4.5.1

They've set up the stakeout, Quinn manning the camera as they watch the building across the street for any sign of the cleric, possibly Haqqani himself. He's thinking about their conversation from earlier, wondering why Fara was there at all.

Just another one of Carrie's victims, he concludes. She really does have a way with people.

Quinn's not worried that Fara hasn't got it. He meant it when he told her she was good at the job. She has the instincts of an intelligence agent but he's not sure she has the right emotional set. He knows she will have to harden up as she learns the game, wonders if she'll become just another Carrie, doing whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes, he repeats in his mind.

He's been trying to keep the thought out of his head but it's hopeless. Fara took the boy to Carrie at the safe house the previous night and they haven't heard from her since. In most circumstances he wouldn't read anything into the situation yet. But this is Carrie and he knows her MO, has seen it in action.

Of course he's got this on his mind when Fara tries to make some small talk, asks him how long he's known Carrie.

Quinn doesn't have to think about it, had recently been wondering how it's only been about two years. He barely remembers life without her in it, only recalls that it was less complicated, much less emotionally taxing.

But then again he knows he wasn't really alive those previous years either. Just a human killing machine, living on bare essentials.

He can't say what's worse, just knows he somehow deserves this all.

"Two years, more or less," he mutters.

"Really?" Fara asks. "I would have thought you guys go way back."

Well, at least he's not the only one that feels that way, Quinn thinks to himself. He thinks it's because he's used up his entire life's quota of emotional responses in the span of those two years. Of course he would choose to expend his efforts on the most infuriating individual he's ever met.

"Yeah, it feels that way sometimes," he says, a bit frozen inside.

"She's just one of those people," Fara continues, seemingly unaware that he's tense around this topic."You connect."

It's not something he wants to talk about, this thing between him and Carrie. It's not even something he wants to acknowledge. Especially not how he's feeling, ready to implode.

"Yeah," Quinn finally mutters, hopes that Fara will change the topic of conversation.

"So does that make you a professional liar too?" Fara asks.

He's relieved the topic is shifting but isn't quite sure what to say, what Fara is getting at. "She told me I have to become one," she explains. "To be good at this job."

And he can't keep it in any longer, has to give her some warning, some understanding of what she's gotten herself into.

"Well, you're learning from the best," he says, letting a little snap come through in his voice.

"Why do you say it like that?" Fara asks, still all innocence.

"Manipulating people, exploiting their weakness," Quinn continues. "It can get ugly sometimes."

Again he flashes to a thought of the safe house, of Carrie 'recruiting' her new young asset. And it shouldn't bother him this much, of all people he has no high moral ground to stand on.

But still Quinn likes to think he has his standards, that there are modes of behaviour that are unacceptable, regardless of the situation. That seducing a boy with sex and lies is beyond reprehensible, that she's really gone too far this time. No matter what he knows, where he might lead them.

The worst part is he knows how effective it will be, that Carrie is a fucking machine when it comes to playing an asset, getting every last drop of information. She will use the boy and it won't end well, that much he already knows.

"Is that the plan with Aayan?" Fara asks, interrupting and echoing his black thoughts.

"What?" he asks, stalling for time.

"Lie, manipulate, exploit," she finishes.

She's finally catching on, Quinn thinks grimly.

"Using the enemy's own weight to bring him down," he mutters, unsure who the enemy even is anymore. "That is the job."

Fara suddenly snaps to attention, having seen something out the window.

"Second floor, that's him," she says.

Quinn snaps a few photos, makes sure they have the cleric from every angle.

"Sure?" he asks.

"Yes," Fara replies, a bit shakily. "He was with Aayan and Haqqani."

Quinn's mood lightens a bit with the sighting of the cleric, gets his mind off Carrie, her current whereabouts. He compliments Fara on spotting the target, does actually think she is good at the job. But she will have to build a better shell, he thinks. Get used to the idea of using people, taking advantage of anyone and everyone.

He makes a quip about not having to shoot anyone, a bit of a tease towards Fara to loosen her up. She doesn't need to know how the sight of the weapon makes him feel hollow inside, a shell of a man. All his past sins keep crawling back, remind him that he's weak, that he'll never get out.

