A/N: annnnddd. Its here! Sorry it took so long, but the story is 1300 words longer than usual. Not much, but I'm struggling to write as it is. I have writers block or some such. Tell me what you think of the chapter! Happy Holidays!
Enjoy!
~Shay
Admittedly, I missed the unity of the Gallagher uniforms until Rachel reminded how much they made us conform to a standard level.
Without free reign over my own fashion, I was just another teacher, one who could kill and flirt like everyone else. Nothingness, but it was the last few special. However, I could still make myself stand out from the rest of them. Simply with the way I carried myself.
Rachel had marched into my room as I graded papers and thrown various clothes onto my desk with a command to wear them at the career fair; the standard "business woman" look.
I immediately stalked into the closet and found a two sided shirt that was pretty similar to the one she had given me. The only difference was that mine didn't have 'Gallagher Academy' embroidered on the front. It wasn't really necessary, since it was very obvious I was no longer in the field if I was attending a career fair for high schoolers.
All students were off today, so the teachers could prepare the academy for visitor- visitors who likely carried all sorts of thing we specifically asked them not to bring in.
Each agency coming had provided us with flyers to place around the room, but they were accountable for setting up their stands. If I had to look at one more 'YOU'LL ALWAYS KNOW WHY WITH THE FBI' poster, I would likely vomit. It was moments like this that made me wonder if that summer in Cuba was such a bad idea.
I sighed loudly as I picked up the next stack. If I thought Budapest was a good idea, I was really off my rocker. The only reason I didn't quit right there, was the fact that Joe had hot glued one of the FTA flyers to his hand after his genius plan failed. I loved Joe; he was a brilliant spy, but I lived for his inventions. He tried to be an everyday MacGyver, super resourceful and a quick thinker on his feet; but nothing stumped him more than trying to invent something on-the-go. However, he could totally break someone out of a prison in Africa in twenty minutes (not that it had ever happened).
My brother saw my snickers from across the room, and came bounding over promptly. It was extremely amusing to watch him come hopping, literally, over with a smile on his face.
"Have a date tonight?" Joe asked me, sounding more certain than the question lead me to believe.
"No, why?"
"You're wearing fake nails." He supplied, picking up one of my hands and examined it closely as if he'd never seen fake nails before.
"It's for career night, they'll be coming off immediately after," I lied and then looked down at my papers as an idea to change the subject came to mind, "now, help me, please."
Joe gave me one pitiful look (probably because the lie was equally pitiful) before he hoisted me onto his shoulders. At least we wouldn't have to wait for one of the ladders to make their way to us again.
Admittedly, Joe and I began to show-off after finishing another stack of flyers; it wasn't the first time I had been perched atop his shoulders (Budapest was a really weird time for all of us).
Luckily, we were away from the wall when Joe decided to slip. Slip. It wasn't until we were both on the ground that I realized Joe wasn't just trying to jostle me. I had never seen Joseph slip on accident, but he was bleeding- so I doubted he has done it on purpose.
Then I felt a warm drip hit my cheek, and my hand went up reflexively; I caught a glimpse of a broken nail before I grazed the wound on my eyebrow. It wasn't gushing, but it was definitely enough to stain my shirt if I didn't control it soon.
"Joseph, what the hell, I'm going out!" I snapped at him, as we were rushed from every side with several different disinfectants.
I was vain. Very vain, so I knew the small cut wouldn't scar if I took care of it properly, but it would definitely be there tonight. Nothing Fibbs had in his lab would prevent that.
As we both stood, I caught a glimpse of a hidden smile; I couldn't help but think that was what he wanted all along.
I left the Barn after that, having the perfect excuse to get out of my work, and nobody bothered to stop me as I shuffled out.
I was halfway to my classroom when I pulled out my phone to message Belle. If she wasn't able to go out with me tonight, I'd have to find a very quick alternative.
To contact: Beauty and the Beast
-Want to go out tonight? I'm paying, you can pick the place. We can meet at 645. -
Normally I wouldn't allow the mission to be put in jeopardy by not controlling every aspect of it, but I wasn't sure what cammie would even be doing out in town. If I had to, I could guide our location once we were actually out on the town. Macey only told me the time, and it had to be enough for now.
It was about an hour before Belle responded back, the vibration of my phone against wood causing me to flinch.
From contact: Beauty and the Beast
-That sounds great. I was driving back into town and seen an advertisement for something called "Witches Brew at that diner we went to." -
To contact: Beauty and the Beast
-That sounds really great. Can't wait.-
I hoped witches brew wasn't as strong as it sounded, but it was very unlikely given how the mass majority of adults spent Halloween.
I allowed myself to be seen mingling with the staff before I slipped out and left. Every booth seemed to be filled with agents who knew me and wanted to talk about something I had done in the past (especially stuff I didn't want the kids to know; like how I had gotten the name Femme Fatal my first year on the job). I managed to prevent that specific story with a well placed kick to the IRS table leg, and I disappeared in that chaos.
