You guys are the best, yeah? I can't believe this is almost over and I love you guys for keeping up with my shenanigans :* You're the absolute best readers! Here's chapter fourteen, and the second last one. I'm extremely sorry for the long wait, though. My bad :/

Just one more to go guys, this is both saddening and exciting! I have it written out already, and will be posting it in a few minutes. So, my proper Author's Note will be on there. I love you!

And please do keep the gorgeous reviews coming, they really do act as encouragement!

- Brooke xx

Chapter Rating: T

Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

Chapter Fourteen

There was pain and coldness wrapped around me, keeping me under. It beckoned me into oblivion, wreaking havoc with my mind and sloshing me around like tempting waves on a summer afternoon. I didn't want to wake up, ever. Everything was soothing and haunting at the same time. My unconsciousness did a brilliant job of being absolutely horrifying and terrifically comforting, both the emotions keeping me reeled in and my eyes shut.

But I had to open my eyes.

I woke up dizzy, my eyelids painfully wrenching themselves apart. I tried to move but my body felt like it was made of jelly. My face was in a pillow. My stomach felt fuzzy, as if I'd been laying on it for days. I tried pushing myself up and groaned, falling onto the bed again. It was as if all energy had left my body; left behind on the shores of the sea that had beckoned me in my dreams. I struggled again, my arms twisting under heavy bandages, trying to support my own weight. I could feel scratchy gauze around my torso, underneath the minimalist hospital gown that had been put on me. It was irritating, but I somehow knew that ripping it away would cause me immense pain. I was too much of a coward to try.

"Calm down," came Zach's voice and I turned my head, letting my cheek rest on the pillow. He got up from the chair he'd been sitting on and occupied the space next to me. He looked tired and wary, not to mention the white gauze bandage wrapped around his forehead like some creepy headband. I smiled a little and he returned it. His hand came up to push some of my hair off my face.

I winced.

"How bad do I look?"

"Define bad."

I groaned, shutting my eyes and heard him chuckle a little. The last thing I remembered was...the cave. And the gunshot. And then everything going dark. My throat felt a little raw and I groaned, again.

"How did you - find me?" I whispered. He shrugged and pointed at himself.

"Spy."

I gave him a look and he sighed.

"You didn't think we'd just let you run after her, did you? Grant and Bex followed you to the cliff and then called in for search teams till they found the tunnels. I wanted to come but...they wouldn't let me," he said, pointing to the bandage on his head. I frowned, remembering my hysterics when I'd tripped over him at the diner. I'd have thought, then, that the roles would be reversed and he would be the one in the hospital bed. Then my eyes widened.

"Oh my god, Bex," I said, trying to sit up and then flopping down on the bed again. My stomach protested.

"Is she alright? She didn't -"

"No. She wasn't in the diner when the bomb went off. She's fine. Everyone is fine."

"And Dayna -"

"Needed a few stitches and is in observation. But conscious and alright."

"What about Elaine -"

"They kept her for a few hours because she inhaled a lot of smoke -"

"What about you? Are you -"

"Gallagher Girl," he whispered, putting a finger to my lips. I kept talking against his hand and he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. He didn't move back, simply burying his face in my hair.

"Everyone's okay. We're okay."

"And Catherine?"

Zach went quiet for a few seconds and I shifted to get a better look at him. His face was blank but his eyes held an emotion that made my throat close up. He shook his head, acting matter of fact.

"She's dead. They've...her body is...there's going to be another burial, obviously."

"Zach -"

"She's dead. For good."

I scooted closer to him and he held my hands tightly. I wished he'd put his arms around me but judging by the state of my injuries, that would probably cause a world of pain. I simply let my head rest on his thigh, closing my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair. I felt bad. I didn't know why. I mean, I'd wanted to kill her. But I still felt incredibly bad, especially since the adrenaline had all worn off and only left me here.

"She talked about you," I said. "She said you had a very different mother-son relationship."

"Talk about stating the obvious," he scoffed.

