neverwrongagent | We all fall down

Entry tags:

brody,
rp

We all fall down

Carrie would remember the next few days as some of the best of her life. She was living with a man she was more comfortable with than she could have imagined, working together for a common goal. Even the visit with his kids went well. She gave him most of Saturday with just them, showing up at dinner time with pizza and cookies. They played board games and chased around her little house until it was time for him to take them back. Then it all went to hell.

They finally found evidence that Walker had met someone on one of his random seeming runs around the District. Before they could act on it, a series of small bombs took out three Metro buses as they approached the city center. A half dozen people were killed, twice that were injured. Had it been one bomb, it would have been bad enough, but three in a concert was particularly frightening for the city. It also put CIA on high alert. The work they'd been doing before was nothing compared to the sudden anger and frustration everyone showed. Plenty of people looked at Brody, and Carrie, as though they'd done something wrong. Brody should have come forward sooner. Carrie shouldn't have trusted him so much. Maybe if they'd come up for air this wouldn't have happened.

Carrie though all that and more, although she never really blamed Brody. At least, not any more than she blamed any of them for missing it. They'd messed up, not gotten to the answer fast enough. For her, everything else fell away. The work was everything and she spent as many hours as she was allowed at work. She had to be shoehorned out of the building to go home and rest, but when she was there she didn't sleep. She only ate when someone put food in front of her. This was the Carrie Brody had never seen, that her family worried about, that Carrie held on a tight leash.

She paced her dining platform, looking at the notes and schedules she had posted to her wall, sure she was still missing something crucial. She had music playing, the kind of jazz that normally settled her, but it wasn't doing shit and she could feel her skin start to crawl, but she had to work, had to figure out where they'd gone wrong.

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She kissed him again in the same spot. "We are being." She shrugged. "Just...being. I don't do that often."

That got a broad smile. "Me neither." One hand left her hip and he ran his fingers along her jawline. "You are so beautiful. You know that, right?"

She flushed some, dropping her gaze away in an amazingly feminine way. "Just so you think so." Her looks were at tool, a quirk of nature, nothing special, but she liked that he liked them. "You might be biased some."

"My bias has nothing to do with it." He grinned up at her. "And I do think so."

She was rumpled, sweaty, and stressed. His bias had quite a bit to do with it. She leaned down and kissed him properly. "Will you believe me if I tell you how beautiful you are?" She mock frowned. "Or do I have to say handsome?"

He rolled his eyes. "يمكنك استخدام كل ما تريد." He kissed her again, then settled back, touching her face again.

(*You can use whatever you want.)

She took him at his word and sat up slightly. Smiling softly, touching his face with her fingertips, she recited from memory. "مثل الحزم من الذرة أنه يجمع لك لنفسه.
انه يفصل لك لتجعلك المجردة.
انه ينخل لك لتحريرك من قشور الخاص بك.
انه يطحن لك البياض.
انه يعجن لك حتى كنت مطواعة؛
ثم انه يعين لك لله النار المقدسة، والتي قد تصبح الخبز المقدس لعيد الله المقدسة.

كل هذه الأمور يجب القيام أحب لكم أن تعلمون أسرار قلبك، وهذه المعرفة تصبح جزء من قلب الحياة." When she was done, she blushed darkly and leaned back down to kiss him. The analogies were a little more intense than she expected when spoken aloud.

(Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.)

His arms wrapped around her and he clung to her. That was decidedly unfair, and yet he understood the sentiment completely. He did not, however, have the head for poetry, really, so he let his kiss be his answer.

That kiss was pretty much the reaction she'd been hoping for. She settled against him to enjoy it. They were apart so much now and were going to be apart again. She wanted him to know that in her heart she was with him the whole time. That was important.

Finally she pulled back with a whimper and rested her head on his shoulder. "Wow."

He didn't really let go of her, but he kept smiling at her. "Didn't know you were a romantic."

She laughed a little roughly. "Saul says we're all romantics in my business. I'm pretty sure that's a massive rationalization on his part, but so be it." She ran a hand over his shoulder and onto his chest. "I'm not normally."

"Yeah, right." He shifted a little under her. "By my standards, you are damned romantic."

He held onto her a few more moments, then sighed. "Should finish the food and think about getting cleaned up. Time marches on, after all."

She groaned thickly and clung to him. The last thing she wanted was to move. "You're right. Fuck." She kissed his neck for a long moment. "Not happy about this." She nipped him lightly before rolling away.

Her displeasure made him smile. "It's not for long, babe." He sat up, groaning softly, as looked around the room for the food. He spotted it and hoisted himself up off the bed. "I hope you don't mind it cold. No microwave."

She had to laugh. "Do you remember my fridge? Cold take out is a food group." She got herself settled against the headboard with the blanket pulled up over her lap. "I go weeks without consuming fresh made food."

He brought the bag and two beers over, then plopped down next to her. "I'm going to fix that."

Handing her the bag, he got the beers open. Then he traded her some food for a drink. "Even if it kills one of us."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she sipped her beer. "That's contrary to the plan, buster." She shook her head, then dug into the bag for her food. "We've both gotten more than close enough to that."

"Job hazard." He watched her a moment, then rolled his eyes. They were both horrible apart, as evidence by their ease with take-out. It made him long to be back in her house, with only PT to worry about the next day. Where they were better.

She had trouble on the best days imagining a life made up of the surprisingly easy domesticity they'd found. Of course, on those days, she also found herself wishing he could bring his kids over again. She sighed softly. "We can do this. We can get through this and back to being together."

Being together. He liked the sound of that. "Of course we can. This is the easy part." A sentiment he was not really feeling before she showed up. That his behavior was more than a little codependent was not lost on him, but of the two of them, he was still the slightly more sane.

Slightly would be the word for it and only because she had a clinical diagnosis. She offered him a bight of her pastry, then leaned back and groaned. "I still don't get it. There's more to this that we aren't seeing. Something's off."

He took the bite with a grin. He never expected to like both savory and sweet, with chicken, but this had been one of his favorite dishes on both sides of the world. "We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

His head back, he sipped his beer and closed his eyes. He really didn't want to talk about the op. But doing it right then meant neither of them were getting the eye from people who didn't get it.

Working, just them, was a part of this that she treasured. Being understood on that level was a rare thing for her. She understood his hesitation, this was a down time, but they weren't going to get any other time. She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "I hate sending you out there when I feel like there's such a big puzzle piece missing."

He kissed her hair. "You realize I'm going out there with far more information than I usually have, right?" He stole another piece of pastry. "I feel almost overprepared."

She poked his thigh. "Next time we get the large." She shook her head a little. "Details, bits, cracks in the armor, but not the big picture." He might feel overprepared, she felt like she was floating away unsecured. "Not the big picture."

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