A/N::: Hm, my newly acquired beta is nowhere to be found...

Anyways, I know it's extremely late but life has caught up to me :/

Disclaimer::: I do not own the series.

Enjoyy

Ch. 9

Induced Memory

A weak voice slithered its way into her unconscious thoughts, planting itself in the middle of her slow, but sure thought process as she struggled to grasp reality.

"Do you remember?" it lulled, its soft whisper tickling her brain. "The day I asked you to marry me? You told me in a way I'd never forget." The sentence seemed to trigger something in her head, a memory taking shape among the floating darkness that engulfed her mind.

The concealed couple walked side by side, deceiving, joyful smiles plastered on their faces as they walked with the flow of the crowd. The brunette woman had an iron-clamped grip around the man's waist, giving him a hard squeeze every time she bumped into an unidentifiable shapeless being, paranoia eating her up hungrily. That and her badly sprained ankle burdened them both. The countdown grew louder, the minutes ticking from double digits into a single one.

"Don't worry," the dark-haired man whispered into her ear as she painfully gripped his side. He winced slightly; her grip was firm. "We'll get there in time."

"Not at this pace we won't," she hissed, flexing her empty fist angrily. "The whole city of New York will be in ruins unless we get there in nine minutes and thirty-five seconds and counting," she spoke, not sparing a glance at the ticking time bomb. At this they sped up, synchronizing their movements as they jostled their way forward, the masses of people growing thicker by each few feet. "Trying to save lives, yet we're trapped in pedestrian freaking traffic," the woman growled, her voice hardly audible above all the excited chatter. They were eventually forced to stop, the mass too thick to break without causing a riot. The woman angrily blew her bangs out of her face, already frustrated. "Now what?"

"Um, excuse me, people of New York." To her surprise, the hesitant voice came from the very man who she clutched on helplessly. She glanced at him and he stared back, the crowd quieting slightly as they watched the couple, mainly the man. He took a deep breath, shooting the woman an undecipherable look as he turned his gaze to the crowd.

"I plan to marry this woman right here," he pulled her closer to his body his grin wide," today. I want the whole world to see." The crowd grew silent, their eyes on the brunette who flushed brightly.

Without a word, the crowd began to part, a few feet that grew inch by inch. He smiled gratefully, snatching the woman up bridal-style as she let out a yelp.

"Thank you," he said, the gratitude obvious in his voice. He took care not to bang her right foot on any lollygaggers until he reached a wide berth of an opening. He glanced back, the crowd already forgetting him as the loud timer chimed, a minute less than what it had been. Smirking, he continued on his way, the crowd less pact together as they entered Times Square. "You're welcome," he proudly responded to her rolling of the eyes.

"Tell that to the city of New York if we get there in time," she muttered. "And you can put me down now." He did, ever so gently. She straightened her shirt, taking in their surroundings quickly. "There." She narrowed her gaze, staring straight at a camouflaged building with reflecting windows that shone brightly, showing the New Years spirit of New York.

They made their way over as quickly as possible, her hobbling, him striding. They made it to the door as the clock ticked once more, loudly claiming that their time was running out. The man, whose name is Zachary Goode, jerked the handle, to no avail. He threw his weight against the door with a grunt, coming away with a bruised shoulder and unmoving door.

"Allow me," the woman, who was often referred to as the Chameleon, piped up. She snatched an elegant looking hair accessory from her bun, not caring as it tumbled to her shoulders. She pressed her thumb against the slightly bulging end and pointed it at the crack of the doors. A red laser light beeped from the device, smoke rising from where it landed. She grinned as she watched the metal latch melt away, suddenly grateful that her nerdy friend Liz had begged her to take it. The doors released an audible sigh as the latch disappeared almost completely, nothing but a dribble of metal and glass. "We're in," she muttered. She risked a glance at her comrade, who was staring at her weapon with longing.

"I have got to get me one of those," he confided.

The layout already memorized, they made their way to the elevators, keeping close to the small shadows to avoid the cameras. They were lucky; the elevators hadn't shut off, were still working their course. Of course, they were on a government-funded mission, but if word got out that terrorists had managed to infiltrate the country, they would be up to their necks in shit. Nevertheless, they knew scaling the stairs was no option, not with the Chameleon's hurt ankle. It was a long way up so they decidedly "disabled" the video camera, sitting on the clean, tiled floor as they made their way up.

