Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But we’re about to crack this thing wide open!” Carrie ranted. “We need all hands. So what if it’s Christmas!” she spat, furious now.

Fara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. In the time she’d worked with Carrie, she’d learned much, including the fact that it was impossible to reason with her when she was so focussed on her mission.

“It’s not like you celebrate it anyway!” Carrie fumed.

Fara worked hard to maintain the stoic mask she’d developed to deflect the many slights against her faith she’d encountered since migrating to the United States. She’d thought a government job would mean she’d endure fewer of them in the workplace than she had in the finance sector. How wrong she’d been.

She reached down for her handbag and stood, placing it on the desk while she removed her coat from the back of her chair and slipped it on. “I will see you in three days, Carrie,” she said with quiet dignity. “Best wishes to you and your family,” she offered, not expecting a response in kind. Nor did she receive one.

“Fuck,” muttered Carrie, clawing her hair back from her face as Fara disappeared down the hall. She moved to the window to collect her thoughts.

“Fara gone?” came Quinn’s voice from the doorway.

“Can you believe it?” said Carrie incredulously, turning to face him. “I tried to explain that we’re approaching a critical stage - “

“Yeah, I heard you,” said Quinn, cutting her off. “From three doors down.”

“What’s your point?” Carrie exploded. Having lost her earlier target, the heat-seeking missile of her fury was now locked on Quinn.

“For fuck’s sake, Carrie,” he began reasonably, trying to defuse her ire. “None of our intel suggests imminent action – in fact, it’s just the opposite.” He watched as the wheels inside her head turned, manufacturing arguments to justify her view. “You and I can keep monitoring the situation and if necessary, we can recall the team from their holiday leave.”

Shaking her head, Carrie stormed past Quinn, back to her office, and opened a couple of files from the mountain on her desk.

A couple of hours later, she became dimly aware of a rumbling sound and realised she’d once again forgotten to eat lunch. Never mind, she thought with a yawn, it’s nearly dinner time anyway. Maybe Quinn would like to share an order of Indian. Another half hour and I’ll check in with him, she decided. She yawned again, exhausted from too many long days, too few decent meals, too little sleep.

Ten minutes later, Quinn looked in on Carrie and saw she’d fallen asleep at her desk. He debated whether to wake her. The first time he had, a couple of months ago, she’d been embarrassed. The next time, a few weeks ago, she’d been defensive. Who knew how she’d react given her savage mood today.

He decided he’d order takeout from that little Greek place she liked. If she was awake when he returned, she might be feeling calmer and he wouldn’t have to let on that he’d caught her sleeping. If she was still out and he had to wake her, at least he’d have the food to help placate her if she was pissed.

He watched as a couple of strands of blonde hair fell over her face. Maybe after they ate, he could persuade her to go for a Christmas drink, or at least agree to call it a night. He clenched his jaw, knowing neither scenario was likely. He suppressed a sigh. Although most of their colleagues had left hours ago, he eased her door closed so that any stragglers wouldn’t catch her in such a vulnerable moment. He inhaled sharply when the handle gave a soft click as he released it, but he heard nothing from inside the office.

A few minutes later, Carrie exhaled on a shiver. The temperature in the office was suddenly colder than before and a faint clanking sound had begun. Cheap motherfuckers, she mumbled, her consciousness gradually drifting from asleep to awake. Turning off the heat because it’s Christmas and no one’s working late. No one in their right mind anyways, she thought, hard on herself even in this state. The clanking grew louder, as if it was coming from somewhere inside the office, rather than in the air conditioning system. Carrie roused completely from her sleep, briefly disoriented at finding herself at her desk.

“Hello Carrie,” came a voice she’d never expected to hear again. Startled, her eyes shot to the door and there he stood. David Estes. His skin was ashen, face lined and haggard, his clothing tattered rags. His wrists and ankles were shackled together by lengths of chain that were causing the unearthly clanking. Fuck, wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

“David, what the fuck?” Carrie gulped, realising she was trapped in her office.

“Carrie, what are you doing?” he asked quietly, edging closer to the desk.

“Um, I’m… I’m working,” she said uncertainly, trying to understand the situation and running through strategies she might use to control it. She could hardly hear herself think over the infernal clanking of the chains.

