Life is unfair.

And I'm not talking unfair in a you're having a Sean Connery Bond-A-Thon and that guy just walked off with the last copy of Never Say Never Again way. Because, there totally are ways to deal with that. (Especially since he won't be able to realize that you've switched it with Pride and Prejudice until he gets home.)

I'm talking unfair in an everything you thought you knew has been challenged in the last two years and the one thing you can count on—the one person you can count on—is gone way. Because no matter who his mother was or what secrets he was trying to keep there was one thing I knew: Zachary Goode would always be on my side.

And now he was dead.

Two years ago he'd walked into my life. Last night he'd kissed me and walked out—for good.

PROS AND CONS OF SAVING THE WORLD

PRO: The double agent run terrorist organization that has been following you and trying to kidnap you for the last two years is gone. You're finally safe.

CON: The boy who has been following and protecting you for the past two years is gone. You don't feel safe.

PRO: You got to save the world with a really cute spy boy (who also might possibly have been your boyfriend). Emphasis on really cute.

CON: Both you and the really cute boy got shot while saving the world.

PRO: You and aforementioned boy are regarded as heroes (along with others).

CON: He's not there to finally be recognized for who he is.

PRO: I saved the world (and my butt).

CON: I couldn't save Zach.

PRO: My dad was alive.

CON: Zach was dead.

Yeah, life is unfair. I got a piece of my past back, a piece of who I am. But I'd had to trade a piece of my future for it, a piece of who I would have been.

No, stop it. Be grateful, I told myself.

I focused on my parents. A sight I never thought to see again. Dad looks good for someone who has spent the last eight years stuffed in a Circle of Cavan prison cell. If you count emaciated, a little beaten and slightly tortured as looking good. But he was still able to walk and talk and when he'd hugged me, it felt like he'd never been gone. You'd think that after almost a decade apart, my mom and dad would be all over each other. But no, a good agent doesn't let their guard down in an unsafe location. Holding hands was enough for them, being able to see each other was enough. Every now and then, they'd look over to check on me. Or put a hand on my knee—the good one. I wanted to cry tears of joy.

They were happy. I kept my eyes on them. Even when Bex's mom packed the bullet hole in the my right shoulder a little too tight. (Not that I'm complaining, I'm quite happy having not bled to death.) Even when they made me move my knee—the bad one—to make sure nothing was broken. (Nothing was.) Because if I shut my eyes I knew I would see Emily Goode's face as her son pushed me out of harm's way. As she put two bullets in his chest anyways and watched him fall into the river below. He was probably half a mile downstream being put into a CIA body bag right now. I wanted to cry.

It was a losing battle. Events were determined to make me cry one way or another, but it was a battle I could fight long enough. At least until it was safe to let my guard down.

Bex came over from where Liz was getting stitches above her eyebrow. (Just a minor injury that she inflicted on herself—after everything was over, naturally.)

"How are you holding up, Cammie," she asked, putting an arm around my shoulder. Her accent was thick and broken as she smiled. I shook my head.

"Bex…" I stopped, because I could feel my voice waiting to break and I didn't think I could hold it together if everyone knew how broken I really was. My eyes scanned the crowd for the hundredth time. People around me were getting triaged, the most severe were sent to the hospital while those of us who were more stable were waiting to be smuggled elsewhere for treatment. There were faces I didn't know. People I'd never met.

"It's over," she said, "you're safe." She knew the difference between checking and looking. And I wasn't looking, because I knew.

"I don't feel safe." Which was funny. I mean, you'd think that sitting surrounded by my closest friends and my family, not to mention a dozen unrelated—to me at least—CIA agents and five people from MI6 that would make me feel safe. It made no sense that I'd last felt safe two hours, sixteen minutes and fifty-three seconds ago while fighting for my life. I could close my eyes (which I did, despite my better judgment) and see the moment and I remembered feeling safe. And it was SO wrong that by recalling that moment I could feel safe all over again, because I knew that when I opened my eyes (which I did) the Zach I was seeing was all in my head.

Zach saw me.

Zach knew me.

Zach loved me anyways.

If you had asked me a year ago if I knew Zach Goode, I would have laughed in your face. But as this school year headed towards the final exams I had already passed it was different story.

"Oh my gosh." Macey's voice came from behind me. I turned to look at her, she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were staring at someone beyond. "Cammie…" I didn't want to look, but I did anyways.

And that's when I knew.

Zach was alive.

Had the wet, bedraggled boy shuffling along behind an equally wet (though a little less bedraggled) Joe Solomon been a product of being hit on the head yet again he would have been smirking, his eyes would have been had that mischievous glint and he would have had a bit more swagger in his step. This one stopped, his eyes on me, his hands in his pockets, looking like he thought he might get eaten alive. His eyes met mine and I realized that he was terrified. Not of CIA or MI6 or the Circle. He was afraid of me.

