Carrie VI
Carrie walks in at Langley, feeling light-footed despite her ever-growing belly. She's full of kinetic energy, feels just a tint of over-excited nerves but knows it's under control. It's been a few weeks since Lockhart gave her Istanbul and she's still walking on clouds, wondering how the hell it all happened. To get such a prime position from Lockhart, especially knowing how pissed Adal is at her - none of it made much sense. They seemed to grudgingly accept the fact that she's still the key to their highest-ranked asset in Iran and Carrie figures that's why she's going to Turkey. At least it's something, she thinks. And she gets to pick her own team.
She steps into her office, picks up her interoffice mail and sees that her request to have Quinn on her team in Istanbul has been denied.
Fucking Adal, she thinks to herself, instantly turning and walking out the door fuming.
Carrie strides into Adal's office, not bothering to knock before opening his door and throwing the paper she's carrying onto his desk emphatically.
"What the hell is this?" she asks angrily.
Adal looks infuriatingly calm, doesn't bother to even look at the paper.
"He's my man, Carrie," he says. "You know what he is and he isn't a fucking case officer."
Carrie seethes, sneers at Adal.
"He doesn't fucking belong to anyone, much less you," she retorts. "And if you haven't fucking noticed, he's not exactly an assassin anymore either."
"And who's fault is that?" Adal sneers back. "Peter has been the perfect soldier right up to the point where he met you."
Carrie frowns, wonders if this is true. She hadn't thought about it like that before, assumed Quinn had always struggled with the job and his demons. And it's not like he's ever told her anything about his past, except that he has a kid and a bunch of regrets.
"You're bad for him, Carrie," Adal continues. "Actually you're a goddamned walking disaster. Istanbul is going to be a shitshow with a headstrong psychotic chief of station who doesn't understand the purpose of rules. You've already destroyed his career, his reputation. Haven't you done enough?"
He looks so fucking smug she could punch him in the face, tenses her fist, thinks Adal probably has no problem punching a pregnant woman back. Then again if Adal hit her she has the strong suspicion he wouldn't be around much longer. She knows Quinn that well at least.
But she resists, literally pulls her punch and, instead, growls in his face.
"You know what, Adal? Fuck you," Carrie says venomously. "You're just pissed because you need me, that you can't just eliminate every obstacle with a well-placed bullet. We both know Quinn wasn't supposed to make it out of that bunker, that fucking missile was planned from the start."
Adal doesn't respond but the hint of a smirk starts to show in his expression. Carrie impulsively grabs a glass of water off his desk, throws it in his face.
"So I don't care who you are, how many lives you control, I'm not going to fucking let you send him off to die," she spits in his face as he finishes sputtering and wiping the water off.
And with that she stalks off out of his office in angry satisfaction. Fucking Adal, she thinks. Quinn's mine.
"Carrie," Lockhart says with a fake-looking smile. "What can I do for you?"
Carrie scowls, tries to think before she speaks for once. As much as she dislikes Lockhart, he's given her the best job she could hope for. And she needs him right now.
So she takes a breath, slows her thoughts, tries not to sound too aggressive when she speaks.
"When you gave me Istanbul you said I would be able to pick my own team," she starts. "And I need Quinn to be on that team. He has an unique skill set and he's reliable."
Lockhart looks at her for a moment and she can't read his expression, he just looks like a dick as always, she thinks to herself.
"I said you would have some control over your team. This wasn't my call, Adal wants Quinn back and he's Adal's guy," Lockhart says with a shrug. "There are plenty of other operatives you can choose from with the same skill set and reliability."
"Well I'm making it your call," Carrie says forcefully. "I want Quinn and I want you to override Adal on it."
Lockhart groans, rolls his eyes.
"Why are you doing this Carrie? You have what you want, you can find someone, anyone to replace Quinn. Do you really want to start this with Adal?" he asks.
Carrie scowls, thinks Lockhart is a fucking coward, always trying to take the easiest way out.