Estes shook his head and sighed. “I see that. It’s Christmas Eve, you’re exhausted, and you’re finding reasons to work late. I was like that once too. It’s the reason I’m here,” he admitted.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head in confusion.

“You’ve heard the joke, Carrie – if you can’t be a good example, you’ll just have to be a horrible warning. Turns out it’s true.”

“You’re here to warn me? The next attack, it’s imminent, isn’t it? Fuck! I’ve missed something, underestimated someone again, haven’t I?” she panicked.

“Shit,” he said, shaking his head and taking a seat on the corner of her desk, the chains coming to rest against the side. “You’re in worse shape than I thought.”

"I can still stop it. Just tell me how they're going to do it," she pleaded.

"I'm not here to warn you about an attack," he explained. "I'm here to warn you about your life and where it's heading."

"My life?" she huffed, incredulous. What was he talking about?

"I was like you once, and look where it's gotten me," he said, indicating his ghastly appearance, which in turn caused the chains to resume their cacophony. "Shackled and sentenced to rot in limbo like the assholes I spent my life sending to the supermaxes."

She was silent now, disbelieving. Maybe I'm delusional.

"You need to think about where you came from, where you are now, and where you're going," he continued gravely. "I know you won't take advice from me, so I've enlisted some help. I'm sending you three other visitors tonight. For fuck's sake, Carrie, learn from them or your fate will be even worse than mine," he warned ominously. He rose from the desk and lurched toward the door.

"But David," she began, then blinked in surprise as he vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared. Fuck.

Chapter Text

Carrie remained in her seat, trying to process what had just happened. Had she forgotten to take her meds that morning? Was this the beginning of another psychotic episode? It was simply unthinkable that Estes would have appeared like that, wanting to help her. Haunt her, maybe - the fallout from their brief fling had shown her he was a bastard who held grudges - but not help her.

She became aware of a faint flickering sound and looked up wearily, expecting the fluorescent tube light overhead to fail. Indeed, it had dimmed, but when she lowered her gaze she noticed a small sphere of light hovering a few inches above the desk.

She was reminded of the fairies in the children's movies she'd watched with Maggie when they were very young, before common sense told her it was probably just a reflection from some shiny surface in her office. Suddenly though, the sphere expanded until it was nearly a foot wide. Carrie noticed that the intensity of the light waxed and waned, and the surface rippled as if it were somehow alive and moving, breathing and… kicking. She could have sworn she heard the faintest of gurgles. A lump grew in her throat and tears filled her eyes.

Before the tears could fall to her cheeks, the sphere grew to cover the wall opposite. Images from Carrie's past appeared on it as though shone there by an unseen projectionist.

Decorating the Christmas tree with Maggie and their Mom, who lifted her so her chubby toddler fingers could hang ornaments on the upper branches. Snow fights with her Dad, who rolled enormous snowballs in his capable hands and gave chase, pelting her, laughing as she squealed. Fooling around on the sofa with her first boyfriend while her parents were out buying gifts. Countless Christmas lunches and dinners with Maggie, Bill and her father. Ruby’s and Josie’s first Christmases, clinging to her fingers with their tiny pink fists, more interested in the wrapping paper than the gifts she’d bought them. Midnight Mass with the whole family once the girls insisted they were old enough to stay up.

Literally watching her life flash before her eyes, Carrie stared at her memories in wonder. They were so vivid but at the same time she felt somehow disconnected from the girl with the blonde halo and carefree smile. When was the last time she'd smiled like that? When was the last time she'd had a reason to smile at all? She felt like a part of her was missing. Not just her smile. Something inside. Her mind dredged up her father's repeated words of warning that those fuckers at the CIA would steal her soul. Is that what had happened? Had they stolen it? Or had she given it away? Put herself out there once too often, made the wrong deal and paid too high a price?

She realised the screen had shrunk back down to a sphere and was hovering again, rippling as before. Her hands reached out tentatively to hold it but before they could, there was a final gurgle as it shrank to nothing and was gone.

A tear slid from her eye and she swiped it from her cheek. What was happening?

Chapter Text

Carrie closed her eyes as a faint ringing sound registered at the edge of her consciousness. When she opened them again, standing before her was a large man from another time – fur-trimmed green robe, saint-like beard and hair, all topped off by a wreath of fresh holly adorning his head. Sniffing back the last of her tears, she wondered where reality had ended and psychosis had begun. Eyes twinkling, he gallantly offered her his arm. She stared at him a moment before she bit her lip and took it.

