a/n: it's 00:07 where i am, which means it's wednesday, which means it's update time again! figured i might as well post the other chapter, too, really get the endgame going! hope you enjoy.
Fifty-One
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From: Chief Adina Tibble
To: all Agency departments.
Subject: Enough.
My dear colleagues and subordinates,
It has recently come to my attention that a grievous injustice has been committed within the Agency, resulting in the recent kill order on Analyst Quinn O'Reilly. New discoveries have uncovered a new narrative: Quinn O'Reilly is innocent, and the evidence against her was planted by none other than a group of conspirators within the the Department of Operations.
Should you doubt my word and require the evidence itself, look no further than the file titled 'Op HLS'.
This is the final time any department governing the actions of the Special Agents will dare go against the Department of Intelligence, especially to order the wrongful execution of one of our own. On my word and conscience as the Chief of Intelligence, I urge my department to take a stand against this injustice. As of this memo, we are on strike until the Chiefs reconvene and rescind their mistake.
Cheers,
Chief Adina Tibble
"I wouldn't say 'Cheers' is the proper way to end that, but I digress."
The words were muttered quietly, by none other than Chief Eylem Vahid. Adina had penned the memo with no small amount of courage, before assigning Vahid to send it off through the proper channels. After that, Adina would be able to do little more than sit by and watch the fireworks as the first leg of their plan was completed.
Vahid had pushed aside her worry regarding Adina being shoved into the Agency's dusty basement, reminding herself the woman was a veteran when it came to Agency business. Judging by the furious look spied on the Director's face — relayed to Chief Vahid by her loyal techs — after she'd gone down to visit Adina in the basement cell, it seemed she was more than able to hold her own.
The rest is up to you, Chief Vahid.
Those were the last words Adina had spoken to Vahid, before disappearing from her office only moments before the memo had been dispatched through the communication channels used by the Agency. If they wanted any chance of clearing Quinn, they'd need to not only catch Kent in the web of lies she'd busied herself spinning, but nail the pathetic bastard who'd planted the evidence on Quinn's computer at the Knightsbridge HQ.
And that second part? That was Vahid's job.
She would be lying if she said she wasn't terrified of it. Even though she and Tibble had spent the last week preparing for it, she could almost feel herself splintering over every step of their carefully laid out plan. They'd been fine-tuning it day in and day out. Vahid had even noted Adina dodging calls from a number she suspected was O'Reilly, though she hadn't called the older woman out on it. Better to retain the little distance she still held between her and the shitshow that had blossomed within the Agency, should things go complete awry.
If this doesn't go to plan ... it's only a matter of time before they get you, too.
Vahid's fists clenched, her nails — today, a cobalt blue — digging crescent-shaped marks into her palms. Her hands had been shaking unsteadily all morning, rendering most of her word infinitely harder as she found herself pressing the wrong buttons on her keyboard, destroying lines of code she had to go back and undo time and time again.
But she wouldn't back down. She'd promised herself that much, ever since she was a kid, and ever since rising through the ranks and assuming the position as a Chief of Technology. She had proved herself, time and time again, following the rules, the limitations of her position. In the end, she realized that she wouldn't be able to enforce any change at all from where she sat unless she went for it herself.
And that brings me to Quinn O'Reilly.
Leaning back in her armchair, Vahid snuck a glance at the clock, before toggling her screens to the password protected screensaver.
Reaching around her chair, she reached for her beige blazer, shrugging it over a grey-patterned blouse. As her hands were still shaking, Vahid closed her eyes, forced a deep inhale. The shakes eased, slightly, but her hands were stable enough for her to reach toward one of the drawers of her desk. Fingers closing around the handle, she tugged it open, then firmly grasped the gun inside.
With careful hands, she placed it in her bag, before slinging it over her shoulder. Her heart beat, hard and fast, and she thought she felt the gun itself turn hotter and hotter within her purse, as if it was about to singe a hole through the fabric and clatter onto the floor.
It's time.
Vahid breathed deeply, again, then forced herself to focus. Adjusting her glasses, she squared her shoulders, tipped her chin up. Another glance at the clock told her it was high time she leave her office.
I won't fail you, Chief Tibble.
*
"What the hell? What the hell?"
Quinn had almost worn a hole through the wooden floors with the amount of pacing she'd done.
"Why would Sarraf send us that?"
Posing the question out loud hadn't helped, either, since she'd first started pacing. The text itself had rocked her to her core, but after Gavin had told her that Sarraf had been the one who'd sent it, she was more than a little shaken.
