Chapter 13

Four straight days of interrogation.

Hamid is in police custody now, but the Germans have given the CIA free rein to do whatever it takes. Especially since Hamid's vague intel on Hassan's plans is all they've gotten so far — and Quinn isn't exactly seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. He's spent most of his waking hours buried in the depths of the operation. His mind is muddled with half-formed leads, constantly running surveillance on Allison Carr, and somehow, in between all of this, trying to start a relationship with Lily.

There are a few things he's learned about Allison during his surveillance: (1) she's got a Russian handler. (2) She put Carrie's name in that damn box. (3) She's sleeping with Saul — that one he didn't need to know, but now he does — and (4) she's also sleeping with someone else — that one he definitely didn't need to know, nor did Saul, but now they both do, which is, well... double TMI.

Carrie, meanwhile, is intermittently glaring at him like he's the one who caused all of the world's problems. And Lily... Lily is the best part of his world right now, but the lack of sleep is definitely taking its toll.

Right now, he's about to fall asleep during the movie she picked out. In fairness, it's Love Actually, her "favorite," which means she's officially off his recommendation list for the next movie night. But still, a week into whatever this is between them, it feels too soon for him to be dozing off on a date. She notices.

"Not your thing, huh?" Lily asks quietly, her voice soft and teasing, breaking the silence in the dim-lit room.

Quinn, head resting against the couch cushion, tries to fight it. "No," he mutters, pulling her closer to him. "It's not that. I'm just... tired."

"You love it though, right?" she presses, a playful smile in her voice.

"No," he laughs, his eyes still closed, "not that either."

Her laugh is like a balm, making the exhaustion just a little easier to bear. Then she gets serious. He feels the shift in her posture as she pulls back a little, eyes searching his face.

"Can you tell me anything?" Her voice drops, hesitant, like she's waiting for him to shut her down.

Quinn opens his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down. He runs his fingers gently through her hair, and for a moment, he just holds her. She rests her head on his chest, waiting for him to speak.

"Things are messy," he says after a long pause, the truth of it hanging between them.

"Figured that much," she mutters, sighing into him.

"I wish I could tell you more," he adds quietly, his fingers tracing light patterns through her hair, but she seems to understand the unspoken parts — the ones he can't voice.

There's a brief silence. Then, like she's steeling herself, she lifts her head and meets his eyes.

"What are you, really?" she asks.

His chest tightens. He wonders if this is one of those questions that, once answered, can never be taken back. But then again, it's not like she doesn't already know something. She must feel the weight of his job by now.

He exhales, trying to find a way to frame it. "I'm an officer in the Division of Special Operations," he says simply, as if the answer itself could explain everything.

She stares at him, not quite understanding. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he says slowly, "I run missions that are classified. Missions that—" He pauses, looking for the right framing, "—that most people in the CIA don't know about."

"Missions that other CIA people don't know about…." She trails off, considering this.

He nods. "Yes."

She doesn't shy away. Instead, her next question comes easily, even though he can tell she's already putting the pieces together.

"Dangerous missions…."

"Yeah," he says simply, the weight of that simple word heavy in the space between them.

"In places like Pakistan, Syria, Iraq..." Her voice trails off as the full scope of it hits her.

He doesn't respond. His throat tightens slightly as he looks at her, wondering if she can really comprehend it. Hell, he barely does himself most days.

Lily hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching his face, and then she asks something he hadn't expected.

"Have you ever... had a close call?"

Quinn looks at her, swallowing hard. In that moment, his mind flashes to the hundreds of times he's been on the edge — too many close calls to count. The gunshot wound he'd been recovering from when they met. The bomb he shielded her from without even thinking. The scars she traces on his body when they're naked together; those weren't from target practice.

But how could he say that to her? To tell her that danger is his constant companion, that the risks are just part of the job? The reality of it could break something between them, maybe something irreparable.

Instead, he just nods. "Yes," he says quietly, his voice low, the word landing with finality.

Lily, though, seems satisfied. She kisses him lightly, but the kiss quickly deepens, and soon they're tangled up together again. He wants her, so much it hurts, but she's not done with her questions just yet.

"What's the new job?" she asks, pulling away for just a moment, giving him that look that says she's not going to let him get off easy.

Quinn groans, hating that this conversation has to happen now, but knowing there's no way around it. He wishes he could just focus on her — on what she's making him feel right now — but instead, he answers in a low murmur, "Director of the division."

She raises an eyebrow. "You mean—like running the whole thing?"

"Yeah," he says, feeling the weight of it all. "That's the job."

"Wow," she says, clearly impressed, but also overwhelmed.

They sit there for a moment, the weight of the situation sitting heavy, and then she turns toward him with a softness in her expression he hasn't seen before.

"Thank you," she says, her voice almost shy.

Quinn pushes a stray lock of hair out of her face, his touch gentle, as if he's afraid she might disappear if he moves too fast. "You're welcome."

She leans into him, but he's already moving, kissing her neck, his hands sliding under her shirt. The chemistry between them is electric, but she pulls away with a soft sigh.

"I have to go home," she says.

Quinn freezes, pulling back slightly to look at her. "What? Is it... Is it what I just told you? Did I...?"

"No," she interrupts, shaking her head quickly. "It's not that. It's just... I can't stay in a hotel forever. My boss is already asking why I'm still here. And the travel budget's about to expire... I'm blowing through it, and there's no real business reason for me to be here anymore."

Quinn's heart sinks. "Stay with me," he says without thinking.

She laughs, though it's warm, not mocking. "What?"

"Stay with me," he repeats, more firmly this time. "Take a vacation or whatever. Don't go back yet. Not until it's... until you're ready."

She looks at him, unsure. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do," he says, his voice softer now. "I want you here. With me. Please."

Lily meets his gaze, searching his face, weighing his words. He's not sure what she's thinking, but the silence between them feels pregnant with possibility. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she says, "Okay. Yes. I'll stay. But don't say I didn't warn you... I have a lot of stuff."

"I've got plenty of room," he grins, trying to lighten the mood.

She watches him, her gaze lingering. "What are we doing here?" she asks slowly, a little tentative.

Quinn leans in, giving her his most confident, playful grin. "I think we're about to take our clothes off and celebrate."

She laughs, the sound of it easy and unguarded. "I'm definitely up for that," she says, and then the world narrows down to just them.