Immediately they found themselves outside the window of a kitchen where Fara and another woman were preparing platters of simple, nourishing foods and whispering together, deep in conversation, occasionally glancing towards the living room just visible beyond them. They seemed completely oblivious to the fact that they were being observed, for which Carrie was grateful. At one point, Fara’s eyes became teary and the woman put down the knife she’d been using and comforted her.

“What’s wrong?” asked Carrie, puzzled.

“Her father’s ill,” her guide responded gravely.

Carrie was surprised the news hadn’t come up in conversation at work, but then, when had she really talked to Fara lately? She began to feel uneasy. “Is it serious?”

“A number of their friends will visit tonight and over the next couple of days,” her guide shrugged, “to pay their respects.”

“I didn’t realise,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “I could see that she didn’t want to work over the holidays but I didn’t understand why.”

“Especially when she doesn’t celebrate Christmas,” admonished her guide, looking down at her sternly.

Cheeks flushing with shame, Carrie turned back to the scene and saw the two women had begun setting up trays with tea glasses and small plates. The doorbell rang and Fara lifted her headscarf from her shoulders, artfully draping it in place, and smiling at her companion. The woman gave her a brief embrace and watched with an indulgent smile of her own as Fara disappeared in the direction of the front door.

“I guess her visitors have arrived,” said Carrie in a subdued voice.

“Maybe,” smiled her guide, the twinkle back in his eye as he extended his arm again.

Suddenly they were looking into the living room window at Maggie’s house. The Christmas tree stood close to the window and her nieces were sitting cross-legged in front of it, taking turns at picking up the presents from under it and shaking them, trying to guess what might be inside. Ruby picked up one gift and looked at the tag, her smile vanishing. Carrie leaned forward and could just make out her own name on the box. She glanced at her guide, once again glad that she was invisible to the people they were watching.

She saw Ruby show the box to Josie, who took it and pushed it to the back of the tree, giving her sister’s arm a squeeze and glancing around at their mother.

Maggie gave them a sympathetic smile and picked up the empty cookie plate from the coffee table, clearly planning to distract herself with a trip to the kitchen to refill it. Her father watched from his position on the sofa and when she made eye contact with him, Carrie saw him shake his head. She said aloud the words he only dared mouth to Maggie in case the girls overheard, “Fucking CIA!”

She could feel the disapproving gaze of her guide. “Sorry,” she said, both of them unsure whether she was apologising for the profanity or the lie to her family about why she couldn’t join them for Christmas.

Maggie returned with more cookies and joined in her daughters’ laughter as Frank snatched the plate and began cramming them into his mouth Cookie Monster-style, as he’d done since they were toddlers. 

Carrie huffed out a laugh and saw that her guide was smiling again too.

“Who’s up next?” she gamely asked, frowning as a strange mist began to swirl around them.

Instead of extending his arm to her though, her guide raised it, bidding her a theatrical farewell and striding off into the mist. What the fuck?

Chapter Text

Carrie realised that she could no longer see the festive tableau in her sister’s home as the mist deepened. She cast about, looking for a reference point and recoiled as a wraith in a black, hooded robe emerged from the fog. It pointed beyond her with a skeletal hand and she turned nervously, afraid of what she might encounter.

She found herself looking on a funeral scene. Maggie and her nieces, all dressed in black, sitting in the front pew of their church, sobbing into handkerchiefs, barely able to look at the simple, dark casket between them and the altar. What happened to Bill, she wondered in horror. Suddenly she realised he was not the only person missing from the scene. God, not Dad, she breathed. She could feel her anxiety rising now, only to be replaced by confusion when Bill appeared at the end of the pew, stoically helping her grief-stricken father to his seat. 

The reality became clear when she noticed some of her colleagues seated behind her family and her eyes filled with tears. Thoughts of failed missions, bombings and kill orders taunted her and she turned away, unable to bear the sight.

When she steeled herself to look back, she noticed a dark-suited figure outside the door of the church, watching the proceedings from the shadows. Quinn.

Carrie glanced around at her ghoulish companion who also seemed to be watching Quinn and noticed it look down at its hand, flexing its fingers as if testing for pain. The action triggered a memory in the recesses of Carrie’s mind. Brody.

