author's note: was writing the other thing and remembered I wrote this ages ago and never posted it. so, anyhow, thought it was good time to finally post it for all of us suffering through this week until 5.10 airs...

#

Quinn's starting to feel like a mole, has been hiding in a hole for too long. Not that he's used to luxury accommodations, but six months of dingy basement dwelling has left him feeling claustrophobic, pent up.

Yet it was what he needed - time to recuperate on his own, recover his strength. After he took off from Lundstahl, finally let her go. He had to hunker down, reassess.

First, came his own brand of physical therapy, involving a lot of painful reps, trying to push his weakened body past the limit. There had been a lot of fucking scar tissue to work through, possibly some screaming involved. But Quinn had readily welcomed the pain, wanted the burn - it was the only thing that made him feel alive at all.

The rest of it, anything other than physical training, was cut from his life. Not that there was a lot there before. The job. And, of course, her. Unacceptable things to consider.

It was hard at first, always so present in his head. So he just pushed himself harder, exhausted himself into a state of mindless physicality. Like special ops training camp where they try to break you down in every way. This was Quinn's personal re-training, to break him of his one bad habit.

Clear his head. Act like a fucking soldier again. Leave behind all the regret, any shred of hope for something else. Accept that this is it. That he had his chance, fucked it up like always.

The thing is, when you live in a hole, it's easy to renounce things of the light. Human emotion, caring. Quinn feels feral now, surviving only on instinct. Nothing left in the world, probably a price on his head.

Most of the time he doesn't know why he bothers to train, to regain his former capabilities. Yet it's something to do, mindless and time consuming - exactly the features he was looking for.

Quinn grunts, looks around at his dismal surroundings. It's been exactly what he needed until now, a place to hide away from the world. But he also knows it's coming to an end, that he is going to have to make a choice.

A new life, a new identity. It had possibilities. And yet how to explain the constant looking over the shoulder, the feeling of the scope on you. And who even to explain it to? Some regular civilian? Another motel manager?

The thing is Quinn has no idea what he fucking wants. Has only done one thing for so long now that he's not sure how to do anything else. And those spells that come and go, the interludes of regret, caring, self-hate. Well, he's only ever found one way to solve them and that was to go back to the job, back to what he's good at. Even if it means losing himself to the pit. Maybe because it means it.

Quinn flashes back to Syria, the destruction of Aleppo, dead children on the streets, howling parents. The brutality of war, the cold hard realities of the situation on the ground. Teenagers brainwashed into martyrdom, young girls taken as sex slaves. It makes his skin crawl, his shoulders tense. This is what happens when he lets himself think, part of the reason he tries to keep his mind blank these days. Trying to live only in the present moment, completely detached from the outside world.

A sudden loud bang snaps him sharply back into focus, out of Syria, back in his hideout. Quinn calmly takes a deep breath then draws his weapon. No one has come to his door in six months and he had chosen a completely secluded location. Whoever is there isn't there by accident, that much he is sure of.

Yet someone here to kill him wouldn't knock on the door so Quinn figures it's best to confront the situation, see what he's dealing with. Opens the door with his gun ready to fire, isn't particularly surprised to find an unknown man with a matching gun standing on the other side.

Part of him wants the other guy to charge him, threaten him, give him a chance to work out some of his pent up aggression, try out his fully healed body. But the man just hands him an envelope, silently walks away.

Leaves Quinn with the same decision, an entirely new set of parameters. If they know where he is there could be a sniper rifle pointed permanently on his door, waiting for him to appear just once. A siege of one, Quinn thinks darkly. Though it's pretty much been his life for the past six months anyway.

He wonders what they want, sits down and opens the envelope. It contains a mobile phone, only one contact on it.

Quinn sits and stares at the phone for awhile, thinks through all that it represents. He knows they have him, that he will make the call. It's that or spend the rest of his life waiting to be killed, wondering when it will come. And in this world that he can't escape, it's always better to be the hunter. At least it's a way of life he knows well.

