Hey guys, this is Brooke with another story. This is my first fanfiction for Gallagher Girls since I recently reread the first four books and got around the finishing the series and I am pumped with so many ideas. This is a sort of continuation to where UWS ended with Cammie at Georgetown. I also would like to point out that while I've researched the Georgetown campus, many facts in this story are made up and products of my imagination. These facts very much include the information on the various government agencies mentioned in this story since all my knowledge of that comes from these books and multiple television shows. Here's the first chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Please, please do leave a review so I know if I'm doing justice and what you'd like to read in further updates! - Brooke xx

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Ally Carter. I don't own copyright to canon Gallagher Girls series material and only own creative and intellectual property.

Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

Chapter One

Let me tell you something most movies, television shows or academic websites don't tell you.

When you're a college student, you wish Monday mornings started at noon.

When you're a spy, who just got in at sunrise after a weekend of running on train roofs, you wish Monday mornings started at 2 pm.

When you're a spy who just got in at sunrise, and a college student who has class in two hours? You wish Mondays didn't exist.

Now, I won't go into multiple hypothetical scenarios of the various kinds of people who dread Mondays (because everyone dreads Mondays) but with the knowledge of school being only 20 minutes away and my body still sore and aching, I really was tempted to miss my first class. But I didn't have a choice in the matter. My bosses had done more than enough to give me valid backing up for missing classes when I was whisked away on missions – to be allowed to remain in the university, I had to attend every class I was present for.

My head was resting against the passenger side window, breath fogging the pane. Locks of my hair stuck to it from static, creating an illusion of cracks and slivers of dark brown. Gone was the dishwater blonde hair, replaced with a Macey McHenry worthy dye job in chestnut. The fingers on my right hand fiddled with the mist, creating patterns on it. My left hand was tightly clutching the hand of the driver – the person who had done said train roof jumping with me and also been the one to hum in my ear afterwards when I was trying to fall asleep.

"Why do all these banquets and galas have to happen on the weekends?" I groaned, turning my head to look at my partner in spying and boyfriend for – well who knows how long? Technically, we'd never gotten together on a particular day. We had no anniversary; no actual proposals; no date on which we stopped being "that guy/girl who shows up everywhere they shouldn't be" and started being "boy/girlfriend". We were not involved, and then we were involved and the time in between seemed to have blurred pretty well. I suppose if someone wanted to get in technicalities, you could say it had been a little over a year since I graduated from Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women (actually spies, and also sole male graduate who – you guessed it – was driving the car I was in.)

Zach chuckled, eyes not veering off the road for even a second.

"You should be grateful you don't have to miss as many classes, or you'd be knee deep in all sorts of excuses. Legends are most believable only – "

"- only when they're mere warping of reality. Yeah, I know, I know. But you try staying awake in Probability and Statistics. Especially when you already know that stuff from your eighth grade final." And from having Liz Sutton as your former roommate, but I didn't mention that.

"Go have a strong cup of coffee and a shower, and you'll be fine."

I made an irritated noise that sounded less like a person trained to knock you out and more like a drowning cat. Zach chuckled again, squeezing my hand tighter. We stayed that way for a few more minutes before he pulled over, two miles from my residence hall. From there, it was a walk that I was well used to. In many ways, it was like being back at Gallagher all over again.

"Are you alright?" Zach asked, and I completely expected the question. He always asked. This conversation was routine.

"Yes. Bruises are covered and scrapes on the mend," I responded, shuffling through the glove compartment for the tiny lens case.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling out the key from ignition and reaching behind for my bottle of water and sneakers.

"Mhm," came my reply as I put in the film of bright blue lenses to cover my duller, hazel eyes. With my slightly less chameleon appearance, I felt like Macey. It was probably the eyes. It could also be my cover story.

I unzipped the heavy jacket I had on, shedding my layers one by one until I was sitting in a sports bra and the same sweatpants I'd worn on the plane. Kicking off my boots, I took the sneakers and slid them on. I could feel Zach's eyes travelling over my exposed physique. If I'd still been a sixteen year old girl questioning her feelings, I'd have blushed. But I was now his long term, almost twenty year old girlfriend who went to a co-ed college. I was past the blushing stage.

Still, I acknowledged his gaze by pressing pause on the appearance change and turning to face him. His eyes snapped up to mine, twinkling like unseen stars in the dark sky. Sometimes, he was still that sophomore I'd met in this very city. Sometimes, he felt like he'd aged by a decade.

