4.1.2
######
The phone rings, knocks Carrie out of a fitful sleep, pulls her from the dead that infect her nights.
And of course it's fucking Lockhart with pretty much the worse news possible, that a video of Dande Darpa Khel has gone viral.
"What does it show?" she asks, the barest hope lingering of a blurry video, something that can be denied.
"A wedding, little girls dancing," Lockhart says coldly. "The bride and her mother. And then the missiles hit. It's devastating."
"Authentic?" Carrie asks, still grasping at the last trace of hope.
"Sure as hell looks that way," Lockhart replies.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Carrie mutters, rubs her eyes as she feels a headache start up. "Have you talked to Sandy?"
"He was my first call," Lockhart says, "You two are going to have to put your heads together, find me a way to spin this."
And Carrie thinks fuck. How the hell do you spin something like video evidence of them blowing up a wedding?
So she suggests telling the truth and Lockhart shoots her down immediately, says something about the President being pissed and the Pakistani armed forces needing a full accounting by the next day. And obviously there's nothing to be said at that point except 'yes sir, whatever you need sir'. Which she does say, not quite managing to keep the insolence out of her voice.
Lockhart tells her he needs her on the first flight to Islamabad, then hangs up. And again Carrie thinks fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Worst case scenario really - which was pretty much par for the course in her life lately. She should have fucking seen it coming when Sandy's intel was so perfect to start. Nothing ever works out like that for her, clean and easy.
Carrie rubs her face again, tries to gather her thoughts but too many are flying about in her head. A fucking video, all the dead, their culpability, Sandy's secret source. It's too much to consider so she makes herself get up, at least get caught up on what the fuck is going on.
So she watches the video and it's as bad as Lockhart said. There's no denying it, the brutality of the missiles, the obviousness of the attack.
And Carrie knows there's no way to fucking spin it, that it's all fucking bad. But she books herself a flight to Islamabad anyways because it's what needs to be done. And then she sits for a moment, still in her pjs, feels it all wash over her.
She's surprised she's not crushed by the power of it but it does take her breath away, gives her the feeling of being underwater. And for a moment she thinks she might just drown in it, that this could be her tipping point.
But Carrie is nothing if not resilient, tells herself she's not going to let this take her down. So she takes a deep breath, tries to shake it off. Reminds herself that she has to pack, that there are things to do before she flies to Islamabad in a couple hours.
But she doesn't stand up, doesn't pack. Instead Carrie finds herself with the phone in her hand, halfway through dialing before she realizes what she's doing.
Carrie pauses, asks herself what the fuck. And then she thinks of course she's calling Quinn at seven in the morning - he's her go-to first call when shit goes down. And then she reminds herself he's not her go-to call for anything anymore, that she hasn't called him for anything in nearly a year.
Carrie nearly hangs up at that point, tells herself to fucking suck it up, stop trying to lean on him when he's clearly done with her. And then she thinks fuck it. If things are so fucked that she can't call Quinn when everything's gone to shit and she's flying to Islamabad in two hours then she should know before she gets there, give him fair warning too.
So Carrie finishes dialing the number, then tells herself to take a few deep breaths as she waits to find out where she stands.
######
Quinn's phone rings early in the morning and he falls out of a dream, his heart rate already on the rise.
"Quinn," he answers, still trying to shake off the last visual vestiges of blood, of blonde. Thinks it's got to be Sandy - no one else calls his personal number so early. And if Sandy's up this early it's not a good sign.
"Get up Quinn, everything's gone to shit."
It's definitely not Sandy and for a moment he thinks he's still dreaming, blinks slowly and looks at his phone to double-check it's real.
"Quinn?" Carrie asks impatiently when he doesn't respond.
"Yeah, I'm here," he finally says. "What's going on?"
He hears her breathe an irritated sigh and he can picture her expression, thinks there's never a need for videophone with Carrie.
"A video's gone up," she replies. "Of the wedding getting hit. It's fucking brutal."
It takes the breath out of him even though he had already resigned himself to the likelihood that the accusations were true. Quinn closes his eyes as he feels the pressure build in his head, briefly pictures the scene - women, children torn apart by missiles, bodies mutilated, charred.
"Fuck," he mutters. Worst case scenario of course. And of course they're both right in the middle of it.
"Yeah," she replies in a tone he can't quite read.
Quinn wonders if she's still just trying to think of ways to get out of it, absolve herself of responsibility for it all. If it's all just damage control to her, if the lives mean nothing at all.
"Lockhart wants me in Islamabad ASAP," Carrie continues when he doesn't respond. "I'll be there at 12:30."
And suddenly his heart is in his throat, his chest frozen in time. Knows that it's really all started now, that he can't run from it anymore. So there's nothing to do but face it head on, do his best to become steel.
Of course, if he were to be completely honest with himself Quinn would know that he's been waiting for this all along, that the shiver in his gut is equal parts trepidation and anticipation. That he's glad she called, that she still thinks of him first.
"I'll come pick you up," he says, takes a deep breath in.
Carrie doesn't respond right away and he wonders what she's thinking, if she's a bit fucking nervous about it too, if she has any fucking feelings at all anymore.
"Thanks, Quinn," she replies, sounds tired already. "See you soon, I guess."
He hangs up, thinks yeah, see you soon Carrie. His own class five hurricane, on her way there.
######
"I'll come pick you up," Quinn says.
Carrie lets out a breath, realizes it's why she called - what she'd been hoping for. Not that she'd have admitted it to herself had he not offered. But it's telling that Quinn was the first call she made, his number half dialed before she asked herself why she's calling.