"So we get to the roof….and then what?" she asked, frustrated. She hated the fact that they had to slow down because she had gotten careless.

"And we follow through with the plan," he replied without hesitation. He gripped her hand, a lop-sided smile on his lips. "Don't worry; you'll get home to your family. I'll make sure of it." She frowned.

"You mean we both will." He avoided her gaze. "Wait… you plan on giving your life for this mission?" she huffed. "Don't you even think about staying behind, Zachary. We're both getting out of here. Alive."

He sighed, not surprised by her stubbornness. "Fine. But promise me, if you have to leave me behind, do it. I won't take it personally."

She rolled her eyes but said nothing. When the elevator hit the 309th floor, a thought dawned on her. She bit her lip, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer, but decided to ask anyways.

"What was that stunt all about?" He looked at her, confused. "You know what I'm talking about, Zach. The whole 'I'm going to marry her!' thing. A bluff?" He opened his mouth to reply but the elevator cut him off; they had reached the 310th floor. They stood, prepared for any obstacles, but saw none.

"Come on," he said instead. He offered her his arm but she shook her head, insisting she'd catch up to him. He strode down the eerily lit hall, making a sharp left towards the roof. He quickly disabled the emergency alarm, the Chameleon catching up to him. He held the door as they took a short flight of concrete stairs up.

On the rooftop, the air was thinner and the lights hardly reached them, disorienting them slightly. Gathering their bearings, they reached the end, a foot of barrier stopping them from falling over. They reached the neighboring skyscraper that was a few floors shorter and seemed awfully close, as if they'd purposely been built knitted together. They were a few buildings down from the isolated flagpole that held the bomb. The glowing, Waterford Crystal ball that would descend in just minutes and blow up the entire city of NYC.

Standing on the tallest building, the spy felt the air in her lungs was sucker-punched out; just how were they going to make it in 5 minutes and 22 seconds? They couldn't; it just wasn't possible. They had failed, and for the next 5 minutes and 17 seconds, they would sit and watch as America's prosperous city was blown to smithereens.

"Chameleon?" The look on her face must have shown her thoughts as she turned to look at him. With his wild hair and the fierce look in his eyes, it was no question why his codename was Wolf. He was an animal when it came to missions and when he bit down, failure was not an option. "We have a mission," he said slowly, "let's not get discouraged, now." She nodded wearily. She was in no mood to argue.

His eyes scanned their surroundings; they were hundreds of feet above people and yet they could feel the city come alive as the minutes ticked down. "I'm going to get as close as I can to the objective," he murmured, ideas fluttering through his head as he forced himself to stay calm. He sighed, knowing his next words would not go without controversy. "The angle's all wrong, though. I'm going to have to infiltrate the building myself." He braced himself for cutting words, but was met with silence.

She smiled sadly at him. "Even if I said no, I wouldn't be able to stop you." Her gaze fell to the glowing city below them, the wind ruffling her short hair. "Besides, isn't this what we were trained to do? Risk our lives for the greater good?" When she looked at him, her gaze was unyielding.

He nodded at her. "For the greater good." With that, he was gone; he was never good at goodbyes. With ease, he managed to hop to the next building. However, the next one was harder; its berth was almost twenty feet in width.

It was then, as he hurried to take out his rappel from his pack that the Chameleon, Cameron Morgan, realized she could not just let him go. Not after everything they went through to get here. Mustering her courage and strength, she planted both feet on top of the cement barrier and readied her stance before jumping.

The miniscule second of being airborne was ruined when she landed on the roof, hard. She stumbled before falling, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Fortunately, he hadn't seen her; he was already on the next building, his grappling hook in its place as he marched forward.

As she limped her way to the other side, she quickly took out her own rappelling cord and hook. She muttered to herself, calculating the time left before the ball would begin its decent. If she hurried, she'd be able to catch him before he jumped. And with that new resolve in mind she threw her hook at a stable looking square that jutted from the top. Looking down, she realized she had miscalculated the jump. Below her, she could just make out four lanes of traffic; her palms began to sweat as she readied herself, knowing that she would end the year with heavy rope burn. But even with a large leap, her injured ankle gave her a disadvantage as she slammed into the side of the building, her left foot absorbing the impact.

