She waited, she really did. But he didn't wake up and Maggie called and said Frannie missed her so she had to go home. She had to. That's what she told herself anyway. And then life happened. Langley called, she was in a ton of meetings. They wanted her back, she didn't know what she felt about it really, but in the end she decided to say yes. Why fight it? Maybe she was meant to be CIA for the rest of her life. But no more foreign offices. Berlin had showed her the good stuff and she liked it. She liked being a mom, picking up from daycare, the routines, it did her good. She could see that now. Frannie was the best thing that had happened in all her life. So a post at Langley it was. Life went on. She was feeling okay about it, Berlin was a previous chapter now.

And then one day, a month or so later, when she was leaving work, he was there, on the other side of the security gates at the entrance, sitting on a bench with a coffee cup and a crutch beside him. The familiarity of it all hit her like a brick. She knew she had been missing something and this was it. How could she have forgotten about him again? The same old guilt washed over her but also a warm feeling in her chest. Quinn, her best friend. He was here again, against all odds. She walked through security and Quinn spotted her. A tiny smile appeared on his face as he grabbed his crutch and with some difficulty stood up. Carrie walked towards him, and fuck, she was nervous.

"Quinn", she said, still feeling very surprised to see him.

"Hi Carrie!"

Whether it was her body acting on its own or Carrie actually needing to feel him to believe he was real is unclear but when she reached him she gave him a small awkward hug and then stepped back.

"Quinn, what are you doing here? How are you? I'm sorry I haven't checked in but I had to go back to Frannie and then fucking Langley called and it's been a whirlwind and… fuck!"

She realized she was rambling. He was just looking at her with that minuscule amused face of his.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay", he said. But there was something wrong with how he said it. She looked puzzled at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Considering", he shrugged and nodded at his crutch.

"Yeah, shit Quinn", Carrie shook her head and put her hair behind her ear. She felt bad.

"I'm.. I'm really sorry", she stuttered. "I shouldn't have left you, but there was so much shit going on. Why did you leave? We should have gotten you to a hospital. Jonas was right, I should have listened and Astrid…"

"Carrie!" Quinn disrupted her nervous rambling. "It was… my choice. Okay?"

Carrie nodded, looked at him, and felt the familiar wobble of her chin. Shit, not break down now, she thought. She straightened herself and looked at him.

"The video, when I saw it", she continued, struggling to hold it together. This was getting heavy. "All I could think was it was my fault."

"No, I fucked up," he simply stated.

Such a typical thing for Quinn to say.

"Yeah, well, I did too."

"Not from what I… heard."

Oh that, Carrie thought. She shrugged. "I was just doing what was right."

"So was I", he said and smiled, a real smile and Carrie got lost in it and they just stood there like a couple of morons, smiling at each other, again. But Carrie felt happy, the nervousness faded away. This was good. Quinn was back. Everything was going to be alright.

The atmosphere changed.

"So…" Carrie swayed a little. "Are you here to debrief or..?"

"No, I'm out."

"Really? Like out, out?"

"Yep."

"Good for you, or..?"

"Is good", Quinn nodded. "Ddd.. debrief's done… already. I was…waiting… for you."

That's when Carrie realized, Quinn had trouble talking. She also realized the coffee cup he was holding was slightly shaking. Fuck. He was damaged for life. Fuck fuck fuck!

Quinn didn't seem to notice Carrie's frown or he didn't care, because he continued slowly.

"I wanted to see you. And… take you to dinner."

Carrie suddenly heard what he was saying.

"What?"

"Dinner. You and me."

Carrie scoffed. Who the fuck was this guy? Looking at her all charming and wonderful.

"Why?" She asked. Really, it was a good question. Why would he want to take her out to dinner? Shouldn't he be hating her or something?

Quinn's face turned serious.

"Okay, forget it", he said grimly and began turning away towards the exit. Carrie panicked.

"No, wait!" She grabbed hold of his arm. "Of course, I'll come. You just surprised me, that's all. Jesus, Quinn", Carrie waved her arm at him. Can you believe this fucker?

"Great", he said looking smug all of a sudden. "You drive. I can't." Quinn lifted his crutch.

Fair enough, Carrie thought.

"I'm bringing Frannie." She was on her way to pick her up from daycare. Quinn had to deal with it. This was her life now.

"Sure."

"Okay then."

They started walking towards the exit. Carrie had to slow down because Quinn wasn't walking his normal speed. The pang of guilt hit her again.

"You need any help?" She tried to ask it as politely and neutral as possible.

"No." Quinn shook his head and distinctly showed his opinion on that topic with a stern look. What did I expect? Carrie thought.

So that's why Carrie didn't help him get into the passenger seat. She just waited for him to take his time and he seemed okay with that. They drove out of the CIA parking lot in silence, and Carrie kept thinking, here we are again. But in reality everything had changed.

He had been debating it for a long time. First in the hospital when he woke up. Then at therapy, physical and mental. Fucking Carrie Mathison. What to do with fucking Carrie Mathison?

Of course she hadn't been there when he woke up, but on the other hand, no one had. Three weeks he'd been under and when he woke up he felt stupid. Literally stupid, like five bottles of vodka stupid. He had trouble breathing and his brain was mush. Astrid came to see him some hours later. That was nice. She told him everything that had happened and he listened. Jesus Christ, Carrie! Another one of her infamous incredible stunts. He had no recollection of being woken up by her though. Apparently she had stayed by his side for a week afterwards, but the doctors couldn't give a definitive answer to when he might wake up. "So your girlfriend had to go home", Astrid told him. He didn't care. Astrid had always called Carrie his girlfriend just to spite him. He liked hearing that Astrid and Carrie seemed to have gotten closed. Good, he thought. Carrie needs friends.

He had trouble talking, or rather formulating words. The doctors said it was because of the hypoxia his brain had suffered from. Great, aphasia, just what he needed. It was hella annoying. He had no trouble writing though, that went fine, but his hands were so shaky so it became a problem anyway. Therapy began after a week when he felt much stronger and his breathing was as good as normal. It wasn't that difficult really, his balance was off a bit and sometimes he couldn't feel his feet, but overall considering fucking sarin gas, he'd been lucky. The speech impediment was the worst thing. He felt so constricted. He had never been a talkative guy, but not being able to say the words he was thinking was driving him insane. Which was what the therapy was all about, the he shouldn't go insane about it, just take his time, not stress about it. Yeah, you fuckers, like you know how it feels…

Anyway, it got slowly better. He learned a technique how to phrase himself. Then fucking Dar Adal came by, with a fucking box of chocolates. Actually, Dar looked kind of devastated. Told him it was completely up to him what he wanted to do now. And in a fraction of a second he just knew, this was the end, no more. It had never felt so crystal clear.