So he picks up the phone, presses dial. It rings once, is answered by a voice he had hoped to never hear again.

"Peter," Adal says in his stern, condescending tone.

"Dar," Quinn replies coldly.

"I hear you've recovered," Adal says.

That part does bother him - that the Agency found him, has obviously been watching him. He leaves the basement only in the dark and only for brief errands. He hasn't spoken to anyone he knows in the six months he's been there.

"And that you have a bit of a problem," Adal continues, when Quinn doesn't reply. "I'm offering you a way out of your situation."

"How's that?" Quinn asks tiredly.

"I lost my point man in Syria," Adal replies. "I need you to replace him."

"Just like that," Quinn says skeptically. "You must be desperate."

He hears Adal snarl, can picture the old man's expression. But as much as he despises the man, Quinn knows how this will end. His old life is calling. And Adal holds most of the cards.

"You know your alternative," Adal states icily, reminding him that the decision wasn't really his to make anyways.

"Maybe I'm ready to die," Quinn replies, just to keep Adal guessing, fuck with his plans.

The thing is, he thinks it might be true. But doesn't want to go out in a bunker in Berlin, would like to at least be killed in action, try to give some meaning to his dark existence.

"And maybe you're not the only ex-operative whose life is in danger," Adal answers snidely.

Fuck, Quinn thinks. He honestly had not seen it coming. Had slammed the door shut on any thoughts of her as soon as he went to ground in Berlin. Absolutely did not think of her having an actual life, raising her kid. All of that was forbidden.

But of course Adal would do this, remind him of his one weakness, use it against him. And Quinn knows his former boss isn't necessarily bluffing, that the man would probably gladly kill Carrie himself.

Quinn's pissed off at himself for not anticipating this, for the reaction he's having to the threat. He had convinced himself he was done with it, that six months of the dark had finally cured him of caring.

But then again, he also knows he's been lying to himself all along. Because there's no conceivable situation in which he would not care if Carrie were to live or die. No matter how far gone he is, it will always be there.

So this time Quinn has no choice. Yet he's not even that upset about it, knows that this is his due. He needed something to focus on, a mission. And killing militant jihadists in Syria to keep Adal away from Carrie actually sounded like the perfect combination. Something to do, a reason to do it. And with all his pent up frustration, anger at himself, he may actually be ready to go back to what he does best.

"Give me a time and a place," Quinn growls into the phone. "If anything happens to her, you know I'm coming for you."

Adal scoffs, sounds both smug and irritated when he replies.

"She is going to be your undoing, Peter," Adal says with sigh. "Ramstein, oh six hundred tomorrow. Your ticket is booked from Berlin and your credentials will be delivered shortly."

With that Adal hangs up, leaves Quinn sitting, staring blankly into the dark recesses of his dank basement.

That's it, he thinks to himself. His path has been chosen.

It's not even a terrible fate, possibly the best of all his options. Because he is ready to do something, get into the action again. And to live or die in Syria, fighting to make the world a little bit safer, protecting the only thing he still cares about. It's what he does, all he's good for.

Lost in thought, somewhere between his dank basement and what awaits him in the depths of Syria, Quinn mentally prepares himself for what's ahead. Lets himself sit in the darkness, the memories of war. Death, destruction. His old familiar self.

And then, just as he's locked away the last remnants of any emotion brought up by Adal's threats, readied himself for what's to come, there's another knock at his door.

Adal's delivery, Quinn thinks. That was quick.

He walks over to the door, aims his weapon; then nearly drops it in surprise as the door opens.

#

Carrie exits the airport and breathes in the crisp autumn air. Realizes she hasn't been anywhere since she was last in Germany, six months without a single unexpected need to fly off to a dangerous location. And now she's a free woman, an increasingly responsible mom. Yet here she is, alone and back in Berlin - Frannie visiting grandma with Maggie and her kids.

