Carrie finishes washing the last traces of red off of Quinn, thinks to herself she's had far too much interaction with his blood lately. Then gently wipes his wounds clean, presses some new dressings on.
She starts with his back, the exit wound looking much worse than the entry. Covers it in multiple layers of padding, turns and gets a strip of tape from Jonas.
Jonas hasn't really said anything to her since they argued at the door and she wonders how long until he asks for an explanation now that she's not otherwise occupied with starting the IV, cleaning Quinn up.
Of course it doesn't take long at all. Jonas hands her a second piece of tape, then gives her a stern look.
"So who is he?" he asks. "You said you would explain."
Carrie looks at him, knows he deserves something of an answer at least.
"We used to work together," she says, because that's the only real hard truth she can come up with. She never even really thought of Quinn as an actual friend, maybe because their lives never afforded them normal friendship situations. Just a guy she relied on, that she cared about, that always came through for her. Well. Except when he took off in the end. Like everyone else.
"At the CIA?" Jonas asks.
"Yes," she replies, wonders how much she's able to tell.
"So why isn't he in a hospital? And why are you the one dealing with this instead of the CIA?" Jonas asks.
Carrie puts another piece of tape on, runs her hands over his burning skin to press it tight. Looks at Quinn somewhat fondly, shakes her head in exasperation.
"He's here because he's a stubborn bastard and going to the hospital would blow my cover," she explains, as best she can. "And he's... unofficial. So he has no support from the Agency."
"What do you mean, your cover?" Jonas asks, looks like his head is going to explode. "Carrie, this is ridiculous. You sound like you're in a spy movie."
Carrie shakes her head, thinks yeah, well they probably based those fucking spy movies on my life. Wonders what is the least amount of information she can give him and still get him to go along with what's happening.
"Look, all you need to know is he saved my life," Carrie explains. "He was sent to kill me and he didn't. He faked my death so I could disappear but I convinced him to let me stay and then someone tried to kill him."
"And why didn't you take him to the hospital?"
"He wouldn't go, whoever is trying to kill us will be looking around for him in hospitals. So I'm all he's got right now," she says, finishing the dressing on Quinn's wound and brushing her hand up against his brow.
Jonas is quiet for a moment and she can feel his eyes on her. But she can't help that her concern for Quinn is coming out in a need to touch him, make sure he's still there.
Finally Carrie looks up, sees that Jonas is giving her an odd look.
"How come I've never heard of him before?" he asks. "You seem to care a lot about him."
Carrie takes a breath, thinks fuck.
"He's classified," she says, trying to stonewall.
"Carrie," Jonas says, in a tone that indicates approaching anger. "Come on."
"What?" she replies, not actually sure what Jonas is getting at. There's really nothing else to say, she thinks. They worked together and he was always good to her. It's most of the truth, enough.
"He's the one you've been looking for," Jonas says, sounds both accusing and sure. "The one you sometimes chase in your dreams."
And now she's on the defensive, didn't see this coming at all. Wonders where Jonas is even getting this from, thinks he must be being paranoid.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Jonas," Carrie replies, gives him her best 'what the fuck' look.
"Everywhere we go, you look for someone. Especially when we travel. I may not be CIA but I can see it," he responds, looks at her darkly.
Fuck, Carrie thinks. Of course she did it, unconsciously by now. Scanned her surroundings, including any likely candidates. Partly her training, partly her sense of loss. And, of all people, he could have really been anywhere, so she had to look. Just in case.
She just didn't know that Jonas had noticed, that he thought anything of it. Or that he realized she had dreams about chasing Quinn through endless hellholes, always a step behind him and impending disaster.
But what the hell could she say now? Something to deflect.
"Yeah, well. He did disappear," she says. "I couldn't help but wonder. And it's not what you think."
Jonas nods in a 'yeah sure' kind of way, looks at her tiredly.
"So now he's back and was supposed to kill you? Gets shot and won't go to the hospital? This is crazy, Carrie," he says, as if she doesn't already know it.
