(A/N: Sorry for the long break, beautiful readers. Grad school is a hell of a thing. But I'll try to publish 1 or 2 more chapters before finals week rolls around. There will probably be a Christmas chapter :D )

January 24th, 2000

1520 hours

Matt

"Little lady, you have no clue how much trouble we're gonna be in when we get home." I grumbled, glancing into the rearview mirror at the little girl stuffed into the carseat.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. But you told me to always practice, and I—"

I flicked on my blinker. "I told you to always practice when your mother and I let you."

She pouted, reminding me of Rachel and filling me simultaneously with fondness and complete and utter dread. "But I—"

"But nothing. You're lucky Mommy will be madder at me than she will at you."

Confusion made Cammie cock her head at me. "Why will she be madder at you?"

I sighed deeply. "It's complicated, little lady. I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"But Daddy—"

Struck by an epiphany, I interrupted my daughter with, "How do you feel about grabbing some ice cream before we get home, huh?" I asked, grinning.

"Ice cream!?" Cammie asked, delighted. But then she pouted again. "Wait. You gave Mommy chocolate that one time when you wanted her to do something for you. Are you doing that to me?"

For the hundredth time, I was amazed by Cammie's perceptiveness. I laughed aloud, taking a left to go to the ice cream parlor when we'd normally take a right to go home. "No, little lady, I'm not tricking you. I want some ice cream, too."

Cammie grinned. "Yay!"

I pulled into the parking lot of our favorite ice cream parlor and briefly thanked heaven that Rachel was trapped in Langley for the day, which meant I didn't have to call her just yet and tell her where Cam and I were. That storm would all come later, of course, but for the time being, I was perfect content to order a double scoop of chocolate fudge for me and a single scoop of cookies and cream for Cam.

Cammie tugged on my jeans. "But Daddy, I wanted two scoops…"

I shook my head. "No, little lady. It's bad enough I have to tell Mommy what happened, I don't want to give you that much sugar, too." I replied, and rumpled her hair while she pouted in disappointment. She might've been seven years old now, and looking more and more like Rachel and I every day, but the one thing that hadn't changed about her was her big, intelligent eyes. There was nothing she didn't notice, for a little girl, at least.

We took seats by the window and the spy in me prickled at this, but Cammie had insisted because she'd seen a puppy with its owners walking on the sidewalk, so I had no choice but to obey. I pulled a pen from my pocket and we played hangman until the server came with our bowls of ice cream.

"Daddy, why did Mommy have to go all the way to Langley today?" Cammie asked me, after figuring out my word in five tries for the fourth time. I wouldn't have been so impressed (and frustrated) if the words hadn't been, in order, diligent, impertinent, flabbergasted, and predilection. She was too damn smart for her own good.

I sighed. Rachel and I had rehearsed a thousand answers to that question, but I still hated when Cammie asked it. Currently, Rachel was holed up in Langley to be debriefed on a mission gone almost-horribly wrong and treated for a pair of broken ribs, and even if Cammie knew what we did, I couldn't exactly tell her that her invincible mommy had been injured. "She just had some things to take care of, little lady. It's nothing big."

"You always say that, but you look kinda sad this time."

Dammit. "It's nothing bad. And just think—Mommy might be home when we get back."

This made Cammie brighten, and she started working at her ice cream with vigor. Sometimes I wondered what the consequences would be of Cam inheriting my sweet tooth, other than her constantly conspiring to steal M&M's from me.

We climbed back into the car and, while normally I would rush home, I wasn't particularly eager to explain to Rachel what had happened while she'd been gone. And of course, my wife was indeed home—the tracks from her suitcase were in the grass. The minute I stopped the car, Cammie tore out of the backseat and ran ahead of me. For a minute, I wasn't sure why she'd done it, seeing as I had the key, and then I realized that she'd pulled the house key off the lanyard.

I shook my head and grinned.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" Cammie disappeared into the house and I jogged up the pavement after her.

A chair screeched across the tile of the kitchen as Rachel stood up. "Hey there, kiddo."

I closed the door behind me and watched as Cammie hugged Rachel tightly. Rachel's expression tensed as the hug agitated her ribs, but she didn't pull back until Cam did. "How's my little girl?"

"I'm good, Mommy. Daddy and I went to get ice cream." Cammie said, a wide smile on her face. She scrunched her nose. "But he didn't let me get two scoops."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "You know you only get one scoop of ice cream, sweetie." She looked up at me. "Was she pestering you?"

