Cammie

Three days. That's how long it was until I had reached any sort of civilization.

Ten o' clock, is what my internal clock told me it was, when I reached the edge of the tiny town. I looked around at street signs (they were in German) and the mountain range in the not-so-far-off distance. The air was cool and thick. Somewhere in southern Germany, probably, I thought.

The windows in the tiny shops lining the streets were dark and there wasn't a sign of a person for as far as I could see. I decided I was safe.

Now, I don't condone stealing, but I was in a pretty bad situation here, and I needed some supplies. My cuts would be infected if I didn't get them treated soon and I was sure my right arm was broken. These were the immediate problems. Then they get more complicated.

I have an international terrorist organization after me, my best friends and the guy I love (yes, love. I guess spending a few weeks being tortured can make someone appreciate the finer things in life. And realize how good someone makes you feel by just being near you) all think I was killed by said organization, and having the said terrorist organization know where you are means that you have to start all over again with a cover and moving around every few weeks and no missions for a while.

I couldn't go back to that. Not now. So I knew what I had to do. But first things first.

I crawled painstakingly slowly through the air vents. My broken arm protested each tiny jostling movement. If you were wondering, I was breaking into one of the small clothing stores that they had. Despite the severe lack of a good security system, I couldn't risk getting caught, so better safe than sorry.

I dropped down through the ceiling and landed on the floor with a cringe. My left ankle wasn't feeling so great. I needed a disguise.

The store was small—about the size of the bedroom from the La' Rue's mansion—but it held most of the stuff I would need. I started toward the jean rack, and then almost immediately cursed myself. They would be looking for someone blending in. So, in this case, the only way to be overlooked would be to stand out.

~O~

Zach

I the eyes of the agency, the mission was a success. It was seven days since we broke into the COC headquarters (A.N. that would be four days after Cammie found the small town in southern Germany) They didn't know that she was dead yet. I guess my part of my mind still hadn't processed the fact; I wondered if it ever would.

As a reward for a good job, the agency was allowing us to stay for another week. Then we would have to go back. We would have to look the director in the eye and tell him that one of the best field agents he'd ever had was killed. I dropped my head into my hands, fingers combing through my hair, dyed blond.

The cold railing that my arms rested on dug into my skin, but I didn't particularly care at the moment. I looked around at the sight that I probably at some point would have found beautiful.

I was standing on the Eiffel Tower, in the same place that Cammie and I had that one night. Then, I had been too captivated by her to really pay any attention to the view of Paris. The lights dancing in her eyes held more wonder for me than the City of Lights ever would. I 'm sure that in my happiness of being with her, if I had taken the time to actually take in the view, I would have loved it. But the city held no magic anymore.

Bex, Liz, and Macey were all still mourning their best friend, with Grant, Jonas, and Nick still trying to comfort them the best they could. I couldn't handle all the sadness—I had enough of my own. So I had decided to go for a walk, and inexplicably, my feet had led me here. This had brought me nothing but more grief.

I took the elevator down to the ground, determined not to think about her. But of course, that just made me think about her more.

I walked through the crowded streets, not really caring where I went, as long it was away from there. People brushed past me, but I just kept on resolutely marching forwards.

I had started to get near the hotel we were staying in again, and decide to go back. Hopefully they had settled down. An upset Bex is one thing that I didn't need right now.

~O~

Once I got into the room, the first thing I noticed was it was quiet. Quieter than it had been in the last few days. Usually there was crying, or screaming, or the sound of Bex punching something (or someone), but right now, it was dead quiet.

"Oh, you're back." A voice said quietly. Liz was standing in the doorway to one of the bedrooms. "They're all asleep. It's been a rough few days for all of us." That was a huge understatement, but I nodded and draped my jacket over the back of a chair. Sleep sounded pretty good right now.

"What's that in your pocket?" Liz asked softly. She was probably exhausted too. But her question confused me. I hadn't put anything in my pockets.

"I don't know…" I said, but went over to check it out. Sure enough, sticking slightly out of the front pocket of my jacket was a small piece of paper. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It only had a few words in neat handwriting.

Meet me in the park. Midnight.

I read it out loud for Liz and she look thoughtful, probably running through all the possibilities in her head.

"I wonder who it could be…" She mumbled. "It could be a trap from the Circle, but it could also be someone from the Agency, or it could be—"

"Liz? Do you recognize this handwriting?" I asked. She took it out of my hand and studied it closely.

"No. I can't say it's someone I know by name, but it does look familiar in a way. I've seen it somewhere before. Maybe it's someone I know trying to disguise their handwriting… but it's almost as if they've left it similar enough where I recognize it somehow…"

"Should I go?"

"I don't know. If it is someone we know, it could be important, but then again… if it's the Circle, you'd be a sitting duck, there alone." She sounded doubtful. "I mean, if it's someone we know and it's that important… they could always come here if we ignore it…"

"No." I said, surprising even myself. There was something about this that made me determined. "I'll go. You guys can be a minute away listening to the conversation and if something happens, you'll be here to help me."

"I'm not su—"

"Sounds good to me." Said Bex, appearing over Liz's shoulder, apparently having heard the entire conversation. "We all need something to distract us right now. It's 10:45 right now, we should start getting equipment ready. I'll go grab Comms. Liz, you can wake up the boys and Macey. I'd probably end up shouting at them to get the out of the bloody bed, and I don't think that the people next door who are trying to sleep will take too kindly to that." Liz looked startled for a second, but didn't question Bex. I guess this had happened before.