Yet the thing is it's crazy and it's not. In a way, the situation started feeling more normal once Quinn was in the picture. This is the sort of thing that happens to unite them - dire situations with little support. Insanity on every front, possible death around every corner.
So Carrie looks at Jonas, shakes her head in a whatever kind of way. Shrugs and exhales a little exasperation.
"Actually, for us, this is kind of par for the course," she says.
Jonas looks at her as if she's from another planet and Carrie just shrugs again, tries to remember that of course he doesn't get it, thinks it's insane. Because it is definitely insane. Her and Quinn alone. Him with an infected bullet hole, her with nothing but a wig and a prayer. But still she believes she can do it, that she can figure it out. Save them both.
Jonas shakes his head, gives her a strange look while she turns back to look at Quinn, starts dressing the entry wound on his torso. And thankfully Jonas is quiet for awhile, just passes her tape as she wonders what he's thinking, if he's going to be able to adapt to the situation.
After awhile he asks her what she'll do if Quinn doesn't get better and she doesn't want to think about it, has to believe that the IV and new bandaging will be enough. Because otherwise it will involve a battle with Quinn, who would probably just try to run the first chance he got.
That is if he regains consciousness, she thinks to herself before remembering to shut off that thought. It's just easier to believe that Quinn will be okay because she needs him to be. And he's yet to fail her.
"He will," she replies, tries to sound sure.
"But if he doesn't?" Jonas persists. "Will you take him to the hospital then?"
Not unless there are no other options, Carrie thinks. And she can at least think of one.
"Would your sister come and examine him first?" she asks. If she can get a medical opinion on Quinn, or even just some help with his wounds it could be enough, she thinks.
Jonas looks down, kind of shakes his head.
"She might if I asked her to," he says. "But I won't involve my family in this anymore."
Carrie nods, isn't particularly surprised. It's the way Jonas is, bound by the rules of so called normal life, civilian society.
"Okay," she replies. "I get that."
"I won't be involved anymore either," he continues.
Carrie looks at him, unsure of what he means. That he's done with this? With her?
Really her entire life is at risk right now, the chance of figuring everything out and resuming her regular Berlin existence seeming less and less likely. At this point she either figures out who's trying to kill her and eliminates the problem or she disappears forever. But either way her life with Jonas has already been severely compromised and is possibly unrepairable.
He's just not made to take shit like this, she thinks. It's part of what she loved about him right up until the shit hit the fan.
"You've done more than enough, Jonas," she says, means it. She's put him through a lot, attacked him, lied to him, used him. All those 'old' Carrie things. "Thank you. I mean that."
"No one should have to live like this," he replies, sounds upset still.
"I just said you don't have to," she answers, throwing a blanket over Quinn and then turning to avoid Jonas' look.
"I'm not talking about me," he says.
Carrie thinks fuck, she's not sure she wants to have this conversation right now.
"Well, I don't have a choice," she says, even though she knows he doesn't have the capacity to understand this. That everything she's doing is so she can get back to Frannie, that it's not something that can be dealt with by the regular fucking police.
"Yes you do," he argues, as if she can just stop being the target of a kill order.
"Well, I wish that were true," she replies. Because if her choice is between Quinn dying and her on the run or her happy life with Jonas and Frannie, there's not much of decision to make. But she didn't make this decision, doesn't get to choose the outcome.
Carrie knows she shouldn't be pissed off at Jonas, that he's done as much as he can, everything she's asked of him. She always knew that there was a line with him, that maintaining her life with him included hiding facts about herself, certain aspects of her life. That their life together wasn't made to deal with this type of situation. And now he is already way past his comfort zone.
Jonas scoffs, as if he doesn't believe her.
"This is insane," he says. "Assassination attempts, gun battles in the street. You've got to find a way to stop all this, Carrie."
He comes up to her, looks suddenly overcome with emotion.
"I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you," he says, shaking his head sadly. "I thought I had..."