We reached for each other at the same time, his fingers skimming my aching ribs, mine running along the gash on his chin. We held each other for a few seconds, kissing, whispering sweet nothings, teasing. We were almost a normal college couple. Then I opened up my hair, letting it cascade over my faint scrapes. A long cut lay on my brow, covered by bangs that I had still not mastered the art of cutting and styling.

He kissed me again, lips lingering over mine for a few more seconds before he winked and waved goodbye. I got out of the car, tucking my bottle in the side of my backpack before breaking into a sprint. I faintly heard the car drive away in the distance as I propelled closer to my new home.

"Let me guess. Morning jog," came the lilting voice just as I let myself into the apartment. There was the bittersweet scent of coffee and burnt toast in the air as I dropped my backpack.

My roommate Dayna walked out of our room, her bathrobe wrapped tightly around her. A pale pink towel was draped over her arm, her hand clutching her toiletry kit.

"You know it," I said, making a great show of wheezing and panting as I dropped down on the couch. My hair was matted with water as was my face but I'd done this enough to pass it off as sweat.

"Where's your luggage?" she asked as she fiddled with her long hair. It was darker brown and curlier than mine but she'd riddled it with blonde highlights and often straightened it. Her brown eyes, so familiar to ones I once knew, were curious. "Didn't you just get back from your Uncle's? How is he?"

My "Uncle" was the cover story I used when I vanished for weekends. He was supposed to be an old man living all alone on his Virginia estate. Apparently, he was also pretty sick and needed my assistance often.

"Uncle Henry insisted I leave earlier since he was feeling a bit better. So I took an overnight bus and got in pretty late last night. It's all in the room."

She must've not noticed the non-descript brown suitcase I always had shoved under my bed – which is why she probably never even noticed that I never took it on my "visits". If I couldn't be the chameleon here then at least my stuff was.

"You're a deep sleeper, Daynee," I said, using the nickname everyone used for her.

"You're like a shadow, Laurie, " she responded, using mine. Of course – that was the largest part of being under cover. Legends had names. Mine was Lauren Christine Daniels. I was a twenty year old (as of September 14) Psychology student who was a native to Santa Clara, California. I had been part of the debate team in my old school, used to run track and had a black belt in karate. My favorite foods were coffee and sushi, and I had a habit of collecting beer bottle labels of various varieties. I also had an SAT score of 2170, a younger sister named Elizabeth and an Uncle Henry. Other than my age (almost), my major (like I had a choice) and the karate bit, none of this was true (well, except the bit about having a sister named Liz, but technicalities.)

"Okay, okay, go shower," I waved her off. She nodded, opening the door and ready to slam it. Before she did, she stuck her head back into the apartment and said, "Oh, Carrie and Alex are still sleeping. Wake them up? I told them I would after I showered, but you're back so you can do it. And, I think Craig will be coming over to borrow coffee at some point but tell him it got over."

"Why?"

"Because those two," our other roommates, "are going to be hungover and can use all the extra caffeine they can get their hands on."

As the door slid shut, I pressed a hand to my forehead. I almost wished I was back to having comm units in my ear and the hot desert wind blowing through my hair. But, this was back to the boring part of the job.

Tossing my bag on my bed, I popped open my laptop. As it booted, I reached for the brown suitcase under my bed and took out the receiver I kept in the outer pocket. The laptop screen lit up with a bright picture of me with my hands spread wide and a debate trophy in my hand (obviously, manipulated). Icons of college papers and web bookmarks scattered across my cheery face. Inserting the drive in, I waited for it to connect to the remote network. Almost immediately, the screen went black and rebooted with various layers of security and firewalls. I swiped each finger over the built in fingerprint scanner below the keyboard. Once I bypassed that, I stared at it, watching the modified computer system slide aside the finger print scanner to reveal a retinal scanner. A beam of laser swiped across my eye, before sliding away and revealing a thin pin point. Then I replaced my finger on it and let it prick me, before patiently waiting. The system ran biometrics as I sucked the pad of my finger until the tiny bubble of blood vanished.

My profile lit up, signaling no new activity or messages. This was a good sign. No warnings and messages meant there was nothing to worry about. Not waiting around to stay logged in longer than necessary, I put away the receiver and watched the screen switch back to one befitting a college student. Opening the browser, I checked my email. Again, no new email, other than a bright red '3' blinking next to the Spam folder. I clicked it open, surfing through the various advertisements which had been sent to Lauren Daniels.

Palm Springs Spas and Resorts invites you to spend Christmas weekend at one of our various properties. Book now! Couple packages valid till November 25th!