"I can't replace Quinn with just anyone. I need someone I know I can trust," she argues, letting some heat come into her voice. "And we both know he's been trying to get out of Adal's unit for some time now, why he was sent to Iraq. If Quinn dies because of all this shit then it will all be on you. Is that what you want? Because we both know that's what's going to happen."
Lockhart glares at her, she can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.
"And why should I do this for you? I just gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, you can make do with whoever you get," he replies.
Carrie glares at him, mentally preps herself for her retort.
"We both know I'm only in Istanbul because of this Javadi thing. After all that bs in Congress? You don't have any other plays or I wouldn't be there," she states plainly. "I put Javadi there with Saul and you got rid of Saul so you're stuck with me. You need me. And I want Quinn."
Lockhart continues to look constipated and irritated but when he doesn't deny her right away she knows she's won and presses the issue.
"Leave him with Adal and either he quits or dies and both ways the CIA loses a valuable asset," Carrie adds. "Give him to me, get him out of wetwork. He needs something different and I need him in Istanbul.
Lockhart is grinding his teeth and glares at her as he gives a grudging nod.
"Fine, you can have Quinn," he finally says. "But don't screw this up, Carrie. One misstep from either of you and I will recall you in a heartbeat."
Carrie tries to restrain her growing smile as she inhales a victorious breath.
"Thank you sir," she says with relief. "You won't regret this."
Lockhart gives her a pissed off look but she is already out of his office, walking away with a spark in her step.
She calls Quinn but gets put through to his voicemail and leaves a quick message telling him to call her. Thinking he may be in the building Carrie walks around, hitting all the likely places even after her back starts complaining about the extra weight she's toting around.
Finally she returns to her office defeated and starting to feel emotionally exhausted. The highs and lows of the day wearing off as she wonders where Quinn could be, why he hasn't called back. He's been a bit off since he got back from Iraq and she's been blaming it on the obvious concussion he has yet to admit to. He looks like shit every time she sees him now, bleary-eyed and tense.
Carrie sighs, thinks she should be worried about Quinn but doesn't have the time or energy to worry about anything other than the baby and her imminent role of station chief. And fuck him anyways, if he'd just admit to suffering maybe she would try and give a shit but right now she doesn't have time for his macho act.
Carrie looks at her belly and sighs again, fights the emotions she can feel coming on. Block, deflect, deny - her new mantra. Anything to keep the flood of sadness, helplessness, self-hatred from overflowing. She almost welcomes the back pain, it keeps her focused on the present.
And maybe it is just a reaction to a day of surging emotions and angry confrontations but Carrie suddenly feels a bit faint, thinks she must be low on blood sugar. She sits down at the desk, closes her eyes for a moment and tries to release all the tension in her body.
She's awakened by a hand shaking her shoulder and her startled reaction is to shove her assailant as hard as she can before she even opens her eyes. But by the time she has blinked away the cobwebs Carrie realizes two things - she should recognize his touch by now and she needs to stop freaking out at the feeling of human interaction.
But it's too late at the moment and she expects Quinn to be annoyed but when she finally makes eye contact he just stands there looking at her with a concerned expression.
"Are you alright, Carrie?" he asks finally.
"Fine," she replies automatically. "Just a little tired I guess."
Quinn keeps looking at her strangely and she feels his eyes on her, thinks it's making her sweat.
"Are you sure?" he asks again. "I just had to shake you pretty hard to wake you up. And you are pale as a fucking ghost."
Carrie frowns, thinks it's true she feels like shit. But she's been stressed and busy, walking around and working with the due date in less than a week. Fueled mostly by a mild manic state, when her mind's internal energy can keep her running on empty for days. So it was to be expected, she figures. Nothing to be too concerned about - really lately she's felt like shit more often than not.
"I'm fine, Quinn," she says emphatically, making a point to stand up quickly and look at him squarely in the eyes. "So fine I even got Adal to rescind his denial today."
Quinn looks at her suspiciously, tilts his head to indicate she's got his attention.