"I don't know." Gavin's eyes tracked Quinn's shape as she turned by one of the wide windows, spinning on her heel to pace toward the other side of the living room, "Sit down, why don't you? You'll re-open your stitches."
Instead of sitting down, Quinn simply slowed her pace. Gavin closed his eyes briefly, a sigh lodging in his throat.
"Do you think it's true? My communication with the Agency was terminated when my ... when my kill order passed." Quinn swallowed, sensing a lump in her throat.
Not the time, Quinn.
"I wouldn't know. When we first set off to find Kent, we went dark. I doubt I have access yet, and I am quite sure that the Agency now knows that I didn't exactly take time off for vacation."
Quinn offered a brief smile his way, one that warmed.
"I wish I could call Adina. Talk to her." Quinn mumbled, " — it's probably why she didn't pick up, back in Prague. She was too deep in whatever landed her here."
"Could be Kimmel figured out she was in contact with you."
Quinn waved it off, "Adina can keep that secret. It has to be something else."
Some stupid plan to get me out of my mess, no doubt.
"I thought you trusted her," said Gavin. His dark eyes remained on Quinn, though he sat back in the couch of the living room, mind on the text Sarraf had sent their way.
"I do. She's the smartest person I know, without a doubt. That's why it doesn't make sense."
Quinn frowned, mind spinning with possibilities. She felt a headache tugging at the back of her head, body protesting at being catapulted back into action much too early. Gavin noted the tension straining her face, and let a scowl slip onto his face. He knew her well enough by now to be aware of just how hard she'd push herself for those she cared about, and cared for her enough to find himself annoyed by her urge to do everything on her own.
"What do you suggest we do?" Gavin asked, instead, choosing the more diplomatic approach rather than forcing her to sit down and rest. It wouldn't be fair, and probably an impossible feat considering Adina was more than a mentor to her.
Besides, he was more than well aware of the fact that her mind was eons better than his when it came to this.
"A part of me wants to go to London," Quinn started, glancing his way.
His scowl grew, the diplomatic approach forgotten entirely as his heart thudded.
"No," Gavin said bluntly, mind flashing back to the sound of the gunshot fired into Quinn's back, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
Quinn aimed a calm look his way, "We could keep our heads down in London and get information on what's going on."
"We don't even know if it's true. It could be a trap," replied Gavin, leaning forward to aim a dark look her way, " — I won't let you rush headlong into something we haven't prepared for."
Quinn stopped her pacing, briefly, turning to him.
"You're right."
"I am?" Gavin asked, the scowl dropping.
"No, no — not about the London part. About the preparation part. We need to verify it, and I know how. Why didn't I think of that?"
Because you were shot and could do with resting your head for a day or five. But Gavin kept the words to himself, knowing full well that the situation called for action, and not rest. If he brought it up Quinn would without a doubt point out the same thing.
Quinn sank down onto the couch beside Gavin, wincing as she moved too quick for her wound to like it. Gavin's eyes darted to the bandage, while she remained half-absorbed in a whorl of thoughts which swept her along a dozen different courses of action.
"I could probably do much more if I had access to any of my materials, but since I won't, we'll let someone else do the heavy-duty work."
"Someone both of us know?"
Gavin hoped to hell that was the case, because vetting a contact in their current situation would be next to impossible.
"Yes," Quinn replied, finally looking up and meeting his gaze, " — yes, she is. We'll get a hold of Liza Jaeger."
"I didn't think she wanted any part of this."
"Ryonne will make her. Hopefully."
Gavin shot Quinn a dry look, "You'd be willing to let her hack into the Agency servers?"
"I have to be honest: since they passed my kill order I'm feeling less inclined to have their back."
Quinn's snarky response eased the scowl off Gavin's face, and his lips quirked into a half-smile rather quickly.
"They'll have a record of the holding somewhere."
"Somewhere could be a lot of places."
"I know where it is and how it's filed, I just didn't want to simplify it for the Special Agent present." Quinn shot back, saw the slack expression pass Gavin's face before he shook his head, a glint in his eyes.
The back-and-forth she was so used to with him held a significantly different tone than it had before, though it was no surprise to either of them, really. She hadn't had the guts to go after him so plainly when it came to the briefs they'd both attended back at the Agency, but they were on an entirely different playing field this time.
And knowing Gavin had her corner, her back — it definitely took some of the tension, the worry, off her shoulders. She would run headlong into the anxiety soon enough, but for now she would do what she did best, and be the Analyst that Chief Tibble had trained her to be.
For Adina.
"What about Sarraf?" Gavin voiced, mind still on why on Earth his colleague had sent him that, "Do we write something back?"