I smiled as I read the email from Liz. So she was still in California (Palm Springs) and would be there until December (November + 1). From the looks of it, she'd be there with us by the time New Years came around (she always spent Christmas with her sister Ellie and her parents who had no idea that their scientist daughter was not a researcher at Stanford, but a researcher for a remote CIA research facility, which shall remained unnamed). I opened the next mail.

Maybelline brings back hot new shades of the matte look – ranging from Ruby Red to Cheesecake Velvet. 25% off, if you call 1800-MAYBE-MATTE.

So, Macey was still in New York, as well (New York Cheesecake). This was no surprise. Her location wasn't as confidential since she was involved in protecting the President's daughter. I doubt she'd make it for New Years' Eve. The President probably had plans to stay in the country, family included.

I opened the third one, blinking as a bright orange and blue print took over the page. As my eyes adjusted, an online movie ticket website advertised the new James Bond movie with links to trailers and promo videos.

Catch 'Down the Angel Falls', releasing worldwide on February 14th, in a theatre near you.

I wasn't surprised to see the name of the new movie. That actually was what the next Bond movie was called. It didn't look like an encoded message but the James Bond had made me think that it had been from Bex. But I saw nothing in the date (because we all changed codes with every person we contacted). It took me a second to stare at the title before I sat up straight.

Down the Angel Falls. A memory played itself behind my eyes of a dark night and teenagers scrambling for air as a waterfall rushed around them, threatening to take them under.

If this message really was as interpreted then – Bex was at Blackthorne? Why? A million possibilities ran through my head. If she'd been at liberty to tell me this then clearly it was no covert operation. She'd gone in through the front doors of the ex-assassin Academy which pretended to be a school for troubled boys. It had to be nothing more than a check in if she was informing me of this via movie trailer spam and no question for clearance. I sighed.

The door to my room opened and I looked up as Carrie stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She was still in the sequined dress she must have worn last night, mascara trails down her cheeks and her short red hair sticking up in five different directions.

"You're back," she said in a heavy voice and then mumbled something about coffee as she slipped away to the kitchen. I shut the laptop lid, standing up and shedding my light sweatshirt. The mirror which hung behind our room door showed that the bruises were invisible. Of course, they were. If someone had me wear shorts, then we'd have a problem. But my torso only showed a sports bra – which lacked any sort of filling – and a sweaty but strong abdomen. I walked out of the room and across the hall. Dayna and I had the only double room in the suite, while Carrie and Alex had single ones. Carrie's door was ajar but Alex's was shut tight with a Maroon 5 poster stuck on it. I knocked once before opening it a crack. The curtains were drawn and she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and blaring music from her headphones.

"Oi, time to get ready," I shouted, picking up a cushion from the floor and throwing it at her. She jumped, giving me a menacing look and signaled me to shut the door. I wasn't worried. As long as she was up, she'd get ready. Walking around the apartment, just as Dayna walked back in with her face young and fresh and hair dripping wet, I realized how far I'd come without changing much. Once more it was me, three girls in my life and a million secrets between the four walls of our residence hall.

A knock had Dayna opening the front door she'd just closed and then making a huffing noise as she was shoved out of the way. Alertness and instinct had me bolting to catch her before she tripped or fell, adrenaline making my hair stand on end.

But the shove was barely lethal, only making my roommate (and assignment) stumble. And it was followed by laughter as Craig walked in. He lived two apartments over and looked like he was already ready to begin the day.

"Jackass," Dayna joked, continuing to the kitchen and pouring him a cup of coffee, despite her earlier warning to the contradictory. But her face remained smooth as if she was more than happy to let him borrow the steaming hot liquid. Sometimes I forgot that she was just as good a liar as I was, with just as deep a cover story. Too bad I couldn't exactly compliment her on this since she didn't know my cover.

Craig coughed as the scalding liquid scorched his throat, and then eyed me before grinning. "Looking good, Daniels."

And so the morning continued.

Because despite being away from home, and knee deep in lies and away from my family and friends, this Monday morning didn't seem all that shabby.

It was hours later, late in the afternoon, when I sat in the Quadrangle and finished an assignment. It wasn't even so much an assignment as it was paperwork for the weekend, deftly disguised between my Psych textbook. The cool, late autumn breeze swirled around me and I shivered. Winter was fast approaching and I couldn't be more excited for it. Bex's parents had invited us girls and a few more friends over for the holidays. I knew Zach would be there too, as would my Mom, Joe, Abby and Townsend. It would be a reunion in the truest sense of the word (although it was a bit weird that Zach's father figure was now married to my Mom, and his actual father would be marrying my aunt. I guess I was just glad that his father hadn't married the other Cameron sister or things would've gotten pretty weird. Even for a Gallagher Girl).

