a/n: enjoy guys x
Finale
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"Did you bring them?"
"Bring what?"
"The tickets."
"What tickets?"
Quinn aimed a dry look at Gavin's teasing smile, poking his coat-clad shoulder.
"You're violent for someone who works a lot with computers," Gavin complained.
Rolling her eyes, Quinn slowed as the two neared a red light.
"I wouldn't want to miss it," she said, watching the blur of cars passing before them.
Turning to glance at Gavin, Quinn spoke again, voice somber:
"It's important."
Noting the sad shift in her eyes, Gavin leaned down and kissed the top of her soft cap.
"I know it is — I'd never forget them."
The light flicked to green, and the two passed the final crossing separating them from the walkway in front of the Prague National Theatre. The building rose like a solid, beige block from the ground, topped with a railing of gold crowning the softly rounded roof.
Blending with the crowds, they moved toward the entrance. As Gavin had the tickets, Quinn would entrust him to get them through the gates and to the correct seats. In the meantime, she let her eyes drift, her mind wander as she relived the events of the past months.
Ever since that night when Kent had been carted off, Quinn had been fighting to regain the balance of calm she'd once had, before everything else had happened. Of course, some good had come of it — namely the man walking beside her, occasionally meeting her eyes with a soft smile before he went back to scouting their surroundings as if continually searching for threats.
And even Quinn had to admit that, in the end, things had turned out as well as they could. Kent had been convicted, her trial a short, secret affair which proved her guilt beyond the shadow of a doubt. She had been tossed into a cell, and she'd remain there for the considerable future if the Agency had any say in it. Her accomplice, Mr. Alan Smith, was facing jail time as well.
The Agency disliked traitors, and loose ends were not a part of the company dictionary.
Davidson had fallen into a coma after being shot in the scuffle, though the doctors weren't optimistic about his chances at recovery. Despite that, Quinn was aware that Sarraf had gone to visit him once, though she hadn't managed to glean the purpose of the visit. Closure, maybe. A final look at the man who'd betrayed her.
Quinn had pondered if she wanted that, too — a final look at Kent, at the woman she'd once thought to be her sister. She'd talked it over with Gavin, who — unsurprisingly — had thought it better to leave her rotting in her cell, serving time for her crimes — among them the murders of Special Agent Kione Lorber, and Analyst Rhea Freeman.
If you really wish to go, we'll go, Gavin had said at the end of the discussion, leaving the thought swirling in Quinn's head. It remained there, and she hadn't found a way to shove it out yet, but hoped that might come with time.
She wouldn't think of it any more, at least not tonight. Tonight was for Kat.
And Willa.
It took a few additional minutes for Quinn and Gavin to be ushered through the front doors and up the stairs leading to the balconies. Kat had gifted them fancy tickets, giving them a private balcony for the two of them to share as they peered down at the stage.
"You ever been to the ballet before?" Quinn asked as they stepped through the door to their balcony, and faced the beautiful theatre interior, all gleaming gold and velvet red.
Gavin's eyes swept the opulent surroundings, "No."
"You're in for a treat. Kat's a pro." Quinn smiled as she sank onto one of the chairs, shrugging her jacket off before slipping it over the back of the chair.
"I'm sure. Which ballet was it, again?"
"Sleeping Beauty," Quinn supplied, reaching into her bag for the flyer of the program, "Here."
Gavin took it, frowned at the paper, before he glanced back at Quinn again. Before he could ask, Quinn moved.
"Oh, I forgot."
She fumbled with her bag again, withdrew the case for his reading glasses. He took them carefully before plopping them on the bridge of his nose, and Quinn's heart hitched as she watched him read the flyer.
It was a weakness of hers, whenever she saw him in the worn leather armchair at their home, glasses on, peering into one of the many books Quinn had brought with her when she moved in. They'd already filled a number of the bookcases on the first floor, but the troves of scientific novels and journals Eylem had given them as a housewarming gift had required them to install a few more.
To no one's surprise, Adina had gotten them some fancy whiskey. Sarraf had supplied a rack of jeweled daggers, nestled on a velvet cushion in an ornate box. Somehow, it was a fitting addition to their living room.
As the theater filled with people, the quiet was shoved aside by the chatter of guests. It filled the spacious room, voices rising as the red velvet seats were filled by a number of the people streaming in from various entrances.
Twenty minutes passed before all seats were filled, and Quinn spent the time explaining to Gavin the finer points of ballet, as well as the role Kat would be dancing in. Another fifteen passed before the lights dimmed, the musicians playing the first soft notes of the start.
The curtain slid aside, and the premiere had started.
*
Hours passed before the curtains closed once more. Quinn rose from her chair, and Gavin was quick to hold her jacket for her, helping ease her arm into the sleeves. Another favorite move of his, one Quinn had found made her positively melt whenever they went out to dinner.
They took their time exiting the balcony, walking languidly to the exit of the theatre. They slipped away from the crowd lingering by the front doors, navigating by the light of a phone as they headed right for a nearby street. There was, supposedly, a café nestled somewhere along the length of said street, and they'd been encouraged to escape there after the performance.
They found it quickly enough, swift to slip through the door and the warmth of the interior. A coffee grinder rumbled noisily in the background, the sharp tang of the beans permeating the air. Jazz lulled in the background, mixing with the soft conversations from other guests. Gavin beelined for a corner table with three chairs, while Quinn went ahead and ordered.
