OKayy, third chapter!

Thankyou so much to all who have reviewed!

"Is that all?" Goode asks, placing down his pen and sitting back in his chair with a sigh.

You just shake your head, annoyed, and shove two more sheets towards him.

"This is worse than being a celebrity!" he exclaims.

You simply raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, something you'll never know. Who would want your signature, anyway?"

He laughs at you. "Well, I'm not sure, but lots of people want my number."

Rolling your eyes, you continue to read the file in front of you, but not being able to focus completely. So, instead of giving yourself a headache, you say to Goode, "Why don't we finish all this another night? It's ten forty-eight, and I need something to drink."

Nodding, he shoves all the pieces of paper into one, messy pile and balances the pens on top. Then he turns to you, just as you give a huge yawn. "Tired?" he asks.

With a sigh, you nod, feeling something tugging at your pyjama pants – or rather, someone. Glancing down, your own, blue eyes meet the chocolate brown eyes of Bianca.

"What's wrong, Bee?" you ask her, sweetly.

"I can't sleeeep," she exclaims, climbing up onto your lap.

You stroke her hair as she plays with the golden necklace your dad gave you when you were six. "Why's that? Are we being too loud?"

Shaking her head, she wraps her thin arms around your neck and says, "I want my Mommy."

Pretty much the one thing you can't give her, she wants. But people always want what they can't have.

Trying to keep away from the topic of her parents, you reply, "Why don't we play a game? Perhaps you're not tired enough to sleep."

She nods and slides off your lap. "What about hide and seek?"

Zach coughs mockingly, but you shoot him a vicious look to silence him.

"Sure. I'll count first, okay?"

"Okay," she giggles, before skipping off to hide somewhere.

You turn back to Goode and tell him, "Don't think you're not playing, too."

He groans and slumps his head onto the table. You just laugh meanly, and then sit on the couch where you cover your eyes with your hands. "One! Two! Three!" you count loudly, "Four! Five! Six!"

Once you reach twenty-five, you exclaim, "Coming, ready or not!"

Hearing giggling from the bathroom, you know where the younger of the two hiders is, but you don't want her to be dismayed, so you pretend like you don't know where she is.

You're betting Goode has picked somewhere stupidly easy, simply because he really doesn't want to play.

Upon checking the cupboard, you find Goode leaning against the wall, yawning.

"Good, you found me. Now I'm going to bed," he huffs, pushing past you.

But you catch his arm before he can scurry off, and give him a slight smirk. "Oh, no. You're going to help me find Bianca now."

He lets out a sigh of annoyance and shakes his arm out of my grip. "Fine…"

Pretending to look everywhere but the bathroom, you say out loud things like, "Hmmm… I wonder where little Bianca has gone!"

Still hearing giggles, you drag Goode behind you (he's half-asleep), back to the kitchen one more time to look through the cupboards.

"Seriously, we know where she is, so why don't we just find her?" he asks, exasperated and annoyed.

I frown at him. "Do you want her to cry?"

Alarmed, he shakes his head and holds his hands up in surrender.

After another ten minutes of fake-looking, you decide to submit to Goode's wishes and you both walk into the bathroom.

Strangely, even though the both of you search everywhere – and the small fact that you're both spies – Bianca is nowhere in the bathroom.

"What the hell?" exclaims Goode, perching on the edge of the bath. "You said she was here!"

"I thought she was!" you yell back.

He stands up and pushes past you, calling Bianca's name.

You curse at yourself for suggesting playing a game. Banging your head against the tiled wall, you wonder where the heck she could be.

"Okay," you say to Goode five minutes later, as the both of you stand in your bedroom, "You take the bedroom and the bathroom, again. I'll search the kitchen and the lounge room. She's bound to be here somewhere, unless, God forbid, she's gone outside."

Goode runs a hand through his hair. "I can't believe you lost her in your own home."

For good measure, you smack him. Hard. And then proceed through to the kitchen, where you're certain she isn't.

Later, as Goode and you slump onto the couch, exhausted, you're sure she's left the apartment.

But, as you're pushing your hair back off your face, you notice the small ventilation grate on the wall.

Sitting up straight, causing Goode to fall onto the floor, you hiss, "She's up there!"

"What the hell, Morgan?" he yells indignantly, scrambling to his feet.

But he follows where you're pointing and comprehension dawns on his face. "Finally!"

You both rush over to beneath the grate. "Get me a chair, Goode!" you order.

He salutes and says, "Yes ma'am."

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the chair away from him and clamber onto it. At a higher height, you can reach the grate, and it comes off quickly and easily. You hear that familiar giggling and you know you've found Bianca.

But it's too dark, and you know – if she's smart, which she is – she'll have hidden as far back as she can.

"Oh, Bianca," you sing, hauling yourself through the tiny space.

Your whole body finally enters the vent and you crawl on your elbows and knees, squinting in the darkness. "Bianca, come out, come out! The game's over now, Hon."

More giggling.

Gritting your teeth, you crawl further back, cursing the little girl. Cobwebs snag in your hair and the hard steel is hurting your knees, but you block it all out, determined to get Bex's orphaned daughter back into her bed.

As you come to a fork in the vent system, two small feet come into your vision.

You haul yourself forward, determined to not let her get away. Although she's younger and more agile, you catch her ankles and drag her backwards.

There's a huge, mischievous grin plastered on her grubby face. You push her ahead of you and turn back around, keen to get out of the claustrophobic space.

When the two of you are back inside your apartment, you turn to give Bianca a scolding, but she's fallen asleep.

"Like mother, like daughter," you mutter to yourself.

Goode doesn't seem to want to pick her up, so you huff and bend down to pull her into your arms.

Once she's tucked under her covers, she's snoring gently, looking innocently angelic.

"She could charm a terrorist into changing sides," remarks Goode from behind you.

Nodding in agreement, the two of you leave the room.

For some reason, you're feeling generous tonight. "You can take my bed if you want. I'll sleep out here on the couch."

Goode gives you a confused look. "Why?"

Exasperated, you reply, "Well, I'm just trying to make an effort to be nice, but if you don't want me to, I won't bother."

He shrugs. "Are you sure?"

You nod and push him towards your room. He gives you a strange smile before disappearing into your room.

Snuggling up into the blankets on the couch, you desperately try to block out the fact that they smell like him.

Mentally hitting yourself, you rub your eyes, completely worn out.

"I've really got to find a nanny."

Hmm… I'm not so sure about this chapter…

I dunno? Did you like it?

Please review and tell me things you'd like to see in it

~Jen