AN: The Zach chapter, as promised. It's long, but I hope you'll take the time to read all of it. I think this is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Approximately 95% of the dialogue credited to Ally Carter.
Zachary Goode had never met anyone like Cameron Morgan before. She was beautiful, sure, in that low-key girl-next-door kind of way, but she was also talented. If Zach hadn't been so fascinated with Cammie, he knew he would have lost her on the national mall that day. But he'd flirted, and she'd let him. She'd seen him.
Cammie had stood there, in front of those ruby slippers, and seen him. And for a boy who'd felt invisible his entire life, that was something. At least he'd felt invisible before he'd come to the Gallagher Academy, where testosterone-deprived girls drooled over him at breakfast, tried to corner him in the hallways, wanted to beat him up in protection and enforcement class.
But Zach only saw one. The rest were just noise.
Cammie saw him. And nothing else. No one else. It was unfathomable. Zach couldn't imagine it would last very long, not with the things Zach knew. Not with all the people who knew Zach's secret.
Even Rachel Morgan knew about his mother. Zach could see it in the way she looked at him, carefully appraising, at each instance, whether or not he could be trusted. Had he not found Joe in December, and told him that Cammie could be in danger, had he not begged Joe to help him leave the Circle of Cavan, he would never have made it inside the walls of the Gallagher Academy. No one ever would have trusted him to be this close.
Eventually, someone would tell Cammie. Eventually she would learn that her father was likely dead at his mother's hands. Eventually, Zach knew, Cammie would look at him and see her. The same way everyone else did. The same way everyone else always would.
But there was time yet. They were leaving the Gallagher Academy, for now, but Zach knew, in his heart, that this wasn't the end. The clandestine world was too small. He'd find her again. He'd always know where she was.
And then she was right behind him, making small talk about his luggage, and the bruises, and though he tried to be cute, tried to quip back, there was something he'd wanted to do the entire semester, but had never quite found the nerve. And in that moment he couldn't think of anything else.
So he called after her, and she spun to face him. And Zach didn't care that all of those nosy Gallagher girls were staring at him. He didn't care that his classmates would mock him mercilessly the entire ten hour journey back to Blackthorne. He pulled Cammie close to him, and he dipped her, in the middle of the lobby. And he kissed her.
Then he smiled, and said softly, "I always finish what I start." And then he left. He could feel her eyes on him as he stepped out of the Gallagher Academy. He could feel her lips on his the entire drive back. So he replayed every moment of that kiss in his head, on repeat, and memorized exactly what if felt like to have someone truly see him.
And then she was standing in an alley, on election night, shivering, and Zach found himself slipping off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. Sure, his hands may have lingered a moment longer than necessary, but he'd been watching Cammie from a distance all year (except for that time she'd found him at the rally, and their less than covert moment on the train) and he needed to assure himself that she was there. That she was safe. He needed to touch her, and know.
"Why were you in Boston?" Cammie demanded, and Zach found himself wishing, not for the first time, that Cammie's skills didn't live up to her reputation. Of course she had seen him in Boston. It hadn't been Zach's best disguise. And he had lingered a moment too long, then, too.
"There are things I can't tell you, Gallagher Girl," he heard himself say. And he knew it wasn't true. He could tell her. He could tell her that she wasn't safe, that she maybe would never be safe. He could tell her that he was one of them. That she shouldn't trust him, shouldn't even be standing alone in this alley with him. But he didn't. Zach knew Cammie deserved a few more moments of peace, before the war began.
He wanted so badly to kiss her again. To hold her in his arms and feel her lips move with his, and forget about everything. Forget about the Circle, forget about his mother, forget that every day of Cammie's life from here out would be a fight. He wanted to tell her that he'd fight with her, fight for her. But instead, Zach looked at the brilliant, beautiful spy-girl who was starting to pin down the truth, and said softly, "there are some things you don't want to know."
And then he saw the van. And then everything changed.
And then he was on an ice rink, in London, watching Cammie through a pack of boys on skates who couldn't keep their eyes off of Rebecca Baxter. A pack of boys who had no idea what they were missing. Zach almost forgot why he was there as he watched her spin, watched her watch him. Her eyes locked with his, and he knew she'd seen him. Of course she had. Cammie Morgan always saw him.
"Happy New Year, Gallagher Girl," he heard himself saying. Zach studied her. She was more reserved than he remembered, not sure how to approach him. He couldn't blame her. His cover had been almost blown in DC, and if anyone would have noticed, it was Cammie.