"Bullshit," he says. "He would never give in."
"Well, technically I got Lockhart to rescind the denial," she continues smugly. "So brush up on your Turkish, you're coming to Istanbul."
It's not like she expected him to jump for joy at her announcement but he didn't have to look so fucking conflicted about her news. She can see the worry cloud over his eyes, feel the apprehension in his body.
When he doesn't respond either way, Carrie starts to feel increasingly exposed and irritated.
"Well, fuck Quinn, if you don't want to come then just fucking say so," she says angrily. "You could have saved me the trouble of fighting to get you off Adal's team. I thought that's what you wanted."
She sees him react to her words, he still looks conflicted but less tense, more defeated.
"Shit, I'm sorry Carrie," he says. "I don't know what I want. I think I need to get out of this line of work, it's fucking with my head."
"Your concussion is fucking with your head," she returns. "You've been feeling like shit ever since you got back."
Quinn scowls.
"And you haven't?" he volleys back. "You weren't sleeping, Carrie. You were fucking passed out."
Carrie scowls back, does not want to admit he's right and she feels like crap - dizzy and sweaty, wobbling slightly as she stands.
She puts her hands on the desk to steady herself and then she feels an odd sensation, a little burst, a trickle of fluid. Carrie stands quickly and immediately runs out of her office, stumbling awkwardly.
She hears Quinn follow her, idiotically asking if she's alright but she's so focused on making it to the restroom she doesn't even try to stop him tagging along. By the time she makes it to the door he's caught up to her and follows her in.
"Fuck Quinn, a little privacy?" Carrie manages to growl as she locks herself into a stall.
"I'm not standing around out there wondering if you've cracked your head on the floor," he responds. "I'm staying right here until I know you're alright."
Carrie groans to herself but realizes she has more important matters to tend to. A cursory check confirms her suspicion but also makes her think that something else might be going on, that she hasn't just been feeling like shit because she's stressed out.
And now the fucking dam is about to break on her emotions, she can feel them pounding at the door. Maybe she really fucked every up again, maybe she killed another human being, killed their baby because she was too fucking scared to deal with it.
Quinn is still standing out there irradiating anger and the last thing she wants is to ask him for help. She'd rather be in a sea of strangers and put her hope on someone anonymously taking her to the hospital. He's already way too close and the risk of him getting closer is somehow endlessly both terrifying and necessary.
But he's there and she's obviously not going to get by him to some good samaritan strangers so Carrie grits her teeth, sucks up all her anxiety and opens the stall door, stands there half-dressed, pale and bloody.
Quinn's body language goes from angry to panicked in an instant as he moves to grab her, tries to sit her down.
"Shit Carrie, I'll call an ambulance," he says, trying to grab for his phone.
"No ambulance," she says through clenched teeth.
Quinn looks at her askance but doesn't bother arguing, just sighs and sets his jaw. He even pops his head out of the door and make sure the coast is clear before helping her stagger to the elevator. Carrie's with it enough to see the spectacle they are making even though it is thankfully late in the day and there aren't too many people around. It's still better than getting her pregnant ass hauled out on a stretcher and bearing the endless silent questioning looks and awkward conversations afterwards, she thinks as the elevator starts to move and a wave of darkness makes her head spin.
Flashes of consciousness, swimming to the surface. In the car, everything's blurry. She thinks it's her eyes, realizes it's their speed. Twice the limit, probably more. At least he's trained to drive like this, she thinks.
Quinn's taut, barbed wire. He grips the wheel fiercely, her hand equally so. She thinks she hears sirens, sees flashes of light in the mirror. He keeps driving, barely looks back. Pulls some evasive maneuvers at an intersection while her vision wavers again.
"Hold on, Carrie," she hears from a seemingly far distance. "We're almost there."
Bright lights, hard bed. Prodded with cold fingers, incessant questions. Quinn's voice, frustrated and concerned. He doesn't know something, sounds fucking upset about it.
