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Published:
2016-06-23
Completed:
2016-06-24
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2,515
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2/2
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Ignoring: What We Do Best

Summary:

Exploring what might have happened if Fara confronted Carrie S4 about her treatment of Quinn.
Fills prompt #25 from LiveJournal.

Chapter 2 takes a surprising turn.. posted June 24th!

Notes:

Takes place right after 4x05 About a Boy... after the Fara and Quinn stakeout, in which they track the cleric into the mountains and unbeknownst to them, just miss Saul. Meanwhile Carrie works to "recruit" Aayan.

Fills the prompt #25 from livejournal...http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/
{come and join, they are the nicest people in the world}.

Chapter 1: Dance of Dysfunction

Chapter Text

It was just the two of them in the shadow office and she knew what she had to do, she took a deep breath and prepared for battle.  Still staring at her laptop, she stated as calmly as possible,

*You should tell him the truth.

*What Fara?

She spoke a little louder and a little firmer,
*You should tell Quinn the truth.

*What are you talking about?

Carrie scoffed at the notion. She was furiously pacing the little office, defensive and taut.

*The fact you are using him, using a weakness of his, for your advantage.

*What are you implying Fara?

Anger flashed across Carrie's face.  She moved in closer, the room filled with tension. 
Was Carrie irritated, offended, exasperated? 
Fara refused to give an inch now.

*You are manipulating him to get what you want. Remember lie, manipulate, exploit, those were your words.

*For one thing, Quinn is not an asset, for another, it's none of your god damned business.

Carrie was indignant, her voice was raising. She was a whirlwind of emotion, having returned from her hideout with "the boy" and Quinn's stinging comment "Is there no f*ing line?", still ringing in her ears.  The last thing she wanted was Fara lecturing her about her treatment of Quinn.

*Maybe he means nothing to you, but you mean a hell of a lot to him.

How could you two have known each other for such a short time, and yet have such a long cultivated dance of dysfunction together?
Fara's eyes were determined and clear.  She was willing to stand her ground.

*I'm not f*ing manipulating him.

Carrie's voice was almost at a shout and she was getting more agitated as the seconds went by.

*He came back here, after Sandy's death.. just for you.

*That's not true, Fara.

*Yes, it is. We all came here for different reasons Carrie, but in the end, we all came here to help YOU.  Because you personally asked us to. He would do anything for you.  Don't you see that?

Can't you see the truth Carrie?  Can you be so blind or do you just choose to ignore it?

*He's an adult, he can f*ing make his own decisions.  He sure as hell doesn't need you to speak for him.

*Maybe, but you and I both know he would never ask for anything from you in return.

*He gets plenty from me.

*Really, really Carrie? What does he get?  Your support? We sure didn't get that with the cleric.

Carrie was a little taken aback by the truth in Fara's statement. She didn't want to get into what kept her occupied last night. Her long held defensive, stubbornness kicked back.

*Is this about Aayan or Quinn?

*It's about what you are doing to Quinn.. how this operation with Aayan is killing him.

*That's beside the point, we are here to do an operation and that's what I'm f*ing doing. Besides you didn't just came here for me Fara, I know you came here for Max too.
Carrie hissed.

Her words hurt, the truth hurt, Fara suddenly felt very exposed.

*At least I'm not destroying Max with my actions.

Fara stormed off into the kitchen and slammed the door, shaking with adrenaline and emotion.
Carrie stomped off to her office and it sounded like she threw a few files against the wall, at least that's what Quinn thought, as he stood on the other side of the front door.

 

Chapter 2: Conserving Water

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



It was early the next morning, 5:45 am and Quinn stepped into the shower and mulled over how to play the information he had overheard from Fara and Carrie.

Sh* Fara was even on his side, was his angst that obvious? Had he gotten that easy to read? 

He turned on the hot water but received nothing but an icy blast of cold water.  He tried the cold water faucet with the same results.

Sh* the hot water has gone out!

He threw a towel around his waist, and headed out into the hallway to see if he could fix the problem.  Of course, who came striding down the hall, but Carrie, in workout clothes and ear buds in, ready for her morning run.  She literally almost ran into him, before looking up.

*What are you doing?

*Trying to figure out why I don't have hot water.