DC. His heart hurt at the thought of it. Yet here she was, in one piece, despite all odds. Surrounded by some of the best spies in the world. Spies who didn't even notice him. Spies who should have noticed him.
And yet he couldn't help but try to lighten the mood. "I used to have a warmer jacket," he joked, "but then I gave it to some girl."
"That wasn't very smart," she quipped back. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was a normal date. That they were just two normal people, out ice-skating and getting to know each other. Except that Cammie was anything but normal. And Zach was sure she would never truly know him.
"Besides, it looked better on you," he smiled. He wanted to kiss her so badly in that moment. To give in, and pretend that they could be together, without the weight of his world crashing into hers, and totally throwing it off of its axis. But he knew it was a foolish thought, so he held himself back.
And then Zach was standing in the Roseville town square and, unexpectedly, looking into the colored-contact covered eyes of Macey McHenry. This was all wrong. He'd been thinking about Cammie for days, aching to touch her, to know she was okay.
"I need to see her," he pleaded. He knew she was listening. She would never let her friends risk themselves like this while she stayed safe inside the mansion's walls. And he had to see her, especially after London. Especially knowing that Joe Solomon was on the run, accused of helping the one organization he would have traded his life, without hesitation, to destroy.
The same organization Zach would be accused of helping if he were caught with Cammie right then. But it didn't matter. He had to see her.
But she knew. Of course she knew, she was Cameron Morgan, after all. So she asked him the question he'd been dreading since the day they'd met.
"Did the Circle recruit you too?"
He wanted to lie to her. How could he possibly explain that he'd been born into this, groomed for it from the very beginning? That he'd risked everything to walk away. That he'd continue to risk everything. He couldn't, and he knew the words would sound false on his lips. So he muttered "Not exactly," and left it at that.
She couldn't let it go. It was infuriating and intoxicating at the same time, the way her mind worked. She was determined to see the whole picture in that instant, even if she shouldn't. Even if it meant learning things Zach didn't ever want her to know.
Zach had hated luring her to Roseville, away from her guards, away from the safety of the mansion, but he needed to see her. He needed to see her and touch her and know that she was safe.
"I'm fine," she assured him. But Zach wasn't. Zach knew he would never be fine again. Not as long as his highly tuned brain continued to run through every second in that alley in DC. Every second where he might have better protected her. Every chance to avoid that moment when she'd witnessed his mother's goon refuse to shoot him.
And then they were lying on a ridge above Blackthorne, and Zach was begging her to stay behind. Zach knew it would be futile, but he had to try. He'd always regret it if he didn't try. And then she was kissing him, like she might never have the chance to do it again, and for a moment he almost forgot why they were there. He just lost himself, memorizing every detail of that moment, mapping out the way her lips moved with his, the way her hands ran through his hair, the feel of her skin on his skin.
And then he was telling her to run. He was saving her from his mother and telling her to run. For a moment he'd been terrified she wouldn't, but she'd been trained by the best, and her survival instincts took over. "Goodbye," he whispered, as she set off back into the darkness of the tombs. And as he aimed at the explosives, he thought of that kiss on the hill. If he was going to die, he wanted his last moments to be filled with her, overflowing with the fire between them.
He didn't remember the explosion. He didn't remember taking cover, but he must have. He didn't remember pulling Joe from the wreckage and somehow taking him to Gallagher, but he must have done that too.
And then he was begging her to run away with him. Begging her to leave the weight of their worlds behind, and just be together. But she didn't take him up on it. Of course she couldn't, he knew that. He'd known it before he'd even asked.
Instead she left alone, and he had never felt more broken, frenzied, terrified, crazy.
And then she was home, at Gallagher, but it was all wrong. Her hair, her face, the ghosts that flashed behind her eyes. She'd learned the whole truth that summer, and Zach knew it the moment he saw her.
And then she was running through a narrow passageway, and Zach was chasing her with all his might. "Don't do that," he grabbed her. "Don't ever run away again." Maybe his tone seemed desperate, but he was desperate. She didn't know how he had searched for her, how he had blamed himself for her leaving. How he held himself responsible for every mark on her skin, for all the darkness he saw in her eyes. She didn't know.
"Are you afraid of me, Zach?" She asked, and he barely comprehended. How could he ever be afraid of her, his Gallagher Girl? Sure, Cammie was an exceptionally gifted and highly trained spy. Sure, she'd assembled that rifle in class as he could have, as if she'd been doing it since she was twelve. Sure, he'd seen her kill a man less than 24 hours ago, but the thought that he could ever be afraid of Cammie was unfathomable.
