(Author's Note) : Disclaimer: I don't freaking own the Gallagher Girls series, 'cause if I did, why the heck would I be writing on fanfiction?

DON'T KILL ME! Though you all have a right. I'm deeply sorry for not updating for 3—almost 4 months. Ouch. My pitiful excuses are at the bottom Author's Note. But I'd still like to apologize and grovel/beg for your forgiveness. ): I feel guilty for not updating I'm so very sorry.

Thank you to those who haven't given up on me though. You all are wonderful. So, enjoy the last update of "What Happens When You Fall Hard"

Time: 11:58 p.m.

Location: CIA Base 9 Private Jet

P.O.V: Third Person

Two women sat on that jet, both lost in their individual thoughts. One of them stared out the window, eyeing the clouds, while leaning more into her coach seat (damn CIA, trying to "cut back" on their budget my ass).

"You know, glaring at those puffy clouds won't do you any good, Dana." The woman snapped her attention to her friend sitting next to her.

Normally, Dana would have bitten her head off—she was extremely irritable—but the serene look that her friend gave her just made her sigh in frustration, continuing her death look at the clouds.

She couldn't really be mad at Annie. The relationship between them reminded Dana vaguely of Chameleon and Duchess.

Another sigh. "You're really immature sometimes, you know?"

"Oh, you love me anyway." Dana smirked. Annie rolled her eyes.

"True, annoying, but true." she admitted.

"Told you." Dana had to admit she felt immature, but really, she was stabbed and shot at. She wasn't really in the mood to be perfect little Miss Sunshine. Sorry for not bursting with joy.

"You know that, that attack at Blackthorne,"—Dana snapped her head back to Annie's—"it won't be the last. Maybe not at Blackthorne or even Gallagher, they'll go to—"

"I know." Dana hated how defeated she sounded. She was losing her touch. Automatically, her hand pivoted itself to the metal chain around her neck, her fingers finding the familiar ring that dangled there. An almost exact replica of that ring hugged itself around Annie's finger.

"What about the book? You told me that you got rid of it before the masquerade ball," Annie asked.

"I did."

"And where did you put it?"

"With someone that's smart enough to keep it safe."

"And that would be?"

Dana turned to raven haired woman next to her. "Trust me on this one."

A pregnant pause.

"What's their next move going to be?" Annie whispered, whether it was to herself or to the woman next to her, Dana answered anyway.

"We'll just have to wait and see." Dana gazed back out at the clouds, a mixture of envy and wistfulness welling up in her chest. The damn clouds got it easy, just going where the wind takes them.

Time: 12:10 a.m.

Location: Blackthorne Institute

P.O.V: Zachary Goode

Have you ever felt, after a huge day (like mine) and though everyone else thought it was over, that it just doesn't feel complete? The guys had disappeared in the charcoal colored limousines and scattered across the world. Summer was finally here. So why did it feel like there should be another page in this chapter?

"Damn," I hissed, cradling my fist with my other hand. I was aimlessly pummeling a punching bag and seemed to have used too much force at a very bad angle. I was panting and perspiration dripped its way down my face and chest. Absentmindedly I wiped at my upper lip.

Apparently punching a bag wasn't the best way to get things out of your head. Stupid Grant.

His advice wasn't working at all.

Thoughts swirled around in my head: the attack, Ioseph Cavan (whoever the hell that was), Dana the Possible-Double-Agent, and Gallagher Girl (exactly…where do we stand?).

By the time I realized it my feet had already dragged me away from the gym to the hallways. And to think, my life was so much simpler before this year ever happened. As simple as an orphaned guy could get at a school full of spies, at least.

My slightly bruised fist grasped the doorknob and entered the room. I stared at the darkness and listened to the loud silence. It was foreign to me when I saw the bed on the right, Grant's bed, all neat and tidy. No sign of dirty magazines or smuggled Burger King bags. And the fact that the other bed was note card and textbook free made me feel uneasy.

Of course, I've dealt with not having Grant or Jonas in the dorm room before, but I felt like something was misplaced. God this is messed up, I thought running a hand raggedly through my hair.

"You know, you look kind of nice when you do that."

I felt the corner of my mouth turn up on its own and just messed my hair up more, slathering it with shampoo, remembering Cammie's comment about it.

I remember my father jokingly telling me that if I fell for a girl, that was just right for me, I would be pulled into a hell of a lot of trouble. And that was how I could tell I was in love, according to him. I vaguely remember my mother hitting him over the head and then grabbing his collar to pull him into a kiss. They never were afraid to show affection in front of me. It was nasty, but slightly endearing (I guess).

My thoughts drifted to Cammie and almost wanted to laugh. I guess I'm going to be in for even more trouble than Dad was.

I pulled out of the steamy shower along with my thoughts. I heaved on some sweatpants and fell backwards onto my bed.

Ouch.

I rolled off immediately, tenderly fingering my side. With a fistful of my blanket and a yank, I stood there dumbfounded and glared at the unusual culprit for my pain.

Why is there a book on my bed?

Somewhere on a plane heading to [Classified Location] a woman a scar from a knife tattooed to her thigh was smiling, thinking for the first time in almost nine months that she made the right decision.

I stared at the leather bound book, or more likely at the ransom-note-like message that lay on top of it.

Good Luck, you're going to need it

Huh, like I don't know it already?

(Author's Note) : Wimp-ish excuse for an epilogue, yeah, TRUST ME. I know (my family—whom read this—are painfully honest). So no need for raving, 'cause I know. But I truly need to get this out of the way if I'd like that sequel. Anyways. Review? For old time's sake?

When A Diva Gives Thanks…

You guys have no idea just how thankful I truly am. This was my very first idea for a story and you guys have made my writing skills even better ('cause really…I know I'm crappy right now, but let's face it, I was absolute shit back then). Because I went back to the first chapter, now that was painful. It caused me physical pain to see that I wrote that. It's sad, really. So I was really comforted in the fact that you guys enjoyed that. I mean sincerely, I'd like to thank EVERYONE that supported this tragic piece of writing I'd like to call my story (If I have time, I'll fix it up). So really, THANK YOU ALL! I WOULDN'T BE A WRITER WITHOUT YOU GUYS! (don't I sound mushy?)

Just struck me that this is my FIRST. FINISHED. STORY. I mean, HOLY CRAP! (: I'm happy.

Again, I'd like to apologize for being gone for SO long ): I felt terrible, but I'd like to say that life was actually more hectic than I thought…friends getting bullied, curriculum that was harder than I anticipated, and some personal family issues (which are still going on). So, again I'm sorry.

Review? For my first finished story?

~diva~