4.1.4
######
"Quinn, go!" Carrie yells, leaning in between him and Sandy.
And he thinks fuck, Carrie. What do you think I'm trying to do?
But the crowd has got the rear wheels off the ground and Quinn knows the situation is getting out of hand. He feels his training set in and quickly goes through his options, considers how to best protect his passengers without any loss of life.
They're fully surrounded and he knows they're not going to be able to keep the mob out for long. So first Quinn tells Carrie to look for another weapon in the back, half hoping there really is one but mostly to get her to stay down, keep away from the crowd. But of course she doesn't get his hint, sits right back up to tell him there's nothing there.
"Under the seat!" he yells, hoping she'll listen just this once.
Just get under the fucking seat, Carrie, he thinks. Just stay safe and I can fucking deal with the rest of this shit, get us out of here.
"It's not here!" she yells right back and he wonders how someone so smart can be so incredibly obtuse sometimes.
And he's about to just tell her to fucking get down and stay down when they break through Sandy's window, smash it to pieces. A guy plunges through immediately, head first, tries to pull Sandy out of the window. And now there's arms, hands, bodies all grabbing, prying at Sandy, at the car door, threatening to get it open.
Quinn punches at the invaders, but the space is cramped, awkward, and as soon as one guy lets go of Sandy another grabs on. Sweaty limbs are everywhere, flailing and grasping. And then the crowd gets the door open and Quinn knows the choice he's been avoiding has to be made. So he pulls out his sidearm, thinks it's not the right weapon for this situation but he doesn't have a lot of options anymore. Shoots one of the attackers in the chest but new ones take his place, keep trying to pull Sandy from the vehicle.
Then the door is open and everyone's grabbing at Sandy but Quinn's still managing to keep one arm on him, just enough to hold him in. And he's still going through his options, how to get them the hell out of there in one piece when the back window shatters too.
He looks back for an instant to make sure Carrie's okay, sees a man with a wooden baton reaching for her. Quinn shoots the man in the forehead before he can grab her, automatically thinks through how many bullets he has, how many more he can keep off of her.
By the time his attention is back on Sandy, Quinn realizes his grip on his boss has weakened, that there are too many arms pulling Sandy in the other direction. They yank him out of the car and all Quinn can do is shoot into the crowd, knowing exactly how futile his one weapon is against an entire mob.
And he freezes for a second, can only watch as the crowd drags Sandy away. He hears Sandy yelling his name, sees the first blows land. Considers his very shitty set of choices. He could leap into the crowd, hoping to shoot enough of them to keep the others off both him and Sandy until the backup squad arrives from the embassy. And he knows he could probably pull it off, would already be on the street if he didn't have Carrie to consider. But that would entail leaving her alone in the car without a weapon, surrounded by a murderous crowd.
This is what he's thinking about as Carrie tries to jump out of the car herself, as if she's going to pry an entire mob off Sandy with her bare hands. And of course she doesn't consider the fact that she has no weapon, no chance. That she'd be a skinny blonde American woman trying to fend off hundreds of armed, enraged men.
"Carrie, no!" he yells, puts his arm out to stop her.
"We can't leave him!" she yells back.
And Quinn thinks no, we can't. But he also knows that he'd be risking Carrie to try and save Sandy. That Sandy was likely beyond hope the moment he was out of the car. But he can at least save her.
So one of the hardest choices of his life turns out to be simple, yet immensely difficult. There was never any way he was going to leave her alone and unarmed in the middle of a violent anti-American crowd. Even if it meant leaving Sandy to die.
"He's gone!" he fires back. "There's nothing more we can do. Now get down!"
And at least Carrie listens this time, ducks as he fires out the back window, clearing the way for them to get the fuck out of there. She doesn't say anything more, lets him take charge but he feels her silent condemnation, knows she expected more out of him.
Most of him still can't process any of what just happened, the shock making everything seem like a vivid dream. He's still sitting in it all - the visceral feeling of Sandy getting torn away, the claustrophobia of being violently surrounded, the helplessness of having to choose.
As they drive away Quinn feels like they're in a sound proof bubble, shockwaves still reverberating through the vehicle, still feeling the hot breath, the sweaty, grasping hands everywhere. And as he looks at her in the mirror, all blood and blonde, he asks himself if he made the right choice.
######
It happens in a split second. Quinn's yelling at her, telling her to find the weapon under the seat but there isn't one. And she wonders why he's being so insistent on it, thinks he has better things to be doing than hollering at her to find something that doesn't exist.
Then her window shatters and Quinn kills the guy trying to get in, shoots him in the head. There's a spray of blood, more attackers at her window. And then before she can register what's happened, Sandy's out of the car, dragged into the street.
Her first instinct is to leap out of the car and help him, is halfway to the door when Quinn yells at her to stop.
"Carrie, no!" he hollers, grabbing her to hold her back.
