Carrie tries to learn more about the strange man who seems to be tailing Quinn.

All her muscles feel tense and nervous, like she's an unwound spring that's ready to jump at any moment. Quinn's house remains dark and quiet, almost annoyingly so, for hours, stretching well into the night. There's no sign of any kind of movement going on anywhere outside the windows or doors, and every few moments Carrie goes from wondering what the hell is happening to thinking that this is all ridiculous and must all be in his head.

She's been waiting by herself for hours, and after a while she finds that sitting in one place just isn't an option. Carrie has never been one to just stand still and patiently wait for something to happen, so she starts pacing the living room.

A noise so faint she almost doesn't catch echoes from a few feet behind her, and Carrie instantly moves to pick up the nearest object. She holds it up in self defense.

"You can put the lamp down" Quinn says, stepping inside the room.

She places it back on the table with a sigh. "Next time try not to move so quietly."

"Did you get any sleep?"

Carrie regards him for a moment and tries and gauge if he realizes just what an absurd thing he just said. "I'm not here to sleep, I'm trying to catch the guy who's following you. Following the Agency."

"And this guy can stay in hiding for weeks, months even. Trust me, if you try to go without sleep, you're just giving him an edge."

"You think a couple of pennies on the window sill will are enough to protect you from this guy?"

He smiles slightly. "You're not my bodyguard, Carrie."

"No, but-"

"Just sleep for a few hours. You can take my bed. I'll stay here and keep watch if it'll help you feel better."

She shakes her head. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway."

Quinn nods once before sitting down at the table. It's impossible to see anything through the blinds, but he stares at the window anyway. Despite the situation, he looks perfectly calm. Sometimes she wonders what's going on in his head.

"How do you do it?" Carrie asks, "Kill people for a living, and then go to sleep like nothing's wrong."

He waits for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. "We all do our job the best way we can. I just try to get it done and not think about it too much."

"So you're used to it."

He's still staring into nothing. "You could say that."

"Did you ever target someone I know?"

The question spooks him somewhat, but Quinn remains stoic. "No."

"Are you just lying to cover your ass?"

Her persistence makes him smile slightly. "Get some sleep, Carrie. Take the night off before whatever clusterfuck tomorrow will throw at us."

His hesitation to answer her doesn't do anything to calm her nerves. Carrie wants to keep needling him with questions, but that's not a way to treat someone who admitted to trusting her, even if she might not be convinced of this. But until she can be certain of anything, it's best to leave things alone and not burn anymore bridges. Quinn's been more honest and straightforward than anyone else at the Agency, and she just has to trust that he's on her side.

Carrie walks towards the bedroom and lets herself fall onto the blankets covering the bed. When she fails to find a pillow, she straightens up and looks around the room. Despite the darkness she can clearly tell there's nothing to see anyway. The room is empty.

She tries to get comfortable, shut her eyes and maybe shut out the world in the process. But after half an hour of twisting and turning it becomes clear that sleep just won't come. Carrie gets off the bed and stumbles towards the bathroom.

On a whim, she opens the medicine cabinet. Several bottles of pills come into view, most of them more than half empty. She picks up a bottle that has a label reading sleeping pills. Only a few pills are left scattered at the bottom. She thinks back to how calm and collected Quinn seemed earlier. Looks like he's not as put together as she thought. Before she closes the door to the medicine cabinet, Carrie takes a pill for herself.

Because why the fuck not. It's not like she could get some rest any other way. And she goes back to bed.

-o-

She wakes with a start. Faint light streams through the blinds, indicating she slept throughout most of the night. Carrie almost can't believe she got a full night's rest. She also tries to understand why there's someone hand on her shoulder and shaking her.

"Finally" Quinn says, annoyed. "I thought I'd have to throw you in the shower."

She tries to sit up, but the world tilts the second she does. "Huh?"

"Did you go through my medicine cabinet last night?"

Carrie wants to lie, but all that comes out is a guilty "yeah."

"Next time give me a warning or something."

Her phone buzzes once, alerting her that she's missed a call.

"That's probably Saul" Quinn says "he called me an hour ago."

Carrie raises her head. "What happened?"

"An assignment. We were supposed to be in for briefing ten minutes ago."

"Did he say anything else? About the bomb?"

"No. Now come on."

She swings her legs off the bed and tries to get up. But the world feels slanted and her head is swimming, almost like she's had too much to drink. "Jesus, that shit is strong."

