Chapter 12
"Hey," Quinn whispers, his voice low as he leans close to Lily early the next morning.
She murmurs something unintelligible and rolls over, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
"Lily," he tries again, shaking her shoulder gently. "Hey."
"Mmm?" She blinks up at him, still half-dreaming, her eyes barely open.
"I have to go."
Her eyes snap open, and she groans, rubbing her face. "What time is it?"
"Uh... 4:17."
This gets her attention. She rolls back over, meeting his gaze, her expression still hazy with sleep. "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, I have to go into work."
"Everything okay?" she asks, her voice still thick with sleep. "No... everything's not okay," she answers herself, rubbing her eyes and propping herself up on one elbow.
"It'll be fine," Quinn says, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I just... I have to get to the office. Go back to sleep. I'll call you later, okay?"
She looks at him for a moment, concern flickering across her face. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine, I promise." He kisses her forehead softly. "Go back to sleep."
She hums an uncertain reply and closes her eyes again, and Quinn quietly slips out of bed.
"He's in Interrogation 2," Carrie says when he walks in, already there, a coffee cup in hand and a file folder in the other.
"Thanks," Quinn mutters, taking the coffee she hands him, feeling her fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.
"We were supposed to have lunch yesterday."
Quinn sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. It was a crazy day."
Carrie eyes him, her expression softening. "You should go in alone. He trusts you."
"I think that's a slight overstatement," Quinn replies, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I'll give it a shot."
"Saul's on his way in," she adds, nodding toward the hallway.
Quinn nods, takes a deep breath, and heads to Interrogation Room 2. The door slides open with a quiet squeak, and he steps inside.
"Hi, Hamid."
The young man looks up from the table, his gaze wary, though there's something more guarded than hostile in his expression. He nods.
"Can I get you anything?" Quinn asks. "Coffee? Water?"
"No," Hamid replies flatly, his tone tight.
Quinn sits down across from him, his fingers tapping absently against the table. "Were you on your way to Syria when they picked you up?"
Hamid offers a tight smile but says nothing.
Quinn sighs, leaning back in his chair. "Where are the others?" he asks, his voice low.
Hamid doesn't respond, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him, but his jaw tightens.
"You saved my life," Quinn says quietly, his voice raw. "I'll never forget that."
Hamid looks up briefly, then quickly looks away, his eyes distant.
"Protecting those guys... still protecting them after all this... it doesn't make sense. So many people are dead." Quinn's words hang in the air, a challenge, a plea.
"I told you," Hamid says, his voice hardening, "Hassan is my cousin. I won't turn on my family."
Quinn's frustration rises, but he keeps his voice even. "Right. But you're looking at years in a German prison, Hamid. Years. And you're not a terrorist. You helped us. You saved lives—Carrie's, mine. You stopped the sarin attack. You helped save hundreds of people."
Hamid doesn't speak, but the faintest flicker in his eyes tells Quinn that he's listening.
"Help us," Quinn urges, his voice softer now. "I know you want to. You're a good person, Hamid. I know you are."
Still, there's nothing. Just silence.
Quinn's sighs and he stands up, pacing a few steps away. "Is Hassan still alive?" he asks, his voice tight.
Hamid's eyes flicker, but he doesn't answer.
"Is he still in Germany?" Quinn presses, his frustration mounting.
No response.
"The route I showed you—through Turkey. Is he heading that way?"
Hamid looks at him, then looks away.
Quinn slams a fist on the table, his patience gone. "You're going down for someone else's crime, Hamid. I can't protect you anymore. I wish I could. But the Germans—they're out for blood. Forty-three people died in that bombing. It would have been a hell of a lot worse if it weren't for you."
Hamid meets his eyes, his voice low. "I'll live with the consequences of my actions."
Quinn's jaw clenches. "They're not your actions," he snaps.
Hamid doesn't respond, but the quiet in the room feels like a barrier that Quinn can't break.
Later, in a small conference room, Quinn sits across from Saul and Carrie. They've been talking for what feels like hours, and it's still not enough.
"He's immovable," Quinn says, arms crossed, his frustration evident.
Carrie's face is tight with exasperation. "I don't get it, I really don't."
"If you believe in a cause, you believe in it," Saul says quietly, almost sadly.
Quinn rubs his temples, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Any chance we find the others?"
"No," he mutters, shaking his head. "Not on that route. ISIS, Muslim Brotherhood, Al-Qaeda... they're all out there, protecting their fellow martyrs."
"So what now?" Carrie asks, brows furrowed.
Quinn's shoulders sag. "We turn him over to the Germans."
Saul sighs, standing up. "Nothing else we can do."
Quinn watches Saul leave, his mind still spinning. This whole mission—it's unraveling, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. The pieces are falling into place, but not in the way he hoped. And no matter how much he pushes, no matter how many people he saves, he can't seem to outrun the consequences of his past.