In Harm's Way

Once on his own, walking back to the parking lot, Quinn rang Carrie. "What gives?" he asked.

Carrie snorted. "Still no sign of Bakri. He hasn't come into work. Virgil and I went around to his flat, it's empty. He's gone. This is exactly what he fucking did last time; as soon as I get close, shit happens and he disappears!" Her voice was shaking in frustration and anger.

"Slow down," Quinn soothed as he got into his truck. "We can sort this out. Have you checked airports, trains, buses?"

"As best we can but there are only three of us!" Carrie responded in despair. "We're checking with the cops now,"

Quinn nodded. "Right. I've got some favours I can pull in." He sighed imagining Carrie's annoyed face and wished he could give some further reassurance. "Give me a couple of hours..."

"Be careful, Quinn," she said. "This fucker is clever." There was a pause and then, "Oh by the way, how did it go with the 'fire-breathing dragon?'" Carrie asked as an afterthought.

"Hot," he muttered with an audible gulp and then, "Not sure, I'll tell you later," he continued more confidently. "I gotta go. I'll ring when I get something."

"OK," she replied numbly.

Having heard the whole conversation on speaker phone, Virgil moved to put a comforting arm around Carrie's shoulders. "He'll be fine," he soothed softly. "This sort of action is nothing compared to what he's trained for."

Carrie sighed and shook her head. "I don't know, Virgil," she disclosed. "He's not fit enough for this, remember? All of my fucking alarm bells are going off at once - there's something wrong here. I should go with him."

"We need you here."

Quinn sat quietly in his truck, breathing deeply, trying to find the calm confidence that normally enfolded him when he was on a mission. He had felt better since Carrie had helped him escape his emotional crisis, had even congratulated himself on how he had reacted when his new, obviously completely deranged boss, had goaded him but now he could feel the cracks beginning to fracture once more. His hands were trembling, his head throbbing with the start of a headache and his legs felt too heavy to move; in short he knew he needed to get some sleep. It wasn't exactly a startling revelation to him, given the excesses of the night before and his known physical limitations. Still, he hated that he could feel this wrecked after doing something that before would not have even caused him to breathe heavily. He stopped the thought, a slight smile creasing his lips as he conceded to himself that maybe Carrie would have still taken his breath away, no matter what his physical state.

He snorted, pulling himself back to focus. He had called in his favours, but got nothing of any value back, and so had wasted much of the day chasing shadows. He had delayed getting back to Carrie because he didn't want to let her down but now he knew he had exhausted all possibilities, so he reached for the phone.

"Hey," she answered her voice had an expectant lilt.

"Hey."

"Anything?"

"No."

"Fuck, fuck!" The line went silent for a few seconds and Quinn could picture her, facing the disappointment, running her hand through her hair nervously, getting herself together, focusing and moving on. "So what do we do?" she asked.

"I think we have got to tell somebody at the Agency," he replied. "Fuck knows how many people we are compromising at this moment. Time is so important to this."

She snorted. "I can't tell Saul. I don't trust him."

"I know," he soothed. "And I don't know that Ms Chankria is gonna be any better. But I figure maybe if we tell them both together, so that they both know each other knows, maybe it would act as a sort of regulation over both of them..." His voice was hesitant and trailed off into a gloomy, weak murmur.

Carrie picked up his lack of intensity instantly. "You OK, Quinn?" she asked.

"Yeah." He knew his voice was less than convincing but exhaustion was threatening to overrun him completely. He scrubbed at his eyes in irritation and continued, "Yeah, just tired I guess. This is too big for us to let it ride." He diverted the conversation away from him back to the important business.

"OK," Carrie responded. "But I'll do it. You need to keep out of this in case it turns into a fuck up."

"What, you worried about my career now, Carrie? My new boss will just have to suck it up," he snapped viciously, overreacting but he just couldn't stop himself.