"I.. want out", he said, practicing on his phrasing technique. Dar nodded.

"Sure. Whatever you need, Peter".

And now, he was in a car with Carrie, on her way to daycare. Because she just didn't leave him alone. He fought it at first, but then one day, when he probably looked more pensive than ever, that nice nurse with the engagement ring asked him what he was thinking about, and it just came out. Maybe the aphasia did that to him, he had lost his filter. Maybe it was his weakness for pretty nurses, who knows? But he slowly told the nurse about Carrie, and she had nodded and said that Carrie had been really worried about him, asked a ton of questions about his chance for recovery and then she had been kind of sad she had to leave. Quinn had hummed and the nurse had smiled.

"Why don't you just ask her out, when you get back home, see how it feels?" The nurse had told him. He had snickered, ask Carrie Mathison out, what a stupid idea. Like they could go on a date together with all that's happened and… He stopped his thoughts there. He was out of the CIA. Dar had given him a new identity, a clean slate, he could do whatever he wanted. He felt slightly sick.

And so he thought about it, a lot. When he came back to the States a couple of weeks later he looked her up. Of course she was back at Langley, he wasn't surprised at all about that. It was her home. She was good at it, and honestly CIA really needed her. He took a lot of cab rides, watched her from a distance. She seemed to be doing okay. He was glad for it. His plan was to stop stalking her after some days, but he found he just couldn't. Fucking Carrie. The pull was still there. It had always been there, he needed a war to not be pulled towards her and his war days were over now. No black ops team would want him. So he'd given in.

He glanced at her from the passenger seat. She had a frown on her face. No wonder, he had surprised her, pulled the charming card.

"You okay?" He had to know.

She seemed to come out of her reverie and turned to smile at him for a moment before looking at the road again. "Yeah, sure. It's just, a bit much, you know."

He knew.

"So. Where are… we going? For dinner, I mean."

"It was you who asked me out", Carrie said with her usual scoff. "What do you want to eat? Indian food doesn't sit well with Frannie."

"You decide." He really didn't care.

"Okay, we're going to Sam's then. They have pancakes Frannie likes."

"Okay."

Silence again. Carrie turned off the main road after a while and soon they were outside a daycare center. Carrie parked the car.

"Wait here, I'll be right back", she said and got out of the car. Quinn saw a red-haired bundle of joy running towards Carrie who picked her up and spun her around.

Fuck, what am I doing?

"Who are you?" a four year old girl asked him with curious eyes. Good question he thought. She takes after her mom.

"Frannie, that's not how we greet people", Carrie scolded while she was tightening the seat belt around Frannie in her forward car seat.

"This is Peter Quinn, he's an old friend of mine. I thought we could go to Sam's and have some dinner." Frannie's face lit up.

"Can I have pancakes?"

"Yes, you can."

"Can I play in the balls afterwards?" Quinn raised his eyebrows while Carrie was getting in the driver's seat again. She saw his questioning look. "They have a ball pit at Sam's", she explained. Oh.

"Sure, you can Frannie," Carrie told her daughter in the back. Awesome, Quinn thought.

This was weird, watching Carrie be a regular mom. She seemed good at it but he sort of knew she would be, in the end. Even though he was seriously worried for her a while there, back in Islamabad. He looked at her. She was smiling. The previous antsy feeling about her was gone and Carrie seemed relaxed. So this is what he had ruined in Berlin. Well, what the CIA had ruined.

"You seem happy, Carrie."

"I am", she smiled.

"I'm sorry… for everything… that happened… in Berlin. Jonas was… a good guy."

"He was," Carrie nodded with a sad smile. She kept her eyes on the road.

"Why do you talk funny?" came a voice in the back.

"Frannie…" Carrie scolded again.

"No, it's okay", Quinn said and turned around to Frannie. "I had… an accident."

"That makes you talk funny?" Frannie looked confused. Quinn nodded. Frannie seemed to remember something.

"I had an accident. I fell down the swings and hurt my elbow. Look!" Frannie showed him her bruised elbow which had a colorful plaster on it. "I got this plaster from Mrs Hughes. Did you get a plaster?"

Quinn shook his head. "No, I was hurt… on the inside." Frannie's eyes widened. "It's okay now. I got better."

"Okay," the ginger girl said and smiled at him. Quinn felt sick again. He smiled back and then he turned forward again. Better to look at the road.

That was Carrie's kid, and Brody's, but it didn't matter. It was so much Carrie in her with her bluntness. He glanced at Carrie. She had an odd smile on her face, like she was holding it back. Her eyes glistened though. He knew that feeling from a long time ago. She was proud of her kid.

Well, wasn't this a fuckfest of happiness, Quinn thought. Could he really fit in this picture? What had he been thinking, letting his dreams carry him away, again. Then he thought about what the nurse had said (and actually the therapist they demanded he would see); See how it feels. Try it.

It felt good. He felt calm, and it scared the living shit out of him.

Quinn was out. He had done what she hadn't dared in the end. Saul had managed to persuade her, that she could do both, be a mom and the best analyst CIA had ever had. And Saul had been right, she was doing both. She had always looked at it in black and white when the truth was, it was more grey, life. Five years ago it would have driven her insane (hah!) not to have stuff happen all the time, action, drama. Nowadays she was just tired. Maggie told her children could have that side-effect. Yeah, no shit. How did single moms do it with more than one kid?

Anyway, work was good. She had done a lot of progress in the short time she'd been back, recruited some new really useful people. But Quinn, he was out, out! And damaged and they had done that to him, her and Saul, just ripped away everything that he knew. Yet, here he was sitting in her car, looking rather calm about it all. It annoyed her.

Then they picked Frannie up and her mind went elsewhere, another side-effects of kids. The interaction between Frannie and Quinn was really cute, she thought. Frannie was so like her, always on point. You just have to stay healthy babygirl, she thought. There was a 50% chance she would develop a bipolar disorder later in life, 50%. Yes or no. Black or white. Where was the greyness in that?

