Chapter 14

Quinn is living with a woman. Cohabitating. Is that what they call it? Not that it matters. This isn't a situation he ever thought he'd find himself in—not with the job he has, or the life he leads. But here he is, in the thick of it, despite himself. It's temporary. It's not real. Just some kind of in-between, make-believe phase while they both figure things out, right? A few weeks, maybe?

But even knowing all that, it still feels pretty damn amazing.

He can't lie to himself anymore. He's in love with her. The thought would make him want to punch himself in the face if he weren't already so aware of just how pathetically obvious it is. The truth is, he looks forward to coming home each night. Just knowing she'll be there—waiting for him, either typing away on her laptop, lost in a book, or cooking something that smells way better than the frozen pizza he ate before he met her—it fills him with this unshakable, undeniable joy.

There. He said it. He's in love. With her. And he's not even trying to play it cool anymore.

Work is a different story. That's less joyful. The last thing he wants right now is to be dealing with all of this shit.

Hamid's in custody, but his cell is still in the wind. Saul's a mess, which, honestly, is nothing new—but the guy's about to be named Director of the CIA, so that's its own brand of chaos. Then there's Dar, snapping at everyone to wrap things up so he can get back to Langley and be named Saul's deputy. Not to mention the need to find a new station chief for Berlin. And, of course, Quinn's transfer back to Langley, which will comes with its own set of hearings, and the endless, monotonous grind of bureaucracy.

But none of that matters when he gets to go home to her.

He hasn't managed to screw this up yet. That's a small victory. Of course, no one knows about her—not officially, anyway. He hasn't told anyone, except maybe Max, in a roundabout, veiled sort of way. He's not ready to be that guy—the one who admits to having a real relationship, whatever that even means. Especially not in front of Dar, who'll definitely have an opinion. And the last thing Quinn wants to hear is Dar's condescending take on "attachments" and "distractions."

No one understands Quinn's need for anything other than the job. Hell, even Saul seems to live for the Agency. Carrie—well, her whole world revolves around the job. But Quinn can't help himself—Lily gives him something to come home to when everything else is a mess.

The real question, though: Can this survive when it's not just a vacation? When they're back in the real world? Once he's back at Langley, once they're both back in DC—will she just see this as a cool story she can share with her lawyer friends about a fling she once had with some real-life Jason Bourne? Bucket list checked.

Will she still want him?

Quinn is scared. Scared that she won't. She knows so much about him—more than anyone ever has—and yet she doesn't know everything. She knows what he does, but not who he really is. Not the broken parts of him. The things he tries to bury. The things she might not understand once she sees them.

That thought bothers him more than he cares to admit.

But for now, he tries to focus on the present—on her—on the fact that right now, this relationship feels like the most incredible thing in his world.

There's a knock on his office door, snapping him out of his thoughts. It's Saul.

"Come on in."

Saul shuts the door behind him, taking the seat in front of Quinn's desk. "Good work with Hamid," Saul says, giving him a curt nod.

"Thanks," Quinn mutters, unsure if the praise means much these days.

Saul leans forward, fingers steepled. "The group's on everyone's radar now. If they try to cross through Austria or Italy, they'll be flagged."

Quinn nods, running his fingers through his hair.

"They'll take that into account when they sentence him."

"He's a decent kid," Quinn says.

"I know," Saul says softly. "It's crazy what they turn decent kids into over there."

Quinn's jaw tightens, but he says nothing. He's seen this story play out too many times.

Saul sighs and looks down. "This Allison situation..."

Quinn braces himself, but his face remains unreadable.

"She's—she's dead," Saul says flatly. "Tried to escape. Early this morning."

Quinn blinks, not sure if he heard that right. "What?"

"Dead," Saul repeats, his voice devoid of emotion. "She was killed."

"Jesus," Quinn mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing.

Saul's eyes flicker with something—maybe regret, maybe just weariness. "It's over. And now we clean it up."

Quinn nods stiffly.

"Lockhart's on board," Saul continues. "This whole thing... it doesn't reflect well on the Agency."

"Yeah," Quinn murmurs, but inside, he's already lost in thought, thinking about how it'll shake out when they debrief back at Langley. They'll put a new station chief in place, and then... then what?

"And of course, this all makes us look bad," Saul adds, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "You and I both know how that goes."

Quinn nods again. He's not interested in the politics of it.

Saul shifts in his chair. "So. She died at the hands of the SRV. A hero. A martyr, really."

Quinn stays quiet, unsure of what to say.

"Big loss for the Agency."

"Yeah," Quinn replies, quieter now.

Saul looks at him for a long moment. "We'll replace her. And then we head back to Langley. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. You, me, and Dar... together."

"Right," Quinn mutters, trying not to sound too detached.

Saul's eyes narrow. "Dar's worried about you, you know."

"Dar worries too much," Quinn says, his voice colder now.

Saul sighs, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I get it. He's an ass sometimes, but he's a good friend. And he's concerned about you. You're a big part of this. You always have been."

Quinn doesn't respond.

"He thinks you don't want the job," Saul presses, almost cautiously. "It's a big deal. The person who takes it... they need to want it."

Quinn's voice is quieter than usual. "Yes, I know."

Saul watches him, his gaze sharp. "So, should I be worried about you?"

"No. I'm okay." Quinn's answer is more final this time.

Saul regards him for a moment, the weight of his next question hanging in the air.

"You seeing someone, Quinn?" he asks quietly. "In Berlin. Have you had her background checked?"

Quinn freezes. His heart skips.

"What?" he says, eyes narrowing.

"I'm in the CIA, Quinn," Saul says with a half-smile, as though it's an obvious fact. "I figured you out the moment Estes sent you my way."

Quinn stares at him, mouth dry. "Right."

"It's none of my business," Saul says, holding his hands up. "I know that's what you're thinking."

Quinn doesn't speak. He doesn't want to get into this.

"Have you had her checked out?" Saul asks again.

Quinn hesitates, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. "Yes."

"So have I," Saul says, his tone light, but his words hit like a punch.

Quinn stares, trying to hide his surprise.

"This is a good thing," Saul adds, almost warmly.

Quinn doesn't know how to respond to that. So he doesn't.

"Emotional connection is … healthy."

"Let's not talk about this," Quinn mutters, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "It's really... weird."

Saul grins, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I won't bore you with my wisdom. Is it serious?"

Quinn stares at him, but doesn't answer. He doesn't even know how to.

Saul uncrosses his legs and stands. "Good," he says, taking a last glance at Quinn. "Well, I'm happy for you."

He reaches the door and pauses, looking back. "Of course, Carrie won't be," he adds, his eyes twinkling.

With a wink, Saul slips out, leaving Quinn alone in the silence of his office.

Quinn watches him leave, exhaling a long breath. Well, that happened. Okay, then.