And then he was holding her close, absorbing the vibrations of her shoulders as the tears finally came. Her father. The circle. His mother, if you could call her that. Zach had known, from the moment Cammie returned, that she had endured terrible things that summer. But now she knew it too. And watching her suffer nearly ripped Zach's heart in two.
Eventually, she fell asleep, and Zach tried to be content that she was blissfully unconscious and wrapped safely in his arms, if only for a little while. What he would give to be able to protect her from the truth, from the circle, from Catherine.
It was silly, he knew. Cammie was all the protection she needed. She was strong and brilliant and talented, and she had out-spied him at nearly every turn since the day they met. Cammie had hidden from some of the best operatives in the world that summer. But she had also gotten hurt. And Zach wasn't sure he would ever truly forgive himself for that.
And then he was kissing her, hard, against the rough stone walls of the back staircase, letting the feel of her seep back into his bones. Two months had seemed like an eternity, and Zach had ached for her touch since the moment he'd left in December.
"You were gone, you were gone so long," she whispered, and the feel of her breath on his skin burned him, in the best possible way. He had to hold her, to taste her, to never let her out of his sight again.
"I'm back now," Zach said. Oh, how he had missed her. Her hair and her smell and her lips and just knowing that she was safe an alive in his arms. Zach wished he could promise to never leave her again. It would be worth it, just to stay in this moment. But of course he couldn't, they both knew he couldn't.
And then Cammie was telling him about his mother, if you could call her that, and how she'd been at Cambridge.
"If she hurt you, I'll kill her," he said, and he ran his hands through her hair, over her neck, down her shoulders, just to check, as though he hadn't just held every inch of her moments before. If he'd have found Catherine, he'd have done it already. How could he not, knowing what she'd done, knowing what she intended to do.
"Don't say that, Zach," Cammie whispered.
"But I will, Cammie," and he had never been more certain. "Someday I will."
And then they were standing at the mouth of a cave in the arctic, staring out at the most stars Zach had ever seen, and he thought about how many times in the past two years he had stared up at those same stars and waited for some feeling that Cammie was looking at them too. That wherever she was, she was alive, and missing him.
"I only see you," he whispered into her hair, kissing the base of her neck. He held her closer and tried not to think, tried to memorize every inch of her, every bit of this moment. Tried to push away the knowledge that this could be their last night together, that tomorrow he could lose her forever. It was unbearable, so instead he just spun her to face him and said "You know this is crazy, right?"
It was crazy, and they both knew it, and Zach wondered, not for the first time, if he was just biding his time. If out-running his past was just an impossible dream. If, despite everything, he was destined to join them.
"You don't get to be afraid of yourself," she whispered. "Not now." It shouldn't have surprised him in the slightest. Cammie always saw him. Him and no one else. And so he kissed her, knowing it could be the last time, drawing her into him, hoping that if he tried hard enough he might fuse his soul to hers, so that they could never be separated.
And then Zach was holding her on the front porch of a cabin in who-even-knew-where, and Cammie was asking "Are there any good guys?" Zach turned her to face him, and, despite all of his fears that a part of him must be inherently bad just because Catherine's blood ran in his veins, he whispered, "You're looking at one."
"Let's not think about the future," Cammie said. "Let's just not think."
So Zach pulled her into to him, kissing her deeper and more urgently than he ever had before, and she rose to his touch, running her hands over his shoulders, and down his back. And then they were together, truly, and it was crazy and reckless, but it was right, somehow, every moment of it.
And then they were twirling in moonlight, watching their families become one, and Zach was sure he'd never felt more at peace. He'd never seen either Joe or Rachel smile like that before. He'd never felt so grateful to have Cammie, in her flowing periwinkle gown, whole and safe in his arms. As he stood beside Joe, and watched Cammie and Abby standing beside Rachel, he couldn't help but wonder if the world just might be turning around. For the first time, Zach felt optimistic about the future. Their future.
"Do you remember that night at the safehouse?" Zach asked Cammie quietly. They had stolen away to the protection and enforcement barn as the celebration wound down, one of the few buildings that had somehow managed to survive the fire.