She glanced at Quinn who looked a little pale beside her.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine", he quipped. "Frannie seems to be doing okay", he continued. Frannie was now humming on a little tune by herself in the back.

"Yeah, she's fine. She's really settled here now, gotten new friends." She smiled.

"And you're back at Langley," Quinn said, more of statement than a question with a hint of sarcasm. Carrie got it.

"Yeah…" She scratched her head. "Saul managed to convince me in the end, said that he NEEDED me", she huffed and cracked a goofy grin. Quinn chuckled.

"Well now you know, how that feels," he stuttered somewhat.

"What?"

"Being NEEDED," Quinn said hyphening the word with the same overdramatic emphasis.

Great. Old snarky Quinn was back. This felt familiar, and kind of safe too.

"Yeah, I guess you've done your part now. What does Dar Adal think about it?"

Quinn sighed.

"That's not… what I meant, Carrie. Dar let me out, without hesitation."

Carrie looked at him questioningly.

"What did you mean then?"

Quinn looked at her bewildered.

"What?" She asked again. Quinn shook his head and looked out the window.

What had she said now that was so horrible? Never mind, here was Sam's. Carrie turned off the road and parked by the old fashioned diner.

Jesus, for being a really smart woman, Carrie could be so incredibly stupid and oblivious sometimes. Did he actually have to spell it all out to her? Thinking back, Quinn realized, yeah he probably had to. He remembered what Saul had told him way back, about how many times you had to tell Carrie something before it stuck. If he really wanted to do this, he thought, he would have to bring out his best interrogator game, and just repeat, repeat, repeat until she folded. Cracking Carrie Mathison, that'd be a real challenge. Had anyone ever done that? Maybe that was his mission now.

Oh but he would be gentle with her, sneaky but honest. She wouldn't expect honesty. That was his weapon of choice. Scary stuff, but he was out of the lying and killing game now, he had to start sometime.

They left the car and walked into the old dinner, Frannie holding Carrie's hand. Like out of old habit they instinctively choose a table in the corner with windows on both sides and a good view of the restaurant and the ball pit, which was located in the opposite corner.

"What do you want?" Carrie asked Quinn.

"Pancakes, pancakes!" Frannie shouted.

"You are getting your pancakes, sweetie."

"I'll have what you have", Quinn decided. He had never been picky with food. It's nutrition.

Carrie ordered for all of them, pancakes for Frannie and two Ceasar salads for the adults.

"So..." Carrie started. "What did you mean, back in the car?" She hadn't forgotten it. Of course not. Quinn cleared his throat.

"Remember Islamabad?"

"I'd rather not."

"Well, I didn't want to be there, to begin with".

"But I needed you there, Quinn! And God knows what more fucked up shit would have happen if you hadn't been there."

"Exactly. You needed me there."

Carrie paused.

"And Saul needs you now," Quinn continued.

Carrie looked out the window with a distant gaze, then she smiled.

"I guess you're right", she said, now smiling at him. "I'm sorry I dragged you into that clusterfuck."

"Don't be. I'm glad I could help. And I'm glad you're back at Langley. You belong there."

"You belong there too, Quinn. You should come back."

Quinn shook his head.

"You could do surveillance on my team. Hang out with Max." Carrie winked at Quinn.

"Oh, not the mute."

"What? He'd be great for you now." Carrie gave him a knowing grin. Quinn just stared at her. Gee, thanks Carrie, that's low.

"Fuck you, Carrie."

Carrie raised her eyebrows, smiling at him and Quinn admitted to himself that this was good. This was so fucking good, shit talking with Carrie.

"Okay, that was awful. But my point is, you're not useless, Quinn. You never will be," she said with emphasis, looking straight at him.

Perhaps she was right. Quinn had been thinking a lot about his future, what to do next. He knew that doing nothing would drive him insane, even though Dar had arranged a pretty good pension to him. To repay his debt to him, as Dar had said. But anyway, he couldn't just sit by and watch the world fall apart around him and the world was fucking falling apart. Carrie was back doing something about it, and deep inside he envied her for that. And if it hadn't been for him, Carrie might not have been here. When he looked at her now, smiling and in her own skin again, calm and sure of herself, with Frannie by her side, he knew it had all been worth it.

"Ok, Carrie. Whatever you say."

She really wanted him back with her, at Langley. She knew that now. He was the missing piece in her team. Who cares he's disabled now? She was, she had been all the time. It's hard as fuck sometimes, but it doesn't take away who you are as person, and Quinn was the best. Even if he couldn't do field work anymore. She had gotten to know him as an analyst, and he'd been awesome at it. The great sniper skill was a bonus that she'd come to admire, but it wasn't all he was.

Now he was looking at her in that way again, like he really didn't believe what she was saying but agreed anyhow.

"I mean it, Quinn. You're still good. I mean, I know what it's like to have a condition in this line of work. You know that more than anyone. But I've also learned that, it's not what defines you. I am not my illness. Sometimes it has helped me being off the meds, to see things clearly, but honestly, after Berlin when I tried it again, it just made me realize how wrong I was, about everything. I didn't solve shit on my own. It was when you came along, when we worked together that I solved the puzzle. We're a great fucking team, Quinn, and you know that."

Carrie ended her rant by pointing at him. She hadn't meant to get that upset, but she figured out why she had felt so annoyed in the car. He was so calm about everything and it was such a goddamn waste if he really were to quit. How could he be so fucking calm about it? He was still just looking at her with a smile in his eyes. She was just about to explode and ask him about it, when the waitress brought the food to their table and Frannie started flapping around for her pancakes. I am not done, she thought.

With a four year old, dinners are spent with a focus on said four year old. Carrie did her best averting syrup from getting all over the table, while quickly shuffling in her salad. Quinn watched them with an amused smile and ate his salad at a slower pace. When Frannie had finished her pancakes, she rushed over to the ball pit, all sticky hands and Carrie simply sighed.

"Remind me again why I became a mom", Carrie said with a weak smile. Quinn could see the worry in her face when she turned and looked over at Frannie who was crawling through colorful balls, giggling.

"You're doing great", he confirmed.

"You really thinks so?" She turned around again.

"Yes!"

