Okay this chapter proved really really difficult to write for a lot of reasons. Quinn proves a challenge for me to write at times and this update is no exception to that, but I hope I did him/his situation justice. The next chapter should be easier (to write and hopefully to read) and definitely not so dark.
Quick trigger warning for language (felt I wrote more four letter words in this chapter than usual) and also for mentions of abuse. Thanks Bookworm so so much for your support/reviewage. Here goes nothing.
"Farrah?", Brody said gruffly, quickly wiping his eyes before she glanced at him, still hugging Quinn.
"Why don't you go split the rest of the cheese bread with J.J? Okay? You can bring the box in, just make sure you have some napkins too."
"But...what about?", she mouthed as he nodded in understanding.
"I'll talk to him, it's okay."
Nodding, Farrah broke the hug, took the box and napkins from Brody before going to the living room. Meanwhile Brody helped Quinn to his feet, led him over to the foyer and outside after grabbing their jackets.
Snatching his, Quinn fished the flask from his pocket then uncapping it, chugged the remaining contents.
"Quinn...", Brody sighed, watching as he let out a yell. Threw the flask into the middle of the street.
"Fuck! Fucking sons of...FUCK!"
Hearing the commotion, a police car parked down the block flashed its lights, gave a warning with the siren.
"Shut up!", Quinn yelled, storming in the direction of the car. "Shut up! If it wasn't for shitheads like you she wouldn't have died playing human shield! You goddamn boys in blue killed her! You fuckers!"
"For Christ's sake...Quinn!"
Jogging after him when the officers stepped out of the car, Brody stopped short when Quinn kept egging them on, shouting down the street.
"Oh yeah, go right ahead! Fucking come at me, fuckers!"
"What the...have you fucking lost it!", Brody hissed as the cops approached.
"Sir, is there something you wanna say to us? Want to keep talking like that to our faces?!"
"Oh so fucking much, you have no idea!", Quinn snarled, lunging at the taller cop and attempting to hit him. Gripping his arm, Brody yanked him back just in time.
"Get the fuck off me! You fuck-"
"Shut up!", Brody growled, shoving him before turning back to the policeman.
"I'm sorry, officers. My friend's had too much to drink, he's angry. I'm just trying to get him in the house, that's all."
"He just tried to assault my partner!", the other cop exclaimed as Quinn shook his head.
"Better an assault than a goddamn assassination!", he spat, running back at the cop before Brody grabbed him again, held his arm behind his back and roughly shoved him down.
Regaining his footing, Quinn came at Brody who anticipating it, took him by the shoulders and shoved him again. This time into a neighbor's shrub. Bending down he hissed out a warning.
"Shut the fuck up and stay there or I'll fucking knock you unconscious! Don't think I won't!"
Walking back to the cops he let out a heavy sigh, seeing the taller one, Officer Rollins according to his badge, reaching for his handcuffs.
"Excuse me, Officer Rollins. Can I call you that?"
"Yes, it's fine."
"Look it's like I said, my friend's drunk. I just pulled him out of a bar before he could start trouble there. He's not himself."
"Well whoever the hell he is has no business being out in his condition.", he snorted.
"I know. I just want to get him in for the night. He doesn't usually get like this. It's just his wife passed. She was killed in the line of duty."
"Was she D.C Metro?", Officer Rollins asked.
"No. Philadelphia P.D. She was trying to get transferred to D.C to be with him. They have a son together. He just wanted them to be a family again.", Brody said solemnly as the officer put away the handcuffs.
"Just get him inside, let him sleep it off."
"I will, thank you. Have a good night."
After the officers got a call, got back in the squad car and drove off, Brody turned around. Saw Quinn seated in front of the shrub, hands over his face.
"Jesus Christ."
Approaching him, offering a hand to help him up, instead of taking it Quinn got to his feet himself, threw another punch.
"Motherfucking...what are you doing!", Brody yelled, dodging him. "I save your ass from lockup and this is the thanks I...hey!"
Ducking and avoiding another hit, swearing, he took hold of Quinn's shoulders and shoved him into a tree, took him by the collar as he squirmed, fought him.
"Get off of me! You fucking ginger fuck, I swear to God I'll-"
"You'll what? You'll fight me?", Brody challenged. "You'll beat the shit out of me in the middle of the fucking lawn! Let Farrah and J.J watch from the house! Huh? Does that sound good to you!"
When Quinn didn't respond Brody let go of his collar, stepped back as they both caught their breath, glared at each other.
"You goddamn son of a..."
Trailing off, shaking his head, Quinn moved to sit on the curb.
"Quinn..."
"Can't you ever just shut the fuck up! Damn it!"
Running a hand over his face, he swore realizing it was tear stained and there was shit all he could do about it. Looking straight ahead, he didn't see but rather heard Brody sit beside him on the curb.
"I'm sorry Quinn. I really am."
"What the fuck do you have to be sorry about?", he scoffed. "In regards to this shitshow anyway."
"I'm sorry because that's what you're supposed to say to someone dealing with shit like this. And I know if I'd lost Jessica or lost Carrie this way, I'd hope someone would have the decency to say it to me."
After a beat Quinn swallowed hard, spoke up.
"She was in a firefight in a warehouse. Caught a stray bullet from another cop, the perp, nobody fucking knows. I can't even track down the bastard."
"Jesus. Do you know when she..."
"The funeral was two months ago.", he choked out. "Two goddamn months."
