*Okay so this is the first official writing I've done for Homeland. Please be gentle/take pity on me. I've had a bunch of ideas for fics but this is the one that seemed to stick, and I've just been scribbling and adding to it lately almost obsessively. Be warned it's very AU, at times very fluffy, and I admit, unrealistic at times but that's what fanfic is for right? The title/general fic is inspired by the song "Suddenly" from the Les Mis film. I'm putting the first few installments I've finished out there to see if it gets any kind of love/interest. If it does I'll gladly keep going with it, have had fun writing it so far and, that's a good thing I think.* :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Homeland, that's Showtime. But if I did, the writing for the S2 finale wouldn't have made me weep buckets.

Yesterday I was alone
Today you walk beside me
Something still unclear
Something not yet here
Has begun.

Ch. 1

"Miss...Matthews? Why..why do...?"
"Why do I what, Farrah?", Carrie asked, kneeling to the six year old's level on the ornate guest room rug.
"Why...do, do you-"
"Shh, don't get nervous.", she soothed. "You're doing fine."
Smoothing the girl's headscarf that matched her own, she repeated her earlier question in English.

Carrie, Miss Matthews for the time being, had been Farrah's tutor. Teaching her English for the past sixteen months. During this stint in Baghdad her cover was a bespectacled, red-haired elementary school teacher.
Like always Carrie took her assignment seriously, creating lesson plans and pop quizzes like she'd been a teacher all her life. Because of it Farrah had made major progress. She could now read, write, and speak English beautifully, only fumbling for words when she was nervous or emotional.

"Why..do, you have...to go?" Farrah pointed to the packed suitcase on the bed, sadly looking to Carrie.

Bowing her head, avoiding the girl's tears the way she would desk work at Langley, Carrie looked to the window at her right.
She was two floors up but there was a fire escape. Her best shot at getting to her backup team parked and waiting a few blocks away from here, Faruq Hadad's gated residence.

Her cover that landed her under his roof was beyond blown now, and by Carrie's guess Hadad's men had already received their orders. She could all but feel their semi-automatics shooting the lock off on the door behind her.

Putting on her bravest face she turned back to Farrah. Reaching over to thumb a tear from her cheek.
"Sweetheart, I finished my work as your teacher.", she smiled sadly.
"You can read and write in English now, as well as I can! Farrah I did my job, what I came here to do."
Farrah then threw her arms around Carrie's neck, holding onto her so tight she could barely breathe.
"Don't go!"
"Shhh, don't cry. Please don't cry."

The tender, tearful scene was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door that was soon kicked in.

"Run Farrah, hide! Now!" Carrie ordered, reaching for her holster at her ankle. While she couldn't imagine a guard physically harming Farrah, the first child of Hadad's third wife, she wouldn't risk her witnessing a gunfight.

After Farrah ducked into a nearby closet, Carrie turned, gun drawn, to face Hadad flanked by two of his guards. She knew she didn't have a chance against them, but took comfort in knowing she'd done her job.

This morning she'd turned over all her findings- incriminating documents and a tape recording-to Major Mendez who'd sent everything to Saul. All the proof needed that Hadad was responsible for the car bomb at Langley, doing his late friend Nazir's bidding and setting Brody up for his crimes.

Carrie recorded his confession on a wire last night. She'd been working up to the crucial conversation for a year, gaining trust and intel living under the roof of Hadad and his family.
After thorough research she'd learned Farrah was his Achilles heel. He had sons from previous marriages who were grown and gone, but his daughter was his entire world. In order for Carrie to gain his trust, she'd have to gain Farrah's first.
Clearly she'd succeeded, and didn't regret anything about tutoring the young girl. It had been a remarkable experience. The one bright spot of living under the roof of a known terrorist and having to pretend each day she wasn't disgusted.
Last night before her promised nightcap with Hadad, Carrie prepared for an hour. Steeling herself to earn the confession however she had to. Reminding herself that whatever she'd have to say and do with the man, would be worth it if she managed to clear Brody's name.

