Carrie startles easily out of a light sleep with the first glint of morning, finds she's dozed off in a chair next to Quinn's bed after watching him sleep for much of the night.

She's been so worried all night it's a flood of relief to see that he's still breathing, resting soundly, doesn't seem to be in pain. And for a moment Carrie thinks how he looks so precious in his sleep, then can't believe she's even having the thought. Wonders what's gotten into her, if it's only because Quinn's hurting that she's suddenly finding him so endearing.

Or is it everything about him coming back to her, after two years gone? And this window of openness in him, a crack in his hard shell.

Maybe she's just able to appreciate it more now, Carrie thinks. Ironically because he had been trying so hard to be cold towards her, pretending to be the bad guy he thinks he is. Yet all the while trying to protect her in the only way he knows. He tries so hard to fight it, she thinks. But he has only ever done his best for her, always put her first.

Quinn's eyes flit open as she's watching him, catching her in the act. He gives her a half-awake blink and Carrie shrugs, silently admits she was watching him sleep. Then turns to bring him some water, only to see that he's already fallen back under again.

Carrie puts the water down, shakes him gently on the shoulder. Thinks it takes longer than it should to rouse him, that he's having trouble finding consciousness.

Fuck, she does not like to worry about him, Carrie thinks. Knows he is prone to noble gestures, has self-sacrificing tendencies.

But then Quinn gamely sits up, sips at the water. Emits only a silent gasp or two, then looks at her with a grimace on his face.

"You okay?" he asks through an obvious spasm of pain. And she has to laugh, gives him a 'are you serious' look.

Quinn tries to smirk, doesn't quite make it.

"Really, I'm alright," he says, manages to make it sound half-convincing.

"Bullshit, Quinn," she replies kindly. "Don't lie to me."

He shakes his head, gives her a stern look.

"Don't worry about me, Carrie," he says. "You should really get out of town."

She wonders how many times he's going to say this to her, thinks he can't possibly believe she'd leave him here in this state. Both their lives in danger, assassins seemingly everywhere.

"Jesus, Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you?" she says a bit sharper than she means to. "I'm not leaving you. I have to figure this out, ID this guy. And then we can get you to a hospital and I can get my life back."

"Fuck, Carrie," Quinn mutters tiredly. "You can't be running around Berlin when you're supposed to be dead."

"Well you're not in any shape to do any running and I'm not going anywhere until I find out who put my name in that drop. We need to find out who this guy is," she replies, taking the phone out yet again.

"Fuck," Quinn mutters again. "What are you going to do?"

It's a good question, Carrie thinks. She doesn't have any official connections to take advantage of anymore, doesn't even know who thinks she's dead. Otto might help, but even if he can't she knows she will come up with something. She always does, is resourceful in exactly that way.

"I have a couple of possibilities," she says, not sure if it's true of not. What she knows is she's not going to let it go, not without trying to solve it.

Quinn gives her a doubtful look, and she can tell what he's thinking. That she can't possibly go around asking for favours right now, that she's known to be a hot commodity. A lot of people are looking for her and anyone could betray her, let it out that she's still alive.

But she has to at least try, reach out to the few contacts she has left. Put a name to this shooter, find out who is trying to kill her. Despite any reservations Quinn might have, she's okay with the risks involved.

And right then Quinn exhales a frustrated breath, lets out a low groan. Gives her a look that's half defeat, half hesitation.

"I have an contact," he says, still clearly unsure if he wants to share. Stalls for another moment until she gives him a pointed look, tilts her head to make him get to the point.

"Spill it, or I'll go find my own source," she says, knows it will get him going.

Quinn shakes his head, mutters a muffled fuck.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he says.

#

Carrie's looking at him expectantly, threatening to just go run around Berlin with no real plan. And of course she's both frustrating and right, as usual. If they can identify the shooter it will go a long way towards finding out who put her name in that box, maybe set her free from all this.

Still of course Quinn can't help but think it would be so much better, easier, cleaner if she just got on that train. If he could do this instead, put himself out there while she stayed safe behind the scenes.

But like Carrie would ever do that, even if he didn't have a bleeding hole in his side.

So he doesn't have much choice, yet is still reluctant to send Carrie to his one asset in Berlin. Knows he won't ever hear the end of it if he ever sees Astrid again.

But she's their best shot, someone he trusts.

"Astrid's here in Berlin," Quinn finally says. "Maybe she can ID our guy."

Carrie gives him a look he can't quite read, irritated yet bemused.

"She really doesn't like me," she replies, a certain gleam in her eyes.

That gets a pained laugh out of him, makes him think no, no she doesn't. Astrid makes it clear in her own way, never fails to take a stab at him about his 'girlfriend' when she can. So he can only imagine what it's like when the two of them talk to each other, neither side willing to give.

"Tell her it's for me," he says, knows it's their only shot. Astrid is not about to do any favours for Carrie, that much he's sure of. But she's never failed to come through for him, has always liked him more than enough.

Carrie arches her eyebrow at him, gives him a suspicious look.

"You think it'll be enough?" she asks.

Quinn thinks it had better be, that he's not letting her take this risk for nothing. Not that he could stop her anyway, ever tell her what to do. And this is their best chance at getting some intel, what she's always been good at.

"I really fucking hope so," he mutters in reply. Is fairly sure Astrid will do it, regardless of her dislike of Carrie - wouldn't send Carrie there if he thought otherwise.

Because Quinn's over pretending that he doesn't have a huge anxiety about her being out in the open, about being in the city at all. His ability to play it cold with her has been completely compromised by his injury, her proximity, the danger she's in. And now all he can think of are all the people that are looking for her, assassins around every corner.

Of course, he thinks to himself. Count on Carrie to start a new normal life only to become the most sought after intelligence asset in Berlin, the target of a high stakes hit.

And now he's incapacitated, feels a lot worse than he's letting on. Which means he both can't help her and has become a liability, a weak link. But at least the discussion has kept her occupied, distracted her enough that she hasn't checked on his wounds again. Which is a good thing because he thinks things are getting worse, feels the fire starting to radiate in him.

So Quinn tells Carrie where to find Astrid, thinks at least this will give him time to self-assess his situation, see how bad things really are. Then lays there anxiously as she gets ready, puts on the ridiculous wig. Tries to swallow his worry as he watches her walk out the door, tells himself she will be back soon.