Please enjoy this one-shot that I could not get out of my head for the past few days (: Thank you.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Cammie Morgan or Zachary Goode. Nor do I own the song in which this FF is derived from.

My Hands Are Tied

Mediterranean Sea—July 14, 2008

The moment their eyes locked, the chaos around them dissolved, no longer at the center of their attention. The boat was sinking, there was a fire on the upper deck that had ashes raining down around them, and the passengers were scrambling and screaming hysterically.

But still, their gazes remained fixed on each other. In that moment, it was clear that he was the reason her mission went sideways—that her target had gotten away and that every person around them were now witnesses to her failed mission because of him.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to care.

The young man, possibly a freshman adult like herself, was the most beautiful human being she'd laid her eyes on. Strong jaw, dark eyes, and just the right type of muscle.

It was stupid, she knew, to have these thoughts for a civilian. She was a spy, after all, and getting involved with a man like him would be all fun and games until somebody had their memories erased.

Finally, he turned away.

And suddenly, he was gone, leaving her to deal with the mess he caused.

Desert of Rajasthan—September 22, 2013

The desert was scorching. Of course it was, it's the desert. But she hadn't realized when she accepted the mission that she'd have to lay out baking in the sun all day, waiting for her target to enter the capture site.

Who drives through the middle of the desert anyway?

Apparently, rebel leaders who attack and kidnap undercover CIA agents.

She checked the time. Just a few more minutes before she could activate the minor explosives to distract and disable him (key word being minor. She wanted to capture Amir Nayyar, not kill him. Besides, her coworkers were in that van, too).

Slow minutes went by, and finally, she caught sight of the Humvee miles out. Her senses tingled, humming in anticipation.

And then, another Humvee entered her area, following the first by a few yards.

"Crap," she muttered. She didn't count on Amir having backup. Intel informed her that when leaving the city of Jaisalmer, Amir was alone in a van full of hostage CIA agents. She'd only prepared herself for the one car, the one man.

Hopefully her coworkers were ready for a fight, because she'd need all the help she could get to take down another van full of rebels.

Back in position, she watched the vehicles drive closer, patiently waiting for both to be positioned perfectly so that the explosives impacted both trucks.

Seconds away, her thumb was on the trigger, and then suddenly…a shot rang out. Dust beside the first truck flew up, and the vehicle came to a screeching halt. Another shot was fired, this time hitting the bullet proof siding about a foot from the windshield.

Without another thought, she activated the explosives, hoping that whoever was shooting at her target wasn't a threat to her or the agents inside.

Through the dirt and the dust, the second Humvee skirted its way up beside the first, and she could barely make out the driver, Amir—her target—jump out and make his escape with his goonies in the backup truck.

"You've got to be kidding me," she growled, punching the dirt in frustration.

Another mission botched. And she knew exactly who was responsible for it.

As if on cue, the reason for so many of her failures drove up behind her and jumped out of his truck.

"Stop scaring off my targets!" she yelled at the man, standing up from the dusty ground and getting in his face. His still handsomely beautiful face.

As intimidating as she tried to be, he simply chuckled at her response. "Oh, so it's my fault you're letting them get away? Maybe it's you they're all running from."

"They have no idea they're even being followed until you go shooting at them," she argued, annoyed and aggravated that this keeps happening. "You know, for an assassin, you're a lousy shot."

He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Maybe I like the chase," he teased, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

The suggestiveness wasn't lost on her. He wasn't just talking about the targets or his work.

She stepped up even closer to him, as close as she could get without actually touching him. They'd never touched, and not because he was an assassin, her mortal enemy, but because she knew the effect it'd have on her. And she wasn't sure if she'd be strong enough to ignore it.

"Leave. My targets. Alone."

"You know I can't do that. Boss's orders."

She groaned in frustration and stomped away, gathering her gear and preparing to go. She looked at the abandoned Humvee down below, the kidnapped agents exiting the vehicle cautiously and trying to detect a threat.

Little did they know the biggest threat was standing right behind her, and he had no interest in harming any of them.

"Well, since he's gone now, want to go get a drink?" the insufferable man asked.

