Zach's POV

Cammie has been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past 24 hours. Her previously dislocated shoulder that had been fixed was dislocated once more during the car crash, causing nerve damage to her left arm. Unfortunately, we have no idea of the extent of the damage until she wakes up and stays conscious for more than a few minutes. Since she has been out, I have been debriefed on the cock up that was the previous mission. And after long hours of consultation with Joe and the boys, we have concluded something that I would never have thought true. Cameron Ann Morgan is the chameleon. I have turned the thought around in my mind so many times, and it fits and explains all the events that we have thought coincidences over the past few weeks. The Chameleon is a 17-year-old girl, with straw blonde hair and an attitude that could make a monk break their vow of silence. Cammie Morgan. It makes no sense, but at the same time it does. She is an orphan, her parents died in a car crash along a highway after bringing her home from the hospital when she was one day old. Those parents must've been CIA agents. She is a girl. She goes to Gallagher High. She shares the same birthday as the subject. I bang my fist on the desk in Joe's office, creating a resounding thud that echoes around the room and making the pages lying on the desk jump into the air as if scared by my rage. I thought that finding out the identity of the Chameleon would make this easier, and our mission would be simple: protect the girl and hide her from the Circle of Cavan. Unknowingly, taking the girl into the CIA has made this harder. Our focus is no longer finding the identity of the Chameleon, but training her with the sole purpose so that she can protect herself from the Circle. And the Circle of Cavan is a big pain in my ass, but not just mine, the whole of the Department of Defence's big ass. They are a merciless group of fanatics dedicated to making this world better by assassinating those who do not conform to their beliefs. They believe that the world could be made a better place if all the non-conformists to their dictatorial state were eradicated, to leave one leader in charge of the world and degrading the quality of life for those not in the Circle. They were founded by Ioseph Cavan, a ruthless man who attempted to assassinate President Lincoln with a sword, as Lincoln dismissed the Circle and refused to meet their demands of surrender. It was only four months ago when I had returned from Cuba with Grant, after an eight-month operation in which I infiltrated the Circle's secondary base leadership in Havana. It was then I had been shot, during our emergency extraction once we had been discovered as double agents. To this day, we do not know how the Circle knew about us; the C-team are working on it. They still have not been detected in the Havana base. Because we were found, it was absolutely vital we had to be extracted immediately. They have been known to employ cruel torture methods in order to gain gems of information from their prisoners. I watched it happen. I made it happen sometimes. Some things are necessary to complete in order to stay undetected in the field. And so I do them. It's my job. It doesn't mean that it doesn't haunt me at night.

The Circle of Cavan wants the Chameleon to be their programmed super spy. I grin as I play back the memories of training Cammie, the futile practices and lessons and her uncanny ability to trip over air and get injured so easily. Cammie is by no means a super spy, merely a schoolgirl. Nonetheless they still want her, they know she is the Chameleon; they know her as Cammie. The man knows her as Cammie, and looked at her as if she was his property, as if he claimed her years ago. I grab my hair in frustration and lean my head back as I try to work through the possibilities and answers to the questions that the CIA have. The door bangs open, and I open my eyes to see Grant entering the office with a grim look on his face.

"The girls are going out."

I grimace, "let them go. I'm guessing you are going to join?"

"Yes. But when I say girls, I mean all of them. Cammie is going as well Zach."

My grimace deepens. We haven't told Cammie yet that she is the Chameleon. She is in no state to be told that a whole organisation is after her to try and turn her into a personal slave, let alone the fact that her two dead parents were former CIA agents, agents affiliated to the organisation forcing her to become of us and now holding her prisoner. It is essential that Cammie stays within the Pentagon headquarters and have one of the A-team members with her at all times. We cannot lose her, not when it is so obvious that the Circle want her. They will not stop till they get her; it comes with the ruthlessness that all members of the Circle seem to possess.

I stand up, ignoring the sting of pins and needles shooting in my foot, and walk out the door, following Grant down the white walled corridors to the girls' accommodation. As we near an inconspicuous door, I hear the sounds of music being played out loud, and the murmur of chat. Grant gives me a weak smile of what I think is encouragement, before opening the door onto what seems like a bombsite. Clothes are strewn on the floor as well as shoes and make up. Three of the girls were huddled round the single mirror in the room, applying makeup using pointy appliances which look like they do more harm than good. Bex, Liz and Macey are singing loudly, not necessary well, to the song playing from a set of speakers in the corner of the room. I do not recognise the tune, but that is understandable considering I have been confined to a Cuban military base for the past eight months. The girls swing their hips in time to the deafening beat, and I silently chuckle as Preston blatantly ogles Macey's ass. I notice that Cammie isn't with the girls, so I turn around to try and find her.