The figure bowed its head, apparently able to read her thoughts.

“So this is it?” she asked hysterically. “I lost you, I lost the baby, I lost myself…” she broke off, suddenly conscious that there must be more to this. She couldn’t change the past, but the future was still unwritten – there must be something she could do with this information, these realisations.

“Show me what happens next,” she demanded, trying to regain control of her emotions.

The wraith regarded her stubbornly for a moment before the mist swirled around them once more. When it cleared, the skeletal hand pointed beyond her again. Carrie turned, filled with dread.

Quinn was making his way to her freshly filled grave from a nearby tree where he’d apparently observed her committal. His eyes were red and wet as he crouched and surveyed the newly turned earth and murmured with quiet anger, “You had no right, Carrie.” Her heart lurched as she began to sense the reason behind his careful interactions with her, the lengths he always went to for her. As if in confirmation, he placed a hand on the ground, his grief palpable as he closed his eyes and whispered, “I loved you.”  

His phone beeped then and he stood, the moment broken. She leaned in to read the message as he swiped it open – Douchebag, Aleppo intel checked out. Group departs 22:00hr. Shit, shower, shave. Don’t make me take a new guy.

She watched him press his lips together in contemplation, casting a final look at her grave before responding – Whatever you need, Asshole.

“Quinn!” shouted Carrie as he turned to leave, “I don’t want to lose you! Do you hear me? I can’t lose you, Quinn!”

This time, when the mist began to swirl, she didn’t even notice the ghoulish figure dematerialise beside her, its black robe sinking to the ground. The mist cleared a final time and she discovered she was seated in her office, her black coat inexplicably lying across the desk.

Chapter Text

Carrie sat for a moment, reflecting on the revelations of this night. She glanced at her watch, then suddenly stood and shrugged on her coat, a plan forming in her mind. She grabbed her satchel and lifted the strap over her head in one motion on her way to the door. She checked Quinn’s office and felt a pang of disappointment when she found it empty. Perhaps he’d gone home – it was Christmas after all. She stepped into the elevator and pulled out her phone, wondering about calling him – no signal. Her keys were in her hand as she crossed the lot to her car. She started the engine and cranked the heater to full blast, desperate to shake off the chill she felt in her very bones. She drove to an all-night convenience store close to her home that happened to have a liquor store next door.

As she parked in the almost empty lot, she noticed an employee from the liquor store taking in the specials boards ahead of closing. She made a beeline for the door and grabbed a bottle each of bourbon and rum and a couple of bottles of wine, giving an apologetic smile to the clerk who had been trying to balance the register. She loaded the bottles into her car and continued on to the convenience store where the attendant was surprised to see her grab two baskets and start crisscrossing the small aisles, apparently doing a full scale, last minute Christmas shop, rather than picking up one or two forgotten ingredients for a recipe, like most customers that night.

While he was bagging her purchases, her eyes continued to roam the store and she spied some gift bags at the end of an aisle. She thought for a moment then grabbed a few with a beaming Father Christmas motif and one in a soft, subtle gold. The clerk nervously announced a total that was well in excess of his weekly rent and was amazed when she handed over her credit card without complaint. A few moments later she was back in the car, headed for home.

She clutched a couple of bags to her chest as she slid her key into the lock. She stepped inside, turned to close the door and started as Quinn loomed into view.

"Carrie," he breathed, stepping inside and gently taking her by the shoulders, looking her over. "You ok?"

"Fine," she said, with a reassuring smile, touched by his concern.

"You were asleep at your desk. Then you were gone - files left open, light on..." he trailed off, thinking of the fear that had clenched his heart. "I was worried," he said, voice lower now.

"I realised I had some things to do," she said, indicating the shopping bags in her arms. He noticed she was the calmest he'd seen her in weeks. He couldn't imagine what had wrought such a change but he was grateful for it and hoped it would last a little while at least. He took the bags from her and waited as she closed the door, then followed her to the kitchen. He set the shopping down on the counter and noticed she still had her keys in her hand.

"There's more in the car," she said sheepishly.

He held out his hand for the keys and she watched as he let himself out the door, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. She pulled out the gift bags and opened them so they stood on the counter, then began raiding the shopping bags. She placed a large block of chocolate in each of the three Santa bags, then packages of popcorn, candy, nuts and finally a different Christmas movie DVD in each. She turned as the front door opened and Quinn returned with the rest of her purchases and a bag she didn't recognise. She smiled her thanks and eyed the extra bag quizzically.

"Takeout," he said dismissively. "But who wants Greek food at this time of night."

"I do," she said simply, then reached into the drawers under the counter for plates and cutlery.  He followed her to the sofa and put the boxes of food on the coffee table. They were filling their plates when she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. She shlyly offered him one and he gave her a small smile as he accepted it, not taking his eyes off her.

"Merry Christmas, Quinn," she toasted, clinking her glass to his. "And thank you," she said softly.

They sipped their wine and ate a few bites in companionable silence.  

"So, you went Christmas shopping" he eventually began, gesturing towards the kitchen.

"Yes," she agreed, huffing out a self-conscious laugh. "Better late than never."

"You seeing your family tomorrow then? Not going in to the office?" His careful neutrality as he picked at his food belied his watchful concern.

"My sister was pretty pissed when I told her I wouldn't make it to lunch. I figure she couldn't be more pissed if I do turn up after all," she shrugged. "They'll be on the way to midnight Mass now," she continued thoughtfully. "Another family tradition," she explained, blinking back a tear.

He looked at her for a beat. "Let's go," he said, putting his plate down.

She stared in surprise as he stood and pulled his keys from his pocket. "You're serious?"

"C'mon," he said, head inclined to the door. "I'm parked out front."

"Just a second," she said, hurrying to the kitchen and emerging this time with a gold gift bag. "We need to make a quick detour," she said.

He followed the directions she gave and soon realised they were headed to Fara's house. When he pulled up, they noticed all the lights were on inside and out, and Fara was on the doorstep farewelling visitors. If she was surprised to see them, she didn't show it, smiling in welcome and stepping back to allow them entry.

She showed them to the sitting room where Max was keeping her father company. Now it was Carrie's turn to conceal her surprise. Fara and Max? What else had she missed while she'd been preoccupied with other things? She glanced at Quinn and caught him giving Max a subtle nod of greeting.

They shook hands with Fara's father and Carrie offered him the gift, which he graciously accepted. He took out the box inside and smiled as he saw the assortment of nuts and dried fruits it contained. He looked from Carrie to Quinn and thanked them for the gift before passing it to Fara and settling back in his chair, clearly tired. Carrie stood and apologised that they couldn't stay long as she was on her way to see her own family. Fara smiled gratefully and showed them to the door. She hugged Carrie first, then Quinn, briefly whispering something in his ear. He gave Fara a small smile as he stepped back. Carrie noticed he didn't look at her as they walked to his car, busy instead with his thoughts.

When they arrived at the church, the service was already underway, so they found a spot at the back among the other latecomers. A woman next to them smiled, passed Carrie her hymn sheet, and looked on with her husband as the next song began.

Carrie held the sheet so Quinn could read it too and he moved closer, despite the fact he didn't join in the singing. When more people stumbled in, she felt his hand at her back as he guided her forward to make room. She noticed that he left his hand there, keeping her nestled against him as attendance grew. She scanned the pews and found her family seated in the middle of the church. Ruby and Josie were looking all around them, enjoying the singing and festive decorations. Ruby spied Carrie and pointed her out to Josie, and the two of them smiled and waved excitedly. Maggie looked to see who the girls were waving to and even at that distance, Carrie could see tears in her eyes. She nudged Frank who turned and gave Carrie a warm smile. Carrie discretely waved back and looked up at Quinn, who'd been watching the shenanigans with amusement. When Carrie turned back she saw her nieces still watching them, whispering and giggling.

When the service concluded and the church started emptying out, Carrie's family joined them, Josie and Ruby hurrying ahead to hug her, their excited, "Aunt Carrie!" echoing through the church.   Quinn stepped back as she bent down for them to throw themselves on her. She stood as Maggie, Bill and Frank arrived, the girls still wrapped around her. "Good to see you, Sweetheart," her father murmured as he leant in to kiss her.

"You made it," Maggie smiled.

"Yeah," nodded Carrie, giving her nieces another squeeze.

"Who's that?" asked Josie, nodding in Quinn’s direction.

"Josie," warned Maggie in a low voice.

