Quinn walks into the interview room, feels the ball of anxiety sitting in his stomach. This could be it, the last step to escape twelve years of death.
The interviewer welcomes him and immediately he knows something is wrong from the insincere smile on her face.
"Good to see you again, Peter," she says in a schoolteacherish way. He instantly has a thought of strangling her, then realizes that's not going to help his cause.
"I see this is your final interview and I must say you seem adamant about leaving us. Which is, of course, unfortunate from our point of view," she continues.
Quinn nods cautiously, waits for a question. There's a tenseness in the air and he senses that something is not quite right.
"You see, we just aren't quite ready to let you go," the woman says. "We'd like to offer you a compromise."
Quinn takes a deep breath, tries to talk himself down. He can't lose his shit or they'll use it against him, say he's a danger to the public. It's a double-edged sword, exactly what the fucking CIA does best.
"That wasn't the deal," he says, as calmly as he can.
The woman looks him at him with a sickly sweet smile.
"Deal changed, Peter," she says. "We are requiring that you put some more thought into your decision, give it some time. We will, however, allow you to leave Adal's group. Choose any position at your experience level."
Quinn grinds his teeth, tries to fight the impulse to argue his case. He knows it's hopeless but he can't help himself.
"What changed?" he asks. "I was on my way out, why now?"
The interviewer gives him another fake smile, looks down at the file in front of her.
"Well, management seems to think that your recent desire to go to Istanbul as a case officer shows that you are not as done as you say," she says.
Quinn groans, wonders how Carrie can still be complicating his life while residing half a world away.
"Why did you want to go to Istanbul?" she asks.
"I didn't want to go to Istanbul," he replies.
"But you accepted the transfer there. You were going to go," she counters.
"The circumstances were different then," he says.
"Yes. And then Carrie Mathison jumped ship and you decided not to follow. Even though she was the only reason you were going to Istanbul," she replies.
Quinn winces internally, wonders if he should bother countering her statement. It was pretty much true, he thinks. He just doesn't want it on record.
"What is your relationship with Ms. Mathison?" the interviewer asks, no longer playing the cheerful schoolteacher.
"I used to work with her," he replies dryly.
"And that's all?"
"Yes, that's all. And I don't see how this has anything to do with me quitting my job," he says, as calmly as he can.
"The general thinking is that working with Ms. Mathison has affected your judgement about your situation," she replies. "Has it?"
"General thinking?" he replies. "You mean Adal thinks so."
She smiles sickly sweetly again. "Yes. And your records back his viewpoint."
"How so?" Quinn asks, wondering why he bothers. There's no fighting the CIA, you don't ever get what you want. Well unless you're Carrie fucking Mathison, he thinks irritably.
"You stayed on with her operation much longer than expected. Adal feels your performance suffered under in this time," she answers. "And you have been injured on the job quite a few times recently."
"Maybe that's why I need to get out of here," he growls in return. "And this has nothing to do with Carrie. I just need to get out before I die for something I don't even believe in anymore."
The woman doesn't stop smiling and he can't help but want to drain the life out of her as she continues talking.
"And that's why you are being given your choice of a position. Something less... dangerous than the work you've done. One year, a new position, try something different. See if it works. And, if not, we would consider your exit again at that time."
He has to admit she's at least partially right, working with Carrie definitely fucked with his head. And his heart. He's been doing his best to keep her out of his mind, not wondering about Kabul.
But he's not fucking happy about the upcoming enforced year of labour, even with the right to pick his position. He is done with this shit, can't believe he can't just leave. Thinks he could try but it would likely take too much effort and bloodshed to make it worthwhile.
This is what you signed up for, he thinks. And it had all gone relatively well until Carrie showed up in his life.
He shrugs in resignation. "Arguing would be pointless wouldn't it," he says.
"Here are the postings available," she replies smugly, passing him a sheet of paper.
The woman gives him the same irritating smile and Quinn pictures strangling her yet again as he picks up his coat and walks out the door.
He's halfway out the building, primed to blow when he feels a presence behind his shoulder, turns to see Dar Adal standing behind him. Adal is wearing a satisfied sneer, nods at the paper in Quinn's hand.
"Have you chosen your new position yet, Peter?" he asks. "Or do you need some time to consider this turn of events?"
Quinn thinks this is it, that in a different setting he would have his hands on Adal's throat right now. He wonders at his sudden desire to kill again, thinks he would have little remorse killing many of his colleagues. And what does that say about his state of mind?
"Fuck you, Adal," he says instead.
He looks at the paper in his hand just so he doesn't have to look at Adal. It doesn't fucking matter where he goes now, he's just killing time now, a lame duck agent that doesn't give a fuck. So anywhere, just far from fucking Langley Virginia, away from all this bullshit.
One listing on the piece of paper immediately jumps out at him.
Islamabad.
Pakistan is far, he thinks. And Pakistan is close.
Close enough to keep an eye out, know what's happening with other stations in the region.
He can't believe he's allowing himself this train of thought. It's time to let go, he tells himself for the millionth time since she left.
And he wants to blame it on fate, whatever sent him towards her in the first place. But if he's honest with himself he knows that now it's just him. There are a lot of places he could go, all far away from Kabul.
Quinn looks up, glares into Adal's gloating face.
"Islamabad," he says.
That wipes the smarmy smile off Adal's face and his expression darkens quickly.
"You're making a bad choice, Peter," he says. "She's going to get you killed."
"Funny, I thought it was you trying to get me killed," Quinn retorts. "And this has nothing to do with Carrie."
"You expect me to believe that?" Adal sneers. "You're following her around like a fucking puppy dog, Peter. When I gave you this assignment I didn't expect you to lose your balls."
The worst part is Adal's mostly right, Quinn thinks. In any other situation he would be telling himself the same thing. She's terrible for you, does your fucking head in on a good day.
But, regardless, he's seen the list and he knows there's no other choice.
"I'm not your man anymore," he says. "So fuck right off."
Adal doesn't follow as Quinn walks away, visualizing various ways to eviscerate his former boss. Fucking CIA, he thinks. They're never going to fucking let him go.
He finally exits the building, gets in his car and makes it to the highway before he lets his emotions explode through his body. For a moment he feels a strong impulse to quickly swerve left and be T-boned to oblivion by the vehicle in the next lane, then thinks a cliff would better, no other injured parties, no time-consuming highway cleanup.
Or just a nice clean bullet to the brain, give himself the gift he's given so many others in the past. It's probably more than he deserves, Quinn thinks.
It scares him a bit that he's thinking so calmly about suicide, has never let himself get to this point before. Quinn's no stranger to emotional lows but has felt never quite this hopeless. And for a moment he sees Carrie in his mind, with a bottle of pills and another of vodka.
He wonders what she will think when she finds out, if she'll think him a coward. Pictures her yelling at him for giving up when she's been through so much more shit than he's ever faced.
Quinn shakes his head, focuses on the road. Clears the destructive idle thoughts out of his mind. Tries to force some rationalism into his brain.
One year, he thinks to himself. Fucking shitty but doable. And enough time to see how things go, to see how she's doing.
Again, he can't believe he's letting himself think about her, it's been his main focus to get Carrie out of his mind ever since she left. And he had been doing a relatively good job of it, he thought.
But now. Well, he thinks she just rescued him from his suicidal thoughts a moment ago and if she's all that's keeping him tied to his life maybe he shouldn't fight it. It wouldn't be so bad to at least get away from here, he realizes. Maybe clear his head a bit.
Islamabad, Quinn thinks, nodding to himself wearily. It's close enough.