"I recall you saying not everyone is fit to be a parent."

"I was talking about me."

"No, you weren't, Quinn. I know you."

Quinn paused. Okay, he hadn't been talking just about himself, but it had done the trick. Carrie had finished the video.

"I'm sorry I said that, but I needed you to finish the video."

"Yeah, I know." Carrie nodded. "I'm really, really glad we didn't have to use it. And…" Carrie cleared her throat and looked at him. "I haven't thanked you properly for helping me. So thank you."

Carrie gazed at him with shiny eyes and quivering lip, his ultimate weakness. He reached across the table and took her hand. Carrie looked down and a tear escaped her.

"It's okay." He tried to comfort her by slowly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. The world seemed to stop spinning. All there was, was Carrie and Quinn saw her looking up at him, the sunny light outside making her blond hair golden. She was looking at him with a questioning frown.

"No! It's not, Quinn!" Carrie suddenly withdrew her hand. The world started spinning again. "You were tortured on television. You were almost dead. You were shot and I didn't take care of you properly. Why the fuck did you leave, Quinn? And how are you so fucking calm about everything?" Carrie threw her hands up. Classic Carrie anger, the kind he loved.

"Because I love you."

Carrie went completely still. Quinn swallowed. Honesty was terrifying, and nowadays it just seemed to flow freely out of him. Fuck. What was happening to him?

"What?" Carrie just stared at him.

Something they hadn't noticed was that Frannie had watched them from the ball pit when Quinn had taken Carrie's hand. She saw that her mother had become sad for some reason and then angry and now she was padding up to their table where the adults only had eyes for each other.

"Mommy?"

Quinn had always thought love wasn't for him. He was the guy that kills bad guys for Christ's sake, trained from a young age to embrace the darkness in him, and he was good at it, really good. Swift, clean and extremely efficient. Then he met Julia, which had been a complete surprise to him. She was a cop, she kind of knew his world. He never exactly told her what he was doing for a living but he suspected she knew. But after John was born, he just couldn't stay around, it felt impossible. He loved that kid but the group needed him more and how the fuck can you be a father when you're deep in the middle-eastern desert taking out jihadists? No, it was for the best to set them free.

But now, he couldn't blame the darkness anymore, he couldn't blame his work, and honestly, the last thing on his mind before he went unconscious from the sarin gas, had been "I was so fucking wrong". He didn't want it to end like this. He had thought death was the right thing for him, but staring in its ugly face, all he felt was anger. Those fuckers, how dared they? He had been angry already by the dock, angry at himself for succumbing to suicide. And for what, a woman? That was so weak and the same time, he hadn't seen any other way out of it. You are not very smart when you're anemic. Thank Allah for Hussein. The mistake he did was going back. Nothing good had come out of it and Carrie had saved the world again. Clever Carrie. The most fascinating woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and now she was staring at him like he was insane, which was entirely true. This was insane, he was brain damaged for life.

"It's okay, sweetie".

No, it wasn't! Carrie was trembling when she lifted Frannie up to sit on her knee. It was that drowning feeling her manic episodes could produce sometimes but she was on her meds, so this was all her. Had she really registered that right? He loved her? Pfft! Why the fuck had he left for Syria then? She stared at him. He actually looked slightly nervous. It wasn't a look she had seen on him many times. Well, maybe that time when he visited her in the psych ward after hers and Saul's freak stunt. He'd been really worried then. She had been so annoyed he came to see her at her worst, but afterwards, when she was back to normal, she had realized he was the only so called friend that had visited her in the hospital, ever. She hadn't known what to do with the feelings that knowledge caused. How? How was it possible? It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be loved, she was supposed to be alone for the rest of her life. Then fucking Quinn showed up. She had needed a fall back plan. It was her condition.

But after she had spoken to her mom, her fall back plan had rendered moot. The lying, cheating bitch side of her wasn't the disease, it was her. Her mom was just the same and she wasn't bipolar. And a personality trait can be altered, or at least, it's not a hopeless case. You can work on it. That was what she had wanted to tell Quinn when she got back from her mother's but he was gone. The fucker had left.

They were a great fucking team. She had really meant that. But did she really mean this?

"You don't mean that."

"I'm pretty sure I do", Quinn said with a slight tremble in his voice.

Carrie kept staring at Quinn who still stared back at her, but now surer of himself. So he really did almost die because of her? Great. What the fuck do you with that? She knew they had saved each other's life a number of times, but for God's sake, he was willing to die for her? Who the fuck was he? Fucking Ivanhoe? Does she owe him her life now?

She couldn't deal with this now. She just couldn't. Frannie was clinging to her, obviously going tired. She needed to get home, now.

"I have to get Frannie home. She needs her car nap." Carrie stated, not as calmly as she would have liked it but fuck it. She fumbled with her wallet while Frannie was falling asleep against her and put some notes on the table. "You coming?"

"Okay". Quinn nodded and grabbed his crutch.

Carrie carried the dozing Frannie out to the car. That horrible awkward tension from when they first met some two hours ago was back. It didn't sit right with Carrie. He had said something tremendous and she didn't know what to do with it. They got into the car and drove off and Carrie felt like in a bubble. Quinn was silent, thank God. He knew her that well, and that was just it, wasn't it? No one knew her like him. She knew that, and that's why he had been such a comfort to her in Islamabad and after her father died. He'd been there for her that funeral day, but hell, he had always been there for her. She saw that now. Except, last time she had been on the verge on diving into that really scary thing called a relationship, he had bailed on her. Was that because he loved her? Because Carrie couldn't get her head around that as they were driving back to her place. And she couldn't get her head around what she was actually feeling. She was pretty certain her answer would have been yes to Quinn's question two years ago, but still…

After a while they pulled up on Carrie's driveway and she turned the ignition off. She turned to check if Frannie was sleeping in the back, which she was, but Carrie remained sitting in her seat, thinking. She closed her eyes and tried to feel what her gut was telling her, and no matter how she looked at it, the answer was, she was still sad that he'd left two years ago. She needed to know.

She opened her eyes and looked at Quinn who was just looking out the window and on the house in front of them with a serene beauty that was just him. Slowly she asked, "Why did you leave, Quinn? For Syria?"

