Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read my story! This is my first time on FanFiction so please bear with me. I will try and get a chapter out each week if I can. Any criticism is welcomed! I'm not looking for praise, I'm looking for critique so I can improve my writing. Thank you all :)

Chapter 3 – Cammie

Since there is nothing to do until a grab team arrives, I decide to assess my wounds. My head hurts a little and I can tell I'm bleeding from the shoulder. Behind the stairwell to the basement I find a tiny bathroom with a dusty mirror. I look at my reflection and find a girl, no a woman, standing tall and straight. I've come a long way since graduation. I look a little different since then, but not much. My face is a bit sharper and has a few wrinkles, but I'm the same Chameleon. The notoriety I had as a senior has worn off a bit, and sometimes people don't even recognize who I am until I tell them my name.

A sudden wave of nausea overcomes me and I find myself heaving in front of the toilet. All that comes up is a clear liquid, telling me I haven't eaten in a while. After a couple of minutes I get up and wash my face off in the sink. I wonder what day it is. A sense of panic rushes through my mind and I worry that I've missed another chunk of my life, but then I remind myself that it's only been a day or two at least. My clothes are still the same and they aren't that dirty, and I look completely healthy unlike the brainwashed girl from the first semester of senior year.

The pain in my head is a lot scarier than the scratch on my left shoulder, but I clean it with some antiseptic I found in the cabinet and go back into the kitchen. Since I have no memory after meeting Hakim Ketab on Tuesday afternoon, I decide to dig around the place to see if anything will spark a memory. I rummage through the papers on the desk and come up with nothing of value besides "Monsieur Djaout's" passport. His name is Jean Djaout and is from Algeria. That explains the passport, and the desert surrounding me. I'm probably somewhere in the middle of the Sahara.

Walking back to my chair, I hear a chopper in the distance. I turn sharply to look into the distance and pinpoint the helicopter that is unmistakably Interpol. Suddenly, another wave of nausea hits me. I expect to throw up again and my eyes begin searching for a trash bin. Instead, I feel nothing but a sharp pain in the back of my head. Darkness begins to creep in around the edges when my hand grips the chair; I'm barely holding onto consciousness when my support breaks from under me and I fall onto my knees. I can pick out a few shouts like, "There she is!", "Oh my goodness, is she okay?", and "Get the medic, now!" And then there's nothing.

Zach

My phone buzzes me awake and I look to see who is calling. Liz. I feel an ache in my heart as I ask, "Liz, was she there?"

"Yes," she replies in a stoic manner.

"So she's okay?" I sigh with relief. I suddenly feel the worry lift off my chest, but a sense of anger coursing through my blood replaces it. She shouldn't have run off, does she not understand how much people, I, care –

"Not exactly. They picked her up about ten minutes ago. When they got there she-" Liz pauses, "she wasn't conscious…"

"God," I interrupt as the blood drains from my face.

"…It gets worse. The medic, um, while he was working on her in the helicopter, Cammie, uh, began to seize." Cammie. My throat tightens and tears begin welling up in my eyes.

"Well do they know what's wrong with her?" I ask in desperation.

"Not exactly. She's had some sort of head trauma." Not again. "They are on their way to the hospital inside the Paris Headquarters of Interpol. You should meet them there. I've arranged a helicopter to pick you up in fifteen on the roof of the hotel."

All I can muster out of my lips is a short, "Thanks," and hang up. I plop onto the bed and look up toward the ceiling. I can't let myself think about it, my mind will wander too much toward what if.

Grabbing the packed suitcase off the floor, I leave the room and head toward the roof.

Cammie

I wake in a soft, four-post bed with a purple comforter and a lavender canopy. Light pours in through the windows that line the wall on my right. I get up and look between the shades and see mountains surrounding the entire house. I turn around to find men's clothing in a closet across from me. Zach?

Quietly, I tiptoe through the door and follow a short hallway. I hear a child's laughter and a familiar voice say, "Shh. Your mother is sleeping. Don't want to wake her up, do we?"

"Nope." I hear a little girl giggle.

I come out from behind the corner and see a small child on Zach's lap. They're sitting on a couch in a large, open living 's an older style home, and reminds me of a Gallagher common room.

"Mommy!" the little girl shouts, and runs straight toward me. All I can do is stare out of confusion. I look to my left hand and see a beautiful ring shining in the sunlight seeping from a stained-glass window. When did Zach and I get married? When did we have a kid? I look back at the girl; she has my eyes and Zach's face.

It's all too much for me and before I know it, the lights inside my head go out.

Zach

The trip takes exactly one hour and thirty-nine minutes. I step off the helicopter and follow an agent named Operative Dunning. We're on the roof of Interpol, and security meets us at the door to the inside. They take my weapons, but I don't mind. I just want to get downstairs to see her.

Dunning leads me inside and down two flights of stairs. We turn the corner and I see a man standing with his back toward me. I would recognize him anywhere.

"Dad."

He spins around and opens his arms, "Zach," he says. His eyes are filled with sympathy as he brings me into a fatherly embrace. "She's in surgery, son."

"When did she arrive?"

"Twenty minutes ago. She's had some bleeding in her brain. They are operating to stop the bleeding. These doctors are some of the best, you know." he says with a somewhat reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I know." We begin to walk down the corridor in silence. We make a left and I see Liz, Rachel, and Abby sitting in chairs outside an operating room. All three look up and stare at me, but none of them make a sound.

It's going to be a long day.