AN: Thanks to those of you that took the time to leave a review or comment. I really do appreciate it. If you're like me, you're counting down the days until Quinn and Carrie are back on our screens, so hopefully this will tide you over a little.
Sitting quietly in the control room of their Islamabad office, Carrie's team watched the screens light up with the clouds of debris as the drone hits its target. They sat silently as they waited to hear if it was a success. A few moments later, they heard the voice of the agent who was their eyes on the ground for this operation. His voice was somewhat broken up by static but they finally heard his confirmation, "Mission black horse was successful. I repeat, the black horse is down."
A smattering of applause filled the room - just like it had the last few weeks for each successful mission. Agents congratulated one another on their strong intelligence and careful planning. A few of them gave high fives. Carrie quietly exhaled as she put her head down and pulled her hands through her hair. Then, she looked up and gave a small smile. "Another one down," she said to no one in particular.
Quinn stood at the back of the room. His arms crossed and his face, as usual, was completely unreadable. His eyes, however, were alert and fixed on their most frequent target – Carrie. He watched her stand up and turn to the agents around her. She shook hands with many of them and even gave Fara a quick hug. Quinn noted the smile on her face. More importantly, he noted the look in her eyes.
As their colleagues filtered out of the room, Carrie walked over to Quinn. She said with a satisfied smile, "Pretty great, huh?"
"Yeah, sure," is all Quinn offered in reply.
"Oh c'mon, Quinn, even you have to be impressed with that hit. It was textbook," Carrie challenged him. Her eyes flashed and her posture changed subtlety like an animal preparing to defend itself.
Quinn, however, didn't feel like arguing. "It was good intelligence work, Carrie," he offered simply. He then reached for his jacket that was hung on the back of the chair in front of him and put it on. "I'm beat. Have a good night," he said with a small smile.
Carrie narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly as he turned toward the door. She bit her lip for a moment and then said, "Hey, you wanna grab a drink? I've got this great bottle of vodka I snuck in."
Quinn's face registered a look of surprise that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "Sure, Carrie," he said with a nod.
Carrie unlocked the door to her small apartment and tossed her bag on the floor next to the door. Quinn followed, almost tentatively. "Nice place. I love what you've done with it," he deadpanned as he looked at the nearly barren living room.
Carrie laughed, "Yeah well, according to Virgil and Max, this décor should right up your alley."
Quinn smirked, "Touché."
Carrie walked into the kitchen and grabbed the only two glasses she had and the bottle of vodka from the cabinet. She poured generous drinks for each of them and called out to Quinn in the living room, "Hey, do you want anything to eat? I think I still have a bag of pretzels in one of my boxes."
Quinn shook his head, "Nah, I'm good." There was no furniture so he sat down on the floor next to a small record player, a set of speakers and a stack of albums. He flipped through them - Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Thelonius Monk, Charles Mingus, Charlie Parker – she had every album they ever made.
Carrie walked into the living room with the glasses and sat down on the floor across from Quinn. "You like jazz?" she asked as she crossed her legs.
"A little," Quinn said. "I just started listening to it more."
"Nice," Carrie said and then held out her glass. "To black horse," she toasted with a triumphant smile on her face. "May the bastard burn in hell."
Quinn stared at her for a moment and then simply nodded and tapped her glass with his. He looked down and swirled the vodka around a few times before he took a long, slow drink.
Carrie took note of Quinn's silence. "So what? You're not happy that we succeeded?"
"No, it's, it's… good I guess," Quinn said with a sigh. After a moment, he asked, "It's just, doesn't it get to you ever? Dropping bombs onto homes where kids could be sleeping?"
Carrie was incredulous as she replied an edge to her voice, "Um no, because we're killing terrorists, Quinn – you know, people that want to kills hundreds of our kids. I've got absolutely zero regrets about that."
"Yeah well, you seem in your element," Quinn observed.
"Oh, thanks for the damning praise," Carrie said sarcastically. She took another drink and then blew out a breath as she shifted her legs and got up to her knees. "I get it. You think I'm some cold, emotionless bitch. But guess what? That's why I'm great at what I do."
Carrie pushed herself up to her feet and started to walk toward her bedroom as she announced, "I'm going to find those pretzels."
Quinn shifted back so he could lean against the wall behind him. He continued to sip his vodka as he listened to Carrie rifle through boxes in the next room. After a couple minutes, she walked back in, munching on a pretzel.
"So, you seem grumpier than your usual grumpy self. What gives?," Carrie asked as she sat back down on the floor with her bag of pretzels.
Quinn took another slow drink of his vodka. He finally admitted, "Today is his birthday."
Carrie didn't have to ask who he was. "Ah," she replied. "Well, that explains a lot. Did you call him?"
"Nope. I don't ever call him," he said.
"Why not?," she asked.
Quinn shrugged, "Because I'm not his dad anymore. She got married last year. That's his dad now. If I called him, I'd just be the selfish asshole who was fucking with his life." Quinn maintained an even tone as he explained, but Carrie could hear the slight catch in his voice.
She considered what he said and then asked, "So, do you regret it?"
"Every day," he said simply. And then he added with a shrug, "But I made my choice so I've gotta live with it." He took another drink and then asked, "Do you regret it?"
Carrie furrowed her brow as she objected to Quinn's question, "There's nothing to regret. My daughter's fine and the only reason I'm away from her now is because I had to take this post."
Quinn raised his eyebrow.
"What? It's not the same thing, Quinn. I'm not choosing the job over her," Carrie protested.
"Yeah, fine," Quinn said as he began to stand up. "Hey, thanks for the drink. I really am tired though."
Carrie stood up too and followed him to the door so she could lock it behind him.
Quinn turned back toward Carrie just as he reached the door. "I get you see yourself as some heartless bitch and you think that's what you need to be. But that's not you. You care… probably too much. That's why you're great at what you do."
"Thanks Quinn." She smiled for a moment and then took at small tentative step toward him. She quickly reached up and put her arms around him. Stunned, Quinn awkwardly patted her on the back before she released him from the hug.
He gave her a small smile, turned away and walked out.