He left because he was a coward. He left because he couldn't deal with the rejection he knew was coming. He left because he was tired of himself for chasing an impossible dream yet again. He left because he wanted to. He wanted to crawl back into that reliable dark hole of black ops where no one would disturb his thoughts, like Carrie did. Where his mind would go blank and all there was, was the mission. It was a relief. It was him, what he was good at. A safe haven in all its absurdity, the killing game, with cans of tuna and a scorching sun, dust and violence. His heart would hurt less in the Syrian Desert, and it did. He had let her go. And he had let her go in Berlin. It was for the best.

But all this, the situation he was in now, was completely new to him. This was the real challenge, a challenge he had dodge for so long, but now his body and his fatal error back in Berlin had made the decision for him. He wanted this now, no matter the cost. He knew it the second they locked him up in the gas chamber. It never ends, the violence. It doesn't matter how many times he tries to do good, to follow orders, to kill bad guys and avert disasters, they will always happen, again and again. What's the fucking point, of anything?

The point was Carrie. She was the last on his mind before he went under. Might as well give up fighting it. He was done.

Quinn took a deep breath, deep as he could and spoke.

"I left, because it's what I do. It's who I am. I leave."

"Well, me too." Carrie shrugged.

"I know."

"Then why the hell did you ask me?" Carrie turned to look at him a bit irritated.

"I was drunk."

"Tsk, so was I. That's not an excuse."

"I know, Carrie. Look, I fucked up, I'm sorry."

Carrie paused and looked down before continuing.

"I would have said yes, you know. I called you, after I had talked to my mother, but you were gone. She told me something that made me believe I could do it. It's not my condition, Quinn, it's me. My mother left us because she had gotten pregnant with another man, not because of my dad's illness." Quinn raised his eyebrows. This was news to him. She looked up at him again.

"She left because she was a shitty person. I'm a shitty person, Quinn." Carrie spoke vividly. "Or I was. I'm not the same person I was back then. I did well in Berlin. Life was good, because of me. It doesn't always end badly, I know that now."

But Quinn could only think of Berlin in that bad way.

"Until it does."

"Yeah, but that wasn't my fault!" Carrie huffed and threw her hands up. "Jesus Quinn, I thought I had outlived the days of Russian kill orders. Fuck, what a mess." Carrie crossed her arms and leaned back in the seat.

"Yeah." Quinn snickered. She was right. The last disaster wasn't on Carrie. She had been totally innocent for a change. He smiled at that thought. A Russian kill order had brought them together again, who would have thought that?

"I liked the part where you shot me. Didn't see that coming," he said with some difficulty, hoping Carrie would hear the humor in his voice. "You still got it."

Carrie gaped at him, but when she saw his charming smile, she snorted a laugh. "You're welcome. I liked the part where you smeared your blood on me and told me to play dead. That was some sick shit." She pointed at him, her face full of mirth.

"My pleasure."

They laughed. Quinn relaxed and he could see that Carrie did too. They sat there in the car just smiling for a while.

She would have said yes, Quinn thought. Well fuck. Wasn't he an antsy bastard?

"You wanna try again?" He turned and asked her. He was dead serious.

"You gonna leave again?" Carrie was serious too. A smile pulled on the corners of Quinn's mouth. Good girl, he thought.

"Mmm," he tilted his head theatrically, then shook his head. "Nope, don't think so."

"Okay." Carrie smiled at him.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She confirmed with a nod.

Quinn knew he had a goofy grin on his face. He didn't care. She had too.

He wasn't even her type! And yet, she was sitting there in her car, holding his hand and feeling like fifteen again. He stroked his thumb over the knuckles on her hand and Carrie felt actual shivers run down her spine. She had trouble holding his adoring gaze and Jesus Christ was she blushing? What type of voodoo had he gained knowledge of? Carrie took a deep breath. She had to get out of this car, now!

"Look, Quinn…" She put her hair behind her ear, averting her eyes. "I need to wake Frannie up or else she'll be up until midnight and impossible to wake tomorrow morning," she said nodding at Frannie. "You wanna come inside? I can give you ride to where you wanna be later…"

"Okay, but I don't mind staying. I have nothing better to do."

The way he said that and the smile in his eyes didn't make it easier for Carrie. God, she felt so shy! Wine, she needed wine. Yes, she was supposed to stay away from alcohol but this was extraordinary circumstances and extraordinary measures were allowed.

"Okay." She got out of her driver's seat and opened the back door to Frannie. She swore she heard her own voice breaking as she tried to coo Frannie out of her sleep. She had said yes. It'd just come out of her, when he'd tilted his head like that, sexy as hell with all that smugness. What did that mean? Was she in love with him now? Apart from her feeling really nervous, she didn't recognize this feeling. It wasn't like with Brody or Jonas, that overwhelming desire she had to take control over by using her body. This was more like back in high school when she had a crush on Billy Evans and didn't know what to do about it. It was so annoying.

Frannie whined as she pulled her out of the car seat. "Yeah, I know, but we gotta go inside and then you can play with your toys." Frannie hung like a dead weight on her but she was slowly waking up, blinking sleepily.

"You need any help?" Quinn asked from the other side of side.

"Yeah if you take mine and Frannie's bag, that'd be great." He did and together they walked the short path to the house.

It was a two flat old red brick house, probably early 1900's but renovated into modern standard with a garage on each side. Carrie's garage was still full of boxes so she let the car stand on the driveway.

"Who lives next door?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, it's the Lindberg's. Old couple, he's a retired agent. Saul knows him. I rent the flat from them. References, you know… They're nice, don't ask too many questions."

Carrie unlocked the door and let them into a hallway which led to a combined living and kitchen area. Aligned with the hall was the stairs leading up to the second floor where the bedrooms were.

"Sorry if it's a bit sterile. I haven't had time decorating. We've been over at Maggie's a lot". Since fucking when did she care about these things? Frannie wasn't complaining. She had her room with her toys and her books and that was well enough for her. Geez, where was that wine?

They went into the kitchen area and Carrie put Frannie in her ultra-functional Scandinavian high chair for kids that she'd fallen in love with in Berlin. It was placed by the island kitchen counter that served as a table.

"You want a glass of milk, sweetie?" She asked Frannie who nodded and still wasn't 100% awake. Carrie poured her daughter a glass while she was observing Quinn out of the corner of her eye. He was looking around the apartment, for exit options, out of habit she guessed, and he looked as nervous as she felt. It was quite endearing to her. She smiled at that thought. They had come a long way, her and Quinn. They weren't even near the same people as more than two years ago now.