The yelling match over Aayan at the hideout was already gone. Forgiven... hardly, forgotten... hell no, but they both seem incapable of keeping a grudge.  Why is that?

*I have hot water, at least I did a few minutes ago when I washed my face.

*Oh...

*Use my shower, I'm going for a run.

*But...

*See you later.

In a moment she was gone.
It's no big deal right? It will just take a few minutes.

He went back to his apartment, gathered up a change of clothes, his shampoo (he liked the way her hair smelled, or at least the way he envisioned it smelled, but he needed to keep up his tough guy exterior and scent, so he brought his own shampoo and soap) and her key.  (When she first took the station chief position, she had causally handed him her extra key, as a security measure. She had his key too of course, but no one else knew of this, it was their tiny secret. Such a trusting, guarded thing, doesn't mean anything right?)

Carrie's apartment was as nondescript and bare as his.  He dumped his work clothes on the couch and took his shampoo and soap with him into the bathroom.  The studio apartments were roughly the same size, and her shower was working just fine.  Quinn made a mental note of her shampoo and soap choices, for future research of course. He also may or may not have smelled each as well.

In the shower, in her shower, in such an intimate place, his mind was racing....

Do you ever think about her Carrie?  I do.
Do you wonder what she's doing?
What she is learning?
How is she growing up without you?
How things could be different?
What if you took her to Istanbul?
What if you allowed me to help you?
What if I was here putting together her crib?
What if I was rocking her to sleep at night?
What if we were more?
What if you let down your guard and really let me love you?
Could I be enough for you?
Could we be enough together?
How far are you willing to push me away?
How many dark paths will we have to travel before we find our way home?
Will I always just be a dim reflection of what you thought you had with Brody?

Those were the dark questions that haunted his mind, that silently were replayed at night, in his sleep.

After his hot shower, he was barely able to towel off before he heard the front door open.
Sh* that was fast.
He was only in a towel when Carrie burst into her bedroom.

*Hey?

*I forgot my security badge for the main gate.

Carrie appeared quite agitated and wound up.  She was tearing apart her purse trying to find it.

*Maybe I should make breakfast, you look like you need something to eat.

*I'm fine.

Quinn walked to the little kitchen area and poked around,

*What do you have in your frig?

He opened the door and found, it was even more bare than his, she only had white wine, soy sauce packets and some moldy grapes.

*I'll be right back.

Still in only a towel, Quinn returned with eggs, milk, cheese and a tomato.

*We'll have omelettes.

*OK... whatever.  Still can't f*ing find my badge.  I must have left it in the office.

Hopefully it's not in the hideout with Aayan, that would be a major f* up!

Tearing through her closet she managed to find it in a pocket.

*Found it!

*Good.  Do you like tomato's in your omelettes?

*Yeah... sh* I don't have time to run now. I have to jump in the shower before our briefing this morning.

*OK.

Quinn heard the shower running, as he was almost done making the second omelette. Suddenly a knock came from Carrie's door.

F* who could be here so early in the morning?

He opened the door and stood face to face with Ambassador Boyd, while only wearing a white towel around his waist, holding an omelette filled plate, standing in Carrie's apartment at 6:20 am.  It was cringe worthy and so unprofessional he could kick himself, but he played it cool.

*Good morning.

*Uhhhh, where is Carrie?
Martha looked slightly confused.

*She's in the shower, should be right out.
Honesty was the only solution now.
*Want some coffee?
*No thanks, Peter.

Quinn tried to pour a few cups as causally as possible, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Sh* he never let any of his rendezvouses interfere with work.  He would never allow a boss ever find him in a personally compromised situation.  He was the master of leaving no trace behind.

Martha stepped into the apartment obviously noting Quinn's clothes on the couch and the table set for two.
Quinn had to give some reason to his presence.

*My hot water has gone out, I was just using Carrie's shower.

Martha looked coolly at him, obviously believing that line was a lie. Quinn moved back to the stove to finish the last omelette. There was an icy, awkward silence that loomed over the room as Carrie came waltzing out in a bathrobe.
Sh* Carrie could you have at least put clothes on! You are killing my professional, pristine reputation.

*Uh, Martha, why are you here?

*Carrie, I came over to ask you to look into something.

*OK.

*I can't seem to get a hold of Saul.  I've tried all his numbers.

*Did you try Mira?