"Tell me," I said, looking up at him. "If you want to. Tell me."

"She was...my mother." He didn't add more to that but I think, if anything, that was more than enough. She had been his mother. She'd taken care of him and sang him songs and brought him up to be a fighter. Was she the best mother he could've ever had? Not even close. But she had been his mother. And he was still a son who had lost her countless number of times. I squeezed his hand and he chuckled humorlessly, squeezing back.

"How is everyone? I mean, other than being safe?" I asked, quickly shifting the topic.

"Shaken. Relieved. I don't know. None of us have been debriefed yet. And there's still a lot of things that need to be figured out. But...everyone's alright. I think that's all that matters."

"Is it really over?" I didn't mean for my voice to sound scared. But I couldn't help but sound like a child that had been left to run through a house of mirrors, finding shadows and deceiving reflections in every corner she turned. I'd always hated the house of mirrors, even when I'd visited it with my Dad. As a spy, he hadn't been fooled very much. But, as a child, I had. Now that I thought about it, I hadn't fared very well as an adult either.

"I think so," he responded, leaning down to kiss my temple. The hand that wasn't in my hair reached out to lace through my fingers, squeezing them.

"I mean -"

"Cammie...It's over. It's finally over," he whispered.

"What about the others -"

"We'll think about it tomorrow."

"But if they're out there -"

"We'll think about it tomorrow."

"But -"

"Tomorrow," he insisted, squeezing my hand harder. "Tomorrow. For now, we're here and we're okay."

I sighed, pretending I didn't have relieved tears in my eyes.

"I'm guessing my back is pretty bad if I'm being made to sleep on my front?"

He winced.

"Sort of. I mean...you were on the ground so it was a lot better than it could've been. But you did get pretty roughed up - especially with the water and exertion. Scarring will take years to heal. But...essentially, no long lasting damage. You got lucky."

"It happens from time to time."

"I know. Oh, I know," he whispered, and my mind went back to when I'd been shot before graduation. I'd managed to scrape through again.

I guess that's what spies did best. We didn't triumph. We didn't become victors. We weren't heroes. We were just volunteers on a mission that risked our lives just to get information. Sometimes we didn't make it back. Sometimes we did. Either way, we always did one thing.

We didn't fight. We survived.

And as always, we scraped through.

"You're sure you don't want to do this from a hospital bed?" Bex asked, holding my hand tightly. I sent her a glare, knowing that she of all people would understand the need to stay on my feet and keep moving. I awkwardly hobbled through the hallways of Henle Hall, my back stiff. I'd taken painkillers and spent pretty much a week in the hospital. I hadn't required surgery, but it had taken some time for me to be able to even get off the bed. Apparently, most of the damage on my body wasn't because of the fire (that had only caused second degree burns) but from jumping in ice cold water, right after. It was a miracle I hadn't been on the brink of death, because when they found me my body had already started to run into a state of hypothermia.

The whole time I'd been at the hospital, I'd been given frequent updates on how Dayna was doing, and how Alex, Craig and Aaryan were all under lockdown until they were debriefed, as well. I was sure I'd have to answer more questions after, when I was getting my own formal review done.

"I'm sure," I said, squeezing her hand. Some passersby looked awkwardly at me. The official story was that I'd been at the "fire" at the diner, so it was no surprise. I think people in my dorms were suddenly used to barely knowing me, and then suddenly associating me with a shooting and a fire. I smiled back, equally awkward.

"Why are we doing this here of all places?" I asked.

"Because," Zach pointed out. "Once their memories are reset, they'll need to be in familiar environment immediately after. Just as a precaution."

I nodded. Once we reached the door, Zach opened it and ushered us inside. At once I took in the crowd that was inside our quaint apartment.

There were agents standing against the walls, temporary locks installed on the doors, various computer sounds and conversations in the air. In the middle of the couch sat Alex, Craig and Aaryan, all looking around nervously. If the CIA and MI6 badges weren't scary enough, then perhaps our ease at their presence was. Craig suddenly shot off the couch, ignoring the way everyone tensed at his sudden movements.