It's strange to without her daughter, after six months of actual parenting. The closeness she now feels with Frannie is nothing she's ever experienced before. Being a primary caregiver, having someone so reliant on her. Carrie's surprised that she's already become so comfortable with it, has even come to enjoy it. Taking care of Frannie, living a quieter life.

Especially after the bullshit she had come back to after taking off for Turkey, abandoning ship. It had been clear that things were done between her and Saul and her last act as an officer was to give testimony against him, harming his bid for the directorship. And then formally leaving the Agency, all the agreements, polygraphs, bureaucratic bullshit.

But then suddenly it was done, she had quit her job. Everything she had ever known, really. Even now, nearly six months later, Carrie isn't quite used to being a regular civilian, just another middle-class single mom.

And now she's in Berlin for a job interview, got the lead from an old acquaintance at the BND. Head of security for the Düring foundation, a philanthropic organization involved in providing aid to the middle east, along with other branches.

It's the perfect opportunity, really. Carrie wants to start fresh, somewhere new. And she's always liked the grey cold war feeling of Berlin, the sense of history there.

It would be a good place to live with Frannie, show her a bit of the world, she thinks to herself on the cab ride into the city. And somewhere where she can reinvent herself, get away from all the darkness that's been her life until now.

But before that, there's one last thing she needs to take care of.

#

The last rays of daylight are fading into the sky when Carrie steps out of the u-bahn station, looks around warily at her new surroundings.

It's a far cry from sleek new Berlin, where her interview at the Foundation had been. Pretty much the end of the line, industrial and barely lit. And still she has a ways to walk, counts on getting lost at least once along the way.

Carrie walks and thinks. Preps herself for whatever might come. It's likely she's on a fool's errand, received bad intel. A long shot at best. But she had to try, couldn't just sit on it. Even though she was out, done with it all.

And even if she's successful. What then?

In many ways she doesn't know why she's doing this, what she hopes to gain. Yet here she is, standing at a hidden basement door, a couple miles from nowhere.

Carrie readies herself to knock, feels a shiver in her neck. Looks around to see if anyone is there, then tells herself to stop being paranoid, that she had left that world behind.

Which is fairly ironic, hypocritical even. Because here she is, knocking on the reinforced metal door.

She's surprised when it opens fairly quickly, had expected to need persistence to get a response. But not nearly as surprised as Quinn looks, as stunned as she's ever seen him, pointing his gun in her face.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he snaps, gun still aimed.

"It's nice to see you too, Quinn," she replies with scowl. "Can I come in?"

Quinn stares at her suspiciously for a moment, his eyes ice cold. Then he exhales irritably, puts down his weapon and stands aside to let her in.

Carrie walks by, looks around at the bleak space of Quinn's life. It looks like he's just packed, everything completely bare. Which makes her wonder about timing, if she had almost just missed him. Or if he just still lives ready to run at any moment.

He walks up to her, still looks tense, unsure.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, in that guarded way he has.

"New job," she replies. "Interview was here."

He gives her a look, and she knows what he means. Gives him the same look back, then scowls, remembers how frustrating he is.

"I mean why are you here," he says, emphasis on the 'here'.

Good question, Carrie thinks. And she doesn't really know the answer either, certainly can't put it into words.

"Well, that's pretty fucking obvious," she replies. "No?"

"I thought we were done with this," Quinn says, a warning in his voice.

"Funny, I don't remember us deciding anything," Carrie retorts. "You just left."

"It was pretty fucking clear," he snaps back.

"Clear to you, maybe," she replies, just as sharply.

"And what wasn't clear to you?" Quinn asks.

Carrie wonders why almost all of their conversations go like this, why they are always at odds while fundamentally wanting the same thing. To make the world a better place, keep each other safe.

"The part where I never see you again, where you disappear forever," she states angrily. "Jesus, Quinn. Yeah, it was complicated. But..."

"But what?" he replies, calling her out as always.