"Hey, you want coffee? Or maybe a glass of wine?" She asked him as he was looking up the stairs.

"Sure," he answered absentminded.

"Quinn!"

"Hm?"

"Coffee or wine?" She asked him again now that she'd gotten his attention.

"Ah, yeah, coffee thanks."

Carrie chuckled. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Sure." He went to sit down beside Frannie, supporting himself on the counter by doing so. He had left his crutch by the doorway.

Frannie had finished her milk and was looking curiously at him. The milk and the presence of the strange man had gotten her awake. Carrie saw this.

"Frannie, why don't you show Peter your room while I'll make coffee?"

Frannie looked at her mom and then at Quinn shyly.

"I… I don't know if that such a good idea." Quinn stuttered, looking at Carrie.

"Yes it is," Carrie argued. Mommy needs to calm the fuck down, she thought.

"Okay," Frannie muttered and climbed down her chair, but as soon they started to slowly walk up the stairs, Carrie heard Frannie babbling excitedly about her new dinosaur coloring book she'd gotten from Maggie last week.

"I like dinosaurs," she heard Quinn say as she started the coffee machine. Where was that damn wine?

Carrie fished an opened bottle of white wine out of her fridge while the coffee was brewing. She poured herself half a glass which she downed in one gulp. There. Better. And Maggie says I'm doing a great job being a mom, she thought. What a joke. Maybe it was a good thing having someone to share her burden with again. She just never thought it would be Quinn. Never ever. She heard them talking upstairs and Carrie suddenly felt very emotional. Damn wine. Better to take some more. Quinn, who had been so awfully tortured because of her was sitting whole and healthy one floor up playing with her daughter. It really was a miracle. Of course she had said yes. She sobbed and chuckled at the same time, dried her eyes and picked up a cup for Quinn.

When she got up the stairs and turned to Frannie's room and looked in she stopped dead in her tracks. In there was Quinn, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by Frannie's Thomas train tracks. Frannie was marching around the room, doing the talking and commanding, while Peter did the building. He had already built a turn that went in, under and around Frannie's bed leg and she was talking with excitement about building more tunnels. Carrie felt her hands shaking and she had to hold on to Quinn's coffee cup with both hands not to spill the hot liquid. She could feel a huge grin spread on her face and it was just the stupidest, warmest feeling ever. He looked so content, sitting in there, fully focused on building railways. It was so sweet.

When Frannie noticed Carrie in the door, she lit up.

"Mommy! Peter says he can buy more tracks for me!"

"Oh does he?" Carrie said walking into the room, handing Quinn his coffee.

"Yeah, I find this setup a bit underwhelming." Quinn did a sweep with his eyes.

"Oh really? How would you know?"

"My dad had a huge Märklin set when I was a kid", he nodded.

"Oh did he?"

"Yeah, believe me, I have mad skills." That smugness again.

"I'll bet you do". Carrie kept grinning.

Carrie felt so proud of him, giving that part of himself away for her. She knew so little about him. It was like she knew his heart and mind but not the details in them. She wouldn't pry anymore for now though. She just hoped the details would reveal themselves in time.

Carrie placed herself on the floor and together, the three of them spent the next hour or two on the floor in Frannie's room playing and chatting and Carrie thought that this, if everything could stay like this, she could do it. And that she would do everything in her power to make it stay like this. That, and the fact she couldn't help herself from glancing at Quinn's behind in those tight black jeans when he was crawling around on all four helping Frannie drive her train. Yep, she could really do this.

Eventually Frannie grew tired and it was time for her to go to bed. Quinn felt exhausted after all that playing. Honestly, this was the most exercise he had done since he was back stateside. He excused himself when Carrie took Frannie to the bathroom and when he tried to stand up he felt all wobbly but he managed to get downstairs. His feet had a tendency to fall asleep quite often these days. He didn't like.

When he came down to the kitchen he saw the opened wine bottle on the counter. What the hell, he thought, Carrie wouldn't mind, so he grabbed a glass out of a cupboard and poured himself some. White wine was really not his cup of tea, but he needed the effect of it. Peter Quinn, the babysitter. Ugh. No, he really needed to find a real job. Don't get him wrong, Frannie was fun, but doing that all day would drive him insane. He needed peace and quiet.

Perhaps Carrie was right, he should get back to the agency but to a desk job. It wasn't like there was any chance he could be a field agent again with his disabilities, so maybe he didn't have to worry about being dragged into that. Plus, the world knew him, sadly. That was what angered him the most. That he had lost his anonymity. He felt a bad taste in his mouth thinking about being back at Langley and all the pitiful looks everyone would give him. Fuck that! Yeah, why not sit in a fucking surveillance van with Max? That was quiet, and Max had been through shit himself in Islamabad. No need for pity.

The more he thought about it, the more possible it sounded. Fucking Carrie, convincing him again. She was very good at that, but she was also his. Carrie Mathison had sad yes and Peter Quinn drank some more wine because fucking hell! Suddenly he felt all giddy instead of exhausted, because he had tried to push her out of his dreams for more than two years and now finally, he maybe got around to slap that fine ass of hers. He giggled, inwardly, because honestly, he didn't giggle. But if he were true himself he would have described his current inner emotions as slightly adolescent. If that was a side effect of love, then be it.

He waited for Carrie, sitting by the counter for some time, trying to not think about anything in particular but it was hard. Eventually she came down the stairs, all smiles and relaxed beauty.

"Hey", she said. "I see you found something to drink."

"Yeah," he choked out. Dammit. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I'm out of whiskey."

"It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm trying not to have any of that stuff at home. You know how it is…"

Yes, he knew. He wasn't even allowed to drink alcohol at the moment because of his meds. But on other hand, Carrie knew how that was too. He smiled and nodded at her. She walked up to the counter where he sat and leaned against it. She was looking at him in a way he'd never quite seen before, but if this was Carrie's seduction look, it was already his favorite.

"You should stay", she said and reached out to him and took one of his hands.

"Okay, if you say so, Carrie." Oh, he would stay alright.