"There. They're here. Can we place get some explanations now? It's been a week. A week!"

"Craig -" I started, shaking my head and he narrowed his eyes at me. I frowned as he tilted his head.

"Your eyes...you...they're not blue. Why aren't they blue? Are you wearing contacts?" he asked.

"No. I'm not," I sighed, but Townsend cut me off.

"I urge all of you to remain a little more patient until we deal with our end of the business," he said, looking at my civilian friends. They shared worried and impatient glances, before sitting down. Townsend crossed his arms as he stared at us. I suddenly realized the position we were in and straightened up as much as I could, looking as professional as I could.

Behind us, Grant walked into the room and stood beside us, sharing a look with Townsend.

"As soon as this room clears up and all of us walk out that door, you will no longer be students enrolled at Georgetown University, Agents Morgan and Goode," he said, leveling his gaze with ours. "Agent Newman will remain on campus until the end of the academic year. Removing too many students at once will raise suspicions."

"I'm staying with Dayna and Elaine, until they can give me a valid story for leaving," Grant whispered to me.

"As far as your classmates are concerned," Towsend continued, "your family pulled you out after the unfortunate incidents of the past few weeks, Agent Morgan. You transferred schools, and Agent Goode transferred with you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Zach and I replied, in unison.

"Alright," Townsend nodded. "Catherine Goode is officially declared dead, and has been buried in her vacant plot in Virginia. Needless to say, this information will remain privy to those who were on this case. As far as anybody needs to know, Catherine Goode died in that fire years ago."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, agents, for your work."

"What about my job?" I asked. "I mean, am I still -"

"You will remain under suspension until you are given a clean bill of health, Agent. After that, we'll discuss this further."

I looked down, knowing that it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. Even though I'd essentially helped put an end to Catherine - which proved me to be an asset - I was still volatile and vulnerable. I'd achieved goals, but I'd broken a lot of rules to do that. And broken rules didn't go unpunished. That was a lesson I learnt very early, since my mother is a headmistress. Protocol existed for a reason. When people broke rules, sometimes innocent people got hurt. I was lucky that hadn't happened this time, but it easily could have. I had made my own bed and soon, it would be time to lay in it. But that could wait. I didn't want to think about that right now.

Instead, I turned my focus to my civilian buddies. They were staring at us, wide eyed and shocked. Townsend signaled the rest of the agents in the room, who dutifully stopped looking like guards and immediately looked like college kids hanging around a dorm. In cognito. Then they shuffled out, as if a huge study group had just been dispersed. Townsend shared a look with Grant and then left. But not before calling out to Zach, Bex and I.

"I'll give you an hour. Then, we leave."

The moment the door closed, Craig shot up again.

"Explain."

I turned to look at Grant, who stepped forward.

So, explain we did.

We didn't hold back on anything. Not when we knew they'd get their memory erased anyway. Besides, it would be better for them to have definite facts in their head. Definite lines were easier to erase over blurry messes. Perhaps it was pointless, but it was cathartic. We told them our real identities. We told them why we'd come here in the first place. We even told them about Cathy, and what had really happened on the cliff and at the diner. It felt like it took hours of storytelling, but it really was just ten minutes. The whole time Craig, Alex and Aaryan sat staring at us, their mouths gaping open.

"..And that's that," Zach finally finished, turning to look at me. I'd taken my spot on the floor, sitting cross legged and back painfully straight, watching him and Grant narrate.

"Wow," Alex whispered.

"Yeah," Aaryan nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he laughed.

"How is this funny?" Alex demanded, swatting his arm.

"Shut up, I thought the CIA were here for me or something. I'm just glad I'm innocent."

"Why on earth would they be here for you?"

"I don't know...immigrant? Not a white dude? How do I know how the CIA works?"