Something in Martha's face looked uncomfortable.

*No... I was hoping you could.

*Of course.

Martha turned to walk out but stopped short and turned back to Carrie.

*Just a word of advice, be careful with your shower problems.

*What are you talking about?
Carrie was defensive as f* and ready for a fight.

*Don't play stupid with me.

*As if I would.

*Conserving water together with Quinn?

The accusation was clear.

Carrie sharply cut in.

*So what if I did.

Quinn visibility flinched. He couldn't believe she just said that.

*Then you need to disclose your relationship to HR.

*I can F* whoever I want here.

*You and I both know you can't.  Not as my station chief you can't. That would be a conflict of interest, with..... your quote "Chief of Support".

Carrie almost saw a flash of jealousy in Martha's face.
Martha knows how foreign assignments work. Everyone gets lonely.
Is that how things started with her and Saul?  Does she regret that now, was he the one that got away?
Is Martha jealous of her relationship with Quinn?  Quinn was not to be shared. Why does she feel so possessive of Quinn?

Carrie's jaw was set tight, determined, far from backing down. She was in control, they were standing in her own apartment, after all!

Quinn on the other hand, wasn't sure if he should stop this display, or let the fantastic show continue.  Inside he was quite proud to watch these two powerful women shouting it out over him.  Not a bad way to start the morning, given he had yet to kiss either one.  Maybe it was worth it, coming back to Pakistan.

*I can't have you harassing subordinates.

F* is everyone on Quinn's side around here?

*Don't worry.

Martha threw her a frozen, intimidating gaze and then forcefully slammed Carrie's apartment door.  Once Martha was back in the diplomatic wing, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number to a burner phone.
A voice picked up and Martha only said,

*It's done.

*Did she believe you?

*She lied pretty well, but I think she bought it.

*Thanks.

Max turned off his burner phone.  One day Carrie might thank him...maybe not, but it was worth a try. He rolled over and looked at the clock which read 6:35 am.
Good he could still go back to sleep.
At lunch he would go back and turn on Quinn's hot water. He snuggled back under the covers.  

She rolled over and sleepily asked,

*Did it work?

*I think so.

Fara softly smiled,
*One day they will thank us right?

*Yeah.

He brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her temple.

*I'm glad you played the good cop.

*Not quite, I think Carrie just got played by two bad cops, but she can handle it.

They giggled and were glad they didn't have to be at work for another hour.

*******
Still in fight or flight mode, Carrie stormed back to her room and got dressed.  In the living room Quinn put a rumpled dark blue shirt and his pants. As the morning desert sun was already heating up the day, Carrie and Quinn sat down to breakfast, eating omelettes like normal people, like a normal couple.

*What was Martha's problem?

*I don't know Carrie.

He poured her another cup of coffee and handed it to her.
Carrie was obviously somewhere else.  Her mind was racing about the next move, the chase, the game she was playing, oblivious to everything else or so it seemed.  But really she wasn't oblivious to everything...

Why do I care what Martha thinks of me?
Why did it bother me so much?
I could f* Quinn if I wanted to, but that's not who he is... to me.
I need a hell of a lot more from him, then just a good f*.
I need all of him.
I can't screw this up, because I can't do this without him.
I need to focus on the mission and deal with him later.

Right now, she preferred the numbness to any stirring of emotion. Feeling was the enemy.  Better hollow nothingness than the pain of feeling. Ignoring layers humanity was her specialty.

Quinn studied her with patience.  She was focused and her iron will shone just beneath the surface.  It shone from her defiant blue eyes and the rigid way she held herself, god he was proud of her. Quinn quietly ate his omelette and could tell Carrie was not going to address Martha's issues with "them" and she sure as f* wasn't going to bring up Fara's concerns.  Ignoring.... that was what they did best.  He realized they might never talk about it, but that awkward morning did give him something new... hope.

Hope that maybe there was something real to everyone's comments.  Maybe outside of the insanity of Islamabad they could be more.  Maybe stateside, at home, she would soften.  He would be patient, he had learned that over the years, he could wait until she was ready.  Maybe, just maybe under a different starry night, he could tell her the truth, the truth about getting out... together.

 

Notes:

Partially inspired by all the great domestic writters out there and especially KoalaBear's Achilles heel: Swedish style http://archiveofourown.org/works/2789057