"No, it's not that." She didn't bite, keeping her tone neutral. "I need to keep you out of it for back up if I need it later..." She stopped herself from mentioning anything to do with his reduced physical state which his irritated and tired responses were accentuating to her even from this phone call. The line went silent. "Are you still there, Quinn?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

She pressed on before he could say anything else. "I need you to pick up Franny from day care for me. Take her to Maggie's cos fuck knows when I'm going to be able to get Saul and Chankria together - this could take all night." No response. "Quinn?"

He snorted irately. "I don't like it, Carrie," he said simply.

"I know but it's the best we can do."

He hung up before she could say anything else. She drew in a long breath and then pushed all concerns out of her head to concentrate on her next move.

Quinn threw his phone across his truck in frustration. He felt like shit, it was true, but that only made the hurt he felt doubly painful. Since when had he been relegated to picking the child up from day care? Ordinarily it was a job he enjoyed immensely, his relationship with little Franny had been a source of great pleasure over the course of his rehabilitation but not when there was an operation going on that he should be involved in. Not when other people, and Carrie specifically, were putting themselves in harm's way.

He scrubbed at his chin nervously and then took the bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and swallowed a couple. He had to get it together but the fog of the headache was expanding in his mind making it doubly difficult to concentrate. He snorted, shook his head to dissipate the daze and started up the truck.

He took longer picking Franny up than expected because she insisted on taking him into the messy room at the back to show him the painting of her mother that she had done that afternoon. He managed to make all the right enthusiastic noises of encouragement and agreed that Carrie would really appreciate her daughter's efforts. He was relieved that such artistic activity had obviously taken it out of Franny and she fell asleep almost instantly once he got her into the car seat. Previous trips had been accompanied by enthusiastic but tuneless and very loud nursery rhyme singing, and he didn't think his head could have taken it on this occasion.

The journey to Maggie's was therefore peaceful and as the painkillers began to kick in, Quinn began to feel better. He started to consider depositing Franny and then going back to Langley; he wasn't getting any more comfortable with the thought of Carrie going it alone with the two CIA heavyweights.

As they pulled up the driveway Franny showed that uncanny toddler knack of waking up just as the journey had ended. She started to chatter about the events of the day, and Quinn smiled and nodded. He went around the truck, unfastened her straps and gently lifted her out, blowing a funny noise at her that caused her to crack out in laughter as he placed her on the path. Franny, still giggling, made towards the door on her little legs where Maggie had appeared. He turned back to get her bag, as he did so he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye but it did not register until he heard Maggie scream.

He turned then, his adrenaline already pumping as he reached for the gun in its holster at his waist. He took in the scene before him in seconds; Maggie was standing pale and petrified on the porch her hand at her mouth, over to his left stood a remotely familiar figure beside an open car door, while on the lawn in front of him a black clad man had swept Franny up into his arms and was running toward the car.

Quinn fired one shot, high and wide and everyone stopped to stare at him. "Let her go!" he shouted as he brought the gun down bringing the figure into his sights.

The man stopped, threw a hesitant glance across to his colleague. From his position of relative safety at the car, Bakri pointed his own gun at Quinn and let out a confident chuckle. "Well if it isn't Carrie's fucked up black ops beau! It's been a long time, Quinn!"

"Let her go!" Quinn repeated menacingly.

"Can't do it. Things have got fucked up again. Carrie sticking her nose in where it is not wanted as usual and now I need an insurance policy and the little girl happens to be it."

Franny had begun to sob softly, the man's grip on her tightened as his stress and fear grew. Quinn could see the podgy skin of her upper arm was stark white where the rough hand squeezed it. He felt a rush of indignant rage threaten to engulf him; how dare anyone take such a liberty on his watch? Fighting to stay calm, he took a step forward, moving to support his gun holding right hand with his left as he felt the dreaded twitch begin again. Sweat began to bead along his brow and the headache throbbed incessantly behind his eyes. He blinked trying to maintain his focus, fighting to find that inner calm and strength that he had used in such dangerous situations many times previously. Fuck, this was not the time for any weakness to show.

"Peter?" Maggie's voice was thin with panic and dread.