I shook my head, choosing not to comment on that. It wasn't my place. Instead, I just stared at Craig who was glaring at me. His expression was of anger, but his eyes showed pure betrayal. The deja vu of the moment hit strong, and I found myself looking at both Josh and Craig in that moment. I turned away but he stood up, crossing his arms.

"Was any of it real?"

"Craig -" I started.

"No, Lauren. Cammie. Whatever. Was any of it real? Was anything you told us real?"

"She does have a black belt in karate," Bex pointed out, ignorant of the tense moment. I threw her a look and she shrugged.

"Karate Kid indeed," Craig laughed, but it sounded a little cruel and wounded. "God, I can't believe I fell for someone who doesn't even exist. We let you into our lives. We decorated the best years of our youth around you guys. And you're telling us it was all fake?"

"Craig, calm down," Zach said and his eyes turned to my boyfriend.

"And you, Mr. Not-So-Russian. I let you live in my apartment. We gamed together. You watched football with us," he said, pointing to himself and Aaryan. "We trusted you like you were our own buddy. Brilliant. Good job, I guess. Are you two even really dating?"

Zach and I looked at each other, and nodded.

"Four years now, give or take a few months," I responded. Craig rolled his eyes, groaning. Alex stood up to put a hand on Craig's shoulder but he stormed off. He knew he wasn't allowed to leave the apartment so instead he just went to my old room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Alex moved to follow him but I called out her name. She gave me a look that said she didn't even recognize me.

"I'll - can I try talking to him?"

She clenched her jaw before sarcastically waving in the general direction of the rooms.

"Be my guest."

It took a little effort to stand up, and some time to actually go to my room. But the moment I closed the door, I knew Craig knew it was me.

"Shouldn't you be avoiding movement?" he hissed.

"I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

"Why?" he asked, whirling around. "What's there to say? Nothing you say can change the fact that one of my best friends isn't even real. You're not the person I thought you were. Not even close. You're never going to be Lauren Daniels. You never were Lauren Daniels. And I don't know what hurts worse. The fact that you're not her. Or that she isn't even a real person."

"But I am a real person. We're the same person."

He scoffed but I continued.

"So, she has a different name, and a different hair and eye color. So, she has different family members and different school friends and maybe she wasn't on the debate team. So what? It was still my emotions, my words, my thoughts. Doesn't that count for anything?"

He shook his head.

"If it weren't for the fact that you had an ulterior motive the whole time, then maybe it would count for something. But the fact that none of it was real overshadows all of that. Because you were never here to stay. You were just infiltrating our lives to get what you wanted."

"I didn't pick you to hurt, Craig -"

"And that just makes it worse! Because we were an assignment! We could've been anybody, as far as you cared. It didn't matter who we were. We were just collateral damage, right? We're always collateral damage in whatever you guys do."

I looked down, knowing he was right.

"I'm sorry."

"That means nothing to me."

"But I'm still sorry. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry you were dragged into this mess. I'm sorry that Lauren isn't real."

"No, you're not. You're just saying these things to make yourself feel better and unburden your own guilt. You don't really care what happens to us. You just don't want to feel guilty, so you just want to hear me say: I forgive you. That's it right? I'm the magical fountain you're coming to, just so you can wash away your sins? Is that what will make you leave? Fine. Then there. I forgive you. Are you happy now?"

"No."

"Well, tough luck, sugar."

I looked up at him again, and his expression wasn't furious. It was heartbroken. I felt my own heart break a little, which was a bad sign for a spy. I mean, we were supposed to be beyond this. I wanted to give myself the excuse of this being my first "real" long term assignment, or of them being a part of my life for so long. But all I could think was that, we weren't an agent and a civilian. He was my friend. And he was hurting. And I was the girl he loved. Except I wasn't.

"Craig...I do think of you as my friend. You'll always be my friend. You have to know that."

He turned away and I reached out to grab his wrist. He struggled to pull away but I didn't have to mind my strength anymore, so I kept a death grip around his wrist.

