"Let's start walking. We'll get somewhere...eventually." Cammie suggested.

We looked at the open stretch of rocky terrain, and looked at each other sadly, wondering how long it will take for us to see civilization again.

But most importantly, how long it will take for us to see our best friends again.

Zach's POV

We've been walking for hours – the only things keeping us alive were our spy's sense of direction and strength. If we had been normal civilians, we would've dropped unconscious from dehydration and exhaustion. But the whole time we walked, we never let go of the other person's hand. At first we were talking, but then realized it would be safer to save our breath and energy for the long walk ahead of us.

"Zach," she exclaimed after hours of silence. "We are getting no where! If we don't get water soon, we're going to drop dead." Her voice was croaky, and her lips were cracked and bleeding. I brought my hand up and cupped my cheek, wiping the blood off with my thumb.

"I know, Cam. We'll get through this. We always do," I said.

She threw her hands up. "Look around, Zach! There's nothing within miles and miles of here. Maybe that's why your mother just let us go here. Because she knew we would just die!"

"Cammie," I said, a bit annoyed at her negativity now. "My mom needs you for information. She wouldn't leave you somewhere to die – if she wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

I didn't mean to snap at her, but the exhaustion was getting to me – to both of us. She widened her eyes and let go of my hand, stepping away from me, looking down.

My eyes got big and I reached out for her. "I...I didn't mean it like that! I just..." I shook my head, running a hand over my face.

"It's okay. I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For being so crabby."

I playfully pinched her cheek, and she smacked my arm away, giggling.

"Let's rest. Let's just lay right here and look at the stars, and sleep," I suggested. She nodded.

"Tomorrow we'll get out of here. Tomorrow," she whispered. We got down on the ground, and I tucked her head into my neck, breathing deeply.

We were silent again, and I looked over at her. Her nose was scrunched up a bit in concentration, and her eyes were wide and staring at the stars in awe.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"How 'bout some water?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No-can-do, Miss. All I have is...not even a penny..." I trailed off. "A kiss for your thoughts?" I rephrased. She laughed.

"I was just thinking...about how incredibly small we are. I mean, think about it. Our lives are so important and significant to us, while there are billions of other lives going on all around us, and we don't even know it. We're in this state, which is in a country, which is in a continent, which is surrounded by ocean, which is all in Earth, which is surrounded by other planets, all circling the sun, all in the solar system, all in a galaxy, which is all in a universe, which is in who knows what! We're just so little and unimportant that it...I don't know."

"You're right. But our lives are most definitely important to us. You know? I mean, to other people we're just teenagers, who go out for ice cream and movies and have fun and kiss. But we know that we're something different. We're spies – and good ones, at that. We grew up way too fast, and saw the world for what it actually is, not what it's made up to be. I mean, kids think that the world is filled with good people and candy and bunnies. We think that the world is filled with terrorists and secret organizations and bombs. I mean, it's whether we see the glass half empty or half full, I suppose," I let out in a rush.

This felt so...right. I couldn't have ever said anything like that with any other girl I've known. I felt like I could share anything and everything with Cammie – my thoughts, my worries, my happiness, my anger. I just hope that she felt as open with me as I did with her.

We stopped talking after that, and drifted to sleep. I rolled to my side and hugged her to my chest, and buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent. Was it odd that even though she was never part of my childhood, her scent was the only thing that reminded me of home?

Breathing in her sweet scent and feeling her eyelashes tickle my skin, I fell asleep with a dry throat and exhausted legs.

I woke up with a jerk to the sound of a helicopter. The first thing I noticed was my throat – normally, humans would last up to three days without water. But since we had walked miles and miles in the California heat, it was much worse. My lips were cracked and dry, and I could barely swallow the little spit I had left in my mouth. My vision was blurry and I felt nauseous and weak, my hands shaking.

Cammie sat up, too, but could barely hold herself up on her arms. She started coughing – a terrible, dry, painful noise. I made a sound of sympathy and rubbed her back, and looked up.

At first, I had a glimmer of hope. Maybe it was a CIA helicopter, having found us, coming to rescue us with buckets and buckets of water.

But my heart sank at the sight of the same exact helicopter and we were in yesterday. I knew it was too late. We were both too weak to run away. A ladder dropped down and two large, burly men practically flew down it. One grabbed me, and the other grabbed Cammie roughly.

"Don't touch her like that!" I growled, voice weak. He just laughed and nodded his head up to his partner, signaling for him to climb the ladder. He flung me over his shoulder and climbed, and the swaying motion of his body movements on the ladder wasn't helping my nausea. We got dumped into the helicopter, and I did the first thing I was trained to do: Notice things.