Although it took every ounce of maneuvering and deception I was born with, I would have an alibi for every hour of the night if anything were to happen while I was away.
Even Cammie managed to make herself present, but her friends gave her exit away immediately and I followed discretely.
It was a mistake to stop at my room before I went, but I couldn't resist making sure I hadn't left anything lying around but my go-bag was packed and ready. I loved Rachel, but I would be gone the moment I needed to go. I didn't like lying, but I liked to be ready if I was ever caught.
A lone picture of Warren stood on my dresser. A laugh burst out forcefully as I remembered the circumstances of the photo.
We had been wrestling for the camera (I wouldn't stop taking pictures of him). with the amount of effort it took to pin him, I decided to take a picture while I straddled him.
I smiled again before pulling the door shut. Sometimes it was nice to see old photos and remember him, but sometimes it hurt to even hear his name spoken.
While walking down the hall I began humming a song I had learned to play on the piano 6 years ago. I never learned the words, and it had been for a mission, but it managed to pop up in my mind often enough that I hadn't forgotten the tune.
I found the change of clothes that Cameron had discarded in the tunnel, as well as the card with Max Edwards' name on it and I cringed hard. I hated the way career night also included recruiting kids who were nowhere near old enough to decide. Besides, Cameron was a CIA legacy, and nobody was going to recruit her while Rachel and I were around.
I could tell from the way the dust had settled again that Cameron was plenty far away. Maybe too far since I had made that stop in my room.
As I exited the passage, a thought crossed my mind. I pulled at my phone and called the number burned in my mind, I let it ring five times and hung up, repeating the process once more before I received a call back.
"Hello, Maxwell." I purred, and his deep laugh warmed me.
"Melantha. Always a surprise, and pleasure, to hear from you. " He replied.
I could almost imagine the scene unfolding, almost identical to one's in a spy movie. He would toss a casual glance over his shoulder to determine if he was alone, and then he would slink off to a dark corner.
"Are you finding Gallagher up to your standards?" I asked
I had no real reason for calling him, other than seeing his name has spurred something within me that I hadn't thought through.
"It's the same as every year; although I have to admit to you, I was looking forward to having you in my company again, yet I can't seem to find you at the school." He mused, as if he knew that I had no intentions of staying at the school on the first place.
"It seems we keep missing each other." I said, laughing a little, but his laughter didn't echo me.
"I never miss you." Maxwell told me, but I realized that the phone had cut short just moments before my reply, and I turned to see Maxwell Edwards standing at the mouth of the passage.
His dark hair was ruffled, like he had been running to catch up to me, but I hadn't heard a hint of labor in his breath.
"Hello Gallagher Girl." He breathed once we crossed the distance to each other; he hadn't called me that since our first assignment together (when I proved to him that Gallagher was more than a fancy title).
"Hello Blackthorne Boy." I whispered as I reached up to touch his cheek.
He had such dark features, and it complimented his handsome and mysterious personality. I wondered if he was as captivated with me as I was with him.
I smiled as I guided his lips down to mine. His response to the kiss was immediately; he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me as close to him as physically possible and tangled his free hand in hair. My reaction was very similar to his, but both of my hands found their way to his head. There was something about messing up his pretty boy hair that I couldn't resist.
It was when the kiss got steadier, slowing down to savor everything, that I pulled away from Maxwell.
"Come with me, Melantha." He offered, extending a hand that could be easily accepted, but I heard the hidden words, "forget whoever is waiting for you in town."
"I want to," I clarified before he finished the sentence, "but you can't."
I nodded softly; pretending not to see the hurt in his eyes as I left, and he pretended not see the uncertainty that always drove me away.
"I'll see you again, Gallagher Girl." He called across the short distance, but I didn't stop walking as I replied, "You'll only see me if I want you to, Blackthorne Boy."
The short interaction was engraved in my mind. Despite my attempt to go unnoticed, Max had noticed- he always noticed, but I knew that be wouldn't give my cover away. He proved his loyalty to me when convinced the Pope that I really was trying to save his life (as opposed to poisoning him).
He was in my head from then, even as I made it to the diner and seen Belle's car making its way down the street. I decided to wait out for her, smiling as she parked across the street and hurried over.
She looked marvelous, but a lot more casual than I was; the worry showed on her face that I forgot to mention a dress code.
"Sorry about this," I said gesturing to my clothing, "I have a twin sister and she needed me to play her double for a while."
Belle began laughing immediately, and pulled me into a hug. I could help but imagine it was Maxwell again, but she pulled away quickly.
"You must tell me the story." Belle said as we walked into the diner together.
The jukebox was playing a song from my teenage years, and a look to Belle told me she also knew it. I had never asked her age but I assumed she was only a year or two younger than me.
We picked a seat at the bar, sitting side by side; I had the best possible view of the windows, which was perfect for Cammie watching.