"Please, believe me. Believe that."

He sighed, but not out of exasperation. His face scrunched into an expression of pain and longing. I reached out and hugged him, with a certain degree of difficulty. Luckily, he had the good sense to not wrap his arms around my back. Instead, he put his hands on my shoulders, after hesitating for a few minutes.

"Why can't I be mad at you?" he whispered.

"Because you know, this time, I'm saying exactly what I mean. No lies. Not now," I replied, pulling away to look at him. He narrowed his eyes at me, reaching forward to twist a lock of my hair. Gone were the long, dyed brunette locks. While the dye still remained in my hair - albeit, faded - the long tresses I'd taken so much to effort to grow, had been removed. Most of the hair had been singed at the ends and, according to Bex, Macey had requested one of the best beauticians in Washington D.C to chop my hair. The woman in question hadn't even batted an eyelash when she'd had to work around a hospital bed. When Macey had arrived to inspect, she'd been pleased enough. It had been one of those rare occasions when we'd had a chance to meet, despite being in the same city for so many months.

"It's weird looking at your eyes and not seeing blue. It's like you're...fading out," he said, tapping the blonde roots of my hair. I smiled sadly.

"That's me. Cammie, the Chameleon."

"So...spy, huh? Is it as badass as it sounds in the movies?" he asked.

"I think the amount of hurt you're feeling right now is proof enough that it isn't," I said. He nodded.

"I need some...I need to wrap my head around it. All of it. You. Iv - Zach. Grant. Carrie - Cathy? Whatever. All of it. But...you owe me big for this," he whispered, a hint of his old mischievous smile back on his face. I knew him well enough that he was hurting just as much and was quickly retreating to his defense mechanism of choice - humor. I also knew him well enough to play along.

"At least ten movie dates," I nodded, fighting back the lump in my throat. Don't cry. Don't cry. He's part of an assignment. Don't cry.

"Twenty, minimum," he corrected before moving to the door. I had my back to him, taking a shuddering breath.

"Hey," he said, just as he opened the door.

I turned around, raising my eyebrows, wondering what else he possibly had to say.

"Looking good, Morgan."

Then he left.

I found myself sitting on the edge of the passenger seat, the seatbelt pressing me into it uncomfortably. My nails were frayed from picking and the setting sun left a dangerously fiery glow over the dashboard. I heard the driver's side door open and Zach slipped into the car. He was faring much better and had even been deemed fit to drive. It was hardly fair. I felt like a damsel.

"I know what you're thinking. Don't. It's just until you're healed and then you'll be back in business."

I didn't respond to his commentary. Instead, I watched Grant bend low and press his hands against Zach's open window frame.

"Did you do it?" I asked, my voice low.

Grant nodded.

"Yeah. It took some amount of coaxing, and an attempt of Aaryan's to take over the kitchen duty. But they're all fast asleep, fed and exhausted."

And drunk. Drunk on that damned tea that always changed everything in favor of our business, and nothing in favor of our emotions.

"They'll be alright, right?" I asked. "You'll make sure of it?"

"I promise."

Then he pushed back from the car, waving goodbye before walking back in the direction of Henle Hall. I swallowed thickly.

Zach's hand reached over to squeeze mine and I felt my lips tremble. He pulled my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.

"It's not supposed to hurt this much. It's not supposed to hurt at all," I insisted.

"Letting go always hurts, Gallagher Girl. And we have a long ride to deal with it," he reminded me.

"Where are we going?"

"You tell me. Where do you want to go?"

I paused, wondering. I could visit my grandparents in Nebraska, whom I hadn't seen in nearly two years. We could just turn in the direction of Roseville and visit my mother. But the idea of going back so soon after Josh's funeral was just too painful. We could drive to Blackthorne with Bex. But that wasn't entirely appealing. Bex? Yes. Blackthorne? Not really. We could drive cross country to California and visit Liz.

But despite all the options, only one image came to mind.

"Home. Take me home, Zach."