I noticed that my mom changed clothes – she was now in a white ruffled blouse and slim, straight work pants. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was standing in front of us, smirking, her hands behind her back. The two men who carried us up here went to the front of the helicopter, and switched autopilot off. We were moving again.

I noticed that there was a new scratch on the door, probably from Cammie and my hasty exit yesterday.

Cammie was barely conscious, and she slumped against me.

"Hello, Cameron, Zachary. So nice to see you two again!" my mother laughed.

"What was the point of that? Just dumping us there to practically kill us off and then picking us up again?" Cammie snapped, breathing heavily.

My mother rolled her eyes.

"It's just as you said: to practically kill you."

Then, she pulled out a bottle of water and cracked it open, and drank it in front of us. Our eyes widened, and I could feel my heart yearning for that water.

I would give anything for it – except for Cammie, of course.

"Oh? Do you want some?" she laughed. She closed the bottle, but kept her hand around it. We hesitated, and didn't answer.

Of course, we did want some.

Very. Badly.

We must have looked pretty pathetic, because she rolled her eyes and tossed the bottle at us. I lunged for it and opened it, looking at it and smelling it to make sure it had no poisonous substance in it. I could detect none.

I held the bottle to Cammie's lips and let her drink. She gulped it down quickly, and pulled away once she drank half the bottle, leaving the rest for me.

I drank it, and tossed the bottle aside.

It wasn't enough. We needed more.

Somehow, it had intensified our thirst, that little taste of water. It had us hoping, having had a little and needing more, more.

But we knew better than to look at my mother expectantly. No matter how weak we were at the moment, we were going to hide as much of our weakness as we could.

But I'm guessing we weren't dong very well.

"Oh, you poor kids. Lost, thirsty, and scared. But it's okay. Momma can help you." she threw her head back and laughed, and I sent her a withering glare that went by unnoticed.

"Just get to the damn point! Are you gonna shoot us, throw us out the window, shove a fish down our throats? Stop making small talk," Cammie snapped. I snorted, despite the seriousness of our situation.

It seemed as though we were stuck. If we escaped again, we would be dead from dehydration within the next few hours. We were too weak to fight off the men in front of the helicopter and take control of it. We were too weak...

"Oh, Cameron dear. Sarcasm was always one of your more prominent traits," my mother smiled. "But, if you insist, I'll get to the point. I want you. I don't want that pathetic thing I have to call my son. You two get separated - "

We both started to protest, and I felt Cammie cling onto me harder.

"Ah-ah!" my mother raised a finger. "I wasn't done. If you," she pointed at Cammie. "come with me, I'll drop Zachy-poo over there off in a city with water and clothes and money, safe and sound."

"Hell no!" I shouted. But Cammie was quiet.

"Cammie..." I shook my head, knowing what she was thinking.

"It's the only option, Zach," she whispered.

"No, no! It's not!" I was on the verge of hysterics. No way was Cammie leaving me. No way was I leaving Cammie. "We're a team, remember? Teams do not separate! Cam..."

I pleaded with her, ducking so I could look into her eyes.

She smiled softly and placed a hand on my cheek.

"Sometimes, a teammate has to do what's best for the other, not for themselves."

"I won't let you. I'm staying with you." I tightened my grip on her, glaring.

She shook her head. "No, Zach. You're not." she threaded her fingers through my hair.

"Yes, I am! I-"

She kissed me, and I felt her hand move to the back of my neck. Something sticky slapped onto my skin, and I gasped and pulled back just in time to see her mouth, I'm sorry. I love you.

And I passed out.

Cammie's POV

I caught Zach as he slumped over, and I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before looking up at Mrs. Goode, hatred in my eyes.

"Now let him down, just like you promised," I said.

She sighed. "Very well. We have no use for him anyway, and killing my own blood would be such a difficult task. Rigo!" she snapped towards the man flying the helicopter. "Find the nearest city and let the boy down."

"Very well, Mrs. Goode," he said. For such a tall, burly man, his voice was a bit higher than I expected. I almost giggled.

As he was finding the nearest city, Mrs. Goode went over and tightly bound my hands and feet together. I gritted my teeth and didn't fight back.

You're doing this for Zach. You're doing this for him, and only him.

We flew over a small town, and Mrs. Goode grabbed a bag and slung two bottles of water in it, a shirt and jeans, a packet of dried apples, and thirty bucks in it. She attached it to her son and flung him down.

I winced. We were close enough to the ground for him not to die, but he would have nasty cuts and bruises.

Just before Zach had passed out, I saw a flash of desperation and disbelief in his eyes. But there were still traces of love and care from our kiss, and I had to bite my lips to stop myself from sobbing.

I'm sorry.

But it's for the best.

Thank you guys so much for the reviews! We're almost up to 100! :D

I'm so happy! Thank you so much. ^_^ Hope you liked this chapter! Sorry it was a bit uneventful.