Pain spread like fire throughout her body as she nearly lost her grip, struggling to keep her grasp and regain composure. She had slipped a few feet, leaving her hands burning, along with her leg that stung, still vibrating from the blow. Resolved to staying calm, she slowly pulled herself up, her no-slip grip shoes helping her greatly. Managing to claw her way back up, she gasped for air as she made it to solid footing. Her hands shook, but not with fear; adrenaline coursed through her veins as she struggled to her feet, already moving on to the next obstacle. Up ahead, she could see her boyfriend fiddling with something in his hands on the next structure.

She ignored her throbbing hands as she tossed the hook, once, twice, in order to secure it. The gap was just as large as the last one. Fortunately, though, this building was less modern, built from bricks and mortar. Muttering profanities, she steadied herself on the ledge, glad for the shadows that hid her from the people hundreds of feet below. The buildings had gradually shortened, now at about 250 floors or so. She noted the window straight ahead; if she didn't avoid it, she would end up crashing, causing more of a commotion than necessary. Instead, she planned on landing just above it, which would put her five feet from the rooftop.

Coiling her muscles, centering her gravity, she leaped forward. While in the air, she adjusted her grip, stealing a few feet just as she hit the building. Again, her left leg took the brunt of it, shocks of pain shuddering through her body. She couldn't help but groan from the ache and exhaustion as she made her way up, throwing herself onto the roof with such force it knocked the air from her lungs out. She gasped, sweating, not believing she had just flung herself across three buildings. All in two minutes.

"We're down to the last three minutes of 2011, people of New York!" she heard a booming voice announce. "Shit," she whispered, compelling her worn out body to her feet. She spotted Zach already at the edge of the building, a firearm-type weapon in his grasp.

She limped her way over to him, calling out. But he couldn't hear her; the bustling was growing louder as the time ticked down. She was afraid that if she got too close, she might frighten him, resulting in his death. So she stood ten feet back, trying to gauge his next move. He'd been staring down at the crowd, timing his actions to the very second. She saw that the thing in his arm was oddly shape: the muzzle square and its handle long and lean.

It was then that things went bad. Very, very bad.

He turned his gaze in the general direction of where he'd left Cammie; but unable to spot her, he kept turning his gaze until he did- just a few feet behind him. He yelped in surprise- anyone would, really. But then he took a step back into midair, where he fell back disappearing from her view.

"ZACH!" Her throat burned, her ankle screamed in agony as she sprinted forward. Without thinking, she tossed her grappling hook over the side, grabbing hold of its end. She would have fallen over if it weren't for the short ledge that she slammed into, an overbearing weight threatening to pull her over.

"ZACH!" she screeched. She braced her feet against the prop, her muscles straining with the effort. "Zach, hang on!" For all she knew, he had already fallen to his death, her hook grabbing hold of a dent in the side of the building. But his faint reply proved her pessimistic-self wrong; he was alive and hanging on.

"Cam?" he called. "Whatever you do, please don't let go," he groaned. How can he laugh at a time like this? she asked herself, incredulous.

"Then get your ass up here, Goode!" she grunted. Her energy had been nearly all spent on scaling the buildings, she couldn't hold on for much longer. With each tug, she felt herself getting closer to falling over. When he was close enough to touch, she had to resist the urge to grab him; she was the only thing holding him back from a very public death. He clawed at the ledge, hurling himself over with a grunt. Cammie fell back with a cry of relief, hugging him madly.

"I thought you were dead," she breathed. "Oh god, it would've been all my fault. Oh god, oh god, oh god," she gasped as he lay there, heaving. It was then that she noticed the weapon around his shoulders. It was seeing the strap and the weapon that reminded her of where they were and what they were doing.

"The mission." He stared at her, confused. "The mission! Get up or else everyone in New York is going to die!" she ordered. She hauled him to his feet despite her groaning muscles, her eyes going wide as the announcement was made.

"Two minutse left to go, folks!" the announcer declared.

"Zach what's the plan?" she urged. She noted he was still out of it.

"The plan," he repeated. His eyes widened. "The plan!" Quickly, he readjusted the firearm, positioning it as he spoke. "I'm going to aim this right at behind the Toshiba ad. From there, I'll just have to count my lucky stars I don't get caught on camera, and disable the objective with this." He pulled out a wickedly sharp pole of metal from a hidden compartment in the weapon. "Jonas said it should stop the four ton ball from exploding if I jab it right under. Since the bomb is within it, I'll have to break my way in, disarm it and move out. Boss said if security takes me in, he'd get me right out, so no need to fret over legal issues."