Immediately, my eyes see her lying on the bed, her lids closed. She is lying with her hand underneath her head and her ankles crossed at the end of the bed stretching her out. My eyes look her up and down and I will not lie and say that I do enjoy the view. Her hair falls softly around her face in gentle waves, and her face has a subtle amount of make up on. Her eyelashes are darker, no longer their delicate golden colour, but now a striking black, contrast to the paleness of her face. Her bruises and small abrasions on her face have been expertly covered up, making her complexion looking smooth. Following the long column that is her neck, I reach the top of her chest which has a white lacy material stretched across it, following each curve of her body down to the tops of her thighs. They lead to long legs that would otherwise be flawless, except for the bruises adorning them. Each was a myriad of colours, a multi-coloured rainbow palette that covered parts of her legs from her thigh down to her ankles. There are thin straps of red wrapped around her ankles in a criss-cross pattern before leading towards heels that were of a substantial height. I travel back up her body, maybe lingering too long over her hips and breasts, but hey, the dress was made to accentuate what was there, and Cammie definitely has curves there. I look up to her face, still expecting her lids to be closed, but my gaze is met with icy blue eyes, which stare back at me accusingly. She raises one eyebrow up at me in question, and I don't break her stare, instead letting a snide smirk show on my face.

"Wow, you actually have boobs."

Her face scrunches up in disgust and crosses her arms in front of her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and planting them on the floor. She moves to stand up, but as she does, she misjudges the height of her heels, and launches forward. I catch her in my arms, and pull her flush against me so she can support herself. I can feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest, and because of her added height, her arms can easily encircle my neck as she steadies herself. I bend my head so that it rests in the curve of her neck, the vanilla hints of her perfume surrounding my nose as I inhale.

"No need to throw yourself at me," I whisper in her ear, grazing the soft shell of it with my nose, just to tease her with the tiniest of touch. I feel her shudder, and her fingers grasp my collar behind my neck for a second, before I think she realises what I have just said. She pushes me back slightly so that there is just a thin layer of air between us that is crackling with electricity.

"No Zach, I won't be throwing myself at you, just other guys tonight. Have a good night in."

I cannot stop looking at her lips as she says this; they are so red, a blood red that matches her studded heels.

"No fucking way." I pull back as I appraise her confused face, "you are not allowed out of the Pentagon. Rules are bloody rules Cammie. You are not risking your life, and the life of your associates just because you want to get off for one night. Stop being immature."

Her forehead crinkles as a frown mars her pretty face, and she steps back so that we are no longer close to each other. "For God's sake! I'm sick of the 'Keep Cammie in Fort Knox' plan! I know the bloody Circle of Cavan is after me, and I don't have a goddamn clue why, but I'm not going to live in the Pentagon for the rest of my life, or until the stupid A-team obliterates the hell out of these fricking murderers!" She gestures wildly to me as she continues. "So you," she jabs a fingernail at my chest, "especially you, cannot tell me what the hell to do, when you have basically bloody kidnapped me!"

I purposefully stride back over to her, so close that I can feel the heat from her rage burning into me from those icy blue eyes. "I am your trainer, your supervising officer and therefore you are my responsibility. If you are not ready to go out into the field in five days time, then I will be blamed for your lack of training and lack of will. I will be blamed and punished for the fact that you jeopardized your mission and training so that you could go out one night and act like a stupid girl!"

"Jesus Zach, lay off. We'll be there, Grant, Jonas and I. That's three agents and the Circle are not likely to do anything tonight. We got it bro alright?" Preston comes over to clap my shoulder in reassurance. I look over to him and see him dressed in his black ripped jeans and a white top stretched out over his bulging muscles. It's his typical 'pulling the girls' outfit, and because I have been out with him a lot, I can safely say it is very successful. Meeting his eyes, and then looking back over to Cammie who is fuming, I feel like I have to give in. It will do us no good to become enemies during our training, even more so now when we know that the Circle wants Cammie and the need for her to be fully prepared is greatened. I throw my hands up in the air and storm out of the room, ignoring the shocked looks on the girls face, and the stormy eyes of Cammie on my back. I slam the door behind me so that the sound echoes around the corridor, stunning some innocent people on their way out of the building. I raise my hand in apology, and let out a big sigh. Some part of me knows that if I let Cammie and the girls go with Grant, Preston and Jonas, and if something happens, I will never forgive myself. Plus, Jonas doesn't really count, he only just passed basic training, and he is just on the A-team because of his brains. Don't get me wrong, the guy is an absolute legend and is my brother, but if a fight does happen, then it is really just two main players against the Circle. Grant also has low alcohol tolerance, and I know he will be drinking tonight, and Jonas will probably be in a cleaner's closet with some girl who's face and name he won't remember two hours after the ordeal. They need me there. I turn around in frustration and punch the wall beside the door. Searing pain shoots up my arm, but I don't react to it. I have punched harder things than this wall before. My right hand's bones has been shattered numerous times on missions, when guns have been abandoned and fights are settled using the old fashioned way. I settle my breathing down so that it resembles normality before I open the door into the girl's room again.

"We leave in fifteen minutes. Meet us by the third stairwell. We are all going tonight."

A/N:

Hey! So sorry for the long wait, some personal issues prevented me from continuing this fic, however I assure you that Chance is going to be renewed with regular updates hopefully! Leave a review telling me what you think, I would love to hear from you.

I would also like to start having someone as a Beta on this story, if you are interested, please PM me!

Thanks for reading :)