Carrie looks away from him, blinks back tears. It's not like she wanted to lose this thing she had with Jonas, she thinks. But sometimes life throws assassination attempts at you and then you're left to deal with it the best you can. Even if that means abandoning your well-meaning but ill-equipped boyfriend for the moment because he can't understand the facts of the situation.
So she wants to tell him he won't lose her but figures it's better not to lie. Because she can't see how this is going to resolve back into their happy life, doesn't want him to hold onto false hope.
Jonas turns away and Carrie doesn't know what to say or do. A part of her still wants to comfort him, tell him that she doesn't want to lose him either. But mostly she can't think about Jonas, Frannie, her happy Berlin life. Not while Quinn is seriously injured and someone's trying to kill her.
So in the end she doesn't say anything at all, just sits back down next to Quinn. Realizes a line was just drawn in her relationship with Jonas, one he's unwilling to cross. Wonders if it's really the end, if he's done with all of it.
Of course then Carrie can't help but look at Quinn, think how he's crossed every line for her, always come through for her in the end. No matter the cost to himself, how callously she treated him.
So though she should be scared, mourning for her relationship; all Carrie can think about is how worried she is about Quinn, that she really needs him to wake up and be alright.
#
Flashes, dark and light. There, yet not there at all.
Something in his hand. Then again. And another. No pain though, no feeling.
He burns, chills, aches. Sleeps and drifts, hears voices, indistinct.
It's faint, the voices. But it's her, sounding worried.
He wants that to stop, remembers she's supposed to be dead, gone. That it's not safe.
But there's nothing to be done, he has no control. Half asleep, body searing.
Then hands, hers. Over his skin, soapy, soft.
Clean, dry. Cool, deft hands, all around him, gentle, caressing.
A fever dream, he thinks. Surely.
Her touch sizzles against him everywhere it goes, scarifies his skin. It feels like nothing else, ecstatic pain, his every need.
And so he takes it all in, then falls back into the dark.
#
Quinn wakes to a terse discussion between Carrie and some guy he thought he hallucinated, hears the word ambulance and tenses up right away.
Opening his eyes slowly, he has to blink a few extra times to retain focus but eventually he sees Carrie sitting next to him but looking into the other room, talking to the boyfriend she conned into bringing medical supplies for him.
Well, this is unlikely and awkward, Quinn thinks groggily. Especially with him in a position of weakness. Not that it was that sort of situation. Though of course there is the need to assess the guy she chose.
Carrie is still looking into the other room, hasn't noticed that he's awake so Quinn has time to silently evaluate the situation. He can already feel the IV in his hand, isn't burning quite as bright. Still feels weak as shit, barely able to keep his eyes open. But she did a decent job for an amateur, he muses. Always manages to impress.
Self-assessment done, he lets his eyes wander over towards the voice in the other room. Thinks, so this is the guy, her attempt at normalcy. He's yammering on about ambulances and Carrie is obviously just stalling, stonewalling as she does.
Quinn looks over at the boyfriend, suddenly wonders where he left his gun. Then realizes he shouldn't be thinking about shooting Carrie's guy, that she'd be pissed about it.
He gets wrapped up in observing the boyfriend, wondering what she sees in him. And Quinn's easily decided the guy's no threat when he notices too late that Carrie's now looking at him, has caught him watching.
So he doesn't bother to hide it, just gives her the silent 'really?' look.
Carrie smirks, has that gleam in her eye, gives him a conspiratorial glance.
"Don't hurt him, okay?" she says, barely a whisper.
Quinn tries to muffle his laugh but he knows the boyfriend heard because Carrie glances over, flashes a fake contrite look. Then she turns back and gives him a little shrug, a full on smile.
And again his first reaction is that something's wrong, that this isn't actually Carrie looking at him so fondly. But then she puts her hand to his brow and it is definitely her. There is no mistaking her touch, he thinks, before he remembers he's not supposed to want this, think shit like that.
"Hey," she says, still with a soft smile. "Feeling better?"
Quinn nods although he still feels like shit, thinks he still could sleep for another couple days, maybe forever. But he needs to stay conscious, make sure nothing happens to her.