Something feels wrong, pain in her belly. This is it, I really fucked up, she thinks. Great time for fucking regrets, when it's too late. Same as Brody. Story of her life.
Quinn asks if she's going to be okay, sounds fucking frantic. She let him get too attached, wants to keep him, wants to push away too. Doesn't want his fucking comfort, wants to hurt, to suffer. It's what she deserves.
He's sitting on the edge, mindlessly tracing thumb circles into her hand. She floats to the surface, pulls away her hand, feels him jump.
He says some words, she hears 'loss of blood', 'placental abruption', 'emergency surgery'.
He's asking if she can hear him, she blinks and nods, wonders if he's about to tell her the baby's gone.
His fingers find hers, she waits for the words.
"You're both going to be alright," he mutters unconvincingly, takes her hand again.
She squeezes back the tears, lets him worry a pattern into her skin.
More concerned looks, familiar hands. Maggie medical babbling at a distance, dad at her bedside. Manages a wan smile for him, he tries to smile back.
Maggie's stressed, waving papers, something about consent. Signs forms, tries to get some calm, everyone awash in worry, fear.
Maggie says not to worry, it's going to go fine, routine procedure.
Pain's gone, replaced with intense queasiness. She leans over, vomits everywhere. Hears Maggie's emergency voice, dad's frantic questions.
Vomits again, heaves over and over. Hears anxious clipped words then nurses arrive, roll her away.
Touches of consciousness, usual beeping, hostile smell. Feels dad, Maggie at the bedside - nervous energy casting a glow.
Smiles all around, she wonders what happened. Maggie says something, grins brightly, leaves.
Minutes later she's back, nurses in tow, something else too. No recognition at first, stunned confusion. It mewls, sputters and howls. A girl.
Put into her arms, bundle of struggling warmth. She sees wisps of red, closes her eyes, fights the tears.
Waves of disbelief, confusion, incredulity. A tsunami of anxiety sweeps through, sadness, grief, fear.
There should be love, she thinks distantly, feels nothing.
Finally other arms cradle the baby, take her away. Then the tears come.
Awake again, fog is lifting. She finally has the clarity to realize she knows the feeling all too well, the clearing of general anesthesia. She remembers it vividly now, waking from the electoshock therapy, the grogginess, the confusion over what's occurred in the meantime.
She hears footsteps, someone pacing. Thinks it's her dad, his nervous energy similar to hers. But when she opens her eyes she sees messy dark hair, tightly clenched fists.
"Can you stop that?" she wheezes hoarsely.
Quinn's visibly startled, jumps a bit before turning around wearing an expression somewhere between concern and relief.
"How are you feeling?" he asks hurriedly, giving her a glass of water.
Carrie sips the water, winces as it hits her dry throat.
"Like shit," she replies, honest for once. She's only starting to realize how much pain she's in, tries to piece together the long broken string of consciousness to figure out what happened.
Quinn sits on the edge of her bed, examines her closely.
"You've been through a lot," he replies with a worried breath.
"What the hell happened?" she finally asks. She has a general sense of events but needs to hear it from him, needs confirmation of her half-lucid experience.
He pauses for a moment and looks away, bites his lip nervously.
"I can get your sister and your dad, they just went to get some coffee," he finally answers.
Carrie frowns, gives him a glare. "I asked you," she retorts impatiently.
Quinn breathes in again and for a moment she thinks he's about to chicken out and leave without answering her question. But the moment passes and he stays perched next to her, absently puts his hand over hers.
"You were bleeding pretty bad, a placental abruption. They had to do an emergency c-section and things were a little touch and go for awhile there," he says tersely. "But everything went fine and you're both okay now."
He says the last part like he's still trying to convince himself that it's true. She feels his thumb tracing circles again, seemingly looking for reassurance.
"So it really did happen," she says, doubt still in her voice.
Quinn smiles a bit, nods his head.
"Yeah, it really happened," he replies.
Carrie nods acceptingly, tries to will herself to believe it. Rationally she knows it happened but emotionally it's not there, it doesn't feel real. But she does remember holding the baby in her half-conscious state.