"Quinn, you couldn't have known, I-"
"I wasn't supposed to ever know. I wasn't supposed to find out.", Quinn said bitterly. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a lighter, a worn pack of cigarettes.
About to say something but thinking better if it, when Quinn offered him one Brody took it, twirled it between his fingers.
"You want to fucking light it or..."
"No. I swore I wouldn't after Dana was born."
Nodding, Quinn lit up, took a long drag.
"Listen, Quinn..."
"Look whatever the fuck you're about to say, don't. I don't want to talk or hug this out with anyone. Especially you, Congressman.", he spat as Brody rolled his eyes.
"Fine, suit yourself. But you're putting that thing out before you come back in.", he said firmly, getting to his feet.
Turning back to walk up the driveway he saw Farrah run out the front door.
"Nick?! Pete?!"
"Farrah, what happened?", he asked, running up onto the porch.
"J.J want lemonade so we get it out of fridge but he drop pitcher."
"The glass one? Damn it."
Following her inside, to Brody's relief he saw the pitcher hadn't shattered entirely, but not wanting to take any chances he made Farrah put her boots on before they walked back towards the kitchen, and he walked over to the broom closet.
"What the hell happened?", Quinn asked. Seeing Brody walk past though with a mop and a dustpan he put two and two together. Rolling his eyes he went to go sit back outside, but felt Farrah tug on his coat.
"Farrah, what..."
Following her finger and her eyes he saw J.J trembling, his back pressed against one of the cupboards.
"He get upset after pitcher break."
"You guys didn't hear anything outside, did you?"
"No. I play music.", Farrah said as Quinn breathed a sigh of relief.
Meanwhile Brody got the lemonade and glass swept up, but noticing J.J's stance too he frowned, approached him.
"Bud, you okay? You didn't cut yourself did you?", he asked as the boy shook his head, flinched.
"Hey it's alright. Just if you're hurt you have to tell me, okay?"
"He not cut! He just scared.", Farrah interjected.
"Look it's okay, J.J. I got everything cleaned up, it's fine.", Brody said. Crossing the room he emptied the dustpan in the trash. When J.J didn't move though or respond, Quinn moved to stand in front of him. Heard him gulp.
"I...I'm really sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to..."
"J.J, Brody just said everything's alright. It was an accident, that's all."
"No! I got the pitcher without asking and it fell and..."
"Kid I promise, it's fine. Knowing Carrie it was probably a piece of crap anyways."
"But I broke it! It was all my fault!" J.J cried, then flinched when Quinn moved closer.
"J.J it wasn't..."
Trailing off seeing the fear shining in the boy's eyes Quinn swallowed hard, felt his chest tighten.
"Hey Farrah, let's go get the living room straightened up, okay?", Brody said, taking her by the hand as J.J sat on the floor in front of the cupboard, hugged his knees to his chest.
"Kid, what can I do for you? What do you-"
"I want my grandma to come back.", he whispered.
"She's on her way over. She's got the address and the phone number. If she's not here soon Brody can call."
Sitting on the floor across from him Quinn mimicked his position.
"Believe me it's okay. You're not the only one who wants to go home."
"I can't go home."
"You can't go-"
"Grandma said we can't! Not while he's there."
"While who's there, J.J?"
"Nobody. I..I don't like talking about him. I hate him."
"Well then I hate him too.", Quinn said as J.J looked up at him, surprised.
"Why? You don't know him."
"You said you hate him. That's reason enough. What the hell did he do?"
"Grandma gets mad when I say that word."
"Yeah believe me, I know.", Quinn let slip before covering.
"I mean it's a bad word. Of course she wouldn't like it.", he shrugged as the boy cracked a smile that soon faded out.
"J.J? What.."
"Nothing."
"Look, whatever you tell me can stay between us. I promise."
"I shouldn't talk about it! He made me swear I wouldn't ever talk about what..."
"About what? About what he did?"
Seeing his eyes well up more, then seeing him nervously tug down on the sleeve of his shirt, Quinn's stomach knotted and he had to force himself to keep his rage in check.
"J.J...I need to know what happened to your-"
"I have to go to the bathroom."
When J.J ran off before he had the chance to stop him, standing, Quinn saw Brody reenter the kitchen after he got Farrah situated with a book.
"How's he doing?"
"Had to hit the men's room.", Quinn said, hands clenched over the round of the countertop like he wanted to pry it off.
"So what exactly did he say to you? He wasn't hurt, was he?"
"Not by a goddamn broken pitcher.", he said, shaking his head before he began pacing. Ran a hand over his face.
"Jesus. He thought because he broke...one of us was gonna hit..."
Jerkily Quinn nodded as his face turned a sickly shade of pale, bordering on green.
"Shit, hang on I'll grab the trash-"
Turning, Brody saw Quinn had run outside, made it to one of the bushes just in time.
"Motherfucking..."
Getting a glass of water Brody brought it outside, handed it to Quinn who rinsed, spat, then threw the glass onto the pavement, shattering it.
"Better?", he asked, not meaning to be flippant but earning a glare anyway as Quinn launched himself at him, screaming and throwing punches that Brody anticipated and didn't completely fend off.
"Fuck! Son of a fucking...FUCK!", Quinn choked out between breaths, hitting and swearing to distract himself from the way he was crying and how he was past the point of fighting any tears back.
Finally his punches let up and his body went slack. Prompting Brody to hold him upright and then just hold him as he cursed, wept on his shoulder.
"It's alright, Peter.", he said gruffly, tapping him twice on his upper back.
"It'll be alright."