I heard him try to sneak up on me long before he actually showed up next to me, his shoes crunching on gravel and the tell tale scent of sulfur hanging around him. I won't lie, the first few times I'd met him and noticed his piqued interest in my roommate, I'd wondered if he was like me. See, given how confidential Dayna's assignment was and how important her cover was, all identities of her body guards were strictly need-to-know. It's why we didn't know each other. And she didn't know us. It was best because if she pretended even for a second that we were anything other than her college mates, and if we let ourselves slip even for a second assuming we were not operating solo, then Dayna could end up dead.

But his lack of stealth skills were in no way forced clumsiness and I'd been forced to admit that he was just a civilian who liked my roommate.

I pretended to be surprised, as he whispered 'Boo' in my ear, jumping a little and dropping my pen on the ground. As I bent down to pick it up, I took the opportunity to slide shut the report I was writing and drop it into my bag as if I was just done with homework.

"Hey Craig," I said, laughing in faux surprise.

"Hey, Daniels – oh hey, what happened to your head?"

I ran a finger over the barely healed cut which my hair was supposed to be covering, wincing.

"I tripped on my Uncle's stairwell."

"Again?"

I was really running out of excuses.

"I always forget that one step needs fixing," I cringed in a what can you do way. "And he has too much pride to get someone else to do it for him. I'll have to remember to fix it the next time I'm there."

"You know how to fix a step?"

He sounded skeptical that a girl could do it and I let him run along with his casual sexism. It kept my cover safe.

"Yeah, I took shop in school."

He seemed to buy this easily because he grinned wider.

"Guess what? You remember how Stan and Carter moved out to their own place right? And we wanted to convert their room into a gaming room?" he asked. I nodded as he talked about his ex-suite mates.

"Well they sent in new assignments to his room...so no Xbox next to my walls." It took me a second to remember that despite enjoying gaming, Craig had displayed real frustration at the idea of loud noises through his thin walls. I don't see how this was any better than when Stan and Carter had occupied the room and always had a plethora of guys and girls going in and out of it who kept them up all night with other activities.

"One's a transfer sophomore from Moscow. Isn't that cool? He's – hey, Ivan – Ivan, over here," he called out and I followed his gaze to a tall figure who had his back to us. He seemed to be fascinated by the Quadrangle, taking it in like any new student would – like I had.

"Ivan, this is Lauren. Lauren, Ivan Yezhov – did I pronounce that right?" he asked. I laughed and looked down, putting my book away in my bag, knowing that I'd get no paper work done now. However, there was a pair of shoes in my line of sight and I realized I hadn't heard this one approach me at all.

"Nice to meet you, Lauren," came a thick Russian accent in a voice I knew all too well. I looked up in surprise to see my boyfriend standing there, his dark brown hair now dyed black and his dark eyes covered in green lenses. The stubble he'd had this morning had been clean shaved. I felt a flutter of happiness go through me. Was this a dream? Had they assigned Zach to be my neighbor for a reason? I smiled a genuine smile, taking the outstretched hand.

"You too, Ivan." He squeezed my hand for a second before letting it go but his smiling face hid secrets which I recognized all too well.

"Oh and hey, there's Hugh, his roommate," rattled off Craig. "He's just from the other dorms and got bumped up to our very own Henle. Hey Hugh," he waved to someone behind me and I realized, once more, I hadn't heard someone else approach me. A shiver ran down my spine as I turned around to see a mop of ginger hair and freckled face, another hand outstretched before me. But I knew that the ginger dye covered blonde hair, the freckles covered an Athenian worthy face and that hand was one which I had often twisted in P&E throughout a semester of my sophomore year.

"Hello, Hugh," I said, smiling brightly, but my eyes said what I was thinking.

Hello, Grant.

My earlier happiness from Zach being here quickly moved past the stage of delight to the stage of think, Cammie, think. This was my third semester watching over Dayna, knowing that lack of activity from my other hidden colleagues was a good thing. It meant everything was running as smoothly as ever; a reassurance I'd given myself when there had been no notice on the CIA database I'd checked. The fact that security had beefed up, and they were willing to give me partners I'd worked with in the past meant only one thing.

I remembered the movie spam I'd received that morning; of how Bex was at Blackthorne right this minute. The school which had handed Grant his diploma, and the school which had trained Zach till he'd fled and joined mine.

It meant something had gone wrong. Very, very wrong.