"Yes," Cammie spoke suddenly. He glanced at her quizzically. "Yes, I'll marry you, Zach Goode." He looked taken aback. Before he could speak, she planted a hard kiss on his lips, putting as much strength into it as she could. "So come back to me," she whispered, resting her forehead on his, "please." He nodded, unsure of what to say. "Oh, and wear this," she said off-handedly, handing him a black-ski mask with holes for his eyes.

"But I'll look like a thug," he protested. She shrugged.

"It's either surgery or this. Your move, Goode." He sighed.

"I knew you loved this handsome face of mine," he muttered, slipping it on as she bit her lip; time was running out.

"You have to go," she murmured. He nodded, his face unrecognizable as the minute countdown started, facing the scene slightly above them. She held her breath as he shot and aimed, hitting the back of the ad, where the hook sunk in its teeth. His was the high-tech kind; easily tugging him forward as he rappelled himself towards their mission. She watched as his black-clad form was an odd spot as he touched the building, the bright colors making him more obvious.

When the screams started, she knew what she had to do. Hobbling her way to the edge of where she'd came from, she hooked her clasp against a metal grate, scaling the side with caution until she met the window she'd been so careful not to break as she lowered herself, imploding the window with both legs, sending the shards inwards. Once inside, she gathered her rope and hook and went off in search of an elevator, whistling to herself as she shot down any recording devices.

Once she reached the outside, she knew they'd succeeded; the city was still intact and the people were furious. They had believed it was all a malfunction and they'd been ripped off of a spectacular ending to a spectacular year. The fireworks were going off and no doubt reporters were all over it, trying to find the real cause of the distress.

She took care of keeping close to the edge. It'd be dangerous if she got caught up in a riot. She slipped off the busy avenue onto a somewhat quieter street, where the crowds were smaller and confused instead of angry. As she walked- or more accurately, staggered, she had the eerie sense she was being followed. She risked a glance back, finding a window-tinted, black Civic stalking her. The roads weren't as jammed packed, but she knew that she had to get away. But how? She was injured, drained, and mentally exhausted. But she was never one to give in. If it was the Circle, she wouldn't go down without a fight.

Just as she opened her mouth to scream, the window rolled down and a familiar face grinned back at her. It took her mind a moment to register the green eyes, brown, wild hair and trademark smirk.

"Fancy meeting you here," she huffed, hobbling to the car door. He got out, much to some protest from the vehicle, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Glad to see you again, Chameleon," he spoke sweetly into her ear. Her body stayed tense, her muscles still on edge.

"So it's over, then?" she whispered.

"Yeah." That one word was enough; she felt tears pool her eyes, her body going limp, unable to uphold her weight. Every part of her hurt: hands, face, legs, arms, shoulders, you name it, it ached. Luckily, her fiancé was there to support her, explaining that the car was government-based and they'd managed to get one in Times Square at the last minute. He helped her into the car, where she was greet by two men in the driver's and the passenger's seat. She barely managed a nod before her eyes fluttered closed, feeling the warmth of the only man she could trust to fall asleep in front of, and know she's safe.

Finally.

With this memory jostled in her mind, Cameron Morgan's eyes fluttered open. The memory of that day was a tough one to relive. And yet it had one of the happiest outcomes she could have imagined.

"Zach," she croaked. The pressure on her hand couldn't have been anyone else. There was some ruffling as he came into her view, his green eyes bloodshot but happy.

"Cammie," he responded, his eyes slightly watery. "Oh thank god. See, I told the doctor you'd make a full recovery. No damage, at least nothing permanent." He grinned, genuinely happy. She returned the smile.

"I remember," she sighed. She felt exhausted just by speaking.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Remember what?"

She fought to keep her eyes open. "The day I said yes…" It took him a moment to realize the meaning of her words. Once he did, though, he chuckled to himself.

"Oh Cameron," he hummed, "only you would revel in such a painfully wonderful memory while unconscious." He kissed her knuckles sweetly, lulling her back to sleep.

And sleep she did. Blissful, drugged, sleep.

A/N::: Extra long to apologize. Did it make sense? I don't even know if it corresponds with the rest of the story... hehe

Review pleasee