She sighed. "Zach—"

"How many times are you going to make me ask, Gallagher Girl?" he asked, running a hand through his hair—a habit she'd come to learn had meant he was getting frustrated.

She knew the feeling.

"You know we can't do that," she argued, always her go-to excuse.

"And why the hell not?" Zach huffed.

"Can you promise that it's just a drink and nothing else?" she asked, challenging him.

She knew the answer already, so when he simply stared down at her, remaining silent, it didn't matter. "You can't, can you?"

He exhaled, blowing out a heavy breath. Also, another habit of his frustration. "Okay. So what? I'm attracted to you. That's not a secret."

And it wasn't. She'd known it for years. But it didn't change anything.

"You're an assassin, Zach. Protocol clearly states that I should arrest you and hand you over to Langley officials—"

"Then why haven't you?" he snapped. "Come on, Gallagher Girl, it's been years. You've had plenty of chances. Remember Edinburgh?"

Of course she remembered—you never forget your first time trapped in a closet with a gorgeous man, hiding from a drug lord who wants to kill you. Even if it wasn't her fault (guess whose it was…) that everything got screwed up and one of his men died, she was still on his hit list. For hours, they stayed in that small space (not touching, because she wouldn't allow it), talking about their pasts and things they probably shouldn't have shared, like where they grew up and went to school. Personal things they hadn't told anybody else.

And he was right. It was the perfect opportunity to slap some cuffs on him and bring him back to Langley. And she'd had plenty of other chances since then, too. But she hadn't. And she knew why, but she couldn't explain it, because she didn't know why she felt so strongly for him when everything in her nature said she should resent him.

This time, it was she who remained quiet, refusing to answer a question she didn't know how to.

"You can't turn me in. Can you?" he provoked her.

"It doesn't matter," she stated plainly. "This…us…it's never going to happen. It can't happen."

"Because of stupid protocol, I get it," he sneered, his mouth frowning in anger and disappointment. "But who cares! I don't! Who can stop me if I decide I want to be with you?"

"My boss."

Zach scoffed and threw his hands up, obviously growing irritated with their same old arguments.

"Zach." She reached for his face before she even realized it, and suddenly she was touching him. For the first time, they were actually touching.

He relaxed into her hand, eyes closed, and the sight almost broke her heart.

Battling her emotions, she forced out, "I'm sorry. But my hands are tied."

His eyes opened slowly and bore into hers, and it took her breath away.

But she had to remain strong. What she said was true—they could never happen. No matter how badly they both wanted it to.

She turned away, walking down the hill towards the newly rescued agents.

Where she belonged.

"You can run all you want, Gallagher Girl," he called after her. "But just like our targets, I'll always find you."

Washington DC—March 26, 2015

It had been a long day. A long few of them, actually.

Her newly formed team had finally completed a mission in Vienna after months of Intel, planning, and surveillance. And it wasn't easy. She hadn't slept for the past three days, her attention always being needed in order to lead the team successfully.

She let the younger agents convince her that going out for a celebratory drink was a good idea, despite the fact that she had at least four years on all of them and they would probably drink her under the table in a matter of minutes. Especially that wild Bex Baxter.

She decided that nursing a single beer all night would be her safest bet, but when Josh Abrams, a young man in need of much more training before she would ever place him inside a mission, decided to flirt with her, she began rethinking her decision.

She knew she should've been listening to him—it wasn't fair to him since he was actually someone she could have a potential future with—but her mind kept wandering back to the mission.

It hadn't escaped her that it was the fifth mission in which interception hadn't been involved. Specifically, from a certain assassin.

And as stupid as it was, she was partially upset by his silence.

His last words had rung in her head nonstop for over a year.

You can run all you want, Gallagher Girl. But I'll always find you.

He never realized that it was him she so desperately wanted to run to. That it was just as hard for her to keep away as it was for him. Just because she was the one constantly turning him down over the years didn't mean that she didn't want to be with him, too.

But there were too many things in the way keeping them apart. He's an assassin, she's a spy. They're mortal enemies, and she'd be blacklisted from every organization if she were to be caught with him.

