Cammie looked at herself in the dirty, cracked mirror. Her dirty-blond hair lay in a tangled, limp bun on the side of her head and dark circles looked like bruises under her sunken, tired eyes. A long, deep cut was bright red with fresh blood. With a sigh, she tore some paper towel from the role and held it under the trickling water. Gently, she started washing off the dried blood and grime from constant travel the past few days. She knew Zach was looking for her and she knew she couldn't stay long. It pained her heart to know that she couldn't explain why she had run away from the school, from him. She blinked back tears and concentrated on cleaning herself.

Her stomach rumbled pathetically, unused to the lack of food compared to the lavish meals the Academy had provided every day. Her mouth filled with water simply thinking about the Chef's famous Belgian waffles and crème brulee. Shaking her head at herself, she forced herself to think of other things. She looked around at her pitiful surroundings. An abandoned apartment building provided a quiet place for rest. The bathroom was disgusting to say the least. The stall doors were either missing or hanging loosely on hinges, and several layers of paint showed through in varying places. The floor tiles that remained were chipped and broken, as was the single remaining mirror and sink. The entire room was a sickly yellow, which paled her reflection even further and gave her an ill glow.

This was not what she thought would happen. Had she expected three meals a day with comfortable lodgings every night? No. But anything would have been better than this. There was a tiny hissing noise. Spy senses alerted, she silently crept to the source; a tiny hole in the door. There was a slight change in the air, an odor? It reminded her of something, from the labs, at school. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

"I'm sorry, but it had to be done." I groaned and winced at the sound of his voice. Slowly, I opened a single eye. Worst fears confirmed, I shut it again and tried to cover my face with my arm. A new feeling aroused: Confusion? I quickly opened my eyes and looked down at my hands. They were chained to the small gurney-like bed I was on. Shocked, I turned to my perpetrator with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sorry, but those were necessary, too." I glared at him.

"Let me go, Zach." I growled.

"That would defeat the purpose," he replied with a smirk, his eyes smoldering with humor. I scowled once more, and looked away.

"Hungry?"

I shrugged. Not willing to give him the satisfaction he wanted. Unfortunately, my stomach had other plans as it rumbled loudly. Blood rushed to my face, but I continued to stare determinedly at the cracks in the dry wall. He chuckled.

"How about I let you up if you promise not to run away?" he proposed, then added, "Again." I turned and met his eyes, pain colored them. A small lump rose in my throat as I nodded.

His gentle fingers worked on my wrists, there were two quiet clicks, and found myself free again. I sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed the feeling back into my hands. He turned away, walking toward a black bag in the corner, giving me a chance to glance around the room free of scrutiny. We were still in the old abandoned apartment building, cracked ceilings, walls, and floors. There was a single window, curtains had once covered them, but now only ripped shreds were left, showing the dark glow of night.

Slowly and silently, I slid off the bed and crept over to the window. Everything left of the city lay sprawled beneath us, lampposts and headlights looked like small specks of light in the darkness. A warm breath sighed in my ear. Startled, I jumped back, turning as I did so. Zach didn't meet my eyes, but settled for wrapping his strong, warm arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, his cologne intoxicating my senses. Sighing, I rested against him.

"No offense," he started with a low chuckle, "but you smell." I tried to push away from him, but his arms held fast. I looked up at him, he was smiling at me.

There was a tiny, nearly silent, creek from outside the door. We froze. I looked up at Zach, the question clear in my eyes. He shook his head, the smile gone from his face. I tried to read his expression, confusion knotting my stomach, but it was a blank mask, unreadable.

"Zach?" I asked slowly, my voice breaking. He looked away, his eyes turning black, and stepped back, away from me.

"I'm sorry."

The door swung open, revealing two masked figures. They wasted little time and charged. Breaking through my shock, instinct kicked in. I had managed to land a single punch on the first perpetrators nose, blood streaming from it, before the other grabbed me firmly. Bloody Face grunted and reset his nose with a sickening crack.

"Look'ee 'ere," he growled, his accent thick. He moved his face close to mine, putrid smelling waves assaulting me with every breath he exhaled, "Thought you'd get away did ya'?" I flinched back, away from his gnarly breath and repulsive grin. His fist connected solidly with my gut, and I doubled over, gasping in pain. Bloody Face grabbed my hair and pulled my head up to look at him, tears blurring my vision.

"'N there's plenty more where tha' came from," he snarled, "'member that nex' time you wanna try some'fin funny." He laughed and released my hair with a push. A tiny sob escaped my lips and bile rose in my throat.

"Let's go." I had forgotten Zach was here. I looked up, glaring at my traitor. The man holding me pushed me forward toward the door. Bloody Face opened the door and lead the way down the hall and nearly pushed me down the several flights of stairs.

The cool night air felt good in my churning stomach and helped to clear my head. The guy holding me had loosened his grip slightly and Bloody Face had his back to me, apparently looking from something down the old abandoned street.

I relaxed my shoulders and shifted my weight subtly. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back quickly, twisting my arms out of his grasp and landing a swift kick in his kidney. Bloody Face turned, but I didn't give him the time to react, jumping and thrusting a foot against his neck. He made mad grabs, one hand on his neck and the other reaching blindly before he finally passed out on the cold pavement. I turned to run and found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Do not move."

"Zach, put the gun down."

"Sorry Gallagher Girl, I can't do that," he said strained, smirking for a split second at the old nickname.

"Why, Zach? Why do you have to do this?" A single tear making its way down my grimy face as I looked at the man I had loved.

"Don't cry Cam," he pleaded.

"What do they want from you? From me?"

"I can't explain now, but I promise I will, someday," he whispered, lowering his gun and stepping close and reaching for my hand. I jerked it back, watching hurt seep into his green eyes.

"Give me one reason I should trust you." I spat at him, angry at myself for letting that tear escape. He stepped back again, raising the gun once more as headlights swept around the corner and came towards us at alarming speeds. I squinted against the bright glare.

"You can't trust me." He whispered almost so low I couldn't hear it. Dark figures jumped out of the van and grabbed me, pulling me into the van and leaving Zach standing on the sidewalk, his face a mask once more.

A/N Please, PLEASE(!) let me know what you think! Goode & bad, all opinions are greatly appreciated! :)