And that's the problem, Carrie knows. The life she is hoping for has no place in it for a Quinn, is far away from all the moral ambiguities that come with her past. Yet there's a part of her that refuses to forget him, that's reluctant to abandon this one thing she's still holding onto.

Quinn stares right into her, his gaze full of icy intensity. She can tell he doesn't want her there, just wants to be left alone in his dungeon. He's as tense as she's ever seen him, guarded, closed off.

When she doesn't answer, he gives her a dark look.

See, he says with his expression. You have nothing.

"Really, Carrie," he finally says tiredly. "What are you doing here?"

He keeps asking her the same question, the only question really. And Carrie knows she should have come up with a better answer before she showed up at his door, that she should have something to tell him now.

The problem is she doesn't really know why she's there, what she was trying to accomplish. Knows she wasn't going to bring him home, start a life with him, cure him of all his troubles. And yet, when she found out where he was, there was nothing that could have stopped her from going there, regardless of any consequences, any reasons.

But Quinn is waiting for an answer and she knows he's already over the conversation, is just trying to wait it out until she gives up and leaves. Which means this is probably it, her last chance to say anything to him before he takes off somewhere dangerous, drops out of her life for good.

Carrie stands there silently for a long while, looks at Quinn intently, wondering what she could possibly say to get through the steely exterior he has on.

Really she knows there's nothing she can say that will change his mind, make any difference. But as she stands there staring at this stonecold Quinn, Carrie realizes exactly why she's there, maybe what drew her to Berlin in the first place.

And it's likely their last moment so she takes a breath, gives him a hard look, tells him what she knows to be true.

#

"I'm looking for something I lost," Carrie says, looking at him in a way that makes him uncomfortable, even through all his layers of emotional guardedness.

He had been so sure there was nothing she could say that would even make a scratch, that he was completely done with all their back and forths. But just standing there and arguing with her has already opened a seam in his armour, made him actually care about something.

Quinn still can't believe she even found him, much less that it was on the same day the CIA came calling. At first he had been sure that the two incidents had to be related, but Carrie doesn't seem to have come with any agenda, looks about as unsure as he is. And she certainly doesn't seem to know that her safety is danger, that the Agency could be after her.

He wonders what she thinks she lost, hopes she figures out quickly that the Quinn she thinks she knows really is gone. And this is the ultimate test, really. Because he's only that person when she's around. So if he can get past this, he'll really be gone.

Quinn doesn't say anything, but doesn't make her stop, leave. Gives her a look that says he took the bait, that he's waiting for her to continue.

"Something to go on for, something more than all that death. I look at Frannie and I want to see a future, not just more war, more hate," Carrie says.

He can almost remember how it felt, to be able to think about a better future, a different path. But only because she's there in front of him, always a catalyst for his hopeless desires.

Still, he knows his choice has been made, that there is only one way out for him. And this is his chance to close the door.

"I am that death, Carrie," Quinn finally says, as coldly as he can. "You know that."

Carrie sighs, exhales loudly. Gives him a piercing look, half concern, half anger.

"But you don't have to be," she replies fiercely. "It isn't the only way."

It's distressing how her presence makes him reconsider these simple truths, tempts him to make poor decisions. And it's worse now that she actually cares, wants to help. Because he knows there's no hope, that he's just deadweight in this type of situation. As much as he blamed her for keeping him in the game, Quinn knows it is still all on him. He will always go back to it, to what he knows. And he will not pull her back in, cannot risk being anywhere close to her.

But fuck does she make it difficult, is looking at him in that certain Carrie way. He'd forgotten how it felt to be with her, the magnetic pull between them.

"It is," he finally replies, trying to make himself steel. "It's who I am."

Carrie keeps giving him the same disbelieving look, then steps forward, closes the distance between them.

She's standing uncomfortably close, eyeing him in a way he can't read. Quinn can feel the heat of her between them, wills himself not to melt as he waits for her to respond.