There was tension in the kitchen belonging to Carrie Mathison. Two nervous souls resided close to each other by the counter, one standing and one sitting. Quinn wanted to stand up and embrace her but he sensed that Carrie had something she wanted to say. She was looking at him with eyes that seemed to be searching for an answer to all her problems, and he knew he just had to wait it out.

Instead he asked, "Is Frannie asleep?"

"Yeah, she went out instantly. I think she was very pleased with the evening."

"Good. That's good." Quinn smiled. Carrie looked down.

"Yeah… Listen, Quinn. I… I need to talk about Berlin." Quinn gave her an encouraging look to continue. "I will be forever grateful for what you did for me, but I didn't like the part when you left, bleeding to death, Quinn."

"I didn't see any other way out at that time."

"Yes I get that but I'm not worth that."

"I think you are," Quinn said sincerely. Carrie shook her head.

"Don't… don't put that on me. It's not fair. I can't do this if you put me on a pedestal. It's not right. I need you tell me when I'm wrong, when I'm being stupid."

"Oh you can count on that. That won't be hard, at all."

Carrie huffed and punched him playfully in the arm. She was so cute when she was shy, Quinn thought.

Carrie continued, pleading. "Just, please don't do anything like that again. I mean it. I don't ever want to go through anything like that again. I watched you die, Quinn and… and… God, it was so awful." Carrie started to sob and Quinn couldn't hold it in anymore. He stood up and took her in his arms. She leaned in against him, hands and arms against his chest as she sniffled into his shoulder.

"Hey, ssh, it's okay."

"No, it really isn't. I see it in my head sometimes, and I just want to erase it."

"I'd like to help you with that."

Carrie smiled up at him with puffy eyes. He wanted to kiss her so badly but still, she wasn't finished. There was one other question mark in her frown.

"Another thing."

"Okay." Here it was.

"What you said before? In the diner, you really mean that?" Carrie asked, looking at least ten years younger and also very adorable according to Quinn.

"What part?"

"The… you know."

"No, I don't." He was teasing her now.

"Dammit Quinn!" Carrie couldn't decide between anger and bemusement. He smirked at her.

"Okay… Yes I did, Carrie."

"Why? I mean, how?" She really wanted to know.

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I just do, and I got tired of not telling you."

Carrie didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she could say it back.

"I'm not so good at this," she whispered, looking down.

"I know, me neither. Maybe that's why."

She looked back up at him. His sincere expression and kind smile, it was the truest thing she'd ever seen apart from Frannie. This man loved her, with all her flaws and how could she possibly not embrace that? She felt tears in her eyes again and she saw a future ahead of her that made her feel warm all over. Yes, she did love him. He was her best friend that also loved her in a romantic way, and why wouldn't that be enough? It was beautiful, really fucking beautiful and now her tears were flowing.

Quinn saw her tears, backed up and took her hands. He took a deep breath and started talking slowly, finding his words one by one.

"Look, we're the same you and I. When you left to see your mother, and after we spoke on the phone, I believed you were right. We weren't good for each other. It would never end well. So I felt, I might as well leave too. I realized I'd been fooled again by this impossible dream I have, but it was just a mirage, a false glimmer."

Carrie looked at him through her tears, wanting him to continue his speech.

"But now Carrie, you have proved me wrong. You got out, by yourself. You found love and you stayed and you thrived and honestly, I'm so fucking proud of you."

"Quinn…" Carrie laid her hand on his cheek. Quinn moved closer.

"I was just hoping that maybe you will stay with me. I am done leaving. Look at me, I can hardly run anymore, or talk."

"And I don't care about that. You're alive, Quinn! That's more than I could ever ask for. And you know me, I will never be free of my shit."

"Well, ain't that romantic…" he said with wry smile, looking deep in her eyes.

Carrie smiled back, and then she leaned up and kissed him because she wanted to. She wanted this so much. Instantly Quinn threw his arms around her and reciprocated that kiss madly. Carrie put her hands on his cheeks caressing those gorgeous cheekbones and cute ears of his and when he deepened the kiss her fingers laced around his neck and into his hair that had become quite long for being Quinn. It was not as good as their last kiss, that long time ago, it was better, way better. It became more and more passionate and as their lips took turns on being in charge, Quinn couldn't hold in anymore and his hands went down over her hips and round her ass and he lifted her up on the counter, squeezing her tighter to him. Carrie panted and opened her mouth for him and their tongues did that lovely dance they both had longed for all evening. She bit his lower lip and sucked on it and by this Quinn made an animalistic grunt and dragged her closer to the edge of the counter and started rocking into her while assaulting her neck with licks and nips.

Carrie arched her body out of reflex and all the passion that Carrie thought she would never feel with this man came tumbling in on her like crashing waves and she had to hold on to something so she held on to him for dear life, crossing her legs around him while she was getting dizzy by lack of air and arousal.

After a while Quinn paused his assault on her and leaned his head on her chest.

"Carrie..." Quinn whispered panting hard.

"Yeah," she whispered back.

"I need to slow down."

"Okay." It was actually a good idea. They held each other tightly, catching their breaths and eventually Carrie's world stopped spinning.

Quinn was nuzzling her cheek with his nose, stroking her hair and breathing more calmly, when he asked "you think we're gonna make it?" with a tiny worry in his voice. Carrie leaned back and studied him. He looked flushed and oh so beautiful.

"You know what, I really do," she finally answered because she did.

"Did your infamous gut tell you that?" Quinn asked with a small grin.

"What if it did?" Carrie answered with a challenging look.

"Then I'm game. It's a trustworthy motherfucker you got there." Quinn deadpanned and glanced down at her middle section. Carrie huffed a laugh.

"You wanna take a closer look?" she then said with sultry voice and a flirtatious smile that she had trouble keeping for a real one. This was so much fun.

Quinn didn't say anything, he simply licked his lips and looked at her with eyes so dark of desire that said gut did a backflip. Then he firmly took her hand, hauled her down from the counter and started climbing the stairs with Carrie in tow.

Later, when Carrie thought back at it, she would admit she almost swooned. Almost.

Quinn woke up by the sound of a door opening with a tiny squeak. At first he didn't know where he was but when he turned his head towards the entrance of the bedroom, he came face to face with a little ginger girl. Frannie. She was standing by the bed in her pj's, looking at him with curious eyes, teddy bear under her arm.

"Are you new Jonas?" she asked without hesitation.