And it feels good, just for a moment. That he heard her unspoken question, that she at least means that much to him. But Carrie wonders if she still has an ally in Quinn, wonders where it all went wrong between them. Then remembers she's not supposed to think about it, that she packed that problem away, back behind the other ones.
It's then that Carrie really realizes that she's about to find out exactly where she stands, that she's going to see him before the day is done. And though she's already tired and stressed, the thought of having him there with her relieves some of the tension.
"Thanks, Quinn," she says, really means it. "See you soon, I guess."
He doesn't reply and then Carrie sees he's hung up. And she realizes she's nervous what she's going to find, that Quinn doesn't exactly sound enthused about seeing her, that he seems unsettled in general.
It bothered her more than she would ever admit that he had refused to go to Kabul with her. She had been relying on him, didn't think he would ever say no to her. Because he hadn't up to that point - she was always able to push him just a little further.
And so it had fucking hurt when he finally cut the cord. Then to know he chose Islamabad, that he was that fucking close and didn't bother to let her know, never called. It makes her wonder where his head is at, especially since he was on the edge before. Because Carrie knows it's why he ditched, that he was close to his breaking point. But she still can't see it as anything except abandonment, at a time when she'd already lost so much.
She tells herself it doesn't do her any good to think about this shit, reminds herself she put it away for a reason. But Carrie senses it's all coming to a head now, has seen this pattern before. The shit in her life can only float so far away before it all comes back full force.
Running from the memories, from the trauma, from her mistakes. Alienating her family, Saul, Quinn. She'd been vaguely hoping her state of denial could just last forever, that the numbness could just stay around, keep shielding her from life.
But there's something stirring in her gut, tells her that she's standing on the tip of the iceberg, that shit's about to go down. And she also knows there's no avoiding it, that this is just part of her fate, to be in the centre of it all.
At least he'll be there with her, Carrie thinks. She knows they will clash, that there'll be fights to be had. It's par for the course for them really. But she also knows he can be relied upon, that he'll have her back.
But there's no denying the flutter in her chest, the flicker of adrenaline.
She's going to be in Islamabad in a few hours. And Quinn's coming to pick her up.
######
Quinn's already watched the video more times than he can count by the time Sandy shows up at the meeting looking tired and drawn. He's called everyone in, full team meeting to disseminate the info, fill them in on the latest.
"As you probably have all heard, a video of Dande Darpa Khel has gone viral," Sandy says. Quinn notices he doesn't bother indicating the viciousness of the video, acknowledge any responsibility.
"The Director is up in arms. We need to figure out how this happened," he continues. And Quinn wonders who Sandy means, since no one else in the office knows where the intel comes from, any figuring out is all going to be on him.
"Mathison's on her way from Kabul," Sandy adds. "John, I'll need you to pick her up when she gets here."
Redmond nods and Quinn furrows his brow, remembers he's not the obvious choice to go get her, that Sandy doesn't know any of the shit between him and Carrie, that Quinn's deliberately kept him in the dark.
Fuck, he thinks. Obviously Carrie hasn't talked to Sandy yet and now Quinn's stuck having made plans with someone he's been pretending to not know. Which isn't so much a big deal but he hasn't let anything personal come out in Islamabad yet, thinks this is not something he needs everyone to know. Considers talking to Sandy in private after, get him to change the pick up. Then thinks that's even more shady, likely to incur suspicion. So he decides to just fess up and let everyone speculate.
"Actually, I talked to her this morning and I said I'd pick her up," Quinn interrupts.
And of course all eyes are on him so Quinn puts on his best blank look, pretends not to notice Sandy giving him a long considered look.
But no one makes any comments - the luxury of being the quiet dangerous one. Though he notes that some of the guys give him an extra look throughout the rest of the meeting. And Sandy pulls him aside afterwards, gives him the same pensive look.
"Is there something going on between you and Mathison that I should know about?" he asks.
And Quinn thinks he'd also like to know the answer to that question. But he's unsure whether there's anything going on between them at all, whether he'd burned that bridge when he said no to Kabul, whether Carrie thinks of him as anything other than a guy she used to work with.
"No," Quinn replies stoically, shaking his head. "We just used to work together."
"But she did call you, not me this morning," Sandy says, raising his eyebrows a bit.
Quinn shrugs, tries to play it off casually.
"Yeah, well. She's a friend," he explains, still hoping to deflect any further inquiry.
"From what I've heard she doesn't have any," Sandy replies.
And of course it lights a fire in him, makes him grit his teeth. Not because he hasn't heard it all before. But because it still pisses him off, when people judge her before they know her.
You have no idea the loyalty she can incite, Quinn thinks. You don't know how she's suffered, what she's been through.
So he gives Sandy his steeliest look, the one usually reserved for threatening scumbags.
"Well, she's got at least one," Quinn mutters, low and precise.
And Sandy gives him a double-take, reminds Quinn that he's never shown his real skill set to his new boss yet, that Sandy Bachman has no idea who Peter Quinn really is.
Although to be fair, Quinn himself isn't sure who Peter Quinn really is. But he has a sense it's soon going to become real clear to him. Because whatever it is about Carrie, it makes him examine himself, question his existence.
"Okay good," Sandy finally says, clearly giving up on getting anything else out of Quinn. "I could use the help handling her."
Sandy ends it at that and walks off, leaves Quinn standing there on his own, wryly amused at idea of anyone 'handling' Carrie.
Good fucking luck, he thinks. Because she's going to be more than you could ever expect.
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