But Carrie doesn't say anything, just reaches out, grabs the hem of his t-shirt and starts to lift it before he even has time to register what's happening.

And for a moment Quinn thinks things are really about to go sideways, that their mutual fear is about be forcefully confronted. Tells himself whatever happens, this will be the end - he will not let her in this time. Yet he resists his instinct to push her away, lets her raise his shirt up to his arms, is a bit disappointed when she stops there.

Quinn unconsciously holds his breath, wonders what the hell Carrie is doing and yet doesn't stop her, doesn't move. She's looking intently at the striped flesh of his chest, his souvenirs from Syria, round one. Then she presses her hand up against all the scar tissue, directly over his heart.

"See, like new," he quips darkly, glancing away uncomfortably.

But Carrie just shakes her head, keeps looking right at him.

He can feel her emotions through their one point of contact, can feel the warmth of her hand thawing the ice within. And, as hardened as he had become, Quinn realizes he isn't ready for this, that she will always be his one weakness.

Standing there, the heat of her on his skin. It's his final exam, his penance too.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Carrie finally says. "I know who you are, Quinn. You gave me this chance. You gave me a life."

She's right and she's wrong. Because that's exactly what he needed to hear, is not nearly as emotionless as he tries to be. It's all that matters - that she's safe, has another chance.

So he isn't lost, completely gone. Yet it does have to be like this - there is no way out for him, certainly no happy endings.

He puts his hand over hers, grips it hard. Then takes her hand off his heart, unable to withstand any more.

She doesn't let go of his hand, gives him her sternest look.

And for just a flash there, he slips up, remembers that he loves her. Startled, Quinn closes it down right away, shuts the emotion back behind the wall. But it was there.

He shakes his head, exhales loudly.

"I don't have a choice," he finally says. "I'm either in or I'm dead, Carrie."

He doesn't mention the part where she could be dead too, that they are both probably in it for life. Though Quinn still thinks it's possible for her to get out, it's a longshot at best.

Carrie looks at him and he can see her starting to see the situation. They both know how this kind of thing works, especially in his branch of the Agency.

"This is who I am," Quinn says. Though he knows why she doesn't understand this completely. Because he's not himself around her, used up a lifetime of emotion in just three years.

"But maybe you have a chance, Carrie," he continues. "Get out while you can; then you won't have to associate with people like me anymore."

#

He's right and she knows it, just hates to accept it.

This is the Quinn who stabbed Brody in the hand without a second thought. She had almost forgotten about that guy, Quinn when she first met him. And this is the Quinn who would have blown up Haqqani, all the people in front of his compound.

But for a moment she had felt it, felt him. And now Carrie realizes that's all she really came for. To see him, to see if he was still there. That she hadn't completely lost the only person from her past she wanted to hold on to.

She can see him fighting it now, knows there's more than he's telling her. But she also knows he's given in to the game, fallen back into the same trap. The one she's trying to get out of, maybe even has a real chance at.

Carrie exhales irritably, looks into Quinn's deadened eyes,

"I happen to like you," she snaps at him.

Quinn frowns at that, glances away.

"But I get that you have no other way out," she continues.

The Agency has something over him, that much is clear. His life, maybe. But something else too.

He looks back at her, nods wearily.

Carrie realizes she's still clinging to his hand, doesn't want to let go. But it says something that he hasn't pulled away, resisted.

"Remember me when you're out there, Quinn," she says, fighting back tears.

She can tell he's trying to stay cold, fighting with himself. Resisting the part of him that always seems to arise when she's around. And she knows it's not up to her to pull him out of it, that she has her own life to live. But she can still miss this ice cold assassin with a heart full of doubts, the guy who stuck around against his best judgement just to save her from herself.

Carrie lets go of his hand, figures he's decided to just stonewall her out. And she's run out of things to say, just wants to say inane things like stay safe, don't die. Which are stupid things to say to anyone, especially Quinn.