Minutes later, she carried two coffees to their table. The beverage steamed as she placed it on the table, a welcome blast of hot air from the cold chill of fall reigning outside. Gavin was the first to sip, hands cradling the cup as he watched Quinn over the rim of his cup.
Much like she was prone to do, he would reminisce over the past few months. He knew that made him a hypocrite, seeing as he often made sure to keep Quinn's mind out of the shadows of the past and focused on what they had now, on what their futures had in store. However, he found he just couldn't help it — mind tossed back to those first chaotic weeks, the last turbulent days before Kent had been carted off.
Despite it all, it'd ended happily, at least in Gavin's mind. He was happy with Kent's punishment, satisfied with how the Agency had handled its aftermath. He was happy with the overflowing bookshelves of his and Quinn's living room, happy with their quaint townhouse and its picturesque backyard.
He was happy with Quinn.
Seeing as they lived together, they spent considerable amounts of time in each other's company, though Gavin sometimes felt that Quinn was all too prone to fall into a hole of work, shutting herself in her at-home office. He knew it was a part of the job — her new job.
Quinn O'Reilly — Chief of Analytics.
After everything, she'd wanted to resign from the Agency, at least at first. They hadn't wanted to lose her, and had swiftly arranged for a new position which required filling — the Chief of the Department of Analytics.
It was a new department, existing solely to crunch the massive amounts of numbers and files fluttering through Intelligence every day. A department which would work to stop anyone planting numbers, falsifying records. If it'd existed earlier, maybe Quinn would never have had to live through what she had.
She knew that, and perhaps that was why she chose to take the job, despite her initial doubts.
Gavin hadn't urged her to remain with the Agency. He had, instead, offered to leave his position if she did, placing his trust in her as he'd promised he would.
Besides, it wasn't exactly hard to choose between a place of work and the woman he was certain he loved.
However, Quinn had chosen to stay, and so did Gavin. He'd significantly reduced his time as a field operative, mostly because he found he didn't wish to leave home for months at a time when he was more than content to stay there. Instead, he'd picked less in-person missions, and largely focused on managing the work of other Special Agents, working closely with their partners to supervise other Agency-operations.
Sarraf had jokingly called him a Special Analyst. Gavin supposed, in a way, that she wasn't entirely wrong. Besides, she was more than happy to have her pick of missions as Gavin actively disregarded the more dangerous ones.
He was lucky to have the expertise of Chiefs Vahid and Tibble close by, too, as the two women were more than happy to supply every possible question with a barrage of technical answers.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You," Gavin replied, as he usually did to elicit a red flush to Quinn's cheeks, the smile that followed.
"Stop that," Quinn replied, hiding her face behind her coffee as she drank. Gavin smiled.
The moment was interrupted by the door to the café opening once more, a familiar figure appearing in the entrance. Her dark hair was wet, half-hidden beneath a bright red cap to ward off the bite of cold. She had a massive bag slung over her shoulder, the same dark navy as her thick coat.
As the woman turned, a bright smile lit up her face. It was the same expression which had appeared on Quinn's face. Quinn stood up as Katya stepped forward, the ballerina enveloping her long-time friend in a fierce hug.
"I missed you, kiska. You should give yourself more vacation days."
Quinn laughed, squeezed Kat just as hard, until they slowly untangled.
"If every vacation comes with free, fancy balcony tickets to your performances, I might consider it."
Kat laughed, too, before the look dropped into a noticeably more somber one. The ballerina reached for Quinn's hand, now, squeezing it firmly.
"I am truly glad to see you are doing good, kiska. After everything."
Swallowing heavily, Quinn blinked away the burn in her eyes.
"Same to you, Kat."
Quinn squeezed Kat's hand back, before they let each other go. One of Quinn's demands for taking the position as Chief of Analytics had been for the Agency to ensure Kat's safe return to her old life, as well as security for all of her assets, rendering her largely untraceable should anyone wish to revisit their past.
Thus far, it'd worked, and Quinn had kept her word to Kat in regards to attending the first premiere she danced in upon her return.
"Hello, Agent Locke," Kat said as she moved past Quinn, reaching up toward Locke.
He bent down to accommodate her, and the two friends shared a brief hug.
"She looks happy," Kat said quietly, right as she straightened up again, " — keep it up."
"I will." Gavin's eyes shifted over Kat's head, latched on Quinn.
With the greetings done, the trio sank down into their chairs, and spent the following hour chatting happily over warm cups of coffee.
And during the time Quinn spent in the company of two people she loved, the dark thoughts and shadows that sometimes came back to plague here slipped to the back of her mind. Her time as an honorary Special Agent had been short, as had her time as the target of a kill order, but it was something she would never forget.
But for now, she didn't think of it, merely rejoicing in the fact that it was over — done and dusted. For Kent and Davidson, the punishment for their actions would serve as a permanent reminder of their guilt, staying with them until the end.
But Quinn had already closed that chapter. Finished that book, entirely.
And now she was content to see what her future brought.
FIN
145 773 WORDS LATER.
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a/n: author's note coming up next.
also, i decided to enter this story into the wattys 2020! just worried it's not going to fit into any 'category', really. do you guys reckon this is mystery/thriller?
oh and also i made a twitter where i can properly nerd about writing and books. it's @ earlyatdusk.