Chapter 11

Another late start to Quinn's day. He blames Lily for keeping him in bed an extra hour—at least. But he's more than willing to suffer the consequences of his complete inability to say no to her. For the record, they didn't even bother with muffins this morning.

Quinn flips through the stack of notes Carrie left him—apparently overnight—on Allison Carr's latest whereabouts, but the words blur. He can't focus. He's still caught up in the afterglow of an amazing morning.

"Quinn," a voice cuts through his thoughts.

Great. He glances up. It's Dar Adal, popping his head into the office like a shadow that's always there.

"Yeah?" Quinn looks back down, pretending to scan his notes.

"Are you free?"

"If I say no, will you go away?" Quinn's tone is dry, laced with humor.

"Hey, remember who's your boss here?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "How could I forget?"

Dar steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with that silent certainty that makes Quinn wish he were anywhere else. Dar takes a seat, never wasting an opportunity to command the space he's in. Quinn can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"Have you thought about what we discussed?" Dar asks, his voice cool and direct.

Quinn ignores the question and glances back at the notes on the desk about Allison Carr's movements—pizza delivery, park run, meetings with assets.

"Do you think Allison put Carrie's name in my box?" Quinn asks, eyes narrowing.

Dar's expression hardens. "I don't want to think it. And that's not what I'm here to discuss."

"You put a tail on her," Quinn presses.

Dar tightens his jaw. "The evidence is pointing that way, isn't it? She's the only one who knew about that box and didn't know about your... attachment to Carrie Mathison. No one that did would be stupid enough to send you to kill her."

Fucking Dar Adal. Quinn smiles tight-lipped. "You're all class."

Dar smirks. "I can't help the fact that I'm the only male in her orbit who's utterly immune to her charms."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, you've always been interested in other pursuits."

Dar's eyes flicker. "Thankfully, one of those pursuits has been advancing your career." He leans forward slightly. "Which is why I'm here."

Quinn sighs, rolling his eyes. "Back to this again?"

"You don't have time to procrastinate," Dar cuts him off. "Homegrown terrorism is on the rise. A possible mole in this station, and a whole hell of a lot of chaos. The President wants changes. You know the rest."

Dar stands, starts pacing, and Quinn watches him with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. Dar's always in control of the room.

"You and I both know Saul should've gotten this years ago," Dar says, stopping to look at Quinn. "When the President announces it, it'll happen fast. You know how Lockhart feels about you. He fully supports you for the role."

"That's delusional," Quinn mutters.

"You saved his life," Dar says with a pointed look.

"Yeah, well, there are a lot more I didn't save," Quinn replies flatly.

"Don't start with that," Dar says, his voice hardening. "You've got a goddamn presidential commendation, Quinn. You're the best officer I've ever trained. Two and a half years running missions in Syria. Surely you want something more than that."

Quinn crosses his arms, staring down at his hands. "I know how to kill people. Not how to sit behind a desk in Langley, giving orders from 7,000 miles away."

"You think that's all I do? That's insulting, Peter."

Quinn says nothing, his silence more biting than any words could be.

Dar sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "When you spoke to the Joint Chiefs that day—the day you told them the truth about their strategy—or lack of it—I knew you were ready. You've run teams in every hellhole on Earth. I don't care if you want it. You're up to bat now."

"I need time," Quinn says quietly.

"I've already told Lockhart you're taking the job." Dar's voice brooks no argument.

Quinn's head spins. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dar."

Dar's gaze hardens. "It's time to come home, Quinn. After this shitshow ends, you're on a transport back to Langley."

Quinn looks away, his mind a tangle of conflicting thoughts. Is it time to come home? The question echoes in his head, but then Lily's face flashes unbidden across his thoughts. It's absurd—they've only known each other for 48 hours—but still, a part of him wonders if this is it. If this is the sign. Go back to Langley. Take the damn promotion.