Quinn's relieved Fara's too scared of him to ask about his own agitated state. Or maybe she just thinks this is what he's always like. It was one good thing about being deadly - people tended to leave you alone.

They settle back into their seats, their previous conversation forgotten. Fara still looks tense, unsure of her role in the operation.

It makes him realize that he's in the same position, wondering what the hell he is doing there. He came back because Carrie asked, because he's always been weak in that way. But now he's there and where the hell is Carrie?

Closeted away, seducing a boy. To be involved in this op, to be working for Carrie as she destroys lives, endangers everyone. Just thinking about it gives Quinn a crawling feeling all over his skin, makes his head explode.

But he can't discuss it with Fara, will just have to wait until Carrie emerges from her hideout. The thing is, he knows he will lose it when he sees her, that it's not going to end well.

And until then all he can do is sit and watch, try to not think about what's going on inside a safe house across town.

#

The boy has been quiet, resentful, since their 'interview' earlier. To be expected, somewhat. But now Carrie knows she needs to bring him back to her, manufacture some trust.

"So how long does the silent treatment go on?" she asks as they awkwardly do the dishes together.

Aayan doesn't look her in the eye, tells her he's just tired.

"Not angry?" she asks, knows she just needs to get him talking. "Cause I can do that to people sometimes. Make them angry."

And it's just a ploy but it makes her suddenly think about all her relationships, how anger plays a large part in all of them. She even knows she uses it to hide everything else, avoid the tough topics. Because it's easy to be pissed off, hard to care.

But the boy doesn't seem mad, just upset as he looks down at the dishes.

"It's, just.. it's hard to talk about some things," he finally says.

For a kid he's thoughtful, well spoken. She's come to like him, respect him in a way. He's young, and in a tough position. But he's handling it well, doing the best he can.

"Yeah," she replies, tries to look empathetic.

He walks away then, and she knows it's time to make her play, reel him in.

"Hey Aayan," she says, approaching him slowly. "I want to be totally honest with you."

"Okay?" he replies, a bit nervously.

"Just so there won't be any surprises when we get to London," Carrie adds, dropping the line to both remind him of his goal, of why he is doing this. And to hint at a future between them, something more.

"Okay, what is it?" Aayan asks.

"I have a baby," she says.

Aayan nods, tells her he knew.

Which of course he should, it was why she chose that as her 'truth' to tell. Something personal yet unrevealing.

"Ah, right. I forgot, doctor," she replies, as if she was just a journalist, hadn't already thought through every aspect of his life.

"Boy or girl?" he asks.

"Girl," she replies with a pretend smile. "Frances, after my dad."

Carrie vaguely knows it's wrong to have to fake a smile when thinking about her baby, but right now Frannie is just another distant object, thankfully out of the picture. It's like she's dissociated from the fact that she has a kid, managed to completely put it out of mind.

"What about her father, is he still in London?" Aayan asks.

And even though she had anticipated the question, it's still a kick to the gut. Carrie pauses, tries to push the rising emotion back into its place.

"He died," she finally says. "Before she was born."

"What happened to him?" the boy asks.

And again it's almost too much, makes her think about things she's been desperately trying to avoid.

"Um..." she stammers. "He was killed. In the line of duty."

"Military?" Aayan asks.

"No, he was a journalist too," she says. "On an assignment that was... too dangerous."

The sadness, the guilt. It all escapes for just a moment, washes over her. Carrie's surprised at how quickly it rises, the power it crashes through with. Though she knows she never really dealt with it, she had almost forgotten it was still there after numbing it out for so long.

Carrie wants to stop talking about it but knows this is what she's been trying for, an opening. And the boy doesn't stop asking questions, wants to know where Frannie's father went. So she has to push on, let herself be real.

She wonders what she can even say, is having a hard time containing the sudden turmoil inside of her.

"It was my fault," she finally says. "I sent him."

Carrie realizes suddenly it's the first time she's said the words, actually admitted her guilt in sending Brody to Iran. It had been buried deep under everything that froze up in her, put there for a reason. Because she's not at all ready to look at it yet, feels anxiety and immense sadness even just touching on the edges of those thoughts.