Zach still wasn't sure what made him say it. Maybe he'd had one too many glasses of champagne. Maybe it was the way the periwinkle played off the blue in Cammie's eyes, leaving him even more awestruck than usual. Maybe it was the way Cammie had danced all night, even though Zach knew her wounds were still hurting. Or maybe it was just the way this place had always brought the two of them together.
"Mhm," Cammie mumbled against his chest, her fingers reaching up and winding through his hair.
He took a breath. "When you said I'd be a good father. . . did you mean that?"
Cammie pushed away from his chest to twist her head up at him, so she could meet his eyes. "Of course I did." Her fingers stroked his cheek. "You're one of the bravest people I've ever known," she smiled. "And I don't think there is anything in this life, or the next, that could get between you and someone you love." Zach kissed her on the forehead, and she buried her head in his chest. "I should know, after all," she joked. "I've had a lot of first-hand experience in that department."
And then he was helping Cammie move to DC. Considering the fire, it shouldn't have been a large task, but Zach should have known Rachel Morgan Solomon never would send her only daughter off to college without all the appropriate pocket litter (most of which was far too large to ever fit in a pocket). Zach had moved into his own studio apartment in approximately ten minutes, but moving Cammie was different. Zach lugged box after box up the three flights to Cammie's tiny apartment near Georgetown's main campus, but it was worth it to see the excitement on her face as she embraced this new chapter.
And then Cammie was curled up in his arms, in his bed, at dawn, and the smell of her skin thrilled him, as he memorized every inch of her, every curve, every shadow, every hollow, every scar. In that moment, the world didn't exist, wasn't calling either of them to serve it. They were free to linger, wrapped up in each other, for as long as they wanted. And in Zach's opinion, forever would never be long enough.
And then Zach was watching her graduate from Georgetown, with Joe and Rachel beside him. And just for an instant, they felt like real people. Like a real family. Cammie smiled and posed for pictures. Zach kissed Cammie and gave her flowers (and none of the flowers were secretly weapons).
"I'm so proud of you, Georgetown Gallagher Girl," he whispered into her hair.
Rachel and Joe beamed, and slid Zach an envelope with two plane tickets to Pakistan (okay, not totally normal).
And then Zach was kissing her, frantically, wrapping Cammie in his arms and aching to run his hands over every inch of her. Drinking her in like a spring in the desert. Swearing to himself that he'd never accept another deep-cover assignment again, never leave Cammie's side as long as he drew breath. The pain of being without her touch, without her smile, without her for six entire months had been unbearable. The pain of not knowing where she was, how she was, that she was even safe had nearly killed him.
"You were gone so long," she whispered against his skin.
"Never again," he promised, and he meant every word. "No matter how they beg."
"I'm sorry we fought," she said quietly. "I've wanted to say that for so long."
Her words distracted him, just for a moment, from their glorious reunion. Pakistan. It was a painful blur, and he pushed it to the back of his head as he kissed her shoulders. It didn't matter now. And as much as Zach hated to admit it, he'd known all along that Cammie was right. His field instincts were always a bit compromised when it came to her.
"It's forgotten," he assured. And he ended the conversation by taking her lips firmly in his, pushing away any doubts she could possibly have that all was right between them.
And then they were moving to Chicago, and fighting, half-heartedly, about apartments and views, and landlords in other states. The doctors thought it might help Cammie's nightmares to have a change of scenery, and Zach would have followed her off the end of the earth if she asked.
And then he was standing with her back at Gallagher, in front of all of her friends, and their intertwined families, and asking her to be his wife. And she was saying yes.
Zach smiled at the thought, though he was no longer truly sure where he was, or even when he was. He was with her, and that was all that mattered.
And somewhere in the haze, she was whispering "I wish we'd gotten married." And Zach wished it too. He loved the thought of standing before their friends and families and making promises to each other. Promises Zach had made to himself long ago. To finally put a name to this hold Cammie had had on him since the very beginning.
"I love you," she said. "This isn't the end." Of course it wasn't. Zach didn't know what Cammie was talking about, but surely she should understand by now that the word "end" could never be applied to his feelings for her. Surely she must know that.
And then he was drifting and falling and staring into two faces he definitely had not expected to see. Two faces he knew were supposed to be across the world doing important things, not looking down at him in terror, as if he were fragile and helpless.
And then there was the thwak thwak thwak of helicopter blades. And then there was the prick of a needle. And then there was nothing.
AN: Thanks for joining me! I loved filling in the gaps in Cam and Zach's history, and I hope you enjoyed them too. See you back Saturday for the next installment.