I shook my head and Cammie shook hers; Rachel rolled her eyes and stood up.

"You two are way too alike for your own good." She kissed me on the cheek. "So how was your day?"

"Good" was what I said, but my face must've done something different because Rachel narrowed her eyes at me.

"Matthew…"

"It's not…Rachel, not now." I said and nodded down to Cammie, who was steadfastly attached to her mother's leg.

Rachel sighed. "Yeah. Later." She absently stroked Cammie's hair. "Anything particularly eventful happen while I was gone?"

Other than figuring out that we might have a covert operations prodigy for a child? "She's been doing great on her math quizzes."

2050 hours

Matt

I should've expected us to debate the topic, after Cammie was safely asleep. Rachel was normally made of steel but when it came to our daughter, everything was delicate and dangerous and protective. She turned to me in the kitchen, her arms crossed.

"Matthew, dammit. How did…"

"How did we let this happen?" I went into the fridge for some apple juice. "Well, we're two really good operatives, and we made a kid."

Rachel sighed, running a hand down her face. "She got out of the house and followed you halfway across town and through the Pentagon City Mall without being seen. That shouldn't be possible."

I gave her a crooked smile. "I told you, Rach. It's in her blood."

"Does that mean she's confined to it? Matt, I don't want her to feel like she has to be anything, even if she does know what we do."

"We've talked about this, darlin.' Cam belongs at Gallagher—"

"What if she doesn't? I don't want her to be in danger all the time."

"She already is."

"She's you, Matthew!" Rachel snapped. Her anger was sudden and her dark eyes were bright in the dim kitchen lights. "Cam is three parts you and one part me, we've always known that. She's got your hair and your eyes and your sense of humor, and… She's a pavement artist, and she'll be a better one that you. And it scares the hell out of me."

I watched her as she retreated, crossing her arms loosely and looking away from me and down at the tile floor. "You think it doesn't scare me, too?" I put down my untouched glass of juice and walked up to her, holding her arms gently. "What do you want for Cameron?"

"What you do. I want her to be happy. I want her to do well in school and fall in love and travel the world and die a peaceful death in her own bed past age ninety. I want her to be happy." she murmured.

"Do you think she'd be happy at Gallagher?"

She gave me a ghost of a smile. "I think so. If she's like me at all, it'll be home for her. God forbid she ever meets Grace and Abe's daughter."

"Rebecca? Can you imagine what they'd get up to together? They'd keep the CIA and Six on their toes." I said, grinning at the prospect of Cammie and Bex—as she apparently insisted her parents call her—causing mayhem.

Rachel chuckled at this, finally letting out a real smile. She reached past me for the drawer where she kept her own chocolate stash and pulled out a few Reese's cups. We were silent for a little while, knowing that, for the time being, the weighty discussion of Cammie's future was on hold.

"Speaking of Gallagher, darlin,' did the brass mention anything to you about it?" I asked, daring to breach another topic I knew she disliked.

She let out a tired sigh. "Of course they did. Took advantage of my debrief and accosted me afterward."

"And?"

"What do you think I said? I'm not taking the job, I've never wanted it."

I shrugged. "You'd be a good Covert Ops teacher. And positions at Gallagher make bank, we both know that—"

"This isn't about the money, Matt. You know that," she said, cutting me off. "What makes them think an agent in her prime would be willing to step out of the field for a teaching position? They never just ask about Gallagher jobs. Roseville is a retirement plan, everyone at the Agency knows that."

"Because retirement for us always goes that smoothly," I said, unwilling to push back my sarcasm.

She glared at me. "Don't handle me, it's too late for that. What, you want me out of the field?" she said, half sarcastic.

This was true from a protective-husband standpoint, but the part of me that had seen her in action knew that a dumber notion couldn't exist. "Of course not, you're too good at what you do."

"Then end of discussion, right?" She dropped the candy wrappers in the trash can and rinsed off her hands. "I'm gonna go make sure Cam's asleep."

"Yeah."

Rachel gave me a quick kiss before disappearing down the hall, and I fought back a quick shiver. Why did it feel like everything was always hanging by a thread?

(A/N: Yes, those lines about working at Gallagher and spy retirement are shameless, kind of dark foreshadowing to what we know happens later. I couldn't help it.)