She knew her tape wouldn't erase Brody's leaked one, but it was definitely a start for him.
For his future Carrie wasn't sure she'd live to be part of as the guards and Hadad closed in around her.

She wasn't a gun expert, but it was clear her pistol was no match for the high powered sniper rifles staring her in the face. Slowly she lowered her weapon, setting it down at her feet.
Raising her hands, she knelt on the rug and shut her eyes. Preparing for what she assumed was her imminent death. But hearing stunned gasps and scolding instead of shots ringing out she froze.

Slowly opening her eyes she saw Farrah standing in front of, but with her back to her.
"Farrah!"
Carrie looked on in horror as the girl slowly raised her hands to signal stop.

"Leave...her...al..alone!", Farrah cried, begging in English and Arabic for her father to drop his weapon.
Slowly, nervously, Hadad did as he was asked and ordered his guards to do the same.

For a few off putting moments the room was silent. Until the bomb went off.

When Carrie awoke she was lying face down in the smoky courtyard. Scratched up, bruised, ash darkened her torn clothing and headscarf. Coughing, as her eyes focused they filled with tears. Shit.

The same sickening dread/guilt for surviving she'd feel each time she landed in this situation returned, but Carrie tamped it down. Slowly she took deep breaths. Her training reminded her to remain calm, try and survey the area. Her gaze wandered to neon green spray paint. Graffiti tagging a fallen gate.

She realized it was a trademark of a rebel group, that the bomb tossed in her bedroom was likely homemade. It hadn't been drone strike level but was still damaging and devastating. The rest of the yard was littered with debris and fallen burnt beams.

Wincing, Carrie freed herself from some rubble then spotted a flash of fabric. Another realization hit.
Farrah.
The girl she'd tried to protect by throwing herself over her the second the bomb shattered through the window.

Shifting to a kneeling position, she realized Farrah lay curled up nearby underneath some roof shingles. Moving them aside Carrie saw her eyes were shut, her headscarf was torn. There were scratches on her face but nothing too severe. What frightened Carrie most was how peaceful she looked in the midst of all the chaos.

"Farrah, Farrah wake up.", she commanded, shaking her shoulder. When she didn't stir Carrie checked her pulse and her breathing.
"C'mon honey. Open your eyes, please.", she coaxed until finally she looked to be coming around, coughing as her eyes fluttered.
"Farrah? Farrah can you hear me?"
"Ms..Ms Matth-"
"Shhh, shh...just relax. It's okay, I'm here."
Adjusting Farrah's headscarf, looking her over she didn't seem to have any critical injuries. But fearing a concussion, Carrie raised her index finger and moved it to the left then the right, checking that Farrah could follow it with her eyes.
Taking her doing so as a good sign, she checked for broken bones, bruises, bleeding. Nothing jumped out at her as dire, aside from them still sitting in the middle of what felt like a warzone. They had to leave and they had to leave now.
"Okay sweetie, sit up for me now. Can you do that?"
Watching her wince but manage, breathing a sigh of relief Carrie hugged her close. Trying to block her view of the damage.
"Alright we're going now. Just hold onto me."

She could hear sirens in the distance but wasn't willing to stand around waiting. All she cared about was getting Farrah somewhere safe. That feeling intensified as she stood up to carry her out of the courtyard.

Moving towards the skeleton of the mansion she began to see the casualties. There was a familiar turban, its wearer crushed under a fallen pillar. She realized it was Hadad among his dead guards and told Farrah to close her eyes tightly. The maids had gone to their separate residence, but the lady of the house had taken to bed earlier that evening. Carrie saw her body in the front gardens.

It was only by luck and chance she and Farrah had lived. A miracle Carrie intended on making count for something as she held her tighter and walked faster and faster, fleeing the scene completely.