"She has red hair," she finally says quietly.
A tear escapes and she feels Quinn's eyes follow it as it drips a streak down her cheek. Another follows and she wishes he would just go, leave her to sob in solitude but she knows him better than that.
He doesn't reply, stops drawing on her skin. She feels the nervousness in his touch, tries to pull away but he holds on just enough to keep her hand in place.
"I can't do this, Quinn," she says after a long silence. "I don't feel anything."
Quinn looks at her, tense with emotion. He exhales quietly, takes his time before speaking.
"I know you're fucking scared, Carrie" he says. "And you're hurting. You've gone through some shit no one should ever have to go through."
He pauses and she wonders if the pep talk is over, thinks it's a pretty poor attempt, even for taciturn Quinn.
He's looking at her intently with an expression she can't read but she avoids his eyes, glances away.
"But I've seen you do some shit that's just incredible," he continues. "You're a survivor, Carrie. You can do this for her. And for him."
She thinks that's easy for him to say, he doesn't know what it's like in her mind, in her heart. It froze in Iran, turned to ice on that fence, watching Brody die, knowing it was her fault. A part of her hoped the baby would make it melt, start to heal. But it was a fucking terrible choice, hasn't worked out at all.
She's already terrified of her own baby, their kid, their red-headed daughter that of course already looks exceptionally like him. She remembers that much from the fog of consciousness. It's like God is mocking her, Carrie thinks. She wanted to keep a piece of him and now she has a permanent one, a ever present reminder of the past, all the things she's fucked up. Like getting Brody killed, like leaving her a fucking single mother.
It's all too much, Carrie can feel her emotions start to shut down. System overload, she thinks, her thoughts are pushing manic levels.
She feels Quinn's eyes on her, wishes she could just get up and walk out the hospital but her abdomen is still viciously sore from the surgery and obviously Quinn wouldn't even let her get out of the fucking bed.
So she forces herself to breathe, tries to stop the wave of anxious thoughts. Work on the things she can control.
"Carrie? Are you alright?" Quinn asks.
She frowns, sighs.
"No, I'm not fucking alright, Quinn," she states flatly. "But this is my shit to deal with."
Quinn scoffs a smile at that, nods in silent agreement.
"Anyways," she continues. "Are you or are you not coming with me to Istanbul? You never said."
Quinn looks startled, put on the spot. He looks away, grinds his teeth.
"I don't think I'd be an asset," he finally says. "I'm trying to get out of the game. Anyhow. We don't need to talk about this now, we'll talk about it when you're feeling better."
Carrie scowls, makes a face.
"No, I want to know now what I have coming to me," she says stubbornly. "I need you there with me Quinn, I need someone I can trust."
Quinn closes his eyes, puts his hands over his face. She knows she's using her weakness to her advantage, putting him in a tough position to say no. But it's for a good cause, she thinks. She does need him in Istanbul and he needs to do something productive other than ticking names off a kill list.
"You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need you," she adds.
Quinn sighs loudly, opens his eyes and frowns at her.
"Fuck, Carrie," he says grimly. "How do you always just get your fucking way."
Carrie manages a small smile, breathes a sigh of relief. At least one thing has worked out for her after all the shit she's been going through.
"So you're coming," she says, just to make it clear. She doesn't want any ambiguity when he reneges on it later.
Quinn scowls.
"Yeah, I'm fucking coming," he mutters.
He looks somewhere between pissed off and resigned. And part of her feels bad for making him do this but again she tells herself it's the best for both of them, that it will work out in the end.
"Thanks, Quinn," she says. "I really needed that."
He looks a bit surprised, gives her a considered look.
"You're going to be okay, Carrie," he finally says after a long pause.
Carrie tries to smile, knows it's not true. She isn't anywhere close to okay, wonders if she will ever get there again. But it's easier to just let him believe it so she doesn't reply, just sits there thinking how not okay everything really is.