"Anyway," she continues, trying to put her emotions away. "We don't have to talk about it."

"No, I don't mind," Aayan says, and she thinks again that he's a nice kid, that it's too bad he's so mired in everything that's happened.

"Usually I keep it to myself," Carrie says, sinking the hook deeper into her catch. She knows the offer of a secret will push Aayan to respond in kind. Especially with the insinuation that she's opened up because she cares about him, wants him to know her.

She thinks the conversation will be over then, but Aayan pushes on, keeps asking thoughtful questions.

"What about her?" he asks. "Will you tell her? When she's older?"

Her wound hasn't been this open for a long time and is now suddenly gaping as she contends with having revealed too much of herself. Carrie reminds herself it's for a reason, that she's playing a game. But it's still excruciating, makes her want to shove it all back behind her emotional wall.

"How can I?" she asks back. "How can I tell her I'm the reason her dad is gone?"

"How can you not?" Aayan answers.

The thing is she knows he's right. This boy whose life she's already ruined, this boy who she's using in every way. But she doesn't want to think about it, is still pretending to herself that none of it happened, that there will be some way of erasing it all from her life.

"Well, thanks for telling me," he continues when she doesn't say anything. "I'm really sorry about your husband."

And that was a dart she hadn't anticipated. It goes right into her heart, and Carrie has to look away, reminded suddenly of those fleeting moments of hope. Once at her cabin. Then at another safe house, just before it all fell apart.

"What?" Aayan asks.

She doesn't know how to respond, is having difficulty balancing her very real emotions with the game she is playing. But in the end she goes with honesty, surprises herself a little.

"He was never my husband," she stammers. "Though I would have... I would have liked that."

Aayan is finally quiet, comes over and gives her a hug.

And she's thankful he's still so young, that he can't sense her duplicity as he holds her close. Because she takes no comfort from his embrace, just feels a need in her chest that can't be met by falsely generated closeness. At least she's used to it, knows how to put it away for another day. Especially now that she's back on track with Aayan, can feel it in the way he pulls up against her.

She lets him hold her for a moment, then readies herself for the next move. Pulls away and tells him that she's going to leave him alone for a bit.

He falls for it so readily it's almost too easy, tells her to stay.

Even when she asks if he wants to pray, brings it up to assess the strength of his want. He smiles shyly, almost endearingly. Looks down at his feet, almost visibly gathering courage for whatever he's about to say next.

He puts it so innocently, asks if he can touch her again.

Carrie reaches out her hand and he takes it. It's that easy, she thinks to herself. She knows she's got him, now it's just a matter of time.

Aayan makes his sweet confession and she does her best to reassure him, tells him that she'll teach him how to give. Looks at the poor kid who has no place in the midst of an intelligence game. Thinks how the boy is kind, smart, naive. That he doesn't even know he's a pawn, being played by everyone.

And she's almost there already so Carrie pushes on, leans in and does what needs to be done.

#

She's able to contain it for only so long. Somewhere in the physical act of sex Carrie feels it all release, suddenly slide away. The emotional wall she's built, the steel cage around the recent past.

She had almost forgotten how fucking sad she still was that Brody was gone forever. That she had wanted a life with him, had somehow thought they could make it work.

Tears start to stream out and she tries to hide it but can't quite. Aayan slows down, asks if he's hurting her.

And for the briefest moment Carrie wonders what the fuck she is doing, how using sex to reel in a twenty year old boy ended up being the only way to do her job. But she's already gone this far, can't exactly change tactics now.

So she puts on her best fake smile, tells him she's just happy.

It's possibly the biggest lie she's ever told. And that's saying a lot for a professional liar. But Carrie's starting to realize how far she is from being happy, so far she can't even picture what it would look like, feel like.

Aayan somehow believes her, and she prevents any more questioning by kissing him again. Thankfully it's the easiest play in the book, all she can manage through the sudden burst of uncontrollable emotion.

She tells herself to just keep playing the part, that she's right there, in the game. It's what she wants, who she is.

But suddenly things are starting to hit very close to home. And Carrie knows from experience that means there's a shit storm soon to come.