"Umm…" It was too early for this.

"Frannieee," he heard her mother moan behind him. "Come over her." The girl ran around the bed and crawled up beside Carrie. "Try to sleep some more, sweetheart. It's really early."

Quinn looked over at Carrie's bedside table and the alarm clock there. 5.17 am, it was early. He looked down at Carrie who had already fallen back to sleep, but Frannie who was nestled closed to her mother watched him a friendly smile. He smiled back, and then she closed her eyes.

He lay back again, staring at the ceiling. He thought of the day before, the evening and the night, oh that wonderful night… "Well fuck me", was all Peter Quinn's mind could muster up. After that it logged off and he went back to a peaceful sleep.

Epilogue

It was Saturday morning. Maggie drove up to Carrie's house to pick up Frannie. Carrie had called her yesterday afternoon and whined about that she probably had to go into work today, but Maggie hadn't mind helping her. After all she was happy to have her sister and niece back at home. It was a lovely fall day and she thought she could take Fran to the park, she loved the playground there. Maybe her own girls wanted to come with, even if they were too old for that sort of thing. They loved playing with Frannie though.

So Maggie was in a really good mood when she rang the bell by the front door.

No answer. She rang again. Still no answer. Had Carrie left already and taken Frannie with her? Maggie had a spare key so she opened to door and stepped inside.

"Hello? Carrie? It's nine o'clock."

"Maggie!"

Frannie came rushing down the stairs and greeted her with a hug.

"Hey honeybun, where's you mom?"

"Sleeping," Frannie shrugged and threw her tiny hands up.

Oh no. Maggie suspected the worst. Carrie wasn't an in-sleeper unless… Carrie hadn't had a depression episode in a long time because of her meds but maybe all the recent events had finally taken its toll on her.

"Okay, Fran, you wait in the kitchen, I'll make you some breakfast. I'm just gonna check if I can get your mom up."

"Okay!" Frannie padded into the kitchen and climbed her chair.

Maggie walked up the stairs listening for sounds but it was silent. Not a good sign. She slowly opened to door to Carrie's bedroom and peeked in. What she saw made her gasp and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She closed the door again and giggled to herself. Carrie was not alone. There was a man in there, snuggled up close to her with his arm draped over her side, and they were sleeping like deadweight. Well, I'll be damned, Maggie thought. Then she decided she want to embarrass her sister, so she knocked loudly on the door saying Carrie's name again.

Carrie's eyes flew up. Fuck! Maggie! She had completely forgotten about her picking up Frannie.

"Err, just a second," she shouted and sprung out of bed and pulled on some sweats quickly. She looked back at Quinn who was starting to stir. She went to open the door, stepped out in the hallway and closed the door tightly behind her. Maggie stood there watching her.

"Maggie! Sorry, I totally forgot. Is Frannie up?"

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen." Carrie started to walk down the stairs and Maggie followed.

"Fuck! Sorry!"

"It's fine." Maggie couldn't stop smiling. Seeing Carrie flustered like this was very rare.

Carrie and Maggie together started to rustle in the kitchen. Carrie put on the coffee and Maggie saw to that Frannie got herself a glass of milk and a sandwich, but finally she just had to ask.

"So… who's your friend?"

"Umm…" Carrie stared at her sister. How the fuck did she know? What was she going to say?

"It's Peter!" Frannie said cheerfully and solved her mom's dilemma.

The sisters stared at each other.

"Peter as in Peter Quinn?" Maggie asked solemnly. She knew very well who that was. She had only met him once but what she saw then was very hopeful. Then he had disappeared and Carrie had moved to Europe and the next she saw of him again was that horrible video…

Frannie took no notice of the seriousness in the room and started babbling excitedly about all the tracks they had laid out yesterday evening.

Carrie nodded slowly and Maggie thought, "my my". When Maggie saw her sister beginning to break apart she went over to her and hugged her. Carrie hugged her back tightly and that's when they heard rustling from upstairs. The sisters let go and shared a smiled. Carrie cocked her head as if saying, "Yeah I know, don't say anything," and Maggie didn't. She was just happy.

Then they heard someone loudly relieve themselves in the bathroom upstairs, and all three girls in the kitchen started giggling.

Finally the perpetrator came down the stairs, barefoot but in jeans and t-shirt. Thank God, Carrie thought. Quinn looked adorably sleepy and his hair stood on all its ends and if it wasn't for Frannie and Maggie she would have jumped him then and there.

Quinn looked dumbstruck on all the girls in the kitchen and said, "Hi."

"Oh, hello," Maggie answered smiling like an idiot.

"Quinn! You remember my sister, Maggie?" Carrie said while the other two adults shook hands.

"I had completely forgotten she was supposed to pick Frannie up," Carrie explained a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, okay," was all Quinn said.

"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be on your way to work?" Maggie sneered at Carrie.

"Yes. Yes, I am," Carrie answered and started to shuffle around them. "Quinn, have some coffee. It's ready." Quinn nodded.

Carrie went upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. She tidied herself up and then went to put on some new clothes. Why, she didn't know because she honestly didn't want to go to work just yet. He was still here. She heard them talking quietly downstairs, with some commenting from Frannie. When she got out her room again, Maggie was in the hallway with some clothes for Frannie that she'd picked up from her room. She smiled at Carrie again.

"Carrie," she said with a low and sincere voice. "I'm only going to say this once so you better listen." Carrie listened. "That one downstairs is a keeper. I know'em when I see'em, so don't fuck it up."

Carrie laughed. "Yeah, Mags, I know." And then they went downstairs again to where Quinn and Frannie was sitting by the counter, sharing thoughts on model trains. Maggie took Frannie and dressed her and cleaned her hands. Carrie watched the whole scene from the bottom of the stairs, glancing at Quinn now and then. He glanced back, raising his eyebrows teasingly at her.

After a while Maggie and Frannie was ready to go and Carrie followed them to the front door. They said their goodbyes and Maggie winked at her. "Oh fuck you," Carrie mouthed at her and closed the door. She walked back to the kitchen where Quinn was standing waiting for her with his arms crossed and a question in his eyes.

"So… to work?"

"Nah, it's no rush." Carrie smiled at him.

"Oh good." Quinn walked over to her, scooped her up in his arms and they were on it again. This time it was so much louder.