"Next time I'll child-proof all the bottles."

"I can't believe you take this stuff and can still function."

Quinn crosses over and helps her up. "Like you said, I'm used to it."

Carrie tries not to look at him like he's crazy.

As soon as she's stable on her own feet, Quinn easily slips into professional mode, meticulously checking the little security "devices" on his windows and doors before grabbing what he needs for the drive to the Agency. He's so focused by what he's doing that sometimes he doesn't even look human. Carrie thinks about her haphazard and impulsive way of doings things.

They're as different as night and day.

"You ever wonder why they keep sending us on these assignments together?" Carrie asks him.

He snatches the keys from her hands. "Probably because I'm the only one who doesn't take any of your bullshit."

-o-

She stretches her limbs once they are out of the plane. She almost can't believe what she's seeing. Marrakech.

Carrie didn't want to leave the States, didn't want to go so far away from the Agency, especially now when things were on the edge. But she couldn't refuse because of the deal she agreed one day before. So Carrie was stuck acting like a lapdog. But at least she had to do it in a beautiful city.

The assignment sounds simple enough: find out what happened to two agents who were last seen in Morocco and were supposed to be home six days ago. As usual, the briefing they received was quick and lacking details, but Carrie is at least glad that, this time, there was a little chance that Quinn could know something she didn't. She hadn't really let him out of her sight ever since her discharge from the hospital.

Maybe, this time, things have a chance to run smoothly.

The city is crowded and the temperature is high, but they keep calm and try to be methodical. They follow protocol. Pay visit to the last places the two agents had been seen. Ask questions.

And get absolutely nowhere.

After an entire day of running around the city, Carrie begins to suspect that they're being put on yet another ridiculous assignment that can't be solved. They were only sent here to keep them busy enough so that they can't ask questions and start putting together information regarding whatever shadowy clusterfuck is happening inside the Agency. On any other day she would have dismissed this idea, because being paranoid rarely leads anywhere good. Except that, this time, any suspicions are more than warranted.

And this constant idea is bouncing in her head, grinding her patience. But she can't say anything. Because the second she does, Carrie will be sent right back to that hospital room and detained with some bullshit excuse.

They keep searching for answers regarding the two agents until darkness stats to fall. And once the city square starts being flooded by street performers and general chaos, Carrie takes an abrupt detour from their course and walks into a tea shop. Quinn follows her without protest or resistance, sensing her sudden change in attitude.

"So what's going on?" Quinn whispers.

"Your guy followed us here."

He looks at her in disbelief. "You're sure?"

"The same guy has been following us for a few hours, so unless you have a boyfriend I'm not aware of, then yeah, I'm sure."

Quinn closes his eyes briefly.

"So what's the plan?" Carrie asks. "What do we do about it?"

"We stand down."

She stares. "You don't want to catch and interrogate this guy?"

"The second we start doing anything different, he'll know we figured him out, and he'll disappear for a while."

"So we're supposed to do nothing?"

"Until we get back to the States. We need field advantage for this."

"For what? How hard can it be to draw this guy out?"

"And if this thing goes sideways, who's going to bail us out? There's just the two of us in the middle of a foreign country."

He makes a good point, but being patient and waiting things out isn't something Carrie excels at.

"Trust me, it's better if we wait" he goes on. "Just act normal until we get home. And it wouldn't hurt if you smiled once in a while."

"Says the Tin Man."

The corners of his mouth curl upwards a bit. "Okay, you don't have to smile. But you don't have to look so pissed off either."

The fact that they have to actively make sure someone keeps following them around sounds bizarre the more she thinks about it. Carrie has experience losing a tail, not keeping one. But she can't hide that the prospect of catching this guy and finding out what's going on is kind of exciting.

It soon becomes to dark to do anything, so they check into a modest hotel. And as they head up the stairs, Carrie spots a familiar man walking into a room a few feet away. She gives Quinn a light nudge. He glances at her only for a second, but the look speaks volumes. Ignore him for now. Be patient.

They share the room because it's smarter if they don't separate. Carrie is a bit apprehensive at the idea, but as they set up and check the room for any bugs in silence, it quickly becomes second nature. They're both aware of each other's idiosyncrasies and try not to step on any toes. And, odd enough, it works.