"It's OK, Maggie," he soothed. "Stay exactly where you are. It's gonna be OK."

Bakri snorted. "You think?" he mocked.

Quinn ignored him, fighting his failing body to concentrate on the other man. "Put her down," he demanded, "Or I will blow out your fucking brains."

"He won't take the shot. Not with the kid there. Hold on to her, Joaquín, she's the best chance you got!" Bakri instructed and the other man seemed to take courage from his words as he tried to shrink further behind the now struggling and crying little girl. "So what are you gonna do now?" Bakri asked.

Quinn gulped, blinking the sweat from his eyes. He knew that Bakri was right; it was a difficult shot, one that he could have done once, in his prime, but not now. Now he didn't dare take it, not with Franny so close, not with his arm wavering like a sapling in a storm. He had to do something else and quickly. Bakri would not want to hang around now a gun had gone off in a residential neighbourhood, soon it would be crawling with cops. The beginnings of a plan leapt into his mind and without a thought for his own safety, he snatched at it. "Take me," he said.

"The fuck!" Bakri laughed.

"Fucking take me!" Quinn shifted his gun so that it was now pointing at Bakri.

"Why should I?"

"Because you don't need the kid. I'll work just as well as an insurance policy, probably better. You don't want the hassle of a toddler on your hands."

"And a black ops agent would be so much easier... not," Bakri snorted but he was obviously considering the proposal.

"I could fucking end it for you right now, Bakri!" Quinn snarled, pointing his gun directly at the other man, hoping the distance was too far for the other man to notice the unsteadiness of his aim. "Then take my chances with your friend. Whatever the outcome you wouldn't be around to see it."

"And I could take you down too, Quinn." Bakri spat back, waving his own gun somewhat more theatrically.

"Could you? Really?" Quinn's voice was iced confidence. "In broad daylight and cold blood? You're playing for keeps now. I thought spreadsheets and emails were more your style!"

Bakri hesitated, doubt undeniably obvious across his features. "OK, " he said finally. "But put the gun down."

Quinn shook his head. "Let the girl go. Let Maggie take her into the house and then I'll put my gun down."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You have my word."

"What fucking good is that?" Bakri mocked but he signalled to his colleague. "Put her down, Joaquin."

"But..."

"No fucking buts... I've got him covered. Do it!"

Slowly Joaquín lowered the girl to the floor. Franny stood, unsure of what to do, her big fear filled eyes on Quinn, her lower lip quivering, tears smudged on her cheeks, she took a hesitant step towards him. Quinn's stomach constricted at the sight. How he wanted to rush to her and gather her up, start running and keep running until they were safely away, but, instead he smiled reassuringly. "Run to Auntie Maggie, Princess," he said kindly. "Take her Maggie. Go inside, lock the door and call Carrie. Tell her I got this."

"What you got?" Bakri's mocking voice said. "You got jack shit is what you got, black ops boy!"

As the little girl ran towards her, Maggie took a couple of steps from the porch and grabbed Franny. She hesitated for a second, throwing Quinn a helpless but grateful look. He smiled bravely at her and nodded toward the house and she did as she was told.

The door shut with a loud bang and the scene was suddenly silent in expectation.

Bakri walked towards Quinn. "Put it down," he ordered.

Quinn gave him his hardest stare, waiting for the shadow of doubt to appear in Bakri's eyes. Once it had, he dropped his gun onto the lush grass in front of him and raised his hands.

Bakri pushed away the uneasy feeling of vulnerability that Quinn's unflinching stare had given him and forced a chuckle. "So, I think it's gonna be a lot of fun having you around for a while, eh?" As he spoke he gleefully landed a hard punch right into Quinn's stomach, the wind whooshed out of Quinn's lungs as pain rushed in and he fell to his knees with a grunt. "Not so much for you though, loser!" Bakri scoffed. "Joaquin, this motherfucker is dangerous as fuck so watch him cos your life depends on it!" Bakri ordered. "Now get him in the car."