I kept staring at the note. Who was it from? How had I not noticed the brush pass? Well, I guess I wasn't paying much attention to the people around me, but I usually noticed everything like that…

Grant, Nick, Jonas, and a very grumpy looking Macey came out of the bedrooms. I knew they'd been filled in on what was going on because otherwise Grant would be complaining loudly, and Macey would be threatening to do who-knows-what to us for waking her.

~O~

12:00 sharp, I was standing in the middle of the closest park to our hotel. We had assumed that whoever left me the note had meant this one, because they hadn't specified. My hair was dyed black now, and my contacts were brown, slightly irritating with the miniscule camera Liz had implanted in them, letting them see everything I saw.

I had trackers in my shoes, in my hair, one in a pill that I swallowed, and even one place in my ear. Apparently, they were ready to do whatever they had to so that we wouldn't lose another person tonight. I looked down at my watch.

12:15.

"You sure this is the right park?" I whispered into the Comms. I was sitting on a bench, casually, as if I just happened to be strolling around a closed park at midnight.

"Of course we aren't." Bex answered irritably. "We might have been sure if the bloody idiot who gave you the note had been a little more specific."

"Just wait a few more minutes. If they aren't here by then, we'll move on to the next p—" but Liz's voice was drowned out by the roaring of an engine.

Outside the entrance to the park was a bright red motorcycle, and on the motorcycle was a figure. They got off and pulled off their helmet.

It was a woman, with dark auburn hair waving down to her shoulders, and her skin fairly dark. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night.

She wore black skinny jean with open-toed, high-heeled ankle boots. She had a fancy red tank top on, covered by a cropped leather jacket, and leather gloves covered her hands.

"Zachary Goode." She said. Her voice held a hint of amusement, as if she knew something I didn't. She strode forwards confidently, even though I was almost six inches taller than her. "I thought you'd come. You do know curiosity killed the cat, don't you?" she said playfully, and I stood up from the bench. Her voice sounded as if she came from somewhere exotic, like Brazil, but it held a note of something that was extremely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"I have no idea who she is." Liz whispered, if she has a disguise, I'll be able to figure it out soon. Just keep her talking for a minute."

"Stupidity killed the cat, curiosity was framed." I answered after pausing to hear Liz. I held my hand a she shook it, a smile tugging on her lips again, as if she found this all very entertaining. "And you are?"

"Tanya." She answered. "I was a double agent for the agency with the Circle, but my cover got blown when one of our prisoners escaped and they thought I was responsible."

"Oh?" I quirked an eyebrow. "Do you have a last name, Tanya?"

"I do." She answered but didn't elaborate. "I guess you're wondering why I asked you to meet me here."

"Yes."

"I have some information that I think you, and all the people listening to us through the Comms would be interested in." I didn't react to her knowing about that. She probably would have guessed I would have back up. "Yeah, how have Rebecca, Elizabeth, and Macey been since the ball? I would guess they would be shaken up about their friend and all."

"They have been." I answered shortly, not wanting to talk about that night, despite the fact that we seemed to be heading down that path. "You said you had information."

"Yes. I was just wondering how they were." She sighed heavily.

"Let's just get this over with." I told her. "Tell me what you know that we don't." She cast a quizzical glance at me.

"Your girlfriends not dead, you know." She replied after a second of silence. I sucked in a quick breath and the Comms were silent.

"Since when? I don't know how reliable your sources are, but I was there when she got shot in the head." I answered through gritted teeth.

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "I had no idea. Look, you were blindfolded, then they knocked you out afterwards, and no one else actually witnessed it, did they? There was no body left behind afterwards. What would the Circle want with a dead body? And they left the rest of you alive, why? So that you could spread the word that she was dead. The gun wasn't loaded. The whole scene was planned so that you would think the COC killed her, while she would be taken somewhere where they could question her, without a chance of any rescue missions." I couldn't deny that everything that she had said made sense, but I didn't want to get my hopes up.

"Where is she now? Which base? If they took her, they'd be torturing her right now."

"Oh!" she laughed. "You don't have to worry about that. You already helped her escape. When you guys broke in to steal the chip back, it created the perfect amount of chaos for her to break out. She was in pretty bad shape, though…"

"But if she's alive, and she's not being held prisoner by the circle, why couldn't she come here and tell us this herself?" she tried to hold back another smile, but failed.

"Oh, Zachary, she didn't want to put you in danger. If she came back as herself, the Circle would know. You'd be in danger, she didn't want that. That's why she asked me."

"Where is she now?" I demanded. If this was true, I didn't care how much danger I would be in, I wanted to find Cammie.

"Where she is now… I'm sure Lizzie can figure that out soon enough. Where she will be is another story. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be."

"Then how will we know where to find where she is now?"

"It's obvious, isn't it Zachary? She wants to be found. At least for now, so you can know for sure that she really is alive." She started to walk away, back towards the motorcycle and my mind was buzzing with everything she had said. She got on the motorcycle, put on her helmet, and started the vehicle, but before she left, she pulled off her sunglasses for a moment. Her eyes were a striking hazel, so familiar and so full of feeling that it nearly knocked me off my feet. Then she started talking and her voice lacked the exotic edge it had held before. "One more thing. Cammie said she loves you, Zach."

Over the Comms, which had been oddly quiet the entire conversation, Liz gasped.

"Zach, stop her." But I stood frozen. "Zach! I mean it! Don't let her leave!" The woman who had said her name was Tanya gunned the motorcycle and the bike leapt forwards. I unfroze and ran forwards, just in time to see her turn around the corner and disappear. It would be impossible for me to catch up without a car. Her eyes, they were so familiar. So soft, so kind.

"Who was that?" I whispered over the Comms, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, God…" Liz said, her voice sounded airy, as if someone had just punched her. "Zach, that was Cammie."