Sleep eludes her completely. Carrie can't stop being aware of how close the man following them is - just two rooms away. She wants to bug his room and find out what the hell he's up to, but there's no way to do something like that because the guy isn't some run-of-the-mill suspect. He managed to track them here almost unnoticed, which means he's a professional. Question is, a professional what?

"Can't sleep?" a voice asks from the other bed.

"It's hard to sleep when you feel like you're being stalked. This is fucking creepy."

"Like you said, he's probably only interested in the Agency. It's nothing personal."

Somehow, that doesn't make her feel any better. "Why do you think he picked you to follow?"

"I don't know."

But it's obvious that he does have a theory why. And so does Carrie. Quinn has travelled all over the world without leaving a mark or even a speck of proof that he exists as a person. He doesn't keep in touch with anyone and he doesn't live in the same place more than a few months. He's a professional ghost. And he's the perfect man to follow because no one would bat an eye if he would suddenly disappear.

"Why didn't you tell Saul about this guy?" she asks him.

A heavy silence settles between them for a moment. "Would you?"

"Maybe not. But you're not me. You do everything by the book."

Quinn laughs weakly. "How does that saying go? Don't compare yourself to other people because you only know their highlights, not their behind-the-scenes."

She says nothing and tries to go back to sleep.

No chance.

Their guy is so, so close, and yet untouchable. And this fact is sending Carrie up the wall. The sound of a door closing shakes her thoughts away, and she slips out of bed. She stops in front of the door and looks through the peephole. Sure enough, someone passes by their door and walks towards the stairs. Their tail.

Quinn gets out of bed a moment later, looking at her dubiously. "I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but-"

"Our guy isn't in his room. I just saw him leave."

Her plan quickly becomes obvious in his head, and Quinn fixes her with his stare. "Carrie, this is a fucking risky idea."

"I'm still following the plan. I'm not engaging him."

"And searching his room is even worse than engaging him. If you're caught-"

"I won't be."

She's ready to bolt out the door when he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me, if he comes back and finds you, then I won't be able to do anything. He's two rooms away, I won't have the time."

"I know, I got it."

"Seriously."

She stares him down until he lets go of her arm.

Carrie hurries to grab the pick gun while a dozen thoughts are circling in her head. Despite the darkness, Quinn manages to catch the frown on her face.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm just surprised you're letting me have my way. I thought you said that you're the only one who doesn't take any of my bullshit."

"I guess you finally wore me down."

"Funny way to say 'trust'."

He shakes his head at her, but there's a hint of amusement there. "Go, before I change my mind."

The hallway isn't dead quiet. There are plenty of voices echoing from the other rooms, so Carrie doesn't have to slow down too much and pace silently. She tries to make her way to the room as fast as possible. Once she reaches the door, she uses the pick gun to unlock it. And, a few seconds later, she's inside.

Carrie didn't think it possible, but the room seems to be even emptier than Quinn's house. The tables and few shelves are empty. The bed is perfectly made. If she didn't know any better, she would assume the room was uninhabited. Except for the suitcase lying next to the bed. She doesn't move it from its spot, but it seems to be open already. Carrie gently raises the lid and peers inside.

She finds a few clothes, a transparent bag with some toiletries. And an entire stack of IDs, all with various names, slightly different pictures, and vastly different details. Carrie is tempted to grab one – just fucking one – but he'd surely take notice. She presses the lid back down and then steps into the bathroom. Nothing but more desolation. Carrie decides there's no point to hang around anymore and steps outside the room, pulling the door to a close behind her with a click.

Carrie's footsteps lightly echo down the corridor. When she's back inside their room, Quinn regards her with curiosity.

"There's only one suitcase with a few essential and no personal belongings" she tells him, "and multiple IDs with different names, details, and even slightly different pictures." She isn't sure what to say about that except, "He's just like us."

"Did you find a weapon?"

"No. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. He probably keeps it hidden or on him at all times."

Quinn closes his eyes briefly. "Who the hell could he be working for?"

"Whoever he is, the guy is bad news." And then, tentatively: "Think it's time you come clean to Saul about this?"

Quinn paces the room for a bit, then shakes his head. Sighs a few times. Carrie finds it interesting that the roles seem to be reversed for them. This time she's the one who has to talk some sense into him.

"Like you said" Carrie goes on, "this guy is most likely interested in the CIA, not you personally. I'm sure Saul will keep whatever skeletons you've got in your closet under wraps."

It doesn't ring true, not even for her, but it's the only way to get him to drop his guard down and agree that they need help.