She turns to leave, already misses the Quinn she once knew. Hopes he finds something on the other side of the war, that he doesn't completely lose himself to it.

But she's not even a step away when she feels his hand on her shoulder, freezes in surprise. She had really thought he was done, over everything, unreachable. But this is the Quinn she came looking for, she can feel it in his grip.

Carrie turns, finds him giving her his usual inscrutable expression. But whereas he was cold before, now Quinn has fire in him and, suddenly, she has no idea what's going to happen.

She holds her breath, wonders if they are about to make equally poor choices. And still Quinn is unreadable, looking at her intently.

He takes a deep breath, exhales loudly. His body language changes, loses its rigidity. Then he pulls her towards him, wraps his arms around her tight. And of course she remembers that day, every one of their fleeting moments.

Carrie knows this is goodbye, that he's giving her the last of the Quinn she loves before heading off to war. And all she can do is hold on, hope he remembers this part of himself.

"I will never forget you, Carrie," he mutters.

And if this is it, she will never forget him either. Maybe the most tumultuous three years in a life of extreme ups and downs. She knows she would never have made it through without him, that he gave her a chance at something else.

From the look in his eyes she knows he's fighting an impulse, the same one she feels. The mutually bad idea. But just as things are about to tip one way or another, there's a knock on the door and Quinn's focus changes, the moment gone.

He opens the door, wordlessly receives a package and closes it again. Turns as he looks through the contents of the envelope and Carrie can tell it's cash and ID, knows exactly what that means.

She realizes she almost just missed him, that he's probably out the door in the morning. And yet it's fitting that it ends like this, that their paths cross one more time at the edge of their respective futures.

Quinn back to his battle, his cold war with himself. And for her? Hopefully something else, a new direction. She has Frannie now, a different perspective on everything she's done in the name of national security.

"Do I want to know?" she asks, breaks the silence.

Quinn shakes his head grimly, is back to being rigid, stone.

Carrie thinks of all he's already been through, what it will take to withstand more of that hell. And she knows he has no options, that this is his only way out of a very fucked up situation, that this is the life he chose. Yet she hates having to give in, to lose him to the darkness.

"Take care of yourself, Quinn," she says, realizing there's nothing else to be said. He's already lost to the mission, now all she can do is hope he survives, that he remembers someone gives a shit if he lives or dies.

"I'm going to be really upset if I have to attend your funeral," she adds, just to make the point clear.

Quinn doesn't react for a moment and she thinks he's done talking, that she's now just conversing with herself. Which is her cue to go, to realize that the visit is over, that she's overstayed her welcome.

Upset he has nothing left to say, Carrie gives him one last look, halfway between angry and sad; then turns to leave.

She's made it to the door, is unlatching it when she hears his footsteps, feels him behind her. Turns to see the a flash of emotion in him as he stops in front of her, gives her a soulful look.

"You'd be the only one I want there," he admits hesitatingly. "I'm going to fucking miss you, Carrie."

And that's the thing. For all his stubbornness, anger issues, self-hatred, and violent ways, she's going to really miss his presence in her life, all the parts of him that he generally hides away.

So Carrie takes the moment, tells herself this could be the last time she ever sees him. And this time when she looks at him she reaches up, stands on her tip toes. Watches as he doesn't resist, leans down towards her.

His lips are icy as she slips the kiss over them, warms them beneath hers. Quinn only hesitates for the briefest moment, then slowly responds, as if he's forgotten about the concept of human contact.

And for a few heartbeats they are back on the street in front of Maggie's place, finally putting their demons in place. Awash in both darkness and hope, caught between the past and the future.

But then Quinn pulls away and the moment vanishes, leaves them back in a dingy basement in Berlin. And she understands it's over, that he's given her the last drops of the Quinn only she knows. So Carrie takes one last long look, commits him to memory.

"Bye, Quinn," she says. "I won't stop thinking about you."

Then walks out the door, ready for her future.