And she wonders what the fuck is wrong with him, why he isn't already out there defending Sandy. Thinks he's got the only weapon amongst them, that if anyone can save Sandy it's Quinn.
"We can't leave him!" she yells right back, trying to can snap him out of his inaction by reminding him of the obvious. That they are fucking CIA agents and they can't leave one of their own to be beaten to death on the streets of Islamabad.
But Quinn doesn't jump to action, just tells her that Sandy's gone, that there's nothing more they can do. And then he shoots through the back window, finally gets the vehicle going and backs up out of the crowd.
And she thinks it's bullshit, refuses to believe there was nothing they could do. Thinks it shouldn't be possible for an agent, the fucking station chief, to be killed by random mob violence, that this is the shit they are trained to deal with.
But she had let Quinn stop her, let him take control. And a part of her knows that jumping out there unarmed would have been tantamount to suicide. But the larger part of her is still in the battle, still wants to go back and fight for Sandy's life, refuse to give him up so easily. Because what does it fucking mean if she just stood by and let him die? That she's powerless, useless. And she can't have that, has to believe she could have done something, could have saved him if she tried.
So she blames it on Quinn, thinks he pussied out when he needed to man up, fucking shoot his way out of the problem if need be. She wonders what happened to the black ops guy who so casually shoved a knife through Brody's hand. Remembers thinking he was unbreakable as steel, a stone cold operative. Now he just seems to question everything.
Carrie knows she's still in shock, looks out the window and can't believe any of that really happened. That she's been in Islamabad for an hour and they almost all died, then left Sandy to be beaten to death. She hasn't even made it to the fucking embassy yet - is lucky she's going to make it there at all.
Her body feels frozen but her mind is going full tilt. She thinks about all the shit that's going to come from this, what the fuck Lockhart's going to do when he finds out. Thinks about presenting this fucking disaster to the ambassador - a great first impression. And she wonders about their culpability, if they're going to take the fall for not doing more. Because she knows how Lockhart operates - he passes blame on to his people. And she's not going to be a scapegoat for Sandy's dirty secret.
And then she remembers Sandy's probably fucking dead, feels the anger poking through the numbness of shock. She's fucking angry at the situation, at Sandy for fucking up in the first place, at Quinn for not doing anything, at herself for letting him stop her.
By the time they pull up into the embassy Carrie's on fire, ready to go. Needs to get out of the car, put things in motion. Start dealing with shit right away because her head is shifting into overdrive, too many thoughts too fast.
It takes her a moment to realize Quinn didn't get out of the vehicle, wonders what the hell is wrong with him. He's just sitting there, staring straight ahead with dull eyes. And all Carrie can think is this is the last thing she needs right now, that Quinn cannot go to pieces on her. She needs him to fucking man up, get his shit together so they can figure out what to say, something better than admitting they just let Sandy die.
She looks at him through the empty window, wonders when the fuck he got so emotional. Thinks to herself this is no time to let any feelings through, that they'll only get in the way of the job.
######
Quinn barely notices when Carrie jumps out of the car, has never been so relieved to just sit and breathe for a moment.
But of course Carrie comes straight to his non-existent window, looks pissed off, ready to blow.
"Come on," she says impatiently.
"Just give me a minute," he replies. Thinks there is no way he can get out of the vehicle right now, needs some time to digest, let the shock slide off.
"We don't have a minute, the ambassador needs to be briefed," Carrie snaps.
"Yeah, well I need a minute," he repeats, wonders what the hell is wrong with her, why she can't see how fucked up he is right now. How she can think about briefings and reports when he still has images of the attack flashing through his mind, the feeling of Sandy getting pulled out of his grasp.
"Plus the director's going to want an after action report ASAP, we need to get our story straight," she continues, like she didn't hear him at all.
And just listening to her talk, go on about shit that doesn't fucking matter pushes his heart rate, raises the pressure in his head. Quinn feels himself start to breathe too fast, needs her to fucking leave him alone right now.
"Carrie, give me a goddamned minute," he manages, says it with some force this time.
"Okay," she huffs, clearly exasperated. Paces around, impatience etched on her every movement.
Quinn takes a breath, finally manages to process all the bullshit she just spouted. Tells himself to stop, breathe, get his brain going again. And one thing sticks out, doesn't make any sense.
"What do you mean story?" he asks. The story is just what happened, he thinks. There isn't anything to get straight.
Carrie pauses for a moment, like she doesn't quite get the question.
"You know what I mean," she says. "We could have done more back there."
This time he really thinks his head is going to explode. It's like they weren't even in the same situation. Or maybe Carrie has really lost it, can no longer see reality.
Because the way he sees it they were lucky to get out of there alive, unharmed. He was one guy, with just his sidearm, trying to protect her against a crowd of hundreds. Right now he's fucking thankful for his own life, thinks she should be a little more fucking grateful for hers.
