Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for reading this little story and for the kind reviews, they keep me motivated to produce more chapters. Not a lot happens in this chapter, but if you haven't already noticed I like to spend time writing dialogue and creating sweet moments more than writing action or adventure. I plan to get to some of that action and adventure in a few chapters but until then enjoy this fluff.

I lay my head on his shoulder as a headache weaves itself through my head, sharp squiggles of pain piercing my temples in a steady rhythm, my eyes pulsing to the same beat. It may be from lack of sleep, a long plane ride, sitting in a cold, metal chair for hours, or perhaps the impact of my head catching my fall as Grant tackled me to the ground. Whatever the culprit, this pain makes me want to close my eyes and forget this day, collapse into the strength of this shoulder if only for some brief reprieve from the reality that awaits me at the cabin in the woods. As these thoughts charge through my head I realize that Zach didn't open his arms to wrap me in his embrace, like he usually does after a long day. I try to push away this thought and instead just rest but I couldn't help but feel ignored and unnoticed.

"Zach?" I attempt to grab his attention as I heave my weighty head off his shoulder.

"Hmm?" he answers distractedly.

"Everything okay?"

He nods as he keeps his gaze fixed out the window and the passing scenery, "Yeah."

I push, "Can I get more than a one-word answer? You've been quiet since we left the substation."
"Cammie, it's nothing, I'm just tired." He defends still not looking at me.

"I've seen you tired, this isn't tired Zach, this is," I pause as I search for the appropriate adjective, "pissed-off Zach. What gives?"

At this, he turns to face me his face contorted in anger, "Why did you agree to Operation Fishing Line?"

"Is that seriously what they're calling it? That's ridiculous." I laugh but quickly cover my mouth as I watch Zach's seething form. "Look, I'm not ready to retire to a desk, plus it can't be more dangerous than my high school days."

Zach scrubs a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut briefly as if he's dealing with an impossible toddler, "I just wanted a chance to discuss it with you. I hate it when you go off and make a rash decision without consulting me."

"It wasn't a rash decision!" I defend, raising my voice, "In fact your own father suggested it."

"Yeah, and my father is known for his kind and caring sensibility," Zach mutters.

"Zach, please, I did this for us, I want to keep working together and that won't be possible if I'm chained to a desk." I pause and let the silence settle over us for a moment giving us each some time to compose ourselves.

I break the silence with an apology, "Also, I'm sorry for not talking to you first. Next time, I'm deciding whether I'll be an open target for the various terrorist organizations after me I'll be sure to pull you into the conversation. Deal?"

Zach cracks a small smile at this concession then leans down to kiss me, my favorite kind of apology fills my mouth and despite all these years together it still manages to send shivers down my spine.

Jonas and Zach grab my upper-arms as they practically carry me into the house, well calling it a house is probably a bit too generous, a shack would be a more appropriate title. The boys drop me in a chair then rush around the shack flipping deadbolts, locking windows, and pulling blinds, making it a very secure shack. I sigh as the relative darkness settles around me, save for a kerosene lamp that casts shadows around the room.

Without turning around, I greet the dark form sitting behind me, "It's nice of you to join us, Mr. Solomon."

"Well, it is my safehouse, Ms. Morgan." He replies with a smile I hear in the way he says my name.

As I make a move to turn around a sharp pain runs explodes in my head causing me to drop my head into my hands and cry out.

Zach rushes over to me, "What's wrong Cammie?"

I can't reply as a wave of nausea overcomes me and retch onto the floor between my feet, Zach moves just in time to avoid what was left of my breakfast.

Zach looks over at Mr. Solomon, "I'm pretty sure she has a concussion."

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, "You think? It couldn't be from Grant hurtling me to the ground earlier today?" I question facetiously.

Zach gives me a sympathetic smile as he carefully crouches in front of me and pushes my hair out of my face, offers me a glass of water, then dabs at my mouth and nose with the wet cloth Mr. Solomon hands him, "Let's get you to bed Gallagher Girl."

I nod, but quickly regret it as I wince at the movement.

"Easy there," Zach admonishes as he gently pulls me out of the chair and walks with me over to one of the lower bunks attached to the wall and eases me into it.

He plants a kiss on my forehead, "Sweet dreams, see you in two hours."

I groan as I recall the protocol for monitoring a concussion.

As Zach turns away I grab his hand, "Wait there's no chance there is a string of Christmas lights somewhere around here?"

Zach looks around, catches Mr. Solomon's gaze, then lets out a laugh, "You really think Joe keeps twinkle lights as part of his emergency preparedness kit."

"I know, I kind of just wanted to see what you would say, sometimes your nicer to me when I'm injured."

Zach smirks, "Good night, Gallagher Girl."

"Good night" I reply as I gingerly turn myself onto my side and curl up into a ball.