The thought was tempting, since lately, her life of secret missions didn't hold the same excitement as it once had.

"Uh, Cammie?" Josh asked, obviously having caught her spacing on their conversation.

"I think I'm going to go get another drink," she said, excusing herself.

Where had those thoughts come from? Leaving the agency? Surely it was just her sleep deprived brain thinking crazy things. She couldn't possibly be wanting to leave the spy world, and surely not for—

"I told you I'd find you."

Zach.

She turned to find him standing beside her at the bar, looking more grown up and gorgeous than ever. And she refused to acknowledge that her heart hammered in her chest at the sight of him.

"Zach," she gasped, barely a whisper on her breath. But she knew he heard it. He had the same skillsets she did, after all.

She glanced back at Josh, still sitting at the table where she left him, making sure that none of her coworkers—her spy team—could see them together.

Zach's gaze followed hers, and the slightest tension in his body let her know he wasn't happy with what he saw. "Seriously, Cammie? That guy?"

"It's none of your business," she told him, grabbing the beer she'd just ordered. "And if I remember correctly, you said you'd find me if I ran." She turned back to him, looking hard into his eyes. "And I wasn't the one running."

He didn't deny it. She hadn't expected him to. He could've rattled off a thousand different lies, all sounding like truths and she would've never known the difference. But that wasn't his style. That wasn't them.

Instead, he smirked at her. "Did you miss me?" he asked, reaching for a fallen piece of hair to brush away from her face.

She side-stepped his touch, once again glancing back at her table to see if anyone was watching her.

Zach chuckled, his hand dropping to his side. "Relax, Cam. The best thing about being a covert assassin is that no one's ever heard of me. Tonight, here, I'm just a regular guy hitting on a beautiful woman."

She realized that she couldn't argue his claims. Zach just might have been the best assassin in the world, which meant that he practically didn't exist. There was no record of him anywhere (she checked). Even if her team had been watching her, Zach would never raise a red flag. For a moment, she wondered if it could actually work—if she could give herself one night to freely love the man she had no right loving.

Slowly, Zach smiled as if he'd been reading her mind.

Sure, she could give in for just one night and be completely fine the next day…if this wasn't Zach.

But it was.

So she couldn't.

So she asked the question she was afraid to ask, knowing she didn't want to know the answer, but also knowing she had to know. "And after tonight? When it's no longer just you and me." When they went back to their organizations and their protocols, and everyone else got to dictate who they could be. "What happens then?"

"Then we take on the world, fighting bad guys and saving the day." He smiled teasingly.

She scoffed at his horrible attempt to make her laugh and turned back to her drink.

"Cammie," he laughed, grabbing her hand like it was normal for them.

She glanced at where their hands were joined, surprised by how much she'd craved his touch since their last encounter.

Neither of them said anything. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, simply staring at each other, but it had felt like a lifetime, and yet like it had only been a moment.

The song changed to an upbeat dance number that was Cammie's favorite. She knew she was in trouble the moment the beat started, mainly because Zach looked down at her and smiled.

"Isn't this…" his voice trailed off, and she knew exactly what he was referring to.

"No," she lied.

He knew it and smiled wider. "Yes it is. This is the song you danced to in Cabo. When you dragged that poor guy out onto the dance floor."

"Zachary Goode," she teased, folding her arms across her chest, "have you been following me?"

He chuckled. "Don't act like you didn't know I was there. We were going after the same guy. Visily Romani."

"Only I was trying to capture him, and you were trying to kill him."

At her words, his eyes flashed, unamused by her comment. It was just another reminder of how different they were, and why they couldn't be together.

He stepped closer, his breath hitting her cheek. "A part of me thought that maybe you were dancing with that guy to make me jealous."

"Maybe I was," she admitted, sipping her drink.

"Well?" He motioned to the dance floor, arms open in an invitation for her to take the lead. "What are you waiting for?"

She knew he was baiting her. The smirk made it quite obvious. But she couldn't find it in herself to care.

One night. She'd give herself one night with Zach.