Quinn frowned, mind spinning away again. Instead of letting her theories go any further, she put a stop to her frenzied thinking, choosing to turn to Gavin, instead.
"Do you trust her?" Quinn asked, eyes on Gavin.
"If you trust Sarraf, you're an idiot with a hankering to get yourself killed." Gavin's plain response didn't stir Quinn, who merely absorbed it before rephrasing her question.
"What I mean is — do you think she'd be inclined to trust your word, on all ... this?" She whirled her hand around herself, referring to the situation as a whole.
Gavin thought back to the phone call they'd had back in Prague, where he'd stood on the rooftop of Kat's building and heard Sarraf say, in no uncertain terms, that she'd do her job when it came down to it.
"I can't guarantee that, Quinn." Gavin replied, evenly " — Sarraf isn't swayed by words, not unless she's already suspicious."
"Well, is she?" Quinn continued, eyes on Gavin, " — if we're inclined to believe her, then we can interpret the text in a way which suggests she wants us to get to London to help Tibble out of this."
"Or it was all bullshit to get us to London to kill us both." Gavin's reply was unnervingly cold, the Special Agent speaking. His mind was still on his last conversation with Sarraf, unsure as to where she stood.
"That's where Liza comes in handy. I'll get in touch with Ryonne, see if we can't speed it up. If it's true, I'm thinking it might be fitting for us to get to London."
"Once again, Quinn, you will be getting yourself killed."
"If Adina's been arrested, it can't just be a coincidence," Quinn countered, " — she's too smart for that."
"Speculative." Gavin pointed out.
"Empiric." Quinn countered, "I know the woman."
Quinn realized the mistake in what she'd said a second too late.
"You thought you knew Kent, too." Gavin said it quietly, knew it was a low blow, though one she would most likely realize herself.
Quinn stilled beside him, and he swiftly reached out, placed a firm hand on her thigh as a form of a silent apology, a show of support. Though his action warmed, Quinn found she didn't have to be supported in that regard.
"No, you're — you're right." Quinn sighed, reached up to massage her head, countering the tendrils of pain threading through every thought, growing with every stressful beat of her heart.
Gavin noted the twinge of tension to her shoulders, felt his heart positively squeeze.
"I'll make some tea, or coffee — something. That ok?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, mindful of her wound, then kneaded tense muscles as Quinn nodded in response. When he got up from the couch, he left his phone behind.
Quinn glanced at it, then at his retreating back as he moved toward the kitchen. Her eyes darted from Gavin, back to the phone, then to Gavin once more.
Reaching for the phone, Quinn re-read the text from Sarraf's number. His words flashed through her head, intent on sticking to the front of it as if they were a big, bold warning sign flashing to stop her from making any stupid decisions.
Sarraf isn't swayed by words, not unless she's already suspicious.
Quinn's thumb hovered over the number, heart beating hard.
Her eyes darted over the numbers, time and time again. Quinn's eyes closed, briefly, as she drew a deep breath.
No, not yet, she thought, finally, putting the phone away.
They needed to wait for Dr. Jaeger to get back to them, make sure Adina was actually in trouble. For once, Quinn would need to rely on someone else when it came to these matters.
Eyes shifting from the phone and back to the kitchen, Quinn quietly watched Gavin. Slowly, she put the phone away, then moved towards him.
Outside the cottage, afternoon was edging into dusk. Colors spotted the sky, reflected in the turbulent waves crashing against the shoreline. There were no tourists spotting the beach at this time, the shore nothing but a wide swath of unblemished sand. Quinn took a moment to watch it, committing it to memory.
It was one of those moments in life where you slowed down, as if putting the flow of time on pause, and forced yourself to remember this specific moment. No matter how things went moving forward, Quinn thought, she'd keep this memory close to heart. This moment where she could simply breathe, take a slight break.
A part of her felt guilty for it — knew that Tibble might be in trouble, knew that she could simply have chosen to keep Quinn out of the loop in order to keep her plan going.
Turning away from the window, Quinn steered her steps to the kitchen. There was nothing she could do now but wait for Dr. Jaeger to get back to them — and after that, she'd make the call.
For Adina.
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a/n: hey guys! back again. long time no see (aka it's been 8 hours). nothing's changed since my last author's note. just a lil' bit more tired with a tad bit more mosquito bites, so you know that's how it's going. hope you guys are still doing great! staying excited, healthy!
qotc:
1. think quinn will call sarraf?
2. hm, what's vahid up to?
3. think sarraf will help quinn & co?
oh and PS (!) i've been tinkering with something. not sure if i'll do it until later this year, but it's been on my mind.