"Peter Quinn," said Carrie, glancing at him with a look of quiet happiness that Maggie and Frank realised they hadn't seen for a long time.

"Is he your boyfriend?" ventured Ruby.

"Girls!" chided Maggie.

"From work," supplied Carrie, watching as he shook hands with her father and brother-in-law.

"So, can you make it to lunch?" Maggie asked Carrie expectantly.

"I'll be there," she nodded, grinning as her nieces squealed with excitement.

Maggie noticed Quinn watching Carrie with the girls and saw affection in his eyes, and something else she couldn't put her finger on - wistfulness?

"You're welcome to join us," Maggie said kindly to Quinn, "if you don't have plans because you expected to work too."

He saw the hope in Carrie's eyes and wondered again what had changed in the short time she'd been alone that evening. He realised he couldn't say no. But more that, he realised he didn't want to say no.

"Thank you," he managed, with a brief smile.

Maggie noticed his dimple and clear, blue eyes. She looked back to Carrie, whose cheeks had coloured. Maggie suppressed a smile and began to contemplate a new seating plan for lunch that wouldn't put Ruby and Josie either side of their beloved aunt as usual. 

"Come on girls, time for bed," Maggie announced. "You'll see Aunt Carrie later," she continued, ignoring her daughters' disappointed whines. She waited while they kissed Carrie goodbye, then lingered for a hug herself while Frank and Bill walked the girls out. 

Once Maggie had gone, Quinn assumed he and Carrie would also leave, and was surprised when she moved instead to light a candle. He kept a respectful distance while she touched two more candles to the flame of the first and set them down beside it. There were tears in her eyes when she turned back to him and he carefully took her in his arms.

"You ok?" he murmured, rubbing her back soothingly. 

"Yeah," she reassured him, blinking away the tears. "Let's go," she said. She wondered what it would be like to slip her hand into his for the chilly walk back to the car and maybe feel his thumb slide over her knuckles before he let go.

He followed her inside when they reached her apartment and helped her clear the remains of their meal from the coffee table. Soon they were standing together by the kitchen counter, both inwardly nervous as teenagers with their first crush. She saw his eyes flick to the gift bags she'd hastily put together earlier.

"Movie night packs for the girls," she said, filling in the silence. "And Dad," she added on a bark of laughter.

"Nice," he smiled.

She gestured to the bottles of bourbon and rum and the shopping bags still unpacked on the bench.

"Usually I make eggnog to take to Maggie's," she said, picking out milk and cream which had warmed to room temperature in their absence.

"I can help," he shrugged, rolling up his sleeves, pleased to have something useful to do and an excuse to stick around.

Soon she was heating milk and spices in a pan on the stove and directing him to beat egg yolks and sugar. When it was time to let the mixture cool, she picked up the bourbon and rum.

"We've got about an hour before we add the alcohol," she informed him. "Nightcap?" she suggested hopefully.

He selected the bottle of bourbon and twisted off the lid while she found two glasses. He poured them each a measure and they took their drinks to the sofa where they sipped and stole glances at each other.

"Thanks for tonight," she said, "checking I was OK, the takeout, Mass with my family, saying yes to lunch for God's sake!" She shook her head.

He just smiled and gently clinked his glass against hers.

"You know my nieces will spend the whole time matchmaking and giggling, right?" she said with a grin.

"Yeah, I guessed that," he said, still smiling, eyes twinkling now in the lamp light.

"You're not bothered?" she asked, watching his reaction over her glass.

He was silent for a moment, just looking at her. Really looking at her. "Not at all."

He set his glass down on the coffee table and reached for hers, setting it down also.

Then he leant over, slipped a hand behind her head and began to kiss her, letting go of his careful self-control at last. She touched her hand to his cheek and opened her mouth to him, his passion and the wonder of this strange night overwhelming her.

Later in her bedroom, as she lay curled against him, lazily drawing her thumb up and down his chest, she said softly, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Mmmm?” he muttered drowsily.

“About getting out.”

He opened his eyes now and looked at her thoughtfully.

“We could get out together,” she suggested carefully.

“Have a shot at normal life,” he said casually, pretending to weigh the idea, as if it had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Well, you think about that, Quinn,” she whispered, settling in for the night with her head on his chest.

He stroked her hair as their breathing deepened, the same once-impossible thought on both their minds.

Real life. Real love.