They danced in the multicolored lighting in the middle of the dance floor, laughing and spinning around while never letting go of the other's hand. Her body pressed up against his as she moved fluidly, purposefully driving her hips into his on more than one occasion. She smiled every time, because his arm would unfailingly snake its way around her waist, his hand running up the side of her body appreciatively and grazing her sensually. She'd returned the favor of course, running her hands through his hair, scraping her nails along his shoulder blades to bring them even closer. It was almost as if they knew this was their only chance to explore what they both had been wanting for so long.

The beat was pounding, and everyone around them continued to dance as Zach grabbed her and pulled her mouth to his.

It was exactly how she'd always imagined he'd kiss—brash, aggressive, and passionate. It was just like him. Vaguely, she was aware that they were in a crowded bar with her hand-picked team of spies just across the room, but she'd wanted this for so long—never really believed it could ever happen—that she found she really didn't care.

Their lips parted and they hesitated there, breathing in the other's arousal and desire. His eyes opened slowly, taking her in with that brilliant green stare.

"This doesn't have to be goodbye," he muttered.

She laughed. "As long as I have targets for you to scare off with your incredibly poor aim, it won't be."

Zach didn't smile. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn't even heard her.

"We make sense," he argued, as if she hadn't even spoken. "You say it won't work and that your hands are tied, but they're all just excuses. I've never met anyone else like you, Cam. All I want is for you to give us a chance."

"Zach, it's impossible—"

"There are hurdles that make it harder for us to be together, but not impossible."

She shook her head and stepped away, putting more space than necessary between them, hoping he'd take the hint. "I get why it's so hard for you to understand, Zach. When we're out there, just the two of us on our missions, it works. We're able to be ourselves and do what we want because no one else is there to tell us not to."

She took a breath, it shuddering under the emotion coursing through her body, and she prayed to God she wasn't about to cry.

"But when out missions are over," she started again, biting back her true desire, "and we go back to our responsibilities…when you're no longer just the man who causes me to lose my targets…the infuriatingly charming, sweet, sensitive and caring man…when you go back to being an assassin…"

She shook her head again, unable to speak through the turmoil of her emotions.

His eyes continued to challenge her, begging her to rethink the possibilities of what they could be. And she so desperately wanted to.

But the truth of the matter was…those possibilities only existed when they were playing out a legend. Because the real them could never be.

"Why are you trying so hard to fight us, Cam?" His voice cracked on her name, and she suppressed a wave of hurt at the pain she was causing him.

"Because it'll never work," she answered with the only truth that mattered.

Despite knowing she shouldn't, she looked up into his eyes. The same eyes she'd dreamt about ever since she first saw them on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea, trying to snag a rich arms dealer out from under her nose.

Seven years. Seven years she'd been falling for those eyes and the man they belonged to, wishing things were different and they weren't trapped in a twisted Romeo and Juliet tragedy.

But they were. And it didn't matter what he said or how she felt, they just simply couldn't be. It was unacceptable.

Forbidden.

"I'm sorry, Zach," she whispered, low and probably unintelligible thanks to her having to choke back tears. She touched his face one last time, her eyes shining and brimmed with emotion.

She wanted to kiss him goodbye. Well, if she was being honest, she just wanted to kiss him. No goodbye. No reason other than because she wanted to.

But instead, she swallowed her sobs and blinked away the unshed tears threatening to fall.

And with a sense of finality, she said for the last time, "I'm sorry, Zach. But my hands are tied."

This story was inspired by "Rewrite the Stars" from the movie The Greatest Showman (and if you haven't seen it yet, you seriously need to). Although, the actual song is much more romantic than this melodramatic one-shot lol.

If there was any confusion, Cammie and Zach had met on a mission and they instantly fell for each other. But, when it's been brought to their attention that Zach is an assassin and Cammie is a spy, they quickly realize that they could never be together. Over the years, they've managed to have the same targets, and Zach always messes it up for Cammie (although not because he's a lousy shot, but because he simply likes making things hard for her. Come on, it's Zach...of course he'd never truly miss).This is just a small glimpse of their relationship, and then it all leads up to the finale where he gets her to think that maybe it could work, but she knows better and leaves it as just one amazing night that they both can treasure forever.

Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading (: Stay awesome (: