my other dress."
"Listen, just save the cute and the charm for Nurse Ratched over there in your room."
Following Brody's eyes Quinn looked back over his shoulder, bit his lip seeing the nurse glaring at him from across the way.
"Yeah. Definitely not as into me as the last one.", he admitted, turning back around in his chair.
"Anyway. Carrie's getting desperate. She was when there was a chance your postcards were coming from beyond the grave. She is now that you're back and have her perpetually freaked."
"Hang on, did I or did I not help her through after the parade? After her episode?"
"You had your moments, but then you go spouting off bullshit about being content with life in hiding. Tell her you need her and then tell her to go away?"
"I was telling her that to try and take some fucking pressure off her!", Brody defended.
"Look, I don't want Carrie skipping her meds and dealing with full blown mania on account of me! She's done that before, and she doesn't have to now that I'm semi-protected at the mosque. Fuck. That's all I was trying to get across. I just want her to take a step back from my case, take some time with her daughter."
"Well as usual you've royally fucked up. So I suggest you do, not surprisingly, what I told Carrie to do for you when you were on the verge of self destructing."
"And what was that?"
"How much power has Carrie had over anything that's happened the past four days?"
"Not a whole fucking lot.", Brody shrugged, knowing the only thing was her skipping her meds and not letting him know it. But even he recognized that as a perverse attempt at her getting some control back.
"So, you need to empower her. Give her some fucking control back."
"What do you suggest I do?"
"What did she do with you that day in the clearing?", Quinn asked, hoping Brody could tell it was a rhetorical question.
"Wait, you told her to-"
"Yes. I told her to go after you. But spare me the goddamn details of what happened once she did. I've been treated to enough from the two of you.", he grimaced.
"Whatever she did was to benefit you. Bring you back from the brink. You should return the favor, for once in your miserable life."
"Sounds like a genius plan. Aside from one glaring obstacle. How the fuck do you expect me to get up to a cabin three towns over? I'm pushing my luck being here as long as I have."
"I'll handle it."
"Should I ask how?"
"No."
"Can I ask you something else?"
"Apparently I'm a fucking fountain of knowledge today. What?"
"Why are you going to all this trouble?", Brody frowned curiously.
"I know you and Carrie are colleagues, friends even. But you're risking a whole fucking lot."
"Because I can risk it. I've got nothing to lose."
"Nothing?", he questioned.
"All I have to my goddamn name is a sleeping bag, sniper rifle, and a dogeared copy of Great Expectations."
"Dickens fan?"
"Pip's struggle is a timeless one."
Shaking his head Brody suppressed a laugh.
"So basically, you're willing to risk all because you're a minimalist who wants for nothing?"
"I keep shit simple. Always have."
"Sounds like a concept I wished I'd mastered."
"Yeah well, then you wouldn't be you.", Quinn said smugly, flippantly, in a condescending tone that got Brody snickering, and made him want to punch him at the same time.
"Anyway, I have to get back to Big Nurse. ", he grumbled, propelling away from the bench.
"But you'll be at the cabin tomorrow night. Assuming you don't ask questions and fucking follow instructions."
"That doesn't sound fishy at all.", Brody muttered to himself. Rolling his eyes, Quinn spun his chair back around.
"Here's the first one. You may want to pay attention to it. Don't waste a goddamn second of this weekend. Make the most of it. If not for yours and more importantly, Carrie's sakes, then for Farrah's. That girl deserves that much."
"With that I agree completely.", Brody said sincerely as Quinn nodded, went to leave again.
"Wait, Quinn."
"Haven't we bonded enough this afternoon?"
"Yes, plenty. I just wanted to.."
"What?"
"Thanks."
Sighing, Quinn shook his head.
"Don't thank me. Just take care of them. And remember, I'm just a dress change away from doing serious damage."
"Noted."
After Quinn went back to his room, tried to talk his nurse into getting some dinner, checking his phone Brody noticed a text from the imam and replying he was on his way, made his way outside to the waiting van.