Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

LilMisfit - Thank you so much. As you know from our PM discussion I'm not happy with Saul. I'll keep trying to write "in the feels". Oh and I had to google brotp...

Guest - Thank you for reading, the review and compliment. I am glad I have caught your attention. I am trying to delve into that which the writers have denied us.

A/N Another idea I have had at the back of my mind for a while. Backstory I made up for Carrie which may be or become AU. I never really expected to do a two parter on this fic. Alas, here we are. First part.

Please let me know what you think. Please review.

4pm

"Quinn, you're sure?"

"Saul, I'm positive. She definitely got on a flight to New York. It landed 6 hours ago. Maybe she's finding somewhere to stay and freshen up before coming to see you."

"You're probably right."

"Bye, Saul."

Saul allowed himself a smile. Carrie was on her way here. Hopefully they could work things out.

Carrie stared in the mirror of her hotel room and didn't like the uncertainty she could see staring back at her, nor the sadness in her eyes that had become a permanent fixture. She was anxious and unsure and didn't imagine the welcome would be warm, especially after their last conversation. She seemed to be unsure about a lot of things these days. She didn't like the feeling. She used to be certain about everything. Now she felt like she was groping around in the dark.

7.30pm

"What's wrong, Quinn?", Virgil asks as Quinn comes off his call to Saul. It hadn't sounded like an encouraging conversation.

"Carrie may be missing."

"What makes you say that?" Max asks sharply.

"Well she went to New York. Her flight landed 9 and a half hours ago but Saul hasn't seen or heard from her."

"She didn't say she was going to New York. She just said she was going away for a few days", Max says narrowing his eyes at Quinn.

"Well...I just wanted to make sure she was ok."

"You checked up on her? Quinn, she won't like that at all", Virgil says shaking his head.

"The point is she may be missing", Quinn answers angrily.

"Why? Because she hasn't shown up on Saul's doorstep? She never said she was going to see him either", Max offers scathingly.

"Do you know who she's gone to see?", Quinn asks, voice low and dangerous.

"Max?", Virgil questions. He knew that Max and Carrie seemed to be getting on quite well recently.

"No. It's like I said, she said she was going away for a few days. Said she had something to do...and no, before you ask, she didn't say what. If she wanted us to know, she would have told us."

"It has to be about Saul. Who else wold she be going to see in New York?", Quinn asks frustrated.

Max went back to watching their suspect, but could feel Quinn's eyes on him. He'd need to wait for a distraction. First chance he got though he was phoning Carrie to warn her Saul might be sending out a search party.

Carrie saw him coming out of the Restaurant. He made his way from there towards her in the Hotel bar. He hadn't seen her yet. He looked much the same, if a little older. Shoulders slumped and no trace of the smile she'd been used to for over a year. She supposed being a Chef in a busy, popular New York Hotel Restaurant would be stressful, but doubted that was the reason someone still young gave off the impression of being much older. She wondered if that is how she looked to people now.

She contemplated the bottom of her glass. Now that she was here and sitting in the same room, she had no idea how to approach him.

He'd seen her as soon as he entered the bar. It could just be coincidence of course, her being here. He mentally snorted. Yeah right. His drink tasted bitter in his mouth. He was tired and in no mood for any CIA bullshit she might have brought with her. In truth though, he'd been waiting for this day. After all Intelligence Officers are never free. Knowledge ensures someone will need you at some point, long after you got out and whether you want it or not.

He used the mirrors above the bar to observe her for a few minutes. He didn't like what he saw. Everything about her demeanor was wrong and not what he remembered. There was no resemblance to the irritatingly keen newby who thought the sun shone out of Berenson's ass and, who had in the end wounded him with her naive words, at the time he needed it least. She seemed lost and everything he was when he'd last spoken to her.

Now he was curious...damn her!

Carrie didn't even look up as the bottle of Tequila was put down in front of her.

"I didn't order another drink", she says without looking up.

"No. But you look like you need the bottle!"

Carrie looked up sharply at the sound of his voice. He took the seat across from her.

"Hello, Carrie. Long time, no see."

She hadn't thought he'd seen her. Maybe she was losing her touch.

"Hello, Stephen", she replied, swallowing.

Her silence unnerved him. He spent the first 6 months working with her trying to find a way to shut her up, because Christ knows, she hadn't known how to take a telling.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested. I live a relatively quiet and peaceful life now. One I do not need disturbed for the latest Langley/Washington dramatics", Stephen said emphatically.

"I'm not here on CIA business."

He raised his eyebrows at her in disbelief.

"I don't even work for them anymore."

Well one thing was the same about her. She was still full of surprises. Maybe it was coincidence then, her being here.

"I needed to speak to you."

Then again maybe not. It had always been hard to tell with her.

"Well if you're not CIA anymore and not here on official business, why are you here? We haven't seen each other for a long time. You didn't just pop by for a drink."

Stephen watched her take a drink apparently searching for some courage. That was new too. The Carrie he remembered had never been short of it.

"I'm searching for answers of my own and I came to tell you something."

"You came all this way to tell me something", Stephen asks incredulously.

Carrie swallows the lump in her throat and forces the words out, "I came to tell you that I'm sorry and that...that...you were right."

Stephen has no reply to this. Perhaps there were two things that hadn't changed about her. Apparently she still knew how to deliver a hammer blow whether she meant to or not. He didn't like the implications of what she had just said. He looked at her eyes properly and saw reflected there, the pain he'd seen in his own.

He reached for the Tequila and poured them both a shot.

"John", he shouted at the barman.

"Ye?", the barman shouted back.

"I think we're going to need another bottle!"