"Yeah, I'm good," he says, though it comes out weaker than expected.
"Sure," Carrie replies, with her 'yeah right' expression. "I'm still waiting on Astrid so you should sleep, Quinn. I promise I won't go anywhere."
That's the problem, he thinks as he tries to stay awake, fight the uselessness of sleep. She shouldn't be here at all. Yet there's absolutely nothing he can do about it, can't win against her even when he's not half-conscious, weak with infection.
And then she gets up from the chair, sits on the bed next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder, her thumb making a pattern in his skin. Fuck, she fights dirty, Quinn thinks, knows he's lost again. Falls asleep under her touch in seconds, thinks this surely can't be real.
#
The next time Quinn wakes it's to the sound of footsteps, heavier than Carrie's. And his automatic reaction is to reach for his weapon, then groans at the pain of movement, the realization that his gun isn't there.
He opens his eyes to see the boyfriend eyeing him suspiciously, figures he should get the jump on the situation.
"Who the fuck are you?" Quinn asks, even though he already knows enough about Jonas Hollander the top tier German lawyer to tail his ex-wife, kidnap his child.
Jonas looks surprised for a second, then pissed off. Turns with a serious look on his face.
"I'm the guy who just saved your life," he says, a bit smartly.
"No, that was all her," Quinn replies, shaking his head. "And I'm not entirely happy about it anyhow."
Now Jonas looks annoyed, scowls.
"So why are you still alive if you don't want to be?" he asks.
"Do you even know her?" Quinn responds, blinks pseudo-innocently. "She's fucking persuasive."
Jonas scowls again and Quinn thinks, mission accomplished. He has a play to make and the boyfriend is the perfect rube. Pissing him off just makes things easier, better entertainment value too.
But of course Carrie wanders back over just then, catches the last of the discussion, their muted expressions of hostility. She looks between them and then gives Quinn her half-scowl half-smile.
"Play nice, Quinn," she admonishes.
Quinn blinks again, pretends he doesn't know what she's talking about.
"I am," he says, all innocence.
Carrie gives him a look that says bullshit, shakes her head knowingly.
"You're not going to convince him I need to be on a train," she states firmly.
Fuck, Quinn thinks. She really does fucking know him. Because that was exactly his play - to goad the boyfriend into it, convince him he's no man unless he makes her leave. Which, he thinks, is both hypocritical and not. Because Quinn knows he's no man, at least not on this issue. Otherwise she would be far gone, him too.
But of course she saw right through it, smirks at her little victory. And he thinks fuck, no wonder he never wins.
"Fuck you, Carrie," he says, in a way they both know he means and doesn't mean.
Carrie smiles, gives him an amused look as she sits down on the bed with him again, Jonas' eyes following her every movement.
"You can't win them all," she says with sassy shrug.
"Sure, gloat about beating the dying guy," Quinn replies with a sigh, lies back tiredly. Just being conscious is exhausting still and he suddenly feels completely drained, ready to sleep again.
Carrie's smile suddenly wipes into a frown at his comment, and she puts her hand on his bare chest, pushes into him.
"Jesus, Quinn. Don't say shit like that," she snaps. "You are not dying."
Maybe not quite yet, he thinks. She's done the best she could, a good job under the circumstances. Saved his life thus far, even against his own inclinations.
So even if Quinn's not entirely thankful for the gift of ongoing existence, he is still overcome by her efforts, sure he doesn't deserve any of it.
"Yeah, thanks to you," he replies, tries to actually sound sincere. She's done more for him than he could ever expect, especially considering how rough he'd been on her. Has been so good to him he feels like shit about it, knows he's unworthy of her care.
Carrie gives him a smile, her hand still pressed against his sternum.
"I would be really fucking sad," she says, little more than a whisper.
Again Quinn thinks he doesn't deserve it, that he has fucked this all up royally. That she should be far away, safe, mourning her lost child. Definitely should not be here worrying about him while her boyfriend watches on.