A/N: Part three of this story for the heatwave prompt. I'm only adding one more chapter, then wrapping it up. Let me know what you think. Lilmissfit, glad to see this strikes your interest.

P.s. And for anyone who reads Your star, I should be able to update it by this weekend, as I know plenty of you are waiting after how I left it.

"You don't have to say that Quinn, I already know I am," she says staring into his glossy gaze.

She pulls her hand away and dries her wet hair with the towel. Quinn takes advantage of the vodka that she set on the coffee table, taking a giant gulp as he does not have anything else for her to say. Her sincere belief of this thought astounded him. Carrie returns the towel to the drying rack in the bathroom, though she returns without wearing the pants he had given her, now only wearing the t-shirt and panties.

His reaction is much unanticipated by both parties. This is exactly why he hating not drinking alone. When he drinks he gets emotional and mushy, sometimes even violent, but it's too late since they've already drank almost half the bottle between the both of them. They're both starting to feel the effects now. They're not drunk, but certainly on the verge and on the way too it.

"What?" She interrupts his prime focus.

"Huh?"

He had imagined her half naked before, but never under these circumstances.

"It's still too fucking hot for them!" She stumbles back onto the sofa.

"Yeah, yeah... you hungry? I'm hungry. I'm going to see what I have." He diverts his attention away from her, but already knows his reaction said it all.

He takes off to the tiny galley kitchen, not even allowing her to respond, taking the bottle with him.

"Hey where you going with that?" She follows him right in.

"I, well we have had enough tonight," he answers placing it back in the freezer.

He's parenting her despite his similar state, but she's allowing it. On a similar level, she agrees that they have had enough, but would prefer to just keep at it until she passes out cold. She's sort of even hoping to get so drunk that she doesn't get up to avoid the hell storm tomorrow when everyone finds out her work went to shit, rather wanting to deal with it all herself.

"I've got bread annnnnnnd bread," he shows her.

"Hmm," she debates. "The whole grain, it's darker."

Quinn mistakes the steak knife for a viable tool and the blade slips off the hard crust, slicing into his finger.

"Fuck," he shouts.

"You okay?"

"I'm good."

"Just let me see it," she insists.

He shows her a hardly visible flesh wound and she laughs.

"Do you just want me to do it Quinn?"

He hands her the knife although weary about it. She starts sweating while sawing through the loaf, but it's not just the heat. It's the memory of her father going right along with it that she has been tucking away since she's gotten back .

"What is it Carrie?" He says after seeing her struggling.

"Here eat!" She says placing the plate of bread in his hands.

She places a single piece of bread on her plate and joins him on the sofa.

"I thought it was going to rain?" He teases her interpretation.

"It better soon, I'm still dying of heat!"

He chews his food slowly before eventually throwing his plans at her.

"I'm uh, leaving in a couple of days," he announces out of the blue.

"Yeah haha me too," she mocks him.

"No Carrie I'm serious, I'll be gone by June 1st."

She sets down her plate and begins to question this ridiculous idea he was entertaining .

"Why?" She begins right on offense.

"Carrie you know I wanted out before and coming here just made everything worse," he explains with no regret.

"Are you saying I made it worse?" She spits furiously arching her brow at him.

He evades her initial question to offer some advice. It was starting to piss him off how much she put I, me, and my into everything.

"I... I think you should leave too. Go home. This place isn't doing you any good."

The alcohol is fueling through her veins telling her that Quinn is aggressively targeting her.

"I can't leave my job Quinn!"

If he wasn't being passive aggressive before he is now.

"But yet you have no problem leaving anything, anywhere, or anyone else," he says while noticing seemingly real fire igniting in her eyes. "I can't take what this place has done to you... to me."

"But it's my job! I help protect people, it's what I do!" She defends herself again.

"Yes, but it's not your life Carrie. I just don't want to see you get yourself hurt anymore. You almost... died today!"

He's clearly not getting through to her as she will not back down.

"If you really cared about me then you would stay! Come on Quinn do you really think I'm worried about some 20 year old kid getting in my way!?"

"Yes!"

"Well, well you're wrong!"

"Well I'm still leaving," he shouts.

Silence fills the air and Quinn continues to eat his food. Carrie is obviously scrambling in her head to find a solution to his decision. She knows she's in danger, but refuses to admit it.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow, straighten this all out. I'm sure it was only a misunderstanding," she does her best to convince Quinn, he ignores her. "I mean all he said was that he was done, finished. He didn't want to play for the wrong team anymore... I think I can change that."

He gets up from his seat after being sick of hearing her bullshit, leaving her alone while he goes to the balcony.

"Really you're just going to walk away," she says after following him. "Why do you even have a balcony anyways?"

"I like to be able to see everything," he responds dully.

She takes a deep breath, completely stressed that he won't budge.

"Quinn you're the only one I trust!"

"That's too bad I guess."

"What can I do to change your mind?" She asks in newly developed sweet tone while caressing his lower back.

Quinn glances back for a moment at her hand, slightly aroused. His altered mind is confusing him and he's not sure if he wants to strangle her for her continued pestering or if he wants fuck her right there on the railing. Either way he knew it would shut her up.

"Carrie!?"

"Quinn. Please!" She begs while practically rubbing his back. He restrains himself from his thoughts and stands his ground.

"Nothing," he delivers point blank.

She removes her hand from his body, looking down at the ground below. The rain finally makes an appearance, not even sneaking up slowly, but coming full blast. Without asking for permission he whisks her by the hand, quickly bringing her inside.

His whole mind feels clearer with the temperature dropping at a nice steady rate, no longer struggling to feel comfortable. He can see it in her as well, but knows that the heat was never her biggest problem. The thought of her, or even them, doing something stupid though was still very much apparent, forcing him to take action.

"It's late. I think I'm going to sleep," he tells her.

"Oh, uh yeah me too," she gives him the fakest smile he'd seen from her yet.

"You know if you don't want to be alone, if you're still... well you can sleep in my room," he offers, struggling to get his words out.

"No no. Couch is good," she assures him.

"Okay then. Goodnight," he says awkwardly leaving her there.

The second he enters the bedroom, the rain that was recently pounding against the building has suddenly stopped. After lying in bed for an hour, he could feel the temperature gradually rising again. No amount of rain was capable of stopping the lingering heat that kept creeping up on them at the worst time possible. It was keeping her awake too. As he is pretending to be asleep, he catches her sneaking into his bed. She's not afraid of him leaving, she's petrified.