Okay, here's the latest. This update gave me a bit of trouble. I'm trying to set up some plot here that I'm a little apprehensive about taking on, but I'm crossing fingers/hoping for the best.
Thanks though so so much lipamo, indigo, Bookworm, Shockey for the reviewage. Here and on Safe Harbor Sites. It's so so appreciated and the only reason I've contributed so many S fics. (Honestly I don't know why all my Homeland fic titles start with an S, just that I feel the need to keep the pattern going now for as long as I can. :P)
Anyway, here goes nothing. Take as you will. More to come soon. :)
"So supposedly I'm making progress. Could be out of this fucking place sooner than we thought.", Saul said as Carrie opened the door, helped him into his room.
"Let go of my arm, I'm fine.", he insisted, sitting back on the bed.
"So fine that they still have you hopped up on painkillers?", Carrie snorted, her eyes flitting from his chart to the IV bag the nurse just switched out.
"They have to shut me up somehow.", Saul shrugged, nodding to the nurse who rolled her eyes, promptly left after checking the IV.
"What's her problem?", Carrie scoffed.
"Her problem is I'm her fucking patient."
Rolling his eyes he went to lean back against the pillow, winced.
"Jesus.", Carrie muttered, adjusting it for him. "Can't they give you more of these if they're going to be so useless and understuffed?"
"The overstuffed ones go to the patients that haven't been griping for a month."
"You're not griping. You were gutshot and have to heal. You'd think the staff here would want to help you with that."
"Yeah you'd think.", Saul muttered, then thanked her for fixing the pillow.
"You're welcome.", Carrie sighed. Pulling a chair over for herself she plopped down into it, then reached into her sweatshirt pocket.
"What are you doing?"
"I have something for you."
"Unless it's arsenic or something to shoot me in the head with..."
"Okay this curmudgeon shtick is getting really fucking old.", she snorted as he shrugged.
"Who's calling it shtick? This is my new outlook on life."
"Well that outlook needs a little overhaul. Here." Handing over a drawing of balloons, butterflies, and a smiling bear with a bandage wrapped around his belly, Carrie smiled as Saul sniffed, smiled back at her.
"How did you...?"
"Brody brought it. From Farrah. She was very proud of it. Said it was her best work."
"It's perfect. Thank her for me when you get the chance."
"When you're up to it, Abby said you can go out on the grounds and Brody or Maggie can bring her by. That way she can see you but won't have to set foot in the hospital.", Carrie said as Saul nodded and reached for her hand, gave her a grateful smile.
"Tell her I'll be up for it soon. I swear."
Nodding, Carrie squeezed his hand back before propping the drawing against the lamp on his nightstand. Noticing the stack of paperback books there.
"So what are you reading? John LeCarre. And John LeCarre. Not surprising.", she snorted.
"What about you switch it up? Try some Stephen King?"
"Okay, what do you recommend. Carrie?", Saul smirked as she rolled her eyes.
"Like I haven't heard that one before."
Setting the books back down on the nightstand Carrie frowned, noticed a folder there as well. With the CIA insignia on the front of it and Lockhart written on the tab in all caps.
"Saul, what-"
"Put that down!" Saul barked as Carrie jumped, dropped the folder.
"Jesus Christ! What?!"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I had that in a drawer!"
"No you didn't! It was on top of the goddamn nightstand! And I didn't even open it. Just saw Lockhart's name on the tab!"
"And you didn't take that as a sign to put the damn thing down? Pretend you never saw it?"
"When would I ever take anything as a sign to not do something, Saul." Carrie scoffed.
"Abby and I are doing our fucking damnedest to protect you from that shill Harlan, who you know is working for Lockhart. But you see a file with his name written in Sharpie across the top and think it's fine to just go poking through it? Administrative leave doesn't mean all fucking access, Carrie."
"It did when you and Estes roped me in after I was fucking thrown out of the Agency.", she bit back before biting her lip.
"That was then. This is now. After you gave up the title of Director, forced a scandal, and have one kid at home and another under your sweater."
"Sweatshirt, actually.", Carrie corrected quietly.
"You've got yourself a life, Carrie. You tangle yourself up in a mess with Lockhart and you can only blame yourself for letting it slip from your fingers. Agency matters like this don't concern you. And they won't concern you or me for much longer unless we're specifically sought out."
"What do you mean you?"
"What do you think I mean? I'm keeping my promise to Mira. My resignation's effective as of two weeks from now."
"Jesus, Saul."
"She deserves better, Carrie. Better than an absentee husband who runs around getting himself gutshot. I told her a few years back if I was ever badly hurt I'd hang it up. I owed her that. Same as you owe Farrah and my future godchild and yourself, a chance at normalcy. Are we clear?"
"Yeah. We're clear.", Carrie said reluctantly, but knew he'd made some good points and that the last thing he needed now was her working him up more than she already had.
"Now lie down, okay? Before a nurse comes in and fucking kicks me out."
Obeying, Saul pulled the blanket over himself, let the pain meds do their job in relaxing him.
"You mind my asking though why you have it? The file?"
"Galvez gave it to me. Came in here a couple weeks back to tell me Lockhart's screwing with him. Making him look bad in front of the top brass. He asked me to root around a little, dig up some dirt on the schmuck."
"Why you?", Carrie frowned.
"'Cause I knew him back when the earth was cooling. I told you that when he got into politics."
"Yeah. You're right.", she nodded, saw his vitals were indicating he was as relaxed as his posture. Deciding to take advantage of that she bit her lip, spoke again.
"I remember you also saying he had a fair share of skeletons in his closet."
"Who doesn't in this fucked up business?", Saul snorted.
"He does though, right?"
"Whole graveyard full from the looks of things."
"From the looks of that file you mean?", Carrie asked.
"If it's any indicator he's got two graveyards worth.", Saul mumbled before yawning, starting to drift off.
Even though her every instinct was screaming at her to pick up, walk out with the folder, biting her lip, glancing at her middle Carrie swore under her breath. Quickly standing up she left, to avoid temptation and to try showing up on time to group.
To Frances' relief she left too quickly to catch sight of her.
Seeing as Saul's door was still open, Frances quietly crept in his room. Spotted the folder that had led to the loud, heated discussion she'd partially overheard through the walls just now when she was on her break.
Frowning, walking around the bed to stand in front of the nightstand, she carefully picked up the paperbacks, set them off to the side only to gasp, seeing the name printed in all caps on the folder tab.
Hearing footsteps, wondering if that nurse from earlier was back to pester him, Saul frowned, stirred slightly. Still lethargic and sluggish from the painkillers. His eyes opening a crack, he squinted, saw the tall auburn haired woman standing by his bed.
"What the..."
When she turned slightly, their eyes locked long enough for his to fully focus on hers. Frowning curiously at her, Saul laughed, leaned back into the bed pillows.
"Holy shit.", he mumbled, looking at her in awe.
"Annie. How the hell are you?"