Carrie walks over to the sink as Quinn pulls out the medical kit, sprays a little disinfectant on his hand.
"Hurry up, we got shit to do," he says brusquely, wants to get things moving.
"What, exactly?" she asks, as if she still doesn't get it. Which seems unlikely, considering who she is.
"Your fallback plan," he replies. "Time to execute it."
Quinn thinks that this is clear, is surprised she hasn't come to the same conclusion herself. When you're on a CIA kill list, it is obviously time to disappear.
"What if I don't have one?" Carrie asks ridiculously, as if this is a real possibility.
Good one, Carrie he thinks, even laughs out loud. There is no way she doesn't have a stash somewhere, an eject button for her life. Two years is awhile, but it's not long enough to forget that things can change in an instant.
"Could be true," she adds, just as she would. Being difficult, as per usual.
"Cut the crap, Carrie," Quinn replies sharply. "It's time to disappear, and fast. This picture buys you time, as long as you keep your head down they won't come after you."
This is all he has been thinking about. Just get her on a train, make sure she's far away, a different person. Safe, and out of his life again.
But of course Carrie changes the subject, doesn't acknowledge his plans at all. Starts asking questions in that the way he knows all too well.
"So, your operation with Saul," she asks. "How does it work?"
"It doesn't matter," Quinn replies, because it doesn't. Has nothing to do with what needs to get done. And he doesn't want her to ask anything, needs her to just follow his plan, get out of town.
But it's Carrie and there is no way to stop her from questioning shit, demanding answers. She finishes washing up, walks over to him.
"Tell me," she demands, exactly as she does, in that way that tells you you've already lost.
"Saul provides a name. I provide proof of death, return to the drop, get another name," he replies, as tersely as possible.
"And last time you went to the drop, you got my name?" she asks, still sounds shocked, hurt.
"I told you that already," Quinn replies, just wants her to stop. Because every word she speaks to him makes him remember a little, all that shit he meant to forget forever.
"Why?" she asks.
"I don't know. I don't wanna know," he states firmly, tries to communicate that he needs her to stop fucking talking to him, asking him questions. But it's that persistent Carrie thing, just how she fucking is.
"But I didn't do anything," she argues, as if it makes any difference at all.
Quinn gets that she has only just found out about this, that she's still trying to process it all. But he needs her to snap out of this mental shock she's in, understand the facts on the ground. And it has to be soon, before he lets her fucking get to him.
"Listen to me, Carrie. Your name was in the box, okay?" he replies sharply. "Probably for something you're not even aware of. Now I know that's hard to hear."
He looks at her hard when he says it, keeps his eyes cold and direct. The facts as she needs to know them, enough to get her on a fucking train.
"I have to talk to Saul," Carrie says, as if she's being obstinate, obtuse on purpose.
You can't fix this, Quinn thinks at her in frustration. And it's not fucking safe to be here anymore.
"For all you know he was given a direct order," he says, tries to make it clear exactly how dead someone wants her to be.
"What's your point?" Carrie asks, and he tries to remember she hasn't thought it through a hundred times already. Or then again, maybe she just doesn't want to face facts.
And that, for sure, was his job. To state the facts, no matter how harsh. So he tells her flat out, as coldly, surely as he can.
"Somebody, somewhere, likely very senior, wants you dead," he states, as explicitly as possible. "If they think you're not dead, they're going to send someone to finish the job. You gotta disappear."
It's clear as day to him, just needs her to get it too. Understand that it's time to put her shit in a bag and get the fuck out of Berlin. Start a new life, learn to forget the past, let him get back to his life in the dark.
#
"Somebody, somewhere, likely very senior, wants you dead," Quinn tells her, looking her dead in the eyes. "If they think you're not dead, they're going to send someone to finish the job. You gotta disappear."
Carrie looks away, tries to process this all in a mind full of questions. None of this makes any sense, she thinks. She hasn't done anything to warrant this.
And yet Quinn is also right, she just doesn't want to believe it yet. To go from her safe, happy life to a life on the run, evading assassination attempts, all in a matter of days. Of course, Carrie thinks to herself. It was just bound to be. As soon as she felt a little settled, a bit safe. She's here in what looks like an abandoned church basement with Quinn, faking her own death. It's too much to think about, deal with at the moment.
The other thing is, it doesn't make any sense. The bombing in Lebanon, sending Quinn to kill her. But Carrie's sure it fits together somewhere, that the answer is not running away. She knows there must be another solution, that something is not right with this scenario.
But then there's the part of her that wonders if she just doesn't want to face it, the fact of what she has to do. What she's always known to be a possibility, due to her previous style of life, her history deep in the game.
When Quinn had asked about the fallback plan, he had sounded so sure. She hates that about him, that he can know her so readily. Two years, she thinks. How long would be enough to live without a backup, a stash just in case?
Because of course she has a escape plan, a way out if everything goes to shit. Still can't imagine living without one even though her day to day life has been completely tranquil for over two years, until the past week. And of course Quinn knew it, knows the life they live, knows who she is underneath her stable boyfriend, her civilian job.
"Time to go get your stash," Quinn says when he finally looks back over at her.
It's only now that everything is really sinking in. That this is for real.
Quinn expects her to disappear, for who know how long. Leave everything she has. Jonas. Frannie. And she knows he's probably right, that he's already taken a risk by doing this, not obeying orders.
So if it really has come down to this, there is something she needs to do first.
Carrie takes a breath, looks up at Quinn. He's wearing that irritated steely expression, clearly just wants to be rid of her.
"There's something I need to do first," she says, dares him to argue.
He asks the obvious question with just his eyes, indicates his impatience with the same look.
"Make a video," she explains "For Frannie."
And even just saying that makes her tremble for a second, making everything just a little more real. Just two days ago she put Frannie on a plane. Now she doesn't know when she'll ever see her daughter again.
Quinn tries to maintain his hard look but his eyes flit with sympathy for just a moment and he doesn't argue, just nods once. Almost looks like he expects it, has thought this through.
Which surprises her in a way, implies more empathy for her situation than he's showing. Because he is clearly doing his best to shut down all emotions, doing his best to play the hardened operative. Shows it with his next comment, the coldness in his tone.
"I have to see it," he says. "Make sure it's clean."
Carrie scowls, knows it's procedure yet doesn't like it. She's still not sure of this Quinn, what the hell is left between them. And this is something she doesn't want him to see, knows she will be raw, completely exposed.
Yet she needs to do it, even if this is the only way. And of anyone, she supposes at least it's Quinn. Somewhat pathetically, he still probably knows her better than almost anyone, has seen her through a lot. Also, she's pretty sure he's about as pleased about the situation as she is, looks touchy and tense as he walks off to go grab a camera.
Leaves her with only her thoughts, the question of what to say.