AN: So, I finally got to sneak onto my mom's computer. Sorry, still nothing for 7 sinners, but I have a lot of 1-shots I thought up. :)

DISCLAIMER:I do not own the Gallagher Girls.

My Mother's Shoes

Remember that little girl that you see on all those greeting cards? The one with a strand of pearls down below her knees, a hat flopping down over her eyes and red lisptick smeared across her face? The one that couldn't seem to fit into her mother's shoes? Well, that little girl, she was me.

Now I know what you're thinking. "How could this shy, plain girl be that girl?" I know. I can't believe it either.

I do remember when I was young that I wanted to be exactly like my mother. I wanted to be the beautiful, perfect Rachel Morgan. I would sneak into her closet when she went down to greet my dad. That was my favorite time to do it becuase no matter how tired my dad was, he'd always play my little game. So I would sneak into my mom's closet and pull things out. A hat, gloves, jewelry-anything that I felt was nessacary. Then I would slather my face with bright red lipstick and pull on my mom's tallest pair of high heels.

Then I'd go down to greet my dad, and he'd look up when he heard a pair of too-large heels clunking down the steps.

"Aah!" he would say. "Eet iez Madamoiselle Morgan!" He would speak in a phony french accent. My dad knew a variety of accents, but his phony french one was my favorite. Then he'd hold out his hand while I 'gracefully" cutsied and then climbed onto his feet. Then we would go twirling around the room as my mom watched from the sides. Sooner or later though, dinner would be on the table, and I'd be back to little ol' Cammie Morgan.

Finally my mom realized how quickly her red lipsticks were being used and bought me my own little plastic make up kit. Of course, I never realized that the kit never ran out until I had grown out of my dress up phase.

I also never realized until my father was gone that the games hurt him. It hurt him that his darling baby girl wouldn't grow up to be a pavement artist, like him. If only he could see me now.

Eventually though, I grew up and realized two things.

One: I would never be able to pull of red lipstick.

Two: My fahter was never coming home.

I was four when he dissapeared. That's when the games stopped. Of course, I've dissapeared into many roles since then. Student, girlfriend, trusted ally and top CIA agent, as well as many cover stories for missions. But I've never looked back to those games. Atleast, not until now.

I look over at my husband as he plays with our twin children, Emily and Oliver, and remember my mother's reaction to the games.

She would help me get cleaned up and watched as I played with my father. She gave me my first make-uo kit, albiet fake. I still have the kit, stashed away somewhere with my childhood memories.

I look forward to the day when Emily will begn playing dress up, looking through my stuff, then playing with Zach as I stand off to the side with Oliver, who patiently waits his turn to play with daddy.

I set out dinner on the table.

"Zach?" I call over my shoulder. "Dinner's ready!"

"Coming Cammie!" he says. I hear him getting up and then feel his arms wrap around my waist. He softly kisses my temple.

"Smells great Gallagher Girl." I smile at my nickname and kiss him soflty before we sit down to eat. But one question still haunts me.

After all these years, will I finally be able to fill my mother's shoes?

AN: So, what did u think? R&R!