Because I saw Zach.

I knew Zach.

And I loved him anyways. (But he didn't know that, because I had never had the guts to tell him.)

Words rang in my ears. No, I couldn't. I couldn't lose the one person who didn't see her when they looked at me. What had my face been telling him in the last half minute that could have made him so afraid that that's who I saw now?

I ran. My arm might have been in a sling and maybe my knee hurt more than a little, but the crushing, crippling weight that had been holding me in place was gone. No one tried to stop me.

Zach was alive. He was whole and unhurt (well, not counting the bloody spot in his sleeve where bullet number three had grazed him) and looking completely confused—for once.

He obviously wasn't expecting to have a Gallagher Girl slam into him at top speed and throw her arms around his neck. (Though he was probably prepared for something involving a my right hook and believe me, I considered a good sock to his jaw for scaring me like that.)

"Ow, Gallagher Girl. Fibs' vest may be good, but it doesn't keep you from getting some serious bruises." He pulled away and stuck his finger through one of the holes in his shirt. Beneath it I could see the bulletproof mesh that I hadn't know was in the prototype phase.

"Wish he'd loaned me one of those too," I grumbled, nodding towards my arm. Zach stepped away like he'd been burned. The walls were still there in his eyes.

"Cammie, I'm so…" He reached out, but his hand stopped, just inches from me. Like there was a bubble around me that he couldn't break. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." And I believed it.

"Gallagher Girl, my mom shot you. What about that is okay?"

I reached out and took his hand. "She shot you too."

"Cam, I—"

"No, Zach, listen to me. Don't talk—listen." I waited, making sure he would. He nodded. There was fear in his eyes. "You keep saying that you're the one who doesn't have anything left to lose. I think you're wrong. But you are right about one thing—I have a lot to lose. I have parents who love me. Friends who'll always be there. And I have you." I moved my hand, placing it on his chest where the second bullet hole was—right above his heart. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You're not thinking straight, Gallagher Girl." He didn't pull away, but he wasn't coming any closer either.

"Actually, I think I am."

"No you're not. I know you, Cammie. My mom tried to single-handedly ruin your life. And maybe right now everything seems great, cause yeah, you got your dad back and all your friends are alive, but give it time Cammie. Give yourself time to think about it and you'll be going over every word, every action. You'll analyze and compare because deep down you can't trust me. There's no way you could trust me after everything—" I'll admit it, I play dirty. Zach was rambling on and on and every time I tried to interrupt, he'd just keep going. So I did what any self-respecting girl under the scrutiny of the CIA, MI6 and her friends and parents would do.

I kissed him.

"You are not your mother," I said.

"Gallagher Girl—"

"I see you, Zach. Not her. I see you," I said. I brought my hand to the side of his face, bringing him closer. His wet hair pressed against my forehead. Between the body slam and the kiss, I was pretty close to soaking now too. And it was chilly. And my knee hurt. (My shoulder was beyond 'hurt' at this point.) But I couldn't stop now. Because I knew if he didn't want me to find him, I would never find him. And that was one thing I couldn't live with. I wanted him to stay. I see you. I know you. "I love you." The look on his face was worth every frustrating conversation and all the times that he'd known things I didn't. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped (yes, actually jaw droppage—from Zach!). He quickly closed his mouth again, trying to figure out what to say. But, how he could come back against that? Really, there was only one thing for him to say.

So I kissed him again. And this time he kissed me back.

"I love you too, Gallagher Girl," he said.

I knew that as soon as we pulled apart and faced our audience, things were going to get very, very awkward. But I didn't care. We were warm. We were alive. And that was enough.

"Sounds to me like you do have something to lose after all."

"Good thing I never lose then," he replied. And then he dipped me. And he kissed me.

And this time I didn't care that most of my classmates (don't even mention my parents) were watching.

I wanted them to know that Zach Goode was mine.

Guess who just finished reading Only the Good Spy Young...I did! That's who. Okay, so maybe it was my second read through in two weeks, but that's beside the point (I did have to make so I've read all the books an equal number of times).

Anyways, I tried to do the math on how long her dad's been gone, but LYKY and Cross My Heart are back in Florida and I happen to be in Hawaii at the moment. (I know, don't ya'll feel lucky) If you come up with different numbers, lemme know.

Otherwise, thank you for reading...now review ;D. I think I got pretty spot on, but there is always room for improvement.

8/8 Okay...ya'll win. I was reading over this just making a few changes I'd forgotten to make (and fixing some erroneous grammar I managed to miss) and guess who started talking. That's right, Zach did. So, I'm going to do the a chap from his POV. I'm giving it a day to sit so I can fix a couple of things, but it should be up by Tuesday.