"You kidding me?" he sputters. Really can't believe what she's saying, doesn't know what she expected them to do. She was fucking unarmed and he had gotten them out. Best case scenario with what he was presented with.
But of course Carrie isn't fucking kidding. Looks at him like he's the one with a mental problem.
"No, I'm not," she retorts. "It was within our power."
Quinn makes himself take two breaths, cannot fathom what kind of power she thought they hadn't exercised, what the fuck she expected him to have done. Let her jump out of the car unarmed, try to pull an entire mob of people off of Sandy? Good fucking idea Carrie, cause then we'd probably all be dead.
And he thinks this is the thanks I get for getting you out of there alive. Sometimes he thinks he could kill her himself - she can make him that mad.
"You know what, fuck you," Quinn says, throws as much emphasis into it as he can. "No, really Carrie, fuck you. What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"What is wrong with you?!" she throws right back. And right then it's obvious she really has no fucking clue what he's talking about, that there is something seriously broken in her.
"Five minutes, inside," she snaps, walks off through the embassy doors.
And Quinn just sits there, thinking she's really fucking gone, the Carrie he thought he once knew. Replaced by a heartless shell, ready to place the blame anywhere but herself.
He really fucking hates her at this moment, thinks people like Carrie and Sandy are the fucking problem. But that just makes him fucking hate himself, for being part of it all, for never actually having the balls to get out. And for making a choice, for leaving Sandy, for saving someone he really fucking loathes right now. He hates himself for all of it.
For a moment Quinn thinks he regrets his decision, should have gone after Sandy, no matter how hopeless the scenario. Then they'd all be fucking dead, he thinks. How'd you fucking like that, Carrie?
And then he thinks if it'd been the other way around, if Carrie had been pulled out of the car he'd have been after her in an instant. Which is the fucking crux of the problem. Because he fucking hates her. But he still knows he made the only choice he could live with.
Fuck you, Carrie, he thinks. Fuck you.
######
Carrie walks into the embassy, asks to see the ambassador. And the marine at the desk tells her she has blood all over the side of her face, something that's news to her. For a moment she wonders whose blood it is, then has a quick flash of the man Quinn shot, the one trying to grab her through the broken window.
She asks for directions to the bathroom, tries to appear unfazed as she stalks off to clean up.
Inside the restroom Carrie stops for an instant to look at the splatter of red on her pale skin, then starts to scrub it off as quickly as she can. The faster she gets the blood off her her, the sooner she can get started in figuring out what happened, getting her mission back on track.
And in a minute she's wiped it all off, all physical remnants of what just happened. Looks at herself in the mirror and tells herself that she's clean now, that by all appearances she's ready to go.
But Carrie still stops for a moment, examines her reflection. And in that instant she sees it all again, the window shattering, the arms, the dead man falling away, Sandy getting pulled out of the vehicle. It had happened so fucking fast, everything at once. And again she feels that need to have done something, to have jumped into action instead of just sitting in the back of the car, a fucking lame duck without a weapon.
Emotionally she still feels like they should have done more, is angry with herself, with Quinn for running from the problem. And she really does wonder what the fuck is wrong with him, why he told her to fuck off so vehemently. Because she doesn't get it, has no idea why he's so pissed off. Well, other than the obvious - that they were attacked, that they left Sandy to die. But that doesn't explain why he's so angry at her.
Carrie tries to toss it off, let it slide off just like the blood. But it's not as easy to wipe clean, this thing she has with Quinn. Because unlike others, his opinion does matter to her, and the hate she just saw in him actually makes her stop and think.
And once again she sees it all in her mind, the crowd, the anger, the unstoppable violence. Sandy getting pulled from the car, watching him get beaten. She pictures herself running out into it, at least fucking trying to do something. And for the briefest moment Carrie has the realization that she's mostly mad at herself, for listening to Quinn, for not acting on her instincts. But then that leads to the thought that there wasn't anything she could have done, that trying to save Sandy would likely have lead to both her and Quinn being beaten to death too. One weapon between the three of them against a violent crowd of hundreds, armed with wooden batons.
But the idea of a no-win situation isn't one she can consider so Carrie quickly puts that thought away, replaces it with her anger and determination. Tells herself it's no time to go soft, that she's going to need every ounce of personal mettle to get through what's to come.
So she fixes her lipstick, does her best to straighten up her hair. Looks in the mirror for another few seconds, tries to cast away her doubts about herself, slough off the trauma of the day.
In that way Carrie convinces herself that she's ready, that she can and will figure out what's going on. That she just has to hold it together, meet with the ambassador and get moving on a plan of action.
And somewhere in there she knows she'll have to figure this thing out with Quinn, because there's something wrong with him, with whatever is between them. But she has bigger problems at the moment, thinks Quinn's issues, his fucking feelings will just have to wait until this is all over.
Because something big is going on and Carrie has the sense that she's right in the middle of it - like always.