Chapter 16

Quinn wakes up alone in his apartment in Berlin, sunlight filtering through the blinds. It's too early to be fully awake, but restlessness gnaws at him. He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, the hum of the city creeping through the cracks in the walls. His phone lies face down on the nightstand, untouched. After a few moments of indecision, he reaches for it, scrolling through overnight emails.

Most of them are panic-ridden messages from the new station chief, worried about the SRV leak the size of a Mack truck that's blown its way through the office. How to "re-fortify" Berlin in the wake of it all.

Quinn barely registers the words. It's not even close to the top of the list of things he should be focusing on. In the last two weeks, he's barely come up for air, juggling a million urgent tasks: debriefing on the terror cell that held him captive for 19 days before the S-Bahn explosion; documenting targets linked to the CIA's "kill box" program for Lockhart; and desperately cramming years of work into weeks of preparation for his upcoming confirmation hearing.

Only two deputy positions in the CIA are political appointments, and of course, one of those is Special Operations—the division no one wants to explain to Congress. He'll be grilled about Aleppo, Islamabad, Berlin—who knows what else. At least it's behind closed doors, thank god for small favors.

Quinn sighs, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand. The noise from the city feels distant, muffled, as his mind settles into a familiar ache.

Lily.

The space beside him is empty, and the feeling of her absence presses against his chest like a phantom. He closes his eyes, almost feeling her warmth beside him again. Her smile, the way she laughs when he says something stupid, how she effortlessly brings him back to himself without pushing too hard.

God, he misses her.

He pulls himself out of bed and drags himself to the window, staring out at Berlin's gray skyline. The city feels distant now, like it belongs to someone else, some other version of himself. The job, the office, the mission—they're all temporary, a means to an end. Since Lily left, all he's focused on is getting through one more deadline, one more crisis. Then he can go home. Back to DC.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text. From Lily.

Good morning. Miss you.

Quinn smiles. Her words sound like her voice in his head, warm and soft, but laced with that familiar edge of longing. His finger hovers over the screen, but he hesitates. It's midnight in DC, the end of her day. He wants to be in sync with her—hell, he'd settle for the same time zone. Texting feels... inadequate somehow.

Me too. Get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow.

He hits send and leans back against the wall, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The ceiling stares back at him—old water stains and cracks marking the passage of time. He should be thinking about the work ahead. Instead, all he can think about is her. The thought of holding her again, feeling like he might finally be home.

He pushes the thought aside. He can't afford to dwell on this. Not now. Not with so much to finish. He forces himself to shower, get dressed, and get moving.

The rest of the day is a blur—meetings, phone calls, a final round of prep with Dar, and a 6-mile run (instead of lunch) during the single short break he can eek out from work. His mind keeps drifting back to Lily, to the sound of her voice in his head.

When the evening finally comes, he sits down to edit talking points on Syrian strategy, but his mind is too scattered. He picks up his phone and calls her instead.

"Hi," he hears her say, and he can almost hear the smile in her voice.

"Hi," he murmurs, feeling a knot in his chest loosen.

"God, I miss you. It's embarrassing, really."

"I miss you too. A lot."

"Are you surviving the prep?"

Quinn lets out a long sigh. "Barely. Just want to get it over with and come home."

"I know. You'll be great, though."

"Thanks. How are you?"

"Surviving," she chuckles. "We lost a summary judgment motion today, which means trial, which means... fuck. Sorry. This is really minor compared to what you're dealing with, it's so—"

"Don't," Quinn cuts her off. "Don't do that. I want to know if something's bothering you."

He can hear her sigh through the phone. "It's nothing, really. I just... I wish you were here."

"I'll be there soon," he replies softly.

There's a pause, and he can almost feel her hesitating, as if she's trying to find the right words.

"Have you found a place yet?"

Shit. She's been sending him listings, one after another. The idea of finding a place in DC feels like a distant, abstract thing—he hasn't even been there in over three years. The shitty apartment he was living in before isn't going to cut it anymore, especially with the security demands and… Lily.

"Uh…"

"I'll take that as a no," Lily teases, her voice light, but he can hear the hint of nervousness beneath it.

"I'm going to look. I just…" he trails off, struggling for an explanation that sounds less like an excuse. Exhaustion? That's probably the closest thing to the truth.

"Look," she says, her words coming out in a rush. "What if you just stay with me? I mean, just until you find something? My place is decent size, and it'll take one thing off your mind. You can look once you're here. It's in DuPont Circle—not exactly convenient to Langley, but you'll have car service, so it's not a huge deal. Plus, there's this great pizza place…"

Her nervous ramble stops abruptly, and Quinn can't help but chuckle. It's sweet.

"Yes," he says, cutting through her flurry of words. "I'd love that."

"You would?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," she sounds surprised, relieved. "I wasn't sure if you'd— I mean, it's nothing amazing, but—there's a doorman and great view, and I'll make room in the closet for your stuff—"

"Lil," Quinn interrupts, his voice soft. "Stop. I'm sold. Seriously. Thank you."

"Right," she laughs, her voice a little shaky now. "I'm just... my mom... She doesn't really get it."

Quinn's heart sinks a little. "Yeah, I get that," he says, trying to keep things light.

"No, I didn't mean it that way," she's quick to correct herself. "She'll love you. I know she will… I'm just rambling now, but you get what I mean, right?"

"I do," Quinn reassures her. "Let's just deal with all of that when I'm back. I'll add her to the list of people I need to impress."

Lily laughs softly, the tension in her voice easing. "Thanks."

"I should go. It's getting late."

"Yeah." She hesitates. "I love you."

Quinn pauses, the words catching in his throat. But they feel right. True. "I love you too."