Alright so um, quick A.N confession..I have been/am very stressed over this update. Been rewatching scenes from a particularly epic S1 episode multiple times so I could hopefully to do things justice, get things sounding right.
Even now I'm still not sure I did..so please, be gentle with me here. Please.
More to come soon but for now, here goes nothing. :o

Opening his eyes, Brody rolled over to the unoccupied side of the bed and felt a pang of guilt, remembering Carrie resigning herself to sleeping on that tiny couch. If worse came to worse he'd help massage out any muscle kinks, so long as she didn't try anything again. He hoped that wild eyed look she'd given off was just a temporary one. That now that she'd slept she'd settled down.

"Carrie?", he called, getting out of bed and throwing on a shirt and robe.
"You want something to eat? I might have some fruit. Maybe eggs?"
Walking down the hall, he realized she wasn't on the couch and the kitchen was deserted.
"Carrie?"
Going to knock on the bathroom door, he found it open and the room empty and swore.
"Carrie? Damn it where are you?"
Frantic, he ran back out to the front and noticed the apartment door was open a crack. His face went ten shades whiter. "Shit! CARRIE!"

Going for his keys on the coffee table, he realized it was covered with sheets of paper. Copies of the drawings Carrie had been going through last night. They hadn't been tampered with but most of them were missing, and Brody didn't have to go through the pile to know which ones.

Leaving the apartment he locked the door behind him. Taking the back stairwell he took the steps two at a time, leaving the building through the back exit. The closer one to the courtyard and the side entrance of the community center.
Brody hoped he'd find her outside on the grounds. The doors to all the entrances were all locked and only him, the imam and Zahira had the access code for the keypads. Of course though that hadn't deterred her. The side door had been propped. Of course she can crack a security code, idiot. She's fucking CIA.

Turning the handle he ran down the thankfully deserted hallway past the offices. Then through the cafeteria to the media room. Poking his head through the door he didn't see her using any of the computers, so his next stop was the art room. Once arriving his heart hurt at the sight.

All of Farrah's drawings, thirty to be precise, were scribbled on with highlighter ink and pinned haphazardly to the bulletin board in the corner. On the dry erase beside it there were bullet points and indiscernible lists.
Brody was hesitant to approach. Part of him wanted to run away. But then she turned slightly towards him, enough for him to see her eyes.
In spite of the wild, intense look they were giving off they were still the same pair that had intrigued him, seduced him, broken him, pushed him, comforted him, and had always been able to see straight through him.
Even now when she ran up and faced him head on, meeting his frantic look with one of her own.

"Brody! Finally you're here! You're fast. Fucking fast, really. This way..follow me!", she exclaimed, taking him by the hand.
"You know Farrah well, just about as well as I do, more or less. You've observed and worked with her, you've watched her."
"I've watched her draw, Carrie.",
"Yes, so you know!", she cheered. "You understand! Her drawings, her doodles. All the details, the descriptiveness in them, that's the key. That's the code we have to crack to get this conniving, kidnapping cocksucker. Honestly him versus us? Everything we have, that we know about Farrah? He doesn't stand a fucking chance!"
"Carrie slow down, okay. Slow down..", Brody coached, backing up when she moved in closer.

"What we need to do is collaborate. If we work together, we manipulate, dominate, we can dictate how this all goes, how it plays out. This op is ours for the taking, Brody. Fucking ours. We just need to formulate a plan."
"Carrie.." Speechless all Brody could do was watch as she flitted back to the bulletin board, motioning for him to get closer.

"See, look here, right here. With Farrah, her art. There's occasional sketches of sunflowers, smiley faces sprouting sunbeams, but those are sporadic. They're singular occurrences, nothing more. All these here are representations, reminiscences, reminders. Her preferred subject is people. People she knows, faces that are familiar to her.
Me, you, Virgil, Saul, Quinn, Danny, Maggie, the mailman, just, everyone! This sketch though..", she said, gesturing to a rougher pencil drawing in the center of the board.

"It's incomplete, not as intricate. It's raw, rough. But it's real. He's real. There is some connection there. A close familial one, I'm sure of that. And it's not Hadad, that warmonger fucker impersonating a father. No, that bastard's buried deep in the back of Farrah's mind, thank God. This, this is someone else."

"Carrie let me just bring you back to the room, okay? We can talk more there-"
"No, we can't! All this right here, this is the key. This what we need to focus on." she insisted, turning back to the board.
"We need to focus on what?", Brody sputtered.
"Her drawings? Carrie, what do they have to do with what's happened, I don't-"

Cut off when she turned back to him, confident, defiant, too triumphant looking for her own good, Brody went tense as she approached. Breathing hard, smirking up at him like she had a secret.
"Because Farrah was taken by someone she trusted!"

Backing up he shook his head.
"How the fuck do you know that?"
"Because I know Farrah! She wouldn't go off, walk off, leave with just anyone, Brody. I know! I've taught her, trained her! Told her exactly what to do if anything like this ever happened. If she fought, fussed, fucking made a scene, she'd be too much of a bother, a burden. Anyone inane enough to abduct her would let her go. She'd be too much trouble for them! And Farrah, she's feisty, she can fight..I've seen it! In Iraq I taught her how."

"Love, I'm sure you have. I'm sure that Farrah did everything she could but she's six years old! Getting separated from you in a mob, she'd be too scared to know what to do."

"Of course she was scared! Obviously she was, I fucking was! But at the parade I could hear her yelling. She was screaming for me across the crowd but then all of a sudden she stopped."
"There could've been a million reasons for that, Carrie. Someone could've thrown their hand over her mouth or-"

"No, I told you I heard her! Her scream, it wasn't muffled, muted, made to stop. No, she..she had seen someone. Someone she knew, and she went with them willingly. Stopped yelling for me by choice. That's it, that's the only scenario, situation. The only explanation that makes sense!"

"Okay..okay, just going off that theory though. Who, Carrie? Who else would she have gone with? Both you and the imam told me you're the only family Farrah has. That everyone else is gone."
"Not him though..not him.", Carrie said knowingly, pointing to the pencil sketch. Examining it more closely she saw the young man portrayed in it was holding something, a change purse. Her mind, already in hyperdrive, was instantly triggered.

"Hey!", she shouted, taking back her purse as she grabbed hold of Farrah's wrist in the middle of the marketplace. Looking down she shook her head in amazement. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you just now?", she scoffed, still holding tight as Farrah pouted, tried to squirm away from her.
"When Khaliq take bag, he not noticed.", she muttered under her breath.

"Oh my God that's it."
"What? What's it!", Brody sputtered.
Elated, overwhelmed at the sudden break in the case, Carrie darted back to the white board, making more bulleted lists before turning back to the drawings. Scribbling a name under the centered one.
"Kha..Khaliq? Who the fuck is th-"

"Farrah's brother. Farrah's older brother! See, in the picture he's holding a purse. Farrah told me, she said he used to steal them in the marketplace..", she said, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare.
"That, fucking thief stole my student..."