I knew Belle was waiting for me to tell her the story from the way she had turned her body completely to me, subconsciously showing that she was fully interested in the subject.
"My sister and I basically run a home school; mostly the kids of family friends, and she's sort of the principal I guess. Anyways, one of the single dads always schedule conferences with her to hit on her. She really didn't want to deal with him, so I dressed up as her and told him things she's too shy to say." I explained to her, trying to stick as close to the story as possibly.
Gallagher could be considered a home-school since our students were all sisters and Rachel would go to her grave being hit on by the dads of the students. However, Rachel was never too shy to say anything on her mind, but she wouldn't say what she normally would when a potential student was on the line.
"What's her name?" Belle asked, and my brain froze even though my mouth kept moving.
"Helen. My twins name is Helen, like Helen of Troy. Personally, I think she got the better name."
I smiled inwardly, glad that I had learned to go with the flow instead of depending on my brain for everything. A brain was a wonderful tool, but it could only get you so far as a spy; being a spy was 20% knowledge and 80% instinct.
"I wouldn't be so quick to judge. Clarice knew what she wanted and went after it despite being told she couldn't. Helen caused a war and allowed her people to be slaughtered but only protected herself ultimately." Belle replied, and I scoffed at her analysis of Helen.
"I suppose you're right, but I like her story. She can't really be blamed on her own, Paris can also be blamed, and a whole other bunch of males in her life. Helen is a survivor and she inspired a ten year war; that's a feat in itself, even though war isn't what we would consider to be a good legacy." I shot back playfully, causing Belle to laugh.
I started to laugh with her but I caught Cammie coming in and subtly faked a cough instead. Belle motioned the waitress over and the young girl listed off the specials for us. She looked to be a little older than Josh, and in her second trimester. I noticed the holes in her shoes, particularly at the heels and ripping at the seams.
"Does that sound good with you, Clarice?" Belle questioned me, like she was had noticed I was paying no attention to what she had ordered.
"I'd actually prefer some Cabernet Sauvignon, so you can just bring out a bottle of both." I answered her smoothly, but the waitress shifted uncomfortable on her feet and brought our attention back to her.
"I'm sorry, we're not allowed to sell bottles anymore. I can only bring you bottles out." She informed us quietly, expecting some sort of outrage as Belle and I shared a quick look.
"That's fine by me." Belle assured her and I nodded my agreement.
"I also have to tell you the individual prices of a glass; 35 dollars for pinot noir and 55 for the Cabernet."
A small smile plastered to my mouth as I realized how overpriced the drinks were, but the owner was definitely making his money back since he wasn't selling the bottles outright.
"That's fine, Ma'am." I said, and she nodded happily before hurrying away to the kitchen, nearly bumping into another waitress that was headed toward my nieces table.
"You know they're overcharging you for the drinks, right?" Belle asked, somehow interpreting my smile to the correct meaning.
"I didn't know you knew your wines. I'm not going to complain though; it's the company that's charging the price of a bottle for a glass, not the waitress." I answered honestly.
Besides, anger at the wrong person rarely got you anywhere in my line of business. In fact, it got you in trouble more often than not.
Banging on the diner window made Belle jump, and turn to the noise, catching the wild group of teenagers as the bombarded the restaurant. She rolled her eyes and turned to me again, but I kept an eye on them as they made their way to a jukebox. I didn't miss the two that stopped at Cammie and Josh's booth; they introduced themselves as Dillion and DeeDee.
It was easy to ignore them from there, especially since the blaring of popular chick song made it almost impossible to hear Belle speak. Even when our waitress walked back over with our drinks, I could only read her lips when she told us to call her over if we needed anything.
I could tell Belle was getting aggravated by the music, but it was over quicker than I thought it would be and I was able to overhear more of Cammie's conversation.
"It's a really snooty boarding school. The girls there are all rich delinquents or something."
Even though I only caught the last part of his sentence, I somehow knew he was speaking about Gallagher, and I was almost certain that Cammie was about to blow her own cover.
"Oh, really?" She asked as I asked Belle how her day at work was.
She immediately leapt into a story about her boss was a hack and had no business running a company.
"What? You don't, like, go there?" The Dillon boy asked, laughing so loudly that even Belle turned to see what the commotion was about.
"Is that your niece, Cameron?"
"Oh yea. I didn't even notice her." I lied, watching her and Josh exit the building.
I had to figure out a way to follow them now, and keep Belle with me as well as unsuspicious. I sighed inwardly as I thought about all of the schemes I had running. I had no idea how the prank had played out, or if it even had played out, and I had no clue if ATF was playing nice at the school (although I hadn't seen any spy parents crawling out of the cracks of town like last time) and I had no ideas about how to follow Cammie.
Being a spy was cruel and unnecessarily hard sometimes, but Belle smiled at me and I realized; I could always be a cute girl who couldn't speak an obscene amount of languages and was the affection of a infamous spy but was completely oblivious to the fact.