Quinn sits down on his bed and nods once. "When we get home. I'll talk to him as soon as this is over."

Carrie almost can't believe that he managed to sway him so easily. She suddenly feels guilty for being so stubborn whenever he asked her to back down on something.

-o-

The next day follows a similar pattern as the one before. Everywhere they go, the story is the same: no one knows or has ever seen either of the two agents. But some of the people they ask seem a bit too jittery. A bit too scared to talk to them at all.

"Think someone paid them to keep quiet?" Carrie asks, as they cross the city square.

"Most likely."

She takes a breath. "There's no chance we'll find these two agents alive, is there?"

Quinn doesn't answer. He just looks away grimly.

They're almost ready to call it quits and phone the Agency to ask if any new intel has surfaced when they catch a break. A boy who sells trinkets at a stall mentions that he's seen two Americans frequently walking by the square to haggle and ask questions that aren't usual for tourists. And that they were supposedly last seen around the railway station.

It's a long shot, but Carrie decides that they should look into it anyway. Evening sets in as they head for the railway station, and it seems like the more steps they take, the more people they run into. At night, the city turns into a crowded frenzy. And after several hours of elbowing their way through the swarm of tourists, they finally end up in the dizzying maze of back alleys.

Soon enough, the crowd of people begin to thin out, little by little, until it's just the two of them managing through a series of dark paths. Carrie tries to keep her eyes and ears open, wondering if the feeling of dread in her guts is warranted or not.

They eventually reach a dead end, but Quinn points out that there seems to be a passage heading underground. They both turn on their flashlights as they step inside. Carrie relaxes slightly when she realizes that it's nothing but an old parking garage. They walk through it, listening to the sound of their footsteps. But that feeling of dread is still there.

"This doesn't feel right" Carrie whispers. Because, somehow, it doesn't sound like the footfalls are only their own.

Quinn nods. He then unholsters his gun and gestures for her to do the same.

The muffled sound of a suppressed gun goes off above their heads.

Carrie instantly turns off her flashlight and takes cover behind a concrete pillar. She isn't sure where Quinn is but, judging by the absence of light, he's thought of the same thing. For a few moments she can't hear anything other than her own heartbeat. Their shooter – the tail, most likely – has also gone silent.

She wants to shine some light around and try to gauge where the exit or this guy is. But she can't risk it. Another muffled gunshot explodes a few feet from her. Carrie stays motionless for a few seconds, trying to calm her breathing. And then starts moving.

Her vision has significantly improved in the dark and she can now roughly see outlines. Quinn is nearby, to her right, so she heads in the opposite direction. They can't stick together now, because that just makes them easier targets.

Carrie tries to think back to where the last bullet hit and figure out based on that where their shooter might be. But there's no use. Even if she could somehow calm herself down enough to determine his position, there's no chance she could shoot him down. Precision has never been her forte.

But standing still isn't going to help either, especially when she can play bait. Carrie risks another run towards a different pillar. A bullet hits unnervingly close to her this time, and she finds herself freezing in her spot.

And seconds later two loud gunshots sound from her right. Their shooter groans in pain. And nothing but silence follows.

Carrie stays put and listens intently, and a few moments later hears Quinn stepping by her side.

"Are you okay?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"We need to get the hell out of here. Now."

They turn on their respective flashlights and search around, looking for a body. But there is none.

A footfall behind them catches her ear, and Carrie turns around. She pulls the trigger several times. She keeps shooting even after the man falls down with a heavy thud, because she has to make sure. And because she's not taking anymore fucking chances.

She stops when her gun clicks empty. And then it dawns on her that her weapon doesn't have a suppressor and thus made a whole lot of noise. Inside an already echoy underground parking garage.

Quinn runs over towards the body, kicks away the man's discarded weapon, and then starts checking his pockets. But there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Their shooter has no IDs on hand and looks positively nondescript. Which leaves them with little to go on.

Carrie just stares, suddenly realizing that she's been stuck in place ever since she pulled the trigger.

Quinn steps next to her. "Carrie, we need to go right now."

She blinks a few times to snap to reality, but it's a tough thing to do in only the few seconds they have to spare. She's still lost in her head, and feels a hand grab her own and tugging her along. Carrie starts running mechanically, heading towards the surface.

They just killed – no, she just killed – a man who was following them, while